#and i can't answer asks with a gif bc i'm on mobile and i had the BEST gif ://:

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Simon Said | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? )

Warnings: mind control, canon violence, canon gore, consent lines blurry bc mind control but nothing happens to the reader, mind control attempted suicide

Word Count: 5301

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“I don't know, man, why don't we just chill out, think about this,” Dean said, trying to soothe his brother.

Sam had another vision while he was washing his face a state or two back. Dean was having to be the level-headed one at this moment because Sam was a complete basketcase. “What's there to think about?” the latter asked.

“I just don't know if going to the Roadhouse is the smartest idea,” Dean replied.

“I agree. I like ‘em, but I don’t trust any of them enough yet to tell them about this,” you said earnestly. 

“Guys, it's another premonition. I know it. This is gonna happen, and Ash can tell us where,” Sam protested. “Plus, it could have some connection with the demon. My visions always do.”

“That’s my point,” Dean said. “There's gonna be hunters there. I don't know if going in and announcing that you're some supernatural freak with a— a demonic connection is the best thing, okay?”

“So I'm a freak now?”

You gritted your teeth awkwardly.

Dean slapped Sam on the thigh. “You've always been a freak,” he smiled weakly. 

You looked at Sam concernedly, and it seemed he couldn’t keep still even if his life depended on it.

“Sam, it’s gonna be fine, I promise,” you said. 

He looked back at you, offering a small smile at your attempt to comfort him. You could tell he was unconvinced.

***

When you arrived at the Roadhouse, Jo bounded up to you and the brothers. “Just can't stay away, huh?” she grinned to Dean.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. You knew your jealousy was baseless but still could barely hold it at bay.

“Yeah, looks like. How you doin', Jo?” the older brother asked her.

Sam hurriedly asked, “Where’s Ash?”

“In his back room,” Jo replied.

He brushed past her wordlessly.

Jo turned after him, watching him go. “And I'm fine…”

“Sorry, he's, we're... kind of on a bit of a timetable,” Dean explained, following after his brother. You nodded and gave a closed-lip smile to Jo, who returned it, before heading after Dean.

You arrived at a door labeled, “ Dr. Badass is: IN.” You snorted at the sign, and Sam knocked on the door. “Ash? Hey, Ash?”

Moments passed; no answer. You knocked, this time saying, “Hey, Dr. Badass?”

The door unlatched and opened a crack to reveal a stark naked Ash. You averted your eyes, feeling intensely uncomfortable.

“Sam? Dean?” Ash sounded high. “Sam and Dean. And (Y/N). Hey, (Y/N).”

You laughed awkwardly, still turned away from Ash standing in the doorway. “Hey, Ash. Um. We need your help.”

“Well, hell, then! Guess I need my pants.” He shut the door, and you and the brothers turned to move back to the bar.

Sam described the scene from his dream and drew a logo of the bus he saw in his dream. Ash sat at a table with his homemade laptop and somehow found the logo based off Sam’s drawing. “Well, I got a match. It's the logo from the Blue Ridge bus lines in Guthrie, Oklahoma.”

“Okay. Do me a favor—” Sam began. “Check Guthrie for any demonic signs, or omens, or anything like that.”

“You think the demon's there?” Ash asked.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Why would you think that?”

Dean gruffly replied, “Just check it, alright?”

You shot him a look, as did Ash. He obliged, though, and said, “No, sir, nothing. No demon.”

“Alright, try something else for me. Search Guthrie for a house fire. It would be 1983, fire's origin would be a baby's nursery, night of the kid's six month birthday,” Sam said.

You looked around for eavesdroppers, only to find Jo cleaning a table nearby and watching your group.

“Okay, now that is just weird, man,” Ash protested. “Why the hell would I be looking for that?”

Sam pulled out a beer and set it next to his laptop. “'Cause there's a PBR in it for ya.”

Before Sam could finish his sentence, Ash replied, “Give me fifteen minutes.”

