#dean agegap

[call-me-mrs-winchester]

𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 - 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character

STORY SUMMARY : in series masterlist

CHAPTER WARNINGS : age-gap. pining. teasing. underaged flirting. language. violence. gaslighting. gun play. murder. description of death.

A/N: i've had this series replaying in my mind for over a year. i'm so happy to share with everyone and i hope you enjoy it as much as i do. i've got big plans for this story! thank you all for your support, feedback (preferably good) is always appreciated!

check out the teaser if you haven’t already.

Maricela's POV

I've known the Winchester brothers for four years now. I was fifteen when they visited Kenosha, Wisconsin, on a hunt for a Lamia. I remember hearing the roar of the Impala's engine pull into the gas station before it drove to the opposite side of the pump I was using. The motor's purr cuts just before the driver's side door creaks open, freeing a tall and handsome specimen. Once he reappeared from behind the pump, I did a double take. I couldn't help but stare at the man who wielded the most beautiful green eyes, trying to place where I'd seen them before. The longer I studied his chiseled face, the more familiar it seemed.

The man noticed my gaze and turned to look at me. He gave me a small smile, and I realized what I had been doing. I tear my attention away while my cheeks begin to heat, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," I say, focusing on the ground. "You just look really familiar."

"Oh, I don't know about that," his deep voice responded. "I'm not from around here."

I nodded, taking in his words, but felt in my gut that he wasn't telling the entire truth. Instead of thinking too hard about it, I push it to the back of my brain and look at his sweet ride.

"Pretty nice car you got there." I compliment.

"Thanks," he says before flashing me a charming smile.

I was instantly mesmerized by him. I had no intention of ceasing our conversation in hopes of becoming closer to him while I had the chance. Who wouldn't do the same? Regardless of any age difference.

He looked away and stared into the distance, getting lost in his head. I clear my throat before speaking again.

"What year is it?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation alive.

"'67." He answers proudly.

I ask, genuinely curious, "What kind of engine does it have?"

A slow smile spreads across his face as if the question doesn't get asked often. He nods for me to follow him, and I smile as my plan succeeds. He pops the hood from inside the car before walking towards the front of the Impala. As I pass the driver's side door, the man sitting inside gives me a tight-lipped smile. I give him one in return, then turn my attention back to the gorgeous man as he props the hood.

"Impressive. Let me guess—this baby pushes out 460 hps." I comment, staring at the redone engine.

"461. How did you...?" He trails off. I catch him staring at me in my peripheral vision. I turn to the attractive man and can't help but smile even wider at the amazement shining bright in his eyes. He thrusts his hand out and says, "I'm Dean."

I take his hand and squeeze, giving him a firm handshake. "I'm Mari."

"Ma-dee...?" He repeats in question.

I giggle at his uncertainty and nod at the correct pronunciation of my Spanish name. "Yes, sir."

"What's a girl like you know about engines?" He smirks, leaning against his now-closed hood.

"I know a thing or two." I shrug nonchalantly. I heard the gas pump jerk, indicating that my tank was full. "I should get that."

I turn to walk back before his voice stops me.

"Hey, uh—you wouldn't happen to know where the nearest motel is, do you?"

"Wow, Dean, I'm flattered, but I like to be 'wined and dined' before we sixty-nine." I causally joke.

His eyes widen with shock as the blush rises to his cheeks, his jaw dropping slightly. I found it arduous to keep my smirk hidden after his overt reaction. His head shakes violently, his hands rising in defense before speaking.

"What? No, I didn't mean—I don't want to—Not that you're not—" His green eyes quickly skim every inch of my body. "I'm not saying you don't look good 'cause wow—but I just—"

This man, who exudes confidence, getting so flustered over my words was unexpected. I couldn't help but stop his self-torture with a laugh.

"I'm just fucking with you."

Relief washes over his features before letting out a large breath. After a chuckle, he says, "You're good, really had me going there."

"Well, if you're this easy to rile up with words, I can only imagine how well you'd respond to actions." I smile at the vulgar things I had in mind.

To say I surprised even myself with my comments is an understatement. I have never been confident enough to speak to any guy like this. Let alone one this jaw-droppingly sexy, but he definitely brought that side out of me.

A mischievous smirk plays on his lips as he gets closer. "You've got a dirty little mouth there, sweetheart."

"You going to clean it out for me?" I say seductively before sinking my teeth into my bottom lip.

Dean's eyes widen again, but he tries covering it with a huge grin. He opens his mouth to reply but gets cut off by the man in his car attempting to mask the words "jail bait" with a cough. I can't help but laugh; he wasn't wrong. The man standing in front of me turns red once more.

"Why don't I give you those directions?" I offer, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

He nods, giving me a shy smile. He thanked me after I gave him the information.

"No problem." I walk to my car and grab the nozzle from my gas tank. I put it back into its machine while he does the same. "I hope to see you around."

He winks before I slip into my front seat. I smile at his small but powerful gesture and pray the last words I spoke to him become true.

And they did, just not in the way I would've imagined. What I didn't expect was to see a monster—a real monster—attack someone important to me. Two FBI agents tracked me down in my hometown for an interview. And just my luck, the agents happened to be the gentlemen I met earlier. Their faces were just as surprised to see me as I was them.

A knock sounded on the front door. I pause my movie before surreptitiously peeking out of the living room window that faces the street. My eyes widen as I see a familiar classic car parked outside my house. My heart rate spiked, knowing that the Impala could only belong to the man I met just the other day. Panicking, I push myself off the couch and run to the bathroom.

I look in the mirror and see a nightmare staring back. My eyes were red and puffy, and my hair was in shambles. I heard another knock, but this time louder. With no time to run a brush through my bird's nest of hair, I groan in frustration. I drag myself out of the bathroom before the rapid pounding begins against the front door.

"Coming!" I yell while combing my fingers through my thickly tangled brunette curls.

I stand just before the door and take a moment to breathe. After straightening the sweats I chose to lounge in, I curse myself for not being presentable at a time like this. I suck in a breath before reaching for the door handle, bracing myself for the judgment and embarrassment that was guaranteed to come my way. In one quick motion, I swing open the wooden door to see the two familiar, tall, handsome men standing before me.

Their eyes became wide as they recognized who I was. I self-consciously sink into my hoodie, shy from their attention.

"Mari..." says Dean, just as surprised to see me.

"What are you guys doing here?" I ask, confused.

"We're uh, we're FBI agents. Just came to ask Maricela a few questions." The gentleman with long hair answers. "Is she home?"

"That's me," My eyebrows knit together. "Wait a minute, you're FBI agents?" I ask, not believing them as I eye up their suits.

"Yes." Dean and I locked eyes, and I could tell from his facial expression that he was hiding something.

"Let me see your badges." The words spilled out of my mouth.

They exchanged a look as if they didn't know what to do. They fumbled over their words before I cut them off.

"Well," I cross my arms. "Let's see it."

"Look, I don't think we need to—" Dean starts.

"Then you're not coming in. Plain and simple." I sass, standing my ground to the suspicious strangers.

Sighing in defeat, they pull their badges from their inner suit pockets. I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose before taking their badges for a closer look. My eyes thoroughly examine their IDs, noticing an off detail, realizing why they were, or at least Dean was, hesitant about showing their badges. I hand them back before recrossing my arms.

"So... Jimmy, huh?" 'Dean' looks at me in confusion before the realization dawns upon his face. "I recalled you introducing yourself as 'Dean.'"

"Well, uh..." I see him struggle for an excuse. "I go by my middle name. Each time someone called for 'Jimmy,' my dad and I didn't know who they were referring to. So yeah, I—uh, I go by Dean."

I give him a 'you've got to be joking' look. He clears his throat and smiles, trying to play it cool.

"Right..." I stare at his face, hoping to magically remember where I knew him from—other than the day we met. Knowing my luck wasn't great, I brushed it off once again.

"May we come in?" Mr. Robert Plant asks.

With the faintest nod, I step aside to let them pass. Once they were in, I closed the door and led them to the living room. They settled on the couch and nervously smiled at me as I sat across from them.

"Are your parents home?" 'Dean' asks.

I shake my head. "No, they're not. But I'd rather get this done and over with, so please make this quick."

They nod before starting. "All right, tell us how you knew the victim. Then, walk us through what you saw last night."

I take a shaky breath, trying to steady my nerves. "Luke and I had been friends for a while. I had the biggest crush on him. I figured he only liked me as a friend, so when he asked me to dinner, how could I have said no? He wanted to drive down to Kenosha and try this new restaurant."

"So, it was a date?" 'Dean' questioned.

"I guess you could call it that. Everything was going great until I stepped away to use the restroom. When I came back... Luke was with another girl." I replay the awful memory. "She was all over him. I was furious! Why ask me out, then allow some random chick to finish our date? It just didn't make any sense. But I refused to stay and watch, so I left..."

My voice began to waver as the emotions I felt the night before came rushing back.

"I called my best friend to come pick me up. While I waited, I decided to go back and confront him, giving him a piece of my mind. That's when I found him..." I hesitate, fearing they wouldn't believe the truth of what I witnessed.

I didn't expect them to, especially since the local cops didn't. For two sole reasons: One. Who ever listens to the crazy person who says monsters are real? Two. I was a minor, and no one takes you seriously if you're under the age of 18—even then.

"Found him..?" 'Dean' asks, sitting at the edge of his seat. My eyes found his, and just for a moment, I felt safe in the comforting pools of green.

My lips part, contemplating what to say next. Hesitation got the best of me, so I settled on; "Dead."

They nod, taking in my statement. "You told the police you saw a monster kill Luke."

I give a dry laugh before nodding in agreement, my gaze wandering. "Yeah, I did."

"Is there anything more you can tell us about this so-called 'monster' you saw?" Robert questions.

"What's the point? You're not gonna believe me. No one else does." I shrug.

"Hey," 'Dean' made it a point for me to make eye contact with him before saying, "We just want to help. So, try us."

I bit the inside of my cheek while frantically searching his beautiful green irises for clarity. His brows furrowed, woven with hope yet silently pleading to trust him. So, with a deep breath, I confessed. "When I went back, he—uh, he was on the ground, and she was... eating him. She looked human, but her face—it changed."

"Changed? Changed how?" Robert eagerly inquired.

"I swear it warped into something snake-like."

The men exchanged glances before fixing their attention back on me. "How did she escape?"

"She heard other people coming near us and ran off. I tried running after her, but she turned a corner and was gone. I called the cops but not before seeing the huge gaping hole in Luke's chest." I numbly say as I stare off into thin air, as his lifeless and mutilated body flashes behind my eyes.

"All I know is whatever that thing is, ain't human. She's a monster, and I swear, she's gonna get what's coming to her." I seethe.

After persuading me to tell the truth, they tried convincing me what I witnessed, what that monster did to my friend, wasn't real.

"Look, Mari," 'Dean' started. "Forget what you think you saw, all right? Cause monsters aren't real. The sooner you realize that the sooner you can cope with your loss."

"My partner's right. It's easy to think that some—" Robert lifts his fingers to add air quotes. "—'monster' could be responsible for your boy friend's death, but the FBI can assure you, there's no such thing. In certain traumatic events, the witness can alter reality the more they try to remember what happened. It could just be that you have an overactive imagination. It happens all the time, especially in kids. I think that's what's going on here."

I glare at them in disbelief. How dare they come into my house and feed me lies—telling me I have an 'overactive imagination.' As natural as breathing, I begin expressing my anger.

"I don't care who you are—I know what I saw. This thing will continue to kill people until it's caught. So why don't you quit wasting your time selling me something I ain't buyin' and find the damn thing!" I say each and every word louder than the last, anger fueling the fire they only fanned higher.