You sat next to Ash as he continued his work, and Dean left to get a beer from Ellen. Suddenly, REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling” started playing from the jukebox. You turned your head to the source of the sound and found Jo sauntering over to a horrified-looking Dean at the bar. Your blood boiled, but you just looked back at Ash and his computer. However, you didn’t register anything he was saying or scrolling through.

All you could think about was Jo’s attempted flirting with Dean. Technically, neither party were doing anything wrong; you and Dean had agreed to be friends for the time being. But you were furious at the thought of the two of them together. How disrespectful would that be for Dean to get with Jo days after saying he wanted you and agreed to be friends for now? Your jaw clenched, and you clutched your beer tighter.

Sam snapped in front of your face. “(Y/N), let’s go.”

You broke out of your thoughts and grabbed Dean’s jacket, pulling him along with you.

“See ya, Jo,” you called over your shoulder, stomping out of the bar with Dean in tow. 

Dean chuckled at you, gently shrugging you off him. He stooped down to your level and whispered lowly, “Jealous?”

You jerked away from him, cheeks heating in embarrassment. “No.”

He just smirked in response and kissed the side of your head. “Sure, sweetheart.” He then walked ahead of you to the Impala. 

You froze, flustered and unappreciative of the effect he had on you. “Dean—!”

***

“Sam, you can’t tell me Lord of the Rings is better than Erin Brockovich,” you argued with the younger brother. The two of you had been locked in a heated debate on your favorite movies of recent years, and these two were the next in question.

“(Y/N/N),” Sam started, “Lord of the Rings is based on six books of Tolkein’s experience in World War I, and Erin Brockovich is—”

“Two hours of fuckin’ perfection,” you cut him off. “Julia Roberts acted those other bitches under the table.”

“But the worldbuilding, (Y/N), it’s not even comparable!” 

“Yeah, if you stick around long enough to learn about it. It’s a snoozefest from start to finish,” you giggled.

He scoffed. “Okay, what about—”

“If you two keep talkin’ film nerd, I’m gonna kill myself,” Dean grumbled.

“Killjoy. If it’s not eighties horror, you’re not interested, huh?” you commented, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back in your seat. 

Dean’s eyes met yours in the rearview mirror. “Did you actually read anything back there, or….?” 

“I did, thank you very much.” You pulled the stack of papers on the seat next to you into your lap. “Andrew Gallagher. Born in ‘83, like Sam. Lost his mother in a nursery fire exactly six months later, also like Sam.”

“You think the demon killed his mom?” Dean asked.

“Sure looks like it,” Sam responded.

“How did you even know to look for this guy?” Dean asked you.

“Well, Sam’s visions have all been attached to the demon or the other kids—”

“Like Max Miller, remember him?” Sam cut you off.

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, but Max Miller was a pasty little psycho.”

“Well, yeah, but my point is, he was killing people,” you began.

Sam continued, “And I was having the same type of visions about him. And now it could be happening all over again with this Gallagher guy.”

Dean asked, “How do we find him?”

You blew air out through your pursed lips. “Don't know. No current address, no current employment. He still owes money on all his bills; phone, credit, utilities—”

“Collection agency flags?” the older brother questioned.

“None in the system.���

“They just let him take a walk?”

You shrugged. “Seems like it. There's a work address from his last W-2; about a year ago. Let's start there.”

***

You and the brothers stopped at a coffee shop dressed in your “formal attire” to question a girl you knew to be friends with Andrew Gallagher about his whereabouts. 

“You won't get anything out of Andy, guys. I'm sorry, but they never do,” she said.

“ ‘They’?” Sam asked.

She tilted her head in confusion. “You're debt collectors, right? Once in a while they come by. I don't know what Andy says to them, but they never come back.”

“Actually we're- we're lawyers. Representing his Great Aunt Leta. She passed, god rest her soul, and left Andy a sizable estate,” Dean lied. “Are you a friend of his?”

“I used to be, yeah. I don't see much of Andy anymore.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

A man came up behind the bashful woman. “Andy? Andy kicks ass, man.”