Silence fell between us. It was evident that my outburst caught them off guard, but I couldn't care less. Time and energy were being wasted by trying to convince me otherwise. I take a deep breath and collect my thoughts before getting up from the couch to walk out of the living room.

"Now, if there's nothing else you need from me—" I say while opening the front door. The men take my hint and begin walking towards me. Robert delivers a stiff smile before walking out of the house, leaving me alone with 'Dean.'

"Thank you for your time." He mutters before exiting my home.

"Hey, Page," I called just after he walked down the porch steps. He pivots to meet my gaze. "If you don't find this thing, I will."

With a nod, he turns back around and heads for his car. As soon as they drove away, I threw myself into research. I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew these two from somewhere.

I soon found myself down a rabbit hole.

"Oh shit..." I murmur, finding what I was looking for but not what I expected. Then, it all dawned on me.

Sam and Dean Winchester.

Milwaukee, Wisconsin. That's where I knew them from. They came in January of 2007 and took hostages in a bank before escaping, dressed as SWAT agents. They were a huge story, especially since they were wanted for other heinous crimes. Those of which included—credit card fraud, breaking and entering, disturbing a crime scene, impersonation of law enforcement, assaulting an officer, breaking out of jail, mass murder, kidnapping, arson, grand theft auto, grave desecration, and lastly, desecration of corpses. I felt sick to my stomach, knowing I was alone with them. Yet, all I could think about was what they wanted and why they didn't hurt me if they had such a rap. My mind kept racing and racing until I made a plan.

After an hour, I had a theory on what kind of monster killed my friend. So, I decided to confront the mystery men and pray they really were here to help. After changing, I traveled down to the city where they stayed.

I pulled up to the motel and braved myself with a deep breath before exiting my car. I clutched the gun in my purse as I walked over to their room. With determination, I knocked on their door. My heart hammered against my rib cage, wondering if what I was doing was a mistake. Dean opened the door, and his eyes instantly widened. I brush past him and walk into the middle of the room while taking a quick scan, ensuring it was just us three before turning to face them. Without wasting a beat, I jump into business.

"I know who you are," I assert with as much confidence as my voice could muster. "Sam and Dean Winchester."

Their faces dropped at the mention of their real identities.

"Now," I begin. "I want the truth. Who are you."

"Well, if you know our names, you should already know who we are," says Sam.

"I read what the articles wrote about you, even what law enforcement officials have tried charging you with before you were 'killed.' Yet, here you are: alive." I take the loaded gun out of my purse and aim at the brothers. "So tell me, who are you."

The men raised their hands in surrender, no doubt startled to see me wield a deadly weapon. What'd they expect? That I'd walk into the lion's den unarmed? I might be foolish, but I'm not stupid.

"Woah, woah. Mari, put the gun away. It's not a toy." Dean said, taking a step closer.

"No shit, Sherlock." I steady my trembling hands. "Now, somebody better start talking, or I'll start using this thing."

"Okay! Okay!" Dean shouts after hearing the click of the safety release from the trigger. "We'll tell you. Just please, put it down."

I hesitate but lower the weapon at a 45-degree angle, not ready to put it away completely. "You're right. I'm Dean Winchester, this is my brother, Sam. But we're not what everyone says we are. We're... we're hunters."

My brows narrow in confusion. "Hunters?"

"We hunt monsters. We try to save as many people as we can. It's our family business."

I take a deep breath before saying, "I thought you said monsters weren't real."

The brothers seemed to relax when I put the safety back on before shoving the gun back into my purse.

"We had to. It was for your own good. You're too young to learn about the things that go bump in the night." Dean says before sitting at the table near the window, across from Sam.

"I appreciate it, but I can make that decision on my own."

"If you really want to know, it was a Lamia that killed Luke," Sam says, trying to ease the tension between his brother and me.

I nod. "Yeah, I know."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "You know?"

"Yeah," I pull out the folded paper I printed earlier. He gets up from his chair, walking closer so I can hand it to him. "I did some research and came across it. Figured it could be a possibility."

"So why did you come here?" Dean asked.

I shifted my eyes to meet his. "Because if those allegations were true, you would've killed me. And you didn't... You came to me, looking for clues to—to help. Bad guys don't do that."

I watch as his eyes soften. He gives me the tiniest smile before nodding.

"Now, how do we kill this thing?" I ask.

"No, no, no." Dean gets up from his chair and walks over.

"What? I'm going to help you kill it." I declare.

"I don't think so, sweetheart." He quickly towers over me. "Leave it to the adults."

"You don't scare me, Dean Winchester," I say confidently.

The truth is, I was—just a little. His lips parted as if he was going to say something back but he didn't.

"I think it's best if we take care of this," Sam interjects.

I fought with them long and hard until I finally wore them down. They agreed I could come with them as long as I stayed out of the way.

We ascended the steps of the church and pushed the heavy doors open. The men led the way before stopping in front of the altar. I gasped once I saw the priest's dead body lying on the floor with his throat cut open.

"Damn it!" Dean cursed. "She got to him first."

"What do we do?" I ask, frightened.

"Call Bobby," said Sam before the Lamia made her way from the back room.

Dean whipped out his phone and dialed whomever Sam referred to.

"What's another way to kill a Lamia?" he eagerly asks. He looks to the priest lying at his feet before saying, "It didn't pan out. What's Plan B?"

While Dean took instructions, the Lamia charged toward us. She dodged Sam's punch before grabbing his clothes and flinging him across the room. He hit the pillar before shouting for his brother. Ignoring me, she runs over with supernatural speed and snatches him away from the column that kept him upright. Dean sprints to the back room just before the Lamia throws the tall man to the floor like he was nothing.

She then straddles him, wrapping one hand around his neck before hissing. Her fangs and forked tongue were on display, just like they were the first time I saw her. Fear freezes me in place, trapping me in the memory of Luke's murder. She uses her unoccupied hand to press her fingertips against Sam's chest as if she were going to plunge it into his body. He tries prying her hands away with no luck. The monster begins to dig her quickly, growing claws into the man, forcing out a pained cry. The sound of his torture pierces through my comatose state, snapping me out of it.

Without second-guessing, I feel my body rush towards the monster, tackling her off the youngest Winchester. I quickly crawl over and grab the knife near Sam. I stand, holding the large blade in front of me. She pants heavily as a slow smile spreads across her face. The same one that burned in my memory that fateful day.

That was enough for me to lunge the large knife at her. She quickly dodged and tried attacking back, only for me to do the same. I finally land a strike on her arm, slicing her skin open. Yet, just as fast as it appeared, I watched her heal. The sudden realization that she couldn't be weakened easily had hit me like a truck. She took the opportunity to jump me, knocking the knife out of my hand. We wrestled on the floor before her strength dominated.

"I remember you." Her voice spoke. "You're the girlfriend."

"Shut up." I hiss while trying and failing to push her off of me. Her taunting laughs echo off the church's walls.

"I've got to say, your boy toy tasted amazing." She adds to the torment. A fresh set of tears fills my eyes. I turn my head and see the knife not too far away. I look at her again while I reach for the knife. "Don't worry, sweetie. He didn't suffer... that much."

My fingertips lightly grazed the edge of the handle. With one last stretch, I grasped onto it, and with one swift motion, I jammed the blade into the monster's throat.

"I said—" Her eyes widen in shock before I yank the knife out. "Shut up!"

She stumbled off, allowing me to get away. I push myself off the ground and run towards Sam, still lying on the floor.

"C'mon." I pull him up with all my strength before shifting some of his weight onto me.

We stumble to the back room where Dean was with the Lamia on our asses. Once we were in the kitchen, Dean tossed what seemed to be herbs out of the bowl he held at the evil creature. She flinched as if it had stung while Dean pulled the stove away from the wall. The monster fixed her eyes on the older Winchester, ready to pounce. I threw myself in her path before she—very easily— flung me out of the way. I groaned in pain as I tried to sit up. Sam followed my actions, only for him too to be cast aside.

"Fire in the hole!" Dean shouted before lighting the gas that seeped out of its line.

We watch as the Lamia burns to a crisp while listening to her violent shrieks. Once she was dead, Dean cut the gas, putting out the fire. My chest rises and falls, trying to calm down yet attempting to register everything that just happened. Dean walks in front of me and offers me a hand. I hesitantly accept before he pulls me off the floor.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

I nod with reassurance before Sam walks over to us. "I'm fine."

"It's over now." Dean rubs my back. "She can't hurt anybody else."

After the hunt, they took me out to dinner. It was less eating, at least for me, and more them giving me the talk about all that is dangerously real in the world. It goes without saying I became a hunter that day. Once I turned 18, I made it a full-time job. As much as Dean hated the fact that I fell into hunting and as much as he tried to stop me, I would help them on cases if we were near one another. After hunts, we always found time to hang out. They became my closest and most trusted friends, family even. We were always there for each other, especially at our lowest. Sam was the big brother I never had, while Dean was the crush I never seemed to get over.

Since the day I met him, my feelings for the older Winchester have only grown stronger. Each moment spent with him was bittersweet, knowing I was so close yet so far away from where I craved to be. But anything was better than nothing at all. Even with Sam's year-long encouragement, I refused to tell his brother how I felt in fear of rejection. The timing was another reason I hadn't confessed my undying love as each Big Bad became worse than the last. Things got a little more complicated when every angel fell from Heaven only to receive worse news when I called Dean to question 'The Global Meteor Shower.'

"Mari," Dean's hoarse voice spoke. "It's Sam... He's in the hospital."

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[undyinwxnchester]

‘Everybody knows that I’m a good boy, officer.’

(Officer!MaleReader x DeanWinch).

NSFW THEMES - SLIGHT AGEGAP

‘Everyone, and I mean. Everyone knew who Dean Winchester was in the force, FBI, and so on. And it seemed whilst pulling a black impala over, you just so happened to be lucky enough to pull him of all people over.

You weren’t aware of what he looked like, just name. So given the fake ID name you are thrown off guard.’

“yeh, names Ozzy Smith.” He says. Odd name, but you brush it off. But you have to still question him given the speeding and lack of paper work.

“Uh-Huh. Why don’t you step out for me, son.” You say in your usual tone, just keeping it stern but not so much to the point it’s going to scare the person off. He doesn’t as first, but complied after a moment. Even in your late 30s, your not dumb enough to think a kid a decade younger than you is going to be named ozzy.

Even if he had shit parents name him. Your sceptical.

His hands fidget in his pockets, a clear sign of something off to you.

“How old are you?”

A simple question he should be able to answer. Still his ‘ID’ in hand, he’s been caught out.

At that - it’s not a surprise he ends up in cuffs, not knowing his supposed age on the ID by heart seems silly. You end up in his trunk, plenty of fake ids, weapons. Everything you don’t want to find in someone’s car.

Hes trying, so hard to do something. Swoon and beg his way out. The flirting is new, for men anyway. But it doesn’t work anyway.

“Oh come on man! Cut me some slack, I didn’t do nothing wrong.”

That’s all that escapes his lips, excuses. Dean is beyond annoyed - he hadn’t planned on being pulled over for little reason and he knows it’s going to be annoying to get out of this. Sams at some cheap motel an hour away without baby. And it seems this cop won’t budge.

He tries his hardest - his usual charm, being oblivious. His usual cocky ‘Fake manner’. But your not a woman, that’s not as easy. So he takes a latter when you’ve eventually got him in a questioning room, alone and cuffed to the table.’

You sit opposite him - your a small department and little of the others know how to question people. Especially people like him. They’d probably end up in tears or confused.

He’s seemingly tired - seemingly.

But acting odd, shifting in the chair and cuffs, before he asks the usual question.

“Need the’ bathroom.”