“Is that right?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah. Andy can get you into anything. He even got me backstage at Aerosmith once; it was beautiful, bro.”

The woman turned to him. “How about bussing a table or two, Weber?”

“Yeah. You bet, boss.” The man named Weber turned away.

“Look,” the woman sighed, “if you want to find him, try Orchard Street. Just look for a van with a barbarian queen painted on the side.”

“Barbarian queen?” Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“She's riding a polar bear. It's kind of hard to miss.”

***

She was right. It was incredibly hard to miss. You and the Winchester boys sat in the back of the Impala, having caught sight of the blue van with the aforementioned painted on the side of it from across the street.

“I'm sorry, I'm starting to like this dude. That van is sweet,” Dean grinned. He turned to his brother. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Sam, you look like you're sucking on a lemon, what's going on?”

The brunet sighed. “This Andrew Gallagher, he's the second guy like this we've found, Dean. Demon came to them when they were kids, now they're killing people.”

“We don't know what Andrew Gallagher is, alright? He could be innocent,” the older brother argued.

“My visions haven't been wrong yet.”

“Sam, you’re not one of them, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” you said.

“(Y/N), the demon said he had plans for me and children like me,” he replied. “Maybe this is his plan, maybe we're all a bunch of psychic freaks, maybe we're all supposed to be—”

Dean scoffed. “What, killers? So the demon wants you out there killing with your minds, is that it? Come on, give me a break. You're not a murderer, Sam! You don't have it in your bones.”

“No? Last I checked, I kill all kinds of things."

“Sam, that’s different,” you chimed in. “We kill shit that’s already dead. Or… undead. Or… not human— What are you looking at?”

“Got him,” was all Sam replied with. He nodded toward a man walking down the road in a robe, sandals, and baggy pants. The man in question blew a kiss up at a beautiful woman in lingerie leaning out of a window and waving down at him, got a coffee from some random guy he was passing, and then, shook hands with another. 

“That's him. That older guy, that's him, that's the shooter,” Sam rushed out, referencing the man Andy had shaken hands with.

“Alright, you keep on him, we'll stick with Andy. Go.” Sam got out of the car at his older brother’s command.

“We will?” you asked, climbing over the front seat. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.” Dean followed Andy— who had just climbed into his ostentatious van and began to drive off— closely. 

A few minutes of following the man into a suburban area later, the van stopped in the middle of the road and approached the Impala. You discreetly handed Dean his gun from the glovebox and tucked yours into your jacket.

Andy leaned into the rolled-down window of the Impala. “Hey.”

“Hey, hey,” Dean replied.

“This is a cherry ride,” Andy grinned. “Man, the '67? Impala's best year if you ask me. This is a serious classic.”

“Yeah. Y'know, I just rebuilt her, too.”

“And who’s this gorgeous lady you got next to ya?”

“Oh, I’m (Y/N),” you smiled, suddenly not feeling right.

“Hey, can I have the car? And her, if she’ll let me?” Andy asked you and Dean.

“Sure, man,” Dean grinned, getting out of the car to let the man into the driver’s side.

“Hi, handsome,” you smiled, draping yourself over Andy’s shoulder. You weren’t quite sure what was happening to you, but you knew you weren’t fully in control of what you were doing.

“Take it easy,” Andy told Dean before driving off with you.

“Where ya takin’ me?” you asked him, still mentally horrified by the effect he was having on you. 

“You’ll see,” he grinned, and you settled into his shoulder as he continued to drive.

***

About ten minutes later, the man driving you around received a call that seemed to really upset him. He drove a little faster and parked the car moments later once you’d arrived in front of the café you’d first gone to when you rolled into town.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” you asked, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Uh, I—” he paused, sighing. “Stay here, okay?”

“Okay!” You sat patiently with your hands folded in your lap, waiting for him to come back. You suddenly seemed to realize what you’d been doing and looked around yourself, trying to gain your bearings. You were relieved to see Dean and Sam approaching you. You jumped out of the car and leapt into Dean’s arms. “Dean! What the hell, man, he full-on Obi-Wan-ed us!” You let him go and hugged Sam. “What’s wrong, dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“That guy, um, from my visions, he stepped out in front of a bus. Right after he got off the phone,” Sam explained. “We’re thinkin’ Gallagher called him.”

Your brows furrowed and stomach dropped. “Oh.”

“He would’ve had to be on the phone with you in the car,” Dean added. “Was he?”

You shook your head. “No. I mean, not until a second or two before he ditched the car and me in the front seat.”

“Did he… do anything to you?” Sam asked. 

You shook your head.

“A real Samaritan, this guy,” the brunet quipped.

You turned to Dean talking to his car. “Oh, baby, I promise I’ll never leave you again.”

“Do you want a moment alone with her?” you deadpanned to Dean.

“We have a special bond,” he said after a pause. He turned back to his car. “She just doesn’t understand us.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the ends of your lips. “Anyway, he didn’t give any kind of a command over the phone. If anything, he was upset when he answered his phone not ten minutes ago. I don’t think he’s our guy.”

“Either way, how are we going to track this guy down?” Sam asked.

“Not a problem,” Dean smirked.

***

“I’ll give you that, his ride isn’t exactly ‘covert’,” you said upon finding the van again. 

Dean pulled a small crowbar out of his jacket and pried the doors of the van open with it. The opened doors revealed a disco ball, fur rugs, a tiger painted on the wall, several thick books, and an enormous bong.

“Oh. Oh, come on. This is— this is magnificent, that's what this is. Not exactly a serial killer's lair, though. There's no... clown paintings on the walls, or scissors stuck in victims' photos. I like the tiger,” Dean chuckled in awe.

“Dean, he tried to kidnap me. And he kidnapped your car. Can we stay focused, please?” you deadpanned. You looked down at the books. 

Sam picked one up. “Hegel, Kant, Wittgenstein? That's some pretty heavy reading, guys.”

Dean picked up the glass object lying next to them. “Yeah, and, uh, Moby Dick's bong.”

***

Sam and Dean bickered over whether or not they thought Andy was guilty as you zoned out in the backseat. That was, until, the man in question hit the passenger’s side door, startling all three of you.

“Hey! You think I haven't seen you three? Why are you following me?” He asked, his voice reverberating strangely in your ears.

Sam calmly began to explain. “Well, we're lawyers. See, a relative of yours has passed aw—” 

“Tell the truth!” Andy’s voice echoed in your mind.

“We hunt demons,” Dean rushed out.

Andy jerked back in surprise. “What?”

“Dean!” Sam scolded.

“He’s telling the truth,” you jumped in. “That’s Sam. He’s Dean’s brother. I’m (Y/N). I met their dad on a hunt, and, uh, here I am! I follow them everywhere because they’re my best friends and the only real family I’ve ever had, and I’m terrified of losing them, and I followed them to you.”

“(Y/N), shut up!” Sam chastised, turning to face you. 

“I’m trying,” you said.

“He's psychic. Kind of like you. Well, not really like you, but see, he thinks you're a murderer,” Dean continued, “and he's afraid that he's going to become one himself, 'cause you're all part of something that's terrible. And, I hope to hell that he's wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that he might be right.”

“Okay, you know what? Just leave me alone,” Andy said.

“Okay,” Dean nodded.

Andy walked away from the door, and Sam followed. You and Dean clutched your heads.

“Holy fuck, that hurt,” you groaned.

“Did you really mean that?” Dean asked, clutching the bridge of his nose.

“What, that this hurts?” you scoffed.

“No, about me and Sam.”

“Dude, he made me Professor-Xavier-level spill my guts,” you grumbled. “I couldn’t have lied if I tried.”

Dean gave you a confusing look, but you got out of the car, feeling embarrassed. Sam held up a hand, warning you not to come any closer. You could vaguely hear Andy and Sam arguing about the origins of their powers and the doctor’s death, but all you could focus on was what you’d just admitted.