So, you provide the right like you’d supposed to even if you know it’s something fishy. Your correct. Soon as you unlatch him from the table; even with his cuffs still on.

Your pinned, he’s a big kid. Some muscle on him so it’s no so hard for him to do with you, as you grunt and the cuffs press at your throat you realise this probably wasn’t the best person to allow a bathroom right.

You struggle - eventually pushing him away and able to grab him, but in a rather odd place given he knew his way around a good fight. He ends up.. bent. Over the table.

Your body behind him and you sort of. Freeze. This doesn’t look good. At all.

His breathe hitches - this is a new position for him. Usually he’s the one bending someone over but - welp.

He bucks, tries to. But it ends up with him pressing his behind against your groin, you grunt. And just pin him more in response. This isn’t good at all. For either of you.

“You know- you could have bought me a drink.” He teases, of course when given the circumstances he will in fact still be a weird about it. He’s that kind of guy. Even though he feels.. odd. He’s not used to such kind of people near him.. but he’s not’

Opposed to it. So he uses it to advantage, even though it’ll probably get him into more trouble.

Before you can respond to his crude comment - he bucks again. But more, and more. He’s not used to doing this but he’ll do it for the sake of hopefully getting out of here. His rear moving swiftly, slowly but with a harsh push. You feel your cock twitch - its interested. Your head isn’t.

You move he gets away - you don’t move he gets his own way. Your screwed- oh it feels so good though. He’s not bad looking at all. A pretty kid.. and that ass is just. Speaking wonders.

—

You fucked it- your screwed. Your fired for sure. So sure. After his little charade you ended up giving in, he didn’t mind even though he sort of shit himself at first. Your cock deep into his hole as he’s leant against the table. Cuffs rattling with each heavy thrust.

He’s a heavy moaning mess - and your groaning behind him. As his tight behind sucks you in like no other, taking your inches generously. It’s a little dry, you only used spit but it serves well enough. You don’t care if it hurts him - he’s a criminal after all.

Your hands are tight on his hips, each pound earning you a whine as it barely pushes against his prostate. He’s so close. So close already. Cock leaking onto the table as it shifts with each movement from behind, leaking pre and swelling for some form of attention. It doesn’t get any.

You grind, and you thrust. He even meets your movements- back arching just that bit to move with you. Till he pops. His ropes of white lathering against the table. You continue with him. His orgasm ridden out and his hole just that bit tighter because of it.

Your closer now too. But need just a bit longer. This isn’t an intimate moment. It’s just a fuck. No words are or will be exchanged - or so you thought. He mutters, just barely with such a gruff husky groan, And you almost immediately finish as he does.

‘A-Hah- Right there deputy..”

He’s filled to the brim right after.

———

He leaves. You let him go - no questions asked. Of course you do.

He could just decide to snitch on you and it’ll cost your job, you help clean him up before he does go of course. Little words exchanged, glances at best. Before he goes though. He gives you - his number.

And your left with guilt and dread - fear of your job. But that all heavy feeling of lust and want for more.

You didn’t think The Dean Winchester would end up a good fuck.

——————————————————

Request anything if you want!

🫡

[babyboywinchester]

Love everything about agegap wincest with much older Dean making Sam the perfect housewife. Absolutely picking up what you're putting down there.

But have we considered-

Older Sam that was so kind and sweet in raising Dean and he ends up just as insane over Sam

Like Sam spent all those years taking care of Dean, it's only fair he returns the favor and reinforces it by making Sammy a mother all over again with their new brood

Delicious finally some good fucking food over here

[wowsosad]

Masterlist. SFW works are defined by not having smut, it doesn’t mean they’re fluffy. My works will always be dark.

Check out the “#lox talks” tag for all speaking posts, as well as all these posts.

𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐀𝐑𝐓:

- Sam Winchester portrait, “terminally the little brother’

𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒:

- Bruises on teen!sam’s skinny waist and hips

- Dadson Wincest with teen!sam and adult!dean pictures

- Reverse age gap Wincest pictures

- Putting s15 Sam and Dean in rooms with preseries s&d

- Unsent project pics with Sam and Dean

- Creep! Dean ramble

- Adult! Wincest (in their 50s) living easy in the Midwest.

- Mommy/Daddy!Dean with Sammy rant

- Weechesters ft. Sam (13) cuddling with John. Sfw.

- Samjohn (young teen sammy) moodboard, nsfw implications

- Sam and Dean and bug bites

𝐒𝐅𝐖:

- Bigger agegap with Sam and Dean. Drabble.

- Sam getting slapped by Dean. Drabble.

- Dadson (secretly unclenephew) Sam and Dean ramble

- (Request) Dean (21) realizing Sam (17) hadn’t yet lost his virginity.

- Sam leaving for Stanford angsty drabble

- (Request) Sam (14) referring to Dean (18) as daddy, viewing Dean as his parent

- Transfem!Sam Winchester (but it’s cause Dean feminizes her) Drabble

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖:

- Sam and Dean sharing and not sharing a bed. Drabble.

- Teenchesters, Sam fucking Dean’s thighs. Drabble.

- Johndean, 18 y/o wifey!dean drabble

[call-me-mrs-winchester]

𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character

SUMMARY : maricela is a hunter who's been in love with dean winchester for years. given the age gap, he's made it clear he only sees her as his little sister. when she officially joins team free will after the angels fall, dean begins to see she isn't a kid anymore. with abaddon on the rise, dean takes on the only weapon that could kill her: the mark of cain. sam, mari, and cas watch as dean suffers the effects of the mark. after metatron kills dean, what's left of team free will does everything to find and save the beloved winchester. with the news of dean becoming the very thing he hunted for a living, sam and mari set out to bring him home. once dean's back in the bunker, they begin the demon curing ritual, hoping for success. when demon dean gets loose and finds maricela alone, he does what dean could never do. before he could kill, they finished the ritual, curing dean. though the eldest winchester was no longer a knight of hell, the curse remained, only worsening the effects from before. as they desperately search for a way to remove it, maricela deals with the marks dean gave her and the aftermath that goes with it.

WARNING : mature content. pining. age-gap. angst. fluff. smut. violence. murder. death. alcohol use. depictions of torture. graphic scenes. sexual abuse. mental abuse. verbal abuse. physical abuse. corruption. degregation.

each chapter will have it's own warning. i would include more but i don't wanna give anything away!

𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟕 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟗 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟏 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟐 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟑 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟒 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟓 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟔 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟕 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟖 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟗 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟎

𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝…

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAG LIST

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO CALL-ME-MRS-WINCHESTER

: do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or republish any of my works* on here or another platform

*beside my writing, my works include : all banners, dividers, and gifs that i use (which were made by me,) unless otherwise stated.

[babyboywinchester]

Hi it's older Sam agegap wincest anon

Another point for consideration-

Sam breastfeeding him and Dean's kids (because he's a good mother like that) and Dean getting jealous because Sam never breastfed him growing up but he does his best not to show it because he doesn't want to make Sam feel bad-

But it's okay because Sam feels guilty about it too so one night after feeding the babies he comes back to bed and starts feeding Dean without another word

Dean takes that shit in his cereal AND his coffee. Nothing better than good, all natural, mama’s breast milk.

[call-me-mrs-winchester]

𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 - 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 (𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫)

PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character

STORY SUMMARY : in story masterlist

WARNINGS : mature content. pining. age-gap. angst. fluff. smut. violence. murder. death. alcohol use. depictions of torture.

each chapter will have it's own warning. i would include more but i don't wanna give anything away!

A/N: likes, comments, and—most importantly—reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!!!

"Dean, please…" I stand frozen, staring at the man I love.

His legs stride toward me, closing our distance in seconds. He hovers over my petite figure, his intimidation only making me feel smaller.

"This isn't you."

"THIS IS THE NEW ME!" He shouts before grabbing my hair and pulling me close. "The old, weak, pathetic, scared little boy you knew is long gone. It's only me, and I'm not going anywhere…"

I watch as he flashes his black, demonic eyes. My hands fly up to his entangled one in my hair. I yank at it, struggling to be set free. Anger and lust take over his once expressionless face. His sharp gaze travels down to my shirt.

Nodding at it, he says, "Take it off."

My eyes widened, shocked by the words that came out of his mouth. I part my lips to say no, but nothing comes out. His unoccupied hand roughly grips my chin, forcing me to look into his dark green eyes. His thumb firmly drags across my bottom lip as he licks his own. My heart pounds louder as I desperately try to escape his grasp, knowing the sinful act he's planning to commit against me.

"Do it!" He yells, his voice resonating off the walls to make it seem louder, driving me to jump uncontrollably.

His gaze rakes over my face, taking notice of my fear. A slow and sinister smile spreads across his lips. A sick feeling descends into the pit of my stomach, knowing my fear is pleasing him.

I swallow hard when I hear him calmly but sternly say, "Or I'll do it for you."

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAG LIST

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO CALL-ME-MRS-WINCHESTER

: do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or republish any of my works* on here or another platform

*beside my writing, my works include : all banners, headers, dividers, and gifs that i use (which were made by me,) unless otherwise stated.

[call-me-mrs-winchester]

𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character

STORY SUMMARY : in series masterlist

CHAPTER WARNINGS : age-gap. pining. fluff. bloody dean. language. sam near death (literally). possessed sam.

A/N : sorry for the wait! i've been super busy but here's the second chapter. hope you all enjoy. check out masterlist if you missed the chapters before this!

Maricela's POV

Dean strides into the room but not with Crowley. A tall man follows behind him, eyeing me as he enters. The older Winchester stops at the foot of Sam's bed as the stranger walks to the opposite end, giving his full attention to the unconscious man.

"Who's this?" I ask, my defensiveness prominent.

"Ezekiel. He's an angel," Dean introduces. "You were right about one thing: Some ain't here to help. Another angel tried taking me out, but this one here stopped him."

I nod before inquiring, "And Crowley?"

"Still in the trunk, alive." Ezekiel places a hand on Sam's chest. Dean crosses his arms, looking skeptical of the angel. "You still able to cure things after the fall?"

"Yes, I should be, but...he's so weak."

The sound of Dean's phone ringing sparks my curiosity. He uncrosses his arms, reaching his slender fingers into his jeans pocket to retrieve the device. His brows draw together as he stares at the screen.

Without wasting another beat, he brings the phone to his ear and warily asks, "Who is this?"

I watch as Dean visibly perks at their answer. "Who is it?"

In a fleeting moment, his eyes meet mine, wordlessly mouthing 'Cas.' Relief and excitement surge through my heart, quickening its speed. He moves towards the door to take the call outside. As much as I wanted to follow and hear from my dear friend, I didn't trust the stranger enough to leave Sam alone.

"So," I break the silence once the door shuts. "Will you heal him?"

"If only it were that simple. Your friend is not doing well." He patiently spoke as if I was receiving the news for the first time.

"Yeah, I know that. That's why you're here." I respond harshly as my anxiety begins to climb. "Use the powers God literally gave you!"

"The fall has left me weak, and entangling with my brother back there did me no favors. But what strength I have left, I offer to help Sam." He pauses, taking his eyes off the youngest Winchester to look at me. "You know, others like me still believe in Castiel. There's no need to fear me."

"Oh buddy, I don't fear you. I don't trust you. There's a difference."

Before he could reply, the building began to shake. Ezekiel yanks his hand away from Sam, and a glimpse of terror emerges on his face. Though, just as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared. He scrambles to peek outside the large window as loud, frightened, and indistinct muffles erupt in the hallway. Had I not been familiar with what an angel searching for a vessel consisted of, I, too, would've believed it was an earthquake. Just then, Dean rushes back into the room.

"One of yours?" He asks.

Ezekiel turns before addressing Dean, "Trying to secure a vessel. We need to move."

"No, no. If we move him, he dies." I highlight.

"If we stay, we could all die." The angel counters.

Dean looks at Sam's unconscious body before turning towards the wall across from the bed. His eyes land on the dry-erase markers underneath the whiteboard. He grabs the black marker before tossing the red one to me. We quickly draw angel-warding symbols on each wall, including the door, to keep out unwanted celestial visitors.

"Long as these are up, no angels are coming in," Dean informs Ezekiel, tossing the marker to the ground. "No one's coming out. You gonna be okay with these?"

"I'll manage." He answers.

Dean nods before studying Ezekiel's alertness. "What?"

"They're here."

At that moment, a high-pitched ring seeps into our ears, almost drowning out the distant screams that echo through the hospital's halls.

"Okay, do not open this door for anybody but me." Dean points to himself. His right hand grabs the doorknob before pointing a firm finger at his brother. "Save him, you hear me?"

Without waiting for an answer, he leaves the room. People screamed in fear as the glass began to shatter. The fire alarm sounds before Dean shouts from afar.

"Everybody out! Now! Get out!"

I stare at the door, debating whether or not I should help the man I love save people or stay and ensure the angel heals my best friend. I groan, knowing what Dean would want me to do. Suddenly, an unmistakable beeping jolts me out of my thoughts. My head snaps towards the monitor, searching for the cause of the horrific sound. His heart rate, oxygen saturation, and respiration levels spike significantly higher than what they should be. Uncertainty gripped me as I stood motionless, paralyzed by fear and unsure of how to help. Meanwhile, Ezekiel remained calm, observing my distress without making any move to offer Sam assistance.

"What are you doing? Help him!" I cry.

The angel lays his hand on Sammy's chest again. His eyes glow with light, showcasing the use of his power, but it quickly fades before he stumbles back. He sits on the nearby chair, clutching his side.

"No, no, no! Get up, he's dying!"

"There's nothing I can do." He croaks out.

"What do you mean? You're an angel. Please, help my best friend." I beg as tears flood my eyes.

"I'm afraid I'm too weak."

I groan in agony, hating that I couldn't help Sam. "Fuck it. I'm gonna go find a doctor."

I open the door to see glass shards coating every inch of the hallway floor. Coming from the left, a man and the counselor from earlier drag Dean towards the room. I mutter a few choice words before slamming the door shut behind me. Bracing for a fight, I grab Sam's angel blade from his belongings. An axe strikes the wooden door straight through the warding, causing it to disarm. I stand guard at Sam's bedside, ready to protect him at all costs. My hand tightens around the blade's handle as the tension builds, waiting for the angels to burst in.

Instead, a white light shines through the axe-shaped hole as the angels wail in anguish. Dean then barges in with his face covered in blood. His eyes follow where the only sound in the room comes from to see the red 'ALERT' warning flashing on the monitor.

"What the hell's happening?" He questions.

"This just started. And the warding. I'm afraid I'm weaker than I thought," Dean grabs a nearby marker and begins to cross lines in the nearby wardings, disabling them. "I am sorry, Dean."

Dean stops marking the symbols and rushes towards Ezekiel. "No. No, no, no. No, we had a deal, okay? I fight. You save."

"And would that I could. I'm just afraid it's too late." The angel delivers the bad news.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean asks breathlessly. "Are you saying there's no way to save my brother's life?"

"No good ways, I'm afraid," says Ezekiel.

"Well, what are the bad ones?" I frantically inquire.

When he hesitates to answer, Dean jumps in, yelling impatiently. "We're out of options here, man. Good or bad, let us hear them."

"I cannot promise, but there is a chance I can fix your brother. From the inside."

"From the inside? So, what, you gonna open him up?" Dean asks, confusion laced in his words.

The angel shakes his head, making him quickly realize his implication. "What, possession? You want to possess Sam?"

"I told you," Ezekiel whispers.

"No way," says Dean.

"Understood. It's your call."

"No, it's Sam's call. There's no way in Hell he'd say yes to being possessed by anything." I tell them.

The room falls silent as the dreadful reality sinks in: we're out of options. I pocket the angel blade and take Sam's hand in mine. My heart physically aches, knowing this could be the end of the road for my best friend. The watchful eye of the angel shifts from me to the injured man beside me.

"He would rather die." He says aloud, finding the conclusion to our silence.

Dean nods in sorrow as he stares at his little brother. Ezekiel pushes himself off the chair, trying to hide his discomfort. Painfully sighing, he angles his body towards the monitor next to him. With a swipe of his hand, he shuts it off, ending the activity.

"I'll leave you three alone, then."

My heart races as I turn to Dean for answers. His eyes dart with a sense of urgency, almost as if he was scanning through all the possible options to find a solution to heal Sam. His gaze fixed on his brother's frail body, brows furrowed with concern as he contemplated the best course of action. Panic washes over me as I see our only hope of saving Sam reach the door.

"Wait," Dean utters, getting the angel to stop. He slowly turns towards the angel. "If I consider this—and I mean just consider it—I need something, man. You got to prove to me how bad he is."

Ezekiel looks at the pained Winchester with sympathy. Without saying a word, he walks towards us. I move out of the way and behind Dean, giving them space. The angel places his right hand on Sam's forehead before instructing Dean.

"Close your eyes."

The hunter's eyes flutter shut as Ezekiel places his free hand on Dean's bloody forehead. My gaze shifts between the three men, unsure of what the hell was happening. A few moments pass before Dean returns in a state of panic, his eyes wide with terror.

"What are you doing, Sam?" He whispers to his little brother.

"As you can see, there's not much time." The angel tries reasoning.

"I know. Damn it, I know."

"What? What is it?" I solicit, my attention shifting between them.

Dean reveals that Sam is currently engaged in a conversation with Death. Sam seems to be seeking assurance from Death that if he decides to depart with Him, there wouldn't be an option for his return. I curse under my breath, not surprised Sam wants out. I remain quiet, not dumb enough to go against Dean. Instead, I listen as the men hash it out.

"How will it work?" Dean inquires.

"Mutual benefit, I suppose. I heal Sam while healing myself." Ezekiel confesses.

"And when he's healed?"

"I leave." He tries convincing. "It's the best of a bad situation, Dean."

"Even if I said yes, it doesn't mean squat. Sam will never say yes—not to you."

"But he would say yes to you," Ezekiel persuades.

Dean hesitates but nods, wanting his brother back. Ezekiel shuts his eyes and goes to work, Dean along with him. I finished crossing out every symbol so the angel could switch hosts effortlessly. After Dean returns, the room begins to shake as Ezekiel goes from one vessel to the next. We turn away to shield ourselves from the bright, angelic light. Once in the clear, we turn to the angel in Sam's body, sitting upwards in the hospital bed. He pulls the breathing tube and other wires out of his vessel before standing. I grab the plastic bag and hand him Sam's clothes.

"We'll leave you to change," Dean and I step into the hallway before I shut the door. My eyes meet his. "C'mon, I'll clean you up."

"No, it's fine. I can handle it." He passes.

"I'm not asking," I fixed a stern gaze on him, conveying my message with unwavering determination.

Realizing there was no use in arguing, he nods. I take his hand and wander to the closest family restroom. Once found, I ushered Dean inside, quickly checking for any onlookers who could witness us entering together. Confident it was clear, I closed the door behind us. The sound of the bolt locking into place bounces off the small bathroom walls.

I grab a handful of paper towels from the dispenser near the sink. The running water fills the silence as I wet a few napkins. Dean's figure catches my eye through the mirror above the sink, ceasing my movements. He stands beside the door, hesitant and shy. I turn around and tease him lightly.

"Well, get over here. I don't bite."

A deep chuckle leaves his throat as he slowly approaches. "I know you, Maricela, and you certainly do bite."

I fight a smile but quickly lose when I catch sight of his wicked grin. "Maybe...but not now. I promise."

He stops a few inches away from me. The faint scents of whiskey, sweat, and his favorite cologne fill my nostrils. I slowly and discreetly take a deep inhale, welcoming the aromas. My eyes meet his forest-green ones, and time stops. Even covered in blood, he still looks handsome. How? I thought. How is that possible?

Before allowing myself to drown in his pleasantness anymore, I quickly ask, "Ready?"

Dean nods before watching me raise a wet paper towel to his blood-stained face. Careful not to press too hard, I gently wipe the blood away. Thoughts of trepidation cloud my mind: Sam's situation, how Dean's handling it, an army of angels after Castiel, how we'll get them all back to Heaven. I bite my lip, hoping to hide my worrisome expression as I concentrate on cleaning his crimson-coated, angelic face instead. My height disadvantage forces me on my tippy-toes once I begin to wipe his forehead. He stifles a laugh, prompting me to stop my actions.

"What?"

He shakes his head but doesn't attempt to hide his wide grin.

"Nothing, nothing." I squint at him, silently coaxing his answer forth. "You just look cute, having to stand on your toes."

I roll my eyes and switch to a clean paper towel, trying my hardest not to blush at his comment. Despite my efforts, the hot flush painted my cheeks red.

"I'm glad my struggle is so amusing to you." I joke, battling the smirk he's responsible for.

"Here, let me help you," Without wasting another beat, he pulled my body against his.

With one hand on the small of my back, his other hand runs down to my thigh before pulling it towards his hip. I'm so enamored with his touch that I don't question when he advises me to jump. I wrap my arms around his neck and hop, straddling his hips. His hands land under the base of my ass before sliding me onto the counter with a thrust. An audible gasp left my lips, stunned to have felt the front of his jeans shove against my core.

I bowed my head, letting my hair fall around my face to shield the color it wore. My eyes landed between my thighs, and as if on cue, he took a few steps back. I clear my throat before holding up the clean napkin, silently asking if I should continue. With a nod, he permits me to start again. I lean off the counter to tend to his wounds but quickly struggle with the distance he set between us.

"Dean," I straighten myself before urging, "I need you closer."

"Huh?" He inquired, taken aback, with a glint of panic in his eyes.

"Closer."

As he stands still, showing no signs of movement, I reach out and firmly grasp the fabric of his jacket. With a gentle but insistent pull, I guide him toward me. His lips, coated with dried blood, slowly parted as his eyes carefully studied the details of my face. I try my best to ignore his attention as I dab the blood off of them.

"Oh, right..." Dean spoke as the wet paper towel rubbed against his lips. "Sorry."

"Don't sweat it," I reassured in a hushed tone.

A stack of power towels piled on the counter after cleaning blood that had trickled down his face, neck, around, and even inside his ear. I focus on the clump of blood that had collected in his hair before feeling his hands rest above my knees. Tingling sensations run up my thighs as he slowly rubs higher, applying light pressure. My breath becomes uneven, having never been touched by him like this before. So many intimate thoughts race through my mind. He steps closer, grazing the front of his jeans between my legs. My hand begins to tremble as I take a shaky breath.

I soon regret looking into his majestic green irises. His eyes hold me hostage as he stares into my soul. If he searched hard enough, he would find my unwavering love for him. Maybe if he found it, I could grab his cheeks and pull him into a kiss. I could show him how much I love him. I could show him how good we can be together. I could give him what he couldn't find in any other girl. If only he could see that eyes really are windows to the soul, then maybe it could be different. My disappointment reminds me of the harsh reality of 'never gonna happen.' I tuck my hair behind my ears along with my hopes and dreams.

I toss the bloody napkin with the rest before murmuring, "All done."

"Thanks."

He takes a few steps backward before extending his hands, offering to assist me off the counter. I hesitate but place my hands in his before jumping down. Without intent, I stumble into his stiff body. I mutter a quick apology before straightening myself and standing independently.

"We should go."