“(Y/N)—” Dean started.

“No, Dean.” You looked up at him. “We can talk about it one day when this is all over. Just… for now, let’s not.”

He didn’t say anything, but eyed you curiously. Before either of you could say another word to each other, Sam began to collapse to the floor. You and Dean ran to him to catch him and lowered him to the asphalt.

“Sam? What is it?” Dean asked his brother, shaking him.

“Look, I didn't do anything to him—”

“We know you didn’t,” you told Andy.

Sam snapped to attention. “A woman. A woman burning alive. A gas station, a woman is gonna kill herself.”

Andy’s voice rose significantly in pitch. “What does he mean, going to? What is he, what is—”

“Shut up!” you and Dean told Andy.

“She gets triggered by a call on her cell,” Sam continued.

“When?”

“I don't know.” Dean helped his brother stand as he continued talking, “But as long as we keep our eyes on this son of a bitch, he can't hurt her.”

Andy raised his hands up in surrender. “I didn't hurt anybody.”

“Yeah, not yet,” you said. Your head jerked toward the sound of a fire engine roaring and flashing by you on the highway next to you.

“Go,” Sam told you and Dean. The two of you sprinted to the car and headed off to follow the firetruck.

When you arrived, you were disheartened to see the first responders trying to put out the fire, keep civilians away, and recover the charred body of the woman who had died.

Dean immediately called Sam. “Hey, it's me. She's dead. Burned up, just like you said… Like minutes before I got here! I mean, the smell hasn't even cleared. What's up with your visions, man? This wasn't even a head start… Listen, you were with Andy when this whole thing went down, so it- it can't be him, it's gotta be somebody else doing this… What else is new? Well, we'll dig around here, see what else we can find.”

You and Dean roamed around talking to first responders and bystanders, posing as relatives of the woman who’d died. It was one of the things you felt guilty about in your line of work; posing as relatives of the dead to get information felt disrespectful to you. But alas, you had to, in this case.

You and Dean drove in silence back to the lot where Sam and Andy were talking on the bed of a broken truck as you rolled up. 

“Victim's name was Holly Beckett, forty-one, single,” Dean explained to Sam.

“I called Ash back at the crime scene,” you began. “Said he found a Holly Beckett who gave birth when she was eighteen, back in ‘83. Same day you were born, Andy.”

“Andy, were you adopted?” Sam questioned.

He nodded as if it were obvious. “Well, yeah.”

Dean glared pointedly. “You were? And you neglected to mention that?”

“Never really came up,” Andy deadpanned. “I mean, I, I never knew my birth parents, and, and like you said my adopted mom died when I was a baby— do you, do you think this Holly woman could actually be my m—”

“I don't know,” you explained. “I tried to get a copy of the birth records, but they're hard copy only, sealed in the county office.”

Andy smirked. “Well, screw that.”

***

You and the brothers went through the drawers of file cabinets searching for phone records as Andy began leading the guards out of the room.

“Probably shouldn't have left you kids in here,” the guard said.

Andy rubbed a hand over his back. “No, it'll all be fine. Alright? Just go get a cup of coffee.” As the guard left, he continued, saying, “These aren't the 'droids you're looking for.”

You and Dean grinned. “Awesome,” the older brother said.

“I got it,” Sam said. “Andy, it's true. Holly Beckett was your birth mother.”

Andy looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Huh. Does anyone have a Vicodin?”

"No Vicodin. Weed, though," you told him, offering him a joint from a pack of pre-rolls in your jacket.

Andy considered but shook his head.

“Dr. Jennings was her doctor, too, I mean, he oversaw the adoption. You have a solid connection to both of them.”

“Yeah, but I— I didn't kill them,” he rushed out.

“We believe you,” Sam told him.

“But uh, who did?” Dean questioned.

“I think I got a pretty good guess,” Sam replied. “Holly Beckett gave birth to twins.”

Andy’s jaw dropped. “I have an evil twin.” He looked to you. "I may take that joint now."