"Yeah, yeah." He clears his throat before distancing himself. His heavy boots clatter against the tile floor as he walks towards the door. Holding it open, he says, "After you."

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO CALL-ME-MRS-WINCHESTER

: do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or republish any of my works* on here or another platform

*beside my writing, my works include : all banners, headers, dividers, and gifs that i use (which were made by me,) unless otherwise stated.

[call-me-mrs-winchester]

𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character

STORY SUMMARY : in series masterlist

CHAPTER WARNINGS : age-gap. playful teasing. a bit of angst. protective reader.

A/N : i love this gif! unfortunately, i saved it so long ago, i can't remember who to give credit to so if y'all know, feel free to tag them in the comments. don't forget to check out the story masterlist if you missed previous chapters. thanks for the love guys, it never goes unnoticed or unappreciated!

Maricela's POV

"Abaddon? Seriously?" Dean asks rhetorically, staring angrily at Sam as we walk to the Impala. "Thought you Kentucky Fried that meat suit."

"I did, Dean." Sam counters, his hands raised slightly, trying to resist an argument in public.

"You—Well, then, how did she get it back?" He questioned before thanking the officer who raised the crime tape to let us off the scene. "And why's she playing G. I. Joe?"

Sam answers back, just as annoyed as his brother. "No clue. Why don't you ask her when we find her?"

"Oh, I will. Then I'm gonna chop her freakin' head off—again."

We enter the car, and then it hits me. Abaddon. I swear I've heard that name before.

"Wait—isn't she the Knight of Hell who tried killing you and your grandfather a few months ago?" I ask, making sure we're talking about the same monster.

Dean starts the engine, answering, "Yeah."

"I thought you guys chopped her up and scattered her remains. But you just said Sam burned her vessel. I-I'm confused." I confess, unable to put the pieces together.

Having needed a demon to cure, they had reassembled Abaddon's vessel for the final trial. Before they could use her as a test subject, they stepped away to take a phone call, and when they returned, she had escaped. Having previous knowledge of the Devil's Trap bullet, her unattached hands pried it from her skull so she could get away. She used her freedom to track Crowley down, and when she found him at the abandoned church, she attempted to kill him for the throne. Before she could ruin the trial, Sam doused her meat suit in holy oil and set it ablaze. So, the big question remains: How is she back and in her old vessel?

Darkness fell upon us as we drove towards the bunker. Sam's phone began to chime over the music. Leaning over, he reached into his dress pants to retrieve his phone. Dean and I peeked over, wondering who would be calling at this hour. It was none other than our very own prophet.

Sam puts the call on speaker, greeting, "Hey, Kev. What's up?"

"A lady called Dean's other phone. I answered, but she expected to speak to a Winchester. So instead, she told me to give you a message: She has something you might want." He spoke in a rushed and shaky voice.

"Kevin, wait. Wait. Wait. Slow down." says Sam.

Ignoring, he continues, "She gave me these coordinates—44.053051 by -123.127860— and two names, Irv Franklin and Tracy Bell."

I type the numbers into the notes app on my phone before copying and pasting them into Google.

"Irv's a friend. Don't know Tracy." Dean replies.

"All right, the lady said they were hunters and that if you didn't go save them, that she would kill them."

"Yeah, I've heard that song before." The oldest hunter shakes his head, unamused.

"Dean, who was she?"

"She's the bad guy," he admits. "All right, new job. Dig up everything Men of Letters have on Knights of Hell."

"Knights of Hell?" With some hesitation, Kevin complies, "Sure."

"You find a way to kill one—I mean permanently—drop a dime," Dean mentions.

"Thanks, Kevin," Sam says before ending the call.

I zoom in on the digital map before presenting, "The numbers point to a spot on the outskirts of Eugene, Oregon."

"You know this is a trap, right?" Sam stares at his brother.

"Yep," he answers unfazed.

Scoffing, Sammy asks, "And we're just gonna walk right into it?"

"Guns blazing," he says fearlessly before glancing at his little brother. "You with me?"

Sam chuckles before shifting his gaze on the road ahead. "You know it."

Dean looks into the rearview mirror, locking eyes with me. "What about you, sweetheart, you with me?"

A flutter of familiarity tickled my stomach as I softly smiled back at him. He held my gaze until I answered, "Always."

Before arriving, Dean stopped at a gas station so we could change. As we neared the designated coordinates, my heart quickened its pace. No matter how many times I fought alongside the Winchesters—or alone—my anxiety crept in, going over all the things that could go wrong. When we arrived at the gated part of town, I suppressed the negative thoughts and replaced them with positive ones. However, with the history behind this area, it became difficult to sustain a sense of optimism.

A chain fence had enclosed the abandoned buildings. Sam hopped out of the car and pushed open the sliding gate so the Impala could fit through. After Dean parked, Sam and I walked a few yards into the vacant town. Graffiti painted the stone structures while weeds grew on or around the buildings. A large, rusted sign was posted near the fence, reading: DANGER. HAZARDOUS WASTE AREA. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

"The hell happened here?" Dean asked, halting beside me with the army green duffle bag in hand as we stared at the crumbling buildings.

"A local chemical plant sprung a leak years ago. They evacuated three square blocks." I answer, visually searching the windows for any sign of life.

"Guess it's still contaminated," Sam adds.

"Wait, so this whole place is poison?" Dean questions uneasily, turning his attention toward Sam and me.

Replying in unison, we answer, "Yeah."

Dean moves his left hand to shield his nether region, attempting to protect his prized appendage against the toxicity lingering in the air. His eyebrows furrowed, undoubtedly debating if this mission was worth risking his manhood. I stifle a giggle, finding his action both cute and silly. Sam judgingly watches his brother's action, staring him up and down.

"That's not gonna help." He remarks before walking away, leading the venture further into town.

"It doesn't hurt," Dean mutters.

My giggle slips this time, attracting the older Winchester's attention. I nudge his arm before nodding in Sam's direction. "C'mon, big boy."

We walk towards the younger Winchester while taking in our surroundings. Birds caw in the distance, disrupting the vicinity's silence. We begin to pass Ozzy O's Diner when we hear a loud thud come from within. Concomitantly, Sam and I reach for our waistbands and take out our loaded guns. With our firearms raised, we ascend the few concrete stairs. Standing before the door, Sam glances in my direction, giving me a look. A look that silently asked if I was ready, to which I nodded with confidence.

Sam kicks the door open before storming inside with me on his tail. The sun's rays poured into the diner, illuminating its light upon two bound individuals. The man and woman were bound together while pieces of cloth muffled their cries for help. Sam and I step aside as he beckons Dean over. He strides in and makes a beeline for the older man.

"Irv? Hey." Dean's gruff voice fills the quiet diner as Sam shuts the door. He pulls Irv's gag down before asking, "Where's Abaddon?"

"Abaddon's been torturing hunters. She's trying to get intel on you boys." The older man confesses breathlessly.

"Do you know why?" Sam inquires.

"I seriously doubt she wants to add you to her Christmas card list. Now, do you want to make with the rescue or what?"

"Right after you take a shot of holy water, huh?" says Dean.

Sam retrieves his flask from the inner pocket of his jacket and approaches the girl. His fingers unscrewed the cap before tugging the cloth she involuntarily fashioned off as I put my gun away. She opens her lips to welcome the demon test. He fountains the holy water into her mouth and cups her chin to catch any excess water. He steps away, waiting to see if she flinched. Instead, she swallowed without hesitation.

"Happy?" She asks rhetorically, looking between Sam and me.

"Sorry about that," Dean utters.

Irv responds with understanding, "Don't worry about it. Last thing you need is us popping black eyes."

Dean reaches in between the hostages and breaks their restraints.

As the girl stands, I ask, "You're Tracy, right?"

She—and just about anyone else over five foot two—towers over me. Her eyes glimpse over my appearance from head to toe before answering my question with a nod.

"I'm Maricela Coca." I introduced myself before the Jolly Green Giant did.

"And I'm Sam Winchester."

Tracy glances at him like she did with me and responds with noticeable disinterest, saying, "Good for you."

Silence fell upon the room, startled at her curt reply. In that unexpected moment, I instinctively whipped my head towards the source of her disdainful glares. My eyes widened with shock, and my mouth hung open in disbelief. I was left dumbfounded. Did she just talk to you like that?! I shouted at Sammy in my head. He meets my eyes and shakes his head, advising me to let it go. My mouth began to twitch, wanting to say something just as crude. Just as I was going to allow my tactless opinions to emit, Irv began to advocate for her.

"She's new. We did a shifter job in Sacramento together. Smart, but got a mouth on her."

She scoffs but doesn't deny his comment. Dean's deep chuckle immediately catches my ear. Giving in to curiosity, I turned and gave him my full attention. His charmingly crooked smile gleamed in the dimly lit diner. All eyes were on Chuckles as we awaited an explanation for his laughter.

"Sounds like our Mari," He jokes, lightening the mood.

My lips part to say a witty remark, but Sam's snicker stops me. Instead, I roll my eyes and decide to move on. "Let's gear up."

Dean picks up the bag of weapons from the floor and moves it onto the countertop. I leave Sammy's side and walk over to his brother. He begins to splay the reminisce of the bag across the dusty surface. Sam perches on the edge of a table near the window to keep an eye on any demons.

"All right, we got Jesus Juice," Dean places his flask of holy water on the counter before continuing the rundown on the weapons he brought. "Guns loaded with Devil's trap bullets. Shoot a demon, put him on lockdown. The Angel Blade works—"

A distant clatter came from outside the diner, capturing everyone's attention. Sam gets up and moves toward the window. He peeks through the dirty blinds, confirming, "They're coming."

"Good," Dean responds confidently.

"They've got assault rifles," Sam mentions, dampening his brother's enthusiasm.

"Okay, less good," I add.

Dean shifts his focus to the weapons, searching for a plan.

"So, what's the play?" Irv asks.

Dean quickly explains a way to distract the demons. After he finished, I helped sweep the contents back into the duffle before he swung the sack over his shoulder. He nods at Sam, gesturing for him to lead everyone to the rear exit. I maneuver to the front of the group and quietly open the door, searching for demons nearby. After ensuring the coast was clear, I raised my hand and waved. We advance to the edge of the building to survey the area. Nada.

Sam's large hand covers my shoulder, offering me comfort. A reassuring nod is shared between us before we shift our gaze back to Irv and Tracy. Capturing their attention, Sam points to another spot where we could discreetly escape. Following their confirmation, we run like hell and wait for Dean. The distant sound of the diner's front door being forcefully opened echoes through our surroundings. Dean walks around the corner where we hid before telling us the other half of his plan.

"All right. We got to flank seal them douche in there, so, uh, Irv, you and me will go left. Sam, you, Mari, and Tracy go right." He orders.

"Okay. Let's move," says Sam as we walk in our assigned direction.

His hands grab our forearms, making sure we stay close. Suddenly, Tracy spins on her heel and pushes him away, maintaining a safe distance between them by extending her arm.

"Don't touch me." She barks.

Sam's eyes widen, surprised by her outburst. My rage causes me to see red, and before I know it, I push her arm off of Sam and use my strength to shove her body away. Tracy stumbles back, nearly bumping into the dumpster behind her, as I step between her and Sam. Her stunned expression flashed into anger before she charged toward me to attack. Meeting her challenge, I take a step forward, but Dean rushes over to intervene just as Sam pulls my body into his and holds me still.

"Whoa," I shrug from their restraints as I stare down the out-of-line female. Dean's eyes linger on my face before turning to Tracy, asking, "What's the problem?"

Tracy inhales before looking at the youngest Winchester and painfully confessing, "My family's dead because of him."

Taken aback, Sam asks, "What?"

"I watched a demon slaughter my parents, and the whole time, it talked about how it was celebrating. How some dumb kid let Lucifer out of his cage."

Tracy glared at Sam with intense hatred after she recounted her story. Although she had acted like an ass, I really couldn't blame her. My eyes shifted toward Sam, only to have my heart break even more as I witnessed grief consume both his mind and body. Before I could move to console him, Dean interjected.

"Okay, all right, we got to move. Uh, girls with me. Irv." He pats Sam on the chest, finishing his sentence with his gesture.

"Okay. Let's go, son." The older man tells Sam.

Sammy lingers behind me, staring sorrowfully at Tracy.

"He's going to be okay," Dean whispers in my ear after his brother follows Irv.

I nod in agreement and try to refrain from thinking of how much Sam was beating himself up. Dean marches away to play line leader as we trail behind. With our guns off safety, we cautiously move along the surrounding buildings. After rounding our last corner, the view of the diner was straight ahead. Dean peeks at the restaurant's entrance before giving further instructions.

"Okay, I think they're still inside. We wait till they come out, and we pick them off one by one." He gives us the side-eye before seizing the opportunity to address the new girl's animosity toward Sam. "Listen, for the record, Sam's not the only guy who thought he was doing right and watched it all go to crap. Okay? That's just part of being—"

"Being a hunter." Tracy finished with acerbity, not understanding the mini-lecture.

"Being human. Look, you want to be pissed off at Sam, that's fine. I get it. But if you want to go after somebody, you make sure that they got black eyes. Got to know who the real monsters are in this world, kid."

She remained silent after he finished his speech, allowing his words to marinate. The quietness was short-lived as gunfire erupted in the distance. On instinct, we raised our guns high and low, scouting every inch the barrel of our guns could see. After the shooting stopped, Dean silently motioned to move forward. Suddenly, Abaddon jumps out of her hiding place and clotheslines Dean, knocking him flat on his back.

My body wanted to run to his aid, but my brain told me to fight. I aim my handgun at Abaddon's head, but before I can pull the trigger, she telekinetically flicks it away. My hand instinctively reaches into my jacket, attempting to retrieve the angel blade I keep stashed away. The pads of my fingertips barely grazed the handle when she waved her hand, sending me into a brick wall. I heard Dean's voice call my name before everything faded to black.

Dean's POV

"Mari!" I call as she flies into the building beside her.

Her head hits the aged bricks, knocking her out cold. Before I could get to her, Tracy fired an entire round into the Knight of Hell. I swiftly move from the path of danger, instinctively protecting my face by covering it with my arms. Once the clip was empty, my eyes instantly scanned Mari's body, checking to see if she was free of any ricochet. Thankfully—other than the injury that she-demon caused—she was okay.

"Nice grouping." Abaddon mocks, lifting her black shirt to reveal her bulletproof vest. "Kelvar. Beats magic bullets. I love the future."

While the demon was distracted, I stealthily grabbed my flask from my jacket. I silently unscrewed the cap before flinging the holy water at the Knight of Hell. She gasped in pain as the purified water burned her vessel. As she stumbled away, I rushed to my feet and reached into my jeans pocket for my keys. After fishing them out, I grasp Tracy's hand and place the keys in it.

"Listen, my car is three blocks over. Go get more bullets, more holy water—get everything."

"No, no, b-but what about you guys?" She stutters.

I push her away, yelling, "Just go! Go! Now!"

Tracy listens to my order and runs away. Immediately, I fall to my knees next to Maricela before scooping her delicate frame up from the dusty ground. Carefully, I release her from my embrace, settling her against the wall. I cast a glance at Abaddon and see her recovering from holy water. Gentle but urgently, I shake her shoulder and leg simultaneously, attempting to wake the Sleeping Beauty. When she doesn't move, my hands anxiously cradle her wounded head. Blood seeped from her hair, running along her temple and onto my hand, painting it red.

"Come on, princess," I beg, worry filling every cell in my body. "Wake up."

Not having enough time to check for a pulse, I force myself away from her, fearing the worst. Protectively, I stand tall in front of Mari and face Abaddon. She brushes her hair out of her face and smiles wickedly. Her red lipstick mirrored the anger that was boiling inside me. My muscles ached with pain as I waited for the right moment to wipe the smirk off of her face.

She briefly glances at Maricela before returning her gaze to me. "Alone at last."

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: do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or republish any of my works* on here or another platform

*beside my writing, my works include : all banners, headers, dividers, and gifs that i use (which were made by me,) unless otherwise stated.

[call-me-mrs-winchester]

𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character

STORY SUMMARY : in series masterlist

CHAPTER WARNINGS : age-gap. pining. fluff. angry dean. injured sam.

A/N: check out the teaser and prologue if you haven't already. this chapter is more filler but every story has to start off somewhere, and this one starts at the beginning of season 9. here we go!

Maricela's POV

I nearly dropped my phone at Dean's words. "It's Sam... He's in the hospital."

"What?! Is he okay? What happened?" I pour out my questions in panic.

"He's not doing so good," Dean's voice faintly but audibly cracks. "They're running tests now."

"Where are you?" I jump in my car, ready to have the open road fly underneath my wheels.

"No, Mari, you don't need to come—" He begins, but I quickly reject his effort to be left alone.

"I'm coming whether you like it or not, so you can either tell me now or there's gonna be hell to pay after I track you down."

"You're stubborn, you know that?" He asks rhetorically before caving in. "We're at Linwood Memorial Hospital in Randolph, New York. I'll tell you more when you get here."

"Okay. I'll take a plane out there," I put the pedal to the metal, making my tires squeal as I drove off. "Be there as soon as I can."

"Be careful," Dean mutters.

I can't help but smile at his concern. "Always am."

Dean texted me the room number just shortly after I landed. Once I arrived at the hospital, I raced to the room where the Winchester brothers resided. I stop in front of the open doorway to see Dean, back facing me, sitting beside Sam's unconscious body that lay hooked up to various machines.

Dean peeked over his shoulder, and as soon as our eyes met, he stood from the chair. After shutting the door behind me, I walk into the arms of the older Winchester. I hold on to his jacket like my life depended on it, never wanting to let go. My eyes shut to prevent the tears from spilling as he pulls my body closer. His warmth envelops me with comfort as I nuzzle into his chest. A sigh of relief escapes my lungs, feeling safe for the first time in months.

My serenity gets interrupted when his lips suddenly press against the top of my head. I gaze upwards, stunned at the tiny gesture, only to see how close our faces are. With his large, calloused hand, he gently brushed the hair that concealed my face away. His fingers lightly comb through my hair, triggering a brain orgasm and rendering me useless beneath his touch. I get so lost in his eyes that I barely hear his whisper.

"It's good to see you, Mari."

"You too, Dean," I respond as his hand travels to my neck. His thumb softly strokes my throat. "I've missed you."

He blesses me with a slow, small smile. "I've missed you more, princess."

With his rare affection and added pet name, I'm thankful his arm's secured around my waist, or I would've toppled over already. With detestation, I use every ounce of willpower to pull away from his embrace. With a pained heart, I move around Dean and see my best friend lying unconscious. The monitor announces his steady heartbeat while I take his left hand into mine and use my thumb to caress the back of his palm. Leaning over him, I place a kiss against his stubbled cheek, ignoring the short hairs prickling my chin. Without letting go of his hand, I sit on the edge of his bed.

"Did they tell you a diagnosis yet?" I ask, studying Sam's face.

Dark shadows cast around his eyes while a horizontal cut ran across his right cheekbone. He looked as though the life had been drained from his body.

"No, not yet." Dean settles into the chair he had been sitting in before.

I shift my gaze towards him. "What happened? I thought once he finished the trials, he was going to get better."

He shakes his head. "We were wrong." After quickly glancing at the ground, he meets my eyes again.

"Cas and I... We were retrieving a cupid's bow for the second trial to restore Heaven while Sam prepped Crowley for the final trial to shut the gates of Hell. Metatron and Cas had already killed a Nephilim for the first trial, so I called Kevin for the third. He said he found the angel trials in the tablet, but they weren't anything like Metatron had told. Then, Naomi shows up, saying he's been lying. He wasn't trying to fix Heaven—he was trying to destroy it. Cast all angels to earth as revenge for driving him away.

"Then she—she said if Sam completed the trials, he would die. 'The Ultimate Sacrifice.' Castiel took me to Sam before going upstairs to straighten it out. I had walked into the church just before he cured the evil son of a bitch. 'Told Sam the truth, that if he continued, he'd die. But you know Sammy, he didn't care. He wanted to end it, ban the world of demons. Hell, I don't blame him... but when he confessed that his greatest sin was constantly letting me down—thinking I would choose—"

His voice cuts abruptly, attempting to swallow the tears that formed away. His expression tightens, forcing all the muscles in his face to keep its composure as he refuses to give in to his emotions. Seeing him in this rare form tugged at my heart. I let go of Sam and quickly kneel in front of Dean, pulling his body into mine.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." I assure him, rubbing circles on his back. His breathing becomes shallow as I hug his stiff body. "He doesn't think that."

He grabs my arms before pushing himself out of my hold. "But he does. He would've rather die than have to face me for the rest of his life, thinking that he wasn't enough. That I can't trust him, that I would choose anyone or anything, past or present, over him."

Dean shakes his head at the foolish thoughts his brother had believed. "Luckily, I talked him off the edge. We thought the power from the trials had vanished from his body, along with his will to end them. But instead, he hurled over in pain, collapsing to the ground. I practically dragged him to the car while calling out to Cas, but he didn't answer. And that's when it happened; Angels began falling from the sky."

Worried, I inquire, "Have you been able to get a hold of Castiel?" He shook his head, his frustration evident due to our angel friend's silence.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Immediately, I stand and add distance between us. I walk to the opposite side of the bed just as the doctor enters the room. He introduces himself while displaying Sam's MRI scans against the X-ray Illuminator. Dean walks over and examines the scans while the doctor finally reads the diagnosis listed on his clipboard.

"The MRI shows massive internal burns affecting many of the major organs. Oxygen to the brain has been severely deprived." Dean uncrosses his arms as he begins to make his way towards me. "The coma is the result of the body doing everything in its limited power to protect itself from further harm."

He walks around me and stands on my left, closest to Sam. He stares at his brother before breathing out, "This wasn't supposed to happen."

"If your brother continues on this trajectory, the machines might keep him alive, but—"

Dean interrupts, "He'll be dead."

The doctor nods. "Technically, yes. I'm afraid so."

"So, there's—there's no recovery? I mean, there's no bounce back. There's no nothing."

"I'm afraid that's in God's hands now." I look up at Dean and watch his head tilt ever so slightly, taken aback by the doctor's remark.

"You're a doctor. You're a medical professional." Oh boy, here we go. "You're trying to tell me that my brother's life is in God's hands? What, is that supposed to be a-a comfort?" Dean questions.

My left arm curls around his bicep while my right hand rests on his forearm for support, a reminder that I was with him in this. When he doesn't seem to have noticed, I gently whisper, "Dean," moving my right hand in his own, wishing to be a calming presence in this nightmare.

"Mr. Dougherty—" the doctor tries speaking, but Dean ignores us both.

"No, God has nothing to do with this equation at all," He shakes with anger as each word becomes louder than the next.

"I didn't mean—" the physician tries again, with no luck. If he only knew the real reason behind Dean's anger.

"That's not good enough!" He shouts, no doubt striking fear into Sam's doctor.

"Hey," I tug on him, forcing Dean to tear his attention away from the man and stare at me. "Why don't we go take a breather?"

His dark eyes search my pleading ones before offering a tiny, unamused nod. I lead him around the bed towards the hallway, thanking the doctor on the way out. Once we were out of the room, I let him go. Dean's face instantly changes from anger to fear as the news sinks in. Just like Sam would, I step up to reassure the older Winchester.