Sam began flipping through another folder of documents. “Holly put you and your brother up for adoption. And you went to the Gallagher family, obviously, and your brother went to the Weems family from upstate.”

You looked over at the zoned-out Andy. “You okay? Still with us?”

He shook his head and looked over at you. “Um. What was my brother's name?”

Sam flipped to another page. “Here. Um, Ansen Weems. And he's got a local address.”

“He- He lives here?!”

Dean pushed a few buttons on the computer. “Let's get a look at him. Got his picture coming off from the DMV right now.”

“Dean, you can barely work a toaster. How’d you find his picture from the DMV?” you asked.

He just glared at you in response. You could tell he was messing with you, though.

You pulled the paper off the printer, eyes widening as you recognized the man in the picture. “Hate to kick you while you're freaked,” you said. “Take a look at that.”

When Andy caught sight of his friend from the café Weber looking back at him from the printed off image, his jaw dropped even further in shock.

***

It was a race against the clock to find where Weber had taken Andy’s ex-girlfriend, Tracy— the woman you spoke to at the diner— after Sam had another vision about her jumping off a bridge. Sam’s visions were getting more intense and painful; poor guy. Andy directed Dean to the bridge Sam described from his vision, and the four of you climbed out of the car in unison.

“(Y/N), Dean, you should stay back,” Sam said.

“No argument here. Had my head screwed with enough for one day,” Dean leaned against his car next to you. You watched Andy and Sam head to fend off Weber when you got an idea. “You got a Remington in the trunk? Or an FR F2?”

He smirked at you. “Have you met me?”

***

You and Dean found a spot in the trees far enough away from the scene below to get a clear shot at Weber without being able to hear one of his commands. Dean only had one FR F2, and you convinced him to hand it over to you. You were a damn near perfect shot and could easily take this guy out.

You lined up your shot, smiling smugly when you centered his head on the cross in the middle of the scope. ‘Gotcha,’ you thought. Suddenly, his head turned to you. He said something you couldn’t hear, but it was enough to get you to tuck the barrel of the rifle under your chin.

“(Y/N)! Stop it!” Dean tugged on your arm and managed to wrestle it away from the trigger when another gunshot rang out. As you came back into full control of your body, your breathing labored. You dropped the gun and collapsed backward into Dean’s chest, and his arms circled you as you turned your face into him.

“I got you, I got you,” he assured you as you wound your hands around his neck and buried your face in his chest.

“C’mon, we gotta get Sammy,” Dean said, pulling you down the hill to the bridge with him. 

You found Sam passed out on the floor and sat with Dean while he did his best to wake his brother up. When he did finally awaken, the paramedics had begun to arrive. Andy’s skills were clearly developing given the way he spoke to the police about the incident.

“He shot himself. And you all saw it happen,” he told them. All of the policemen nodded in affirmation.

The paramedics fixed Sam’s shoulder and wrapped a disposable blanket around Tracy’s shoulders. You watched Tracy’s frightened gaze that she couldn’t quite meet Andy’s eyes with. You knew she wouldn’t ever see him the same, and that broke your heart a bit. Andy seemed to understand that, too.

“She won't even look at me,” he noted.

“Yeah, she's pretty shaken up,” Sam gently responded.

“No, it's— this is different. It's, uh, I never— I never used my mind-thing on her before. Before tonight. She's scared of me now.” His face fell as the words left his lips; as if it became real for him.

“Hey, Andy, I hate to do this, but um, we have to get out of here. Here. I wrote down my cell.” Sam handed him a piece of paper with his phone number on it. “You don't have to be alone in this, alright? If anything comes up, just call me up.” 

“Wha- what am I supposed to do now?”

“You be good, Andy. Or we'll be back,” Dean stated firmly.

“Looks like I was right,” Sam said as you walked back to the car with the brothers.

“About what?” Dean questioned.

“Andy. He’s a killer after all,” he responded.

“No, he's a hero. He saved his girlfriend's life, he saved her life.” Dean pointed to you, his voice becoming firmer.