"We'll figure something out, okay? We always do. Everything will be fine—" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"Stop. Not now. I just—I need time to think." He tiredly states before turning away. He stares into the distance, something catching his eye. I follow his gaze and see the sign that caught his attention; 'Chapel.'

"Do you want me to go with you?" I ask softly but get a head shake.

"Just stay with Sam. I'll be back." With that, he heads toward the hospital's safe haven.

I walked back into the room, quietly shutting the door behind the doctor so it was just us two. Planting myself in the chair beside Sam's bed, my eyes grow hot, tears welling up far quicker now that I was alone. With Dean gone, I allow the tears to tumble down my cheek, unbothered to wipe the sorrow away. Hot tears splatter against my jeans while a few run past my chin, finding refuge beneath my shirt. My throat painfully fights the words I force out.

"Please, Sam, stay with us. We'll do whatever we can, but we need you to fight. Please."

I sat up straight, my head no longer resting beside Sam's hand, once I heard the door open. Looking over my shoulder, Dean closes it before making his way around the other side of the bed. I quickly wiped my tear-stained cheeks dry before he could notice.

"I figured out a way to help Sammy." He says, leaning against the cabinets.

I immediately perk up. "What—How?"

"When I was in the chapel, I prayed to Castiel. When I realized he wasn't going to answer, I..." He trails off.

"You what?" I ask warily.

"I decided to make a house call to any angel out there who's willing to help Sam for a favor in return." I tilt my head with dismay, knowing it wasn't the smartest idea but a desperate one. "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but that doesn't matter now. Sammy needs healing."

"Do you honestly think someone will show up to help? It hasn't always been sunshine and rainbows, so what makes this time any different? They want us dead, Dean. And you just put an A.P.B out on our heads. We can't even move Sam! We're literally sitting ducks." I could tell he didn't like my input, but it didn't matter. It needed to be said.

"Well, if anyone tries something other than fixing my brother, I'll take care of it." He answers.

"We." I correct. "We'll take care of it."

We lock eyes, and he nods in agreement. Now, to wait and see if any angel will show.

After a while, silence fell between us, and hope diminished with each passing minute. Dean was leaning against the ash wood cabinets, lost in thought, when the door softly opened. An unfamiliar lady walks in, offering a small smile. Dean uncrosses his arms before pushing himself off the counter. He walked near Sam's bed as I stood from my chair, turning to face her.

"Hi," he says eagerly. "I'm just gonna break the ice. Are you an angel?"

She nervously chuckles at his remark. "Sometimes I wish I were. My name is Kim Schortz, and I'm a grief counselor here at the hospital."

"Right. Uh, uh..." He gazes downward in disappointment as he struggles to find an excuse for his direct question. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired."

She flashes him an understanding smile.

"Well, all due respect, but, uh, I'm not grieving—not yet at least, so—" I hear the sadness in his lowered voice, wondering why no angel has come to help.

"I'm afraid as hard as this may be, this might be a good time to talk..." She looks past me and down at Sam before finishing. "About the inevitable."

"Look, I'm sure you're a nice person and that you mean well, but 'inevitable'—that's a fighting word where we come from. There's always a way." I interject.

"And I am a prayerful woman who believes in miracles as much as the next, but I also know how to read an E.E.G. And unless you're telling me you guys have a direct line to those angels that you were looking for—"

"Yeah, no, I uh... guess we don't." Dean interrupts, anguish taking over his features before the realization dawns on him. "But I might have something better."

He chuckles before the first genuine smile displays on his exhausted face. "I got the King of Hell in my trunk."

My eyes widen. "Crowley?" I ask in shock that he hadn't mentioned it before.

He happily strides out of the room. A surge of excitement courses through my body, knowing there could still be a chance, other than angels, to heal Sam.

"Uh, is—is that... I'm sorry. Is that a metaphor?" The confused counselor inquires.

"Sure, sweetie." I pat her shoulder and begin guiding the woman towards the hall.

"We appreciate you stopping by. Please, don't come back. It'd be a shame to waste more of each other's time. Thanks for understanding." I say in the most polite way—given the situation—before closing the door behind her.

I skip over to Sam and pet his hair, smiling at his beautiful, still face. "Don't worry, Sammy. You'll be back soon enough."

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[call-me-mrs-winchester]

𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character

STORY SUMMARY : in series masterlist

CHAPTER WARNINGS : age-gap. fluff. angst (kind of.) possessed sam. sexual humor.

A/N : check out the story masterlist if you missed previous chapters!

Maricela's POV

We headed back to room 248, where Sam—or I guess technically Ezekiel—was waiting. His former vessel was laid on the bed, sleeping peacefully.

"We should get going," Dean says.

We dodged the ICU staff to avoid explaining what 'Sam' was doing suddenly conscious. Once out of the hospital, we walked down the long stretch of pavement between the modern and industrial buildings.

"So? How's it look in there?" He asks Ezekiel.

"Not good. There is much work to be done." the angel answers.

"Yeah, but he's gonna wake up, right?" I ask, searching for reassurance.

"He will," Ezekiel ensures.

Unconvinced, Dean asks, "So when he does—what, is he gonna feel you inside, triaging his spleen?"

"He will not feel me, no. There is no reason for Sam to know I'm in here at all."

The older Winchester leans back, surprised by Ezekiel's remark. "You're joking. No, this is—this is too big." Dean chuckles.

"And what will he do if you do tell him he is possessed by an angel?" He asks before halting.

We also stopped and faced the angel that wore my best friend's face.

Dean puffs his lips before replying. "Well, he'll have to understand."

"And if he does not?" Dean and I hesitate to answer, knowing exactly how Sam would take it. "Without his acceptance, Sam can eject me at any time, especially with me so weak. And if Sam does eject me, he will die."

Dean stares into the distance before looking down, taking in the rough news as he shakes his head. His tongue moistens his lips, nodding as if he had reached a conclusion before tucking in his lower lip.

"Then we keep it a secret for now. Or until Sam's well enough that he doesn't need an angelic pacemaker or I find a way to tell him. I-I..." He shakes his head. "As for him being in a hospital, I'll have to figure something out."

"I can erase it all if you'd like. He will not remember any of this." Ezekiel offers.

The older Winchester looks away from the angel before contemplating his decision. It doesn't take long before he gives in. I stare at him in disbelief, my mouth falling open to protest. Knowing he'd rule against it, I force my jaw close. No matter my opinion, Dean would still do what he thinks is best.

We make it to the parking structure where Baby was before I slide into the back seat. I asked Dean to drive me to my car at the airport garage in Indiana, where I parked before departing on a plane to New York. It had everything: my clothes, fake IDs, guns, and knives I obviously couldn't take with me. Not having said anything for hours, I debated whether or not to talk to Dean. Eventually, I worked up the courage to voice my concerns.

"D," I speak loud enough over the music to grab his attention. I wait for him to turn it off before continuing. "I don't think erasing Sam's memory is the best idea. I mean, keeping this a secret from him is bad enough. Don't you think he'll notice something is off when—?"

"It's already done so, just leave it alone." He warns.

"But he could give it back. Sam's not stupid. He'll figure something's up—" I try again but get shot down when Dean interrupts.

"I said leave it alone!" His voice booms throughout the car, slightly frightening me. "I don't want it brought up again, especially when Sam is around, whether he's conscious or not. You hear me?"

I stare at him, almost in shock, before quickly wiping the emotion off my face. "Fine," I mutter before staring out the window, watching the scenery fly by.

Silence fell over us, leaving only the sounds of the passing road and the muffled engine roaring. Dean turns on the stereo, allowing AC/DC to blast out of the speakers again. It's going to be a long ride.

The Impala comes to a screeching halt as Dean pulls up behind my car. I sigh heavily, exhausted from the drive. As much as I want to get out of the car and slam the door shut behind me, throwing a stubborn tantrum to let him know of my anger, I don't move.

Instead, I say, "Look, we may not always agree on certain things, but we want what's best for Sammy. And now that he has an angel up his ass, along with the rest of them roaming the earth, I want to hunt with you guys—full time."

Dean shifts Baby into park before turning around to face me as his arm drapes across the bench seat. "You know it'll be more than your average salt and burn run."

"Duh," I roll my eyes before asking rhetorically, "You think I'm stupid?"

Dean purses his lips, looking up in thought. "Only sometimes."

I narrow my eyes, pretending to be offended, as I push his arm off the top of the seat. "Jerk!"

"Bitch." He answers in reflex. Our eyes widen before he stutters to find an excuse for his remark.

I lean forward, pinching his stubbled cheek. "Wow, you sure know how to make a girl feel special."

He swats my hand while simultaneously moving his head away from my grasp before shooting daggers my way. "Yeah, yeah. Don't touch me."

"Awe, did I make you mad, sweetie?" I smirk, satisfied to have won this round.

He rolls his eyes before replying, "I got a feeling it's gonna happen a lot more."

My eyes grow wide with excitement. "Does that mean I can hunt with you guys?"

Dean nods hesitantly, prompting my discreet and triumphant fist pump, followed by a silent 'yes.' "I'm so glad you agreed 'cause I was going to do it anyway."

He chuckles, "Is that right?"

"Of course." I open the car door, ready to get out. "So, where's the closest motel to the bunker?"

He furrows his brows, confused by my question. "Why would you need a motel?"

"I figured I'd be more comfortable sleeping in a bed than my car if I'm going to be around," I state as if it was obvious why I would want shelter.

"If you think I'm going to let you stay in a motel instead of at the bunker, then you are stupid."

Shrugging, I counter with, "Well, I wasn't going to invite myself to stay there! I have manners, you know."

"If you'd assume that we wouldn't let you live with us after everything we've been through, then you must not see how much we lo—" He cuts himself off before quickly masking with, "Care about you. And we do, you're family."

I smile after listening to his words, even the unfinished ones. "Thanks, Dean. I appreciate it."

When I leave the car, he hollers, "Meet us at the bunker. Cool?"

"As ice." I grin.

"God, you're such a dork. No wonder why you and Sam are so close." He shakes his head in disappointment.

Giggling, I shut the heavy door behind me. Once I've gotten in my vehicle, Dean drives away. I watch until his car is no longer in sight. For just a moment, I close my eyes, alone with my thoughts. Before sleep could take over, I opened my eyelids and set the key in the ignition. To Kansas, it is.

After twelve and a half hours, I made it to the bunker. Dean walks into the fortress, leaving Sam outside the steel door, with whom I can only presume is Crowley. Sam's head turns when he hears my car pulling up. His eyes squint, trying to place who I was. When he does, a beaming and infectious smile adorns his imposing countenance. I hurriedly grab my duffle bag before exiting my car and walking towards the tallest Winchester.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" Sam asked, releasing his hold on Crowley to wrap me in an embrace.

I smile into his chest, pleased to have Sam back, but it falters when I remember an angel lying dormant behind it. Basking in the warmth of his strong arms, I summon the courage to tell the skewed truth. Once it came, I pulled away from the hug.

"Well, I called Dean about the so-called 'meteor shower,' and he told me everything. 'Thought I'd lend you guys a hand, help find a way to get rid of all the fallen nukes walking around down here. So, he offered me a room at Hotel Winchester."

"Dean agreed?" He asks with shock written across his features, knowing his brother would never willingly concur with me about hunting.

Anytime we'd work on a case together, I'd get stuck playing secretary, thanks to Dean. On rare occasions, he'd let me hunt, but only after pleading with help from Sam. I'd always proved to handle myself, but despite that, he'd still never—openly—concede. I figured it was hard for him to understand why I joined the life of a hunter, especially at such a young age when he didn't have a choice. So if that meant trying to limit me from hunting to expand my chances of survival to choose another career, he'd do it.