“Bottom line, he wasted somebody,” Sam argued.

“No, dude,” you jumped in. “He’s not a foaming-at-the-mouth psycho, though. He was pushed into that. All of us would’ve died had he not.”

“Weber was pushed too, in his own way. Max Miller was pushed. Hell, I was pushed by Jessica's death.”

You scoffed. “What’s your point, man?”

“Right circumstances, everyone's capable of murder. Everyone. Y'know, maybe that's what the demon's doing. Pushing us. Finding ways to break us,” Sam continued.

You considered Sam’s words. “I agree that everybody’s capable, but—”

Dean cut you off. “Sam, we don't know what the demon wants, okay? Quit worrying about it.”

“You know, I heard you before, Dean, when Andy made you tell the truth. You're just as scared of this as I am.” Sam turned to his brother.

Dean scoffed. “That was mind control! I mean, it's like, like, that's like being roofied, man, that doesn't count.”

“What?”

“No. I'm- I'm calling do-over,” the older brother responded petulantly.

You giggled. “Are you five?”

“Doesn't matter. Look, we've just gotta keep doing what we're doing, find that evil son of a bitch and kill it,” he told Sam.

The brunet sighed, “Yeah, I guess.”

Dean’s phone rang through the uncomfortable silence. “Hello? Ellen. What's going on? Yeah, we'll be right there.”

***

When you arrived at the Roadhouse, Jo eyed Dean wantonly. You were repulsed, but you stomached your jealousy and pushed forward to Ellen. “What’s going on?” you asked her. 

She motioned for you to sit at the bar. You did so, confused. 

“Jo?” Ellen called to her daughter from behind the bar. “Go pull up another case of beer.”

“Mom,” she groaned.

Ellen stared her down. “Now. Please.”

As Jo left, Ellen leaned across the bar in front of you and the boys. “So. You uh, you want to tell me about this last hunt of yours?”

Dean shook his head. “No. Not really. No offense, it's just kind of a family thing.”

“Not anymore,” she responded. She dropped a stack of papers on the bar in front of you. “I got this stuff from Ash. Andrew Gallagher's house burnt down on his six month birthday, just like your house. You think it was the demon both times, don't you? You think it went after Gallagher's family?”

Sam answered before Dean could. “Yeah, we think so.”

“Sam—” Dean scolded.

“Why?” Ellen asked.

You began, “Ellen, you’re lovely and all, but this really isn’t—”

She cut you off. “You mind your tongue with me, girl. This isn't just your war, this is war. Now, something big and bad's coming, and it's coming fast, and their side holds all the cards. Now, at best, all we got is us. Together. No secrets or half-truths here.”

You eyed her warningly as Sam spoke. “There are people out there, like Andy Gallagher, like me. And um... we all have some kind of ability.”

“Ability?” Ellen asked.

Dean rolled his eyes, uncomfortable.

“Yeah. Psychic ability. Me, I have, um, I have visions. Premonitions. I don't know, it's- it's different for everybody. The demon said he had plans for people like us.”

“What kind of plans?”

“We don't really know for sure.”

“These people out there; these psychics— they dangerous?”

You and Dean jumped in quickly. “No.” Dean finished by saying, “Not all of them.”

Sam eyed his brother. “But some are. Some are very dangerous.”

“Okay, how many of them are we looking at?”

“We've been able to track a clear pattern so far. They've all had house fires on the night of the kid's six month birthday,” Dean explained.

“That's not true,” Sam told his brother.

You turned to him, confused.

“Weber? Or Ansen Weems, or whatever his name is— I looked at his files, and there was no house fire. There's nothing out of the ordinary,” he explained.

Ellen took yours and Dean’s shock as an opportunity to rejoin the conversation. “Which breaks pattern. So if there's any others like him, there'd be nothing in the system. No way to track 'em all down.”

“And so who knows how many of 'em are really out there?” Sam added.

Jo walked up behind you and the boys.

“Jo, honey?” her mom said. “You'd better break out the whiskey instead.”

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