"I can be very convincing, Sammy." I bump his shoulder teasingly.

"Clearly," he chuckles. "So... did you show him cleavage or bend over?"

My eyes nearly popped out of my head as I dramatically gasped at his question. One look at his mischievous smile sent my fist flying towards his arm. He flinched but didn't bother to stop the impact before it landed. Instead, his laugh got louder, taunting me. I roll my eyes in frustration and embarrassment before muttering,

"Shut the hell up, Winchester."

I eye the man with noise-canceling headphones and a rag over his head. After Sam's annoying laughter dies, I ask, "What's with him?"

"Dean figured Crowley might know a few things, so he kept him alive, for now."

"Hm, sounds like something you would do," I imply.

"Yeah... that's what my brother said. Honestly, I'd have stabbed him in the brain."

I frown after hearing those words come from him. "Well, you can do that after we get answers."

Sam grabs the King of Hell by the shoulders before leading him into the dark-lit tunnel. I close the outside door behind us, sealing us in the concrete vestibule. The adjacent door creeks loudly once I pry it open. I step out onto the balcony, surprised at how nice the bunker is despite having been abandoned for 55 years. The bunker appeared inspired by the 1930s Chicago Art Deco scene, primarily built with concrete, stone, brick, and metal. To my right was a semi-circular industrial staircase descending to the main floor. Beside it was another platform, furnished with two vintage English tufted leather chairs with a chess board on top of a Victorian library writing table.

"Hey. All good?" Sam asks, grabbing my attention.

I peer over the metal rail to see Dean and Kevin.

"Is it ever. Come on." Dean's voice echoes from below. Then, he walks toward the bottom of the stairs.

Kevin stares up with his mouth agape, his eyes never leaving the King of Hell. We guide Crowley down the metal steps before Sam and Dean take him elsewhere. I walk over and rest my bag on a table that displays the world map, my eyes wandering around the 'Command Room.' Telegraphs, ham radios, switchboards, clocks, and other unfamiliar devices littered around the space. My gaze falls upon the prophet after seeing a table in the neighboring room on its side with books scattered in front of it.

"Hey, Kev." I smiled at the boy a year and a half younger than me.

"What's Crowley doing here?" He ignores my greeting and gets straight to the point.

"Uh," I look away awkwardly. Knowing the history between Crowley, him, and his mother, I settle with, "Maybe the boys can answer that for you."

Kevin turns away and walks up the few steps that lead to the next room. I follow, stepping over the strewed books and around the overturned table into what seems like a library. Books were cased along the walls while various swords were showcased as decor. Mahogany tables line vertically down the stone and brick room. At the far end of the library, in its private exhibit, displayed a gigantic telescope.

"So, where do you think they put him?" I ask, walking to one end of the table while he goes to the other.

"In the dungeon." He answers as we lift and correct its stance.

"They have a dungeon in this place?" I question, astonished.

Of course, they have a dungeon.

"Yeah," We line it with the other row of tables before he asks, "Haven't you been here before?"

"No, this is my first time."

He hums in response before walking over to the books lying on the floor. My feet wander towards the bookshelf closest to Kevin. My finger drags along the old leather spines, admiring the wide variety. I get so engulfed in reading each title on the old covers that I jump in fright when Kevin suddenly shouts.

"What's Crowley doing here?" The Winchester brothers walk out of the corridor and towards us as Kevin continues to bombard them with reasonable questions. "Why isn't he dead?! Why aren't you stabbing him right now?!"

"All right, all right. Chill out, Kevin, okay?" Dean raises his right hand to the prophet to stop his berating while walking into the library with Sam close behind. "We need him."

"What?" Kevin asked, more confused than before.

"Kevin, look, if we can get Crowley to give us the name of every demon he's got topside, we can hunt them down—all of them," Sam speaks up, trying to calm the frantic boy.

"He will break, okay? And when he does, we'll hold him down while you knife him. Then we all go out for ice cream and strippers." Dean smirks.

I roll my eyes at the latter. Just what I love to hear, the enjoyment of the man I have a deep, profound crush on wanting to 'go out for strippers.'

"Nice," I mutter, ignoring Dean's sudden gaze.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch his mouth open to speak, but Sam talks instead.

"Just stay away from him, all right?" He urges the prophet.

Kevin takes a moment to ponder their words before asking, "So, now what?"

"I got to make some phone calls," Dean tells Sam before turning to Kevin. "You need to hit the angel tablet, see if you can find anything on the spell that Metatron used to empty out Heaven."

"Yeah, maybe we can reverse it before the God Squad does too much damage," Sam says.

"Yeah, if we're lucky. All right. Check the net for anything angel-y." Dean orders his brother.

"Or demon-y," I add.

"Or monster-y or ghost-y or-" Dean stops himself before he and Sam let out sighs. He looks down at his phone to search his contacts. "It's gonna be a busy year."

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[call-me-mrs-winchester]

𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒

PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character

STORY SUMMARY : in series masterlist

CHAPTER WARNINGS : age-gap. pining. fluff. angst (kind of.) concerned sam. typical bossy, in charge dean.

A/N : finally getting some dean pov in this chapter! feedback is always appreiated. ~a big thank you goes out to everyone who asked to be tagged, your support means so much. check out the story masterlist if you missed previous chapters!

Maricela's POV

My eyes shifted towards Sam once the others went their separate ways to begin their tasks.

He nods in the direction of the adjacent area. "I'll show you your room."

Nodding, I move past Kevin to follow, but not without rubbing his shoulder. He gave me the tiniest smile before I walked down the stone steps into the Command Room. My legs carry me toward the war table so I can swipe my duffle bag and throw it over my shoulder. I jog into the corridor to my left to find where Sam had disappeared, only to see him walk further into the bunker. My feet quickly shuffle to catch up, and once I do, I set a pace to match his lengthy strides.

"It's really good to see you, Mari," says Sam. "But are you sure you're ready for the big leagues?"

A short huff escapes my lungs. "Sam, you act like I haven't worked with you guys before. I think I more than proved myself to you, Winchesters, that I can be of value to the team."

"Of course," he agrees but noticeably hesitates. "It's just that... You know we worry about you hunting by yourself. And now, you'll be hunting with us, which is great..."

"But...?" I stop abruptly, planting my feet firmly on the ground as I cross my arms.

Sam turns around, his face falling when he sees my blank yet expecting expression. He frowns to himself before glancing away from me. His hazel eyes scanned the hall, taking in every detail of our surroundings while taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Despite his attempts to avoid it, he struggled to convey his concerns. Finally, he exhales a deep breath before his eyes find mine.

"I'm just worried something will happen to you. The people closest to us always get hurt or end up dead." He admits. "And I don't want that to happen to you."

His concern brings me a smile. "Sammy, you're so sweet to worry about me. But as long as I'm with you boys, I'll be safe."

The youngest Winchester simpers, but it hardly reaches his eyes. I can tell my words don't bring him any sense of comfort. Yet, it's the truth; I wouldn't trust anyone else with my life. We begin to walk down the cold halls again, this time in silence. We stand in front of door number 16 before he pushes it open. Sam holds his hand out, gesturing for me to enter first. I walk in, glancing around the bare room. It wasn't so bad; it came with standard furniture like any other bedroom and more. It, by far, beats any motel room I've ever stayed in.

"Make yourself at home," I place my bag on the bed before turning to Sam, standing before the doorway. "My room is number 21, Dean's is 11, if you ever need anything."

"It's great, Sammy." I motion around the room, smiling happily. "Thank you guys, this means a lot."

He returns my smile, and this time, it feels genuine. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."

"Come on, I'll give you a quick tour of the rest of the bunker," He says, but judging by the size of this place, 'quick' was an understatement.

"Yeah, Irv. Fallen Angels," Dean says into his phone as I stroll into the library. "Well, trust me, they're just monsters with good P. R. So, if you run into one, torch his ass with holy oil."

I settle beside Sam, placing my computer on the table. "What can I help with?"

He assigns me to the 'demon-y' part of the research while he continues with the angel portion. I press the power button, bringing the laptop to life. The familiar hum of the machine fills the room as I eagerly await for the desktop to load. Once everything was up and running, I began to scour through various news articles and sources relating to anything abnormal in the hopes of finding promising leads. A silence fell between our group as we focused on our tasks. Besides the gentle tapping of keyboards and the occasional rustle of papers, the eldest Winchester's smooth voice danced in my ears.

His words reassured me why I had chosen this life: To help others. Knowing that I get to save people while ridding the world of monsters is what fuels any hunter. However, there were many times when I wondered if I had made the right career choice. I used to imagine how different it would've been if those two gorgeous strangers hadn't walked into my life, all because of that damn Lamia. Maybe Luke and I would have ended up together. Or I would've been in college, planning for my future. Better yet, both. No matter the limitless scenarios, the ending was always the same: Life without the Winchesters. And that alone scared me more than all the monsters I have ever faced.

The vibration of my phone drew my attention away from the endless and exhausting disappointment of no leads. Despite my pursuit to find any demon activity, it had become apparent there was a complete absence of their presence. Reaching into my back pocket, I grab the rectangular device to check the caller ID. A frown creases my face, and my brows wrinkle as I stare at the name. Hesitantly, I slide my thumb over the screen to answer the unexpected call.

"Hello?" I greet, getting up to walk away from the group.

"Hey, Mari. How ya been?" He asks hurriedly.

"Oh, you know—still kicking," I lightly joke before my tone turns serious. "What's up?"

"You still do weird, right?" He questions in a hushed voice. "'Cause I got something that seems up your alley."

Bingo!

Dean's POV

My thumb taps the red 'End Call' at the bottom of the phone screen. Gazing over my shoulder, Maricela approaches the telescope, phone pressed against her ear. Her back faced us as she spoke quietly, making it hard to eavesdrop. I watched intently, trying to decipher what kind of call it was with each movement made. She delicately entwines her fingers with her chocolate-brown curls, running her hand through her hair before letting it fall in a soft wave to the middle of her back. After a moment's pause, she turns slightly, allowing the light to catch the natural red undertones in her hair.

Without taking my eyes off her, I nudge Sam. "Who's she talking to?"

Casting a quick glance in her direction, he then refocuses on me and nonchalantly shrugs, "Not sure, I didn't ask."

Mari turns toward us, then thanks whoever was on the other line before hanging up. Her combat boots lightly thud against the wood floor as she walks back to the group. She tosses her phone on the table, allowing a sigh to escape her perfectly full, pink lips. Her russet brown eyes met mine, instantly holding me captive. The sense of time had lost all meaning; the only measurement was the quickening pace of my heart the longer I stared.

The ends of her mouth curled with delight as her cheeks flushed a scarlet hue. She tore her gaze away, breaking my trance, only to steal another glance. Embarrassed, I fixate my attention on the floor, trying to shake the strange flutter inside and get to business. Come on, Dean, I thought. What are you doing? I straighten my posture, standing tall at the foot of the table.

Nodding at her phone, I inquire, "Who was that?"

Her soft yet sharp eyes shifted from the table to me, to Sam, sharing, "That was my cousin, Miguel. He's a Captain in the Army and coincidentally knows I'm a hunter. A friend of his just informed him of an unusual and new case—so new that the media hasn't even covered it yet. And, from what he told me, this could be a case."

"Really?" Sam asks, sitting up in his chair. "What'd he say?"

"Three civilian bodies were found dead in a city bus located on a Naval Special Forces Base in San Diego. The craziest part is that three soldiers boarded the bus, only to exit moments later with their bags left behind but the driver alongside them."

Sammy and I exchange bewildered looks.

"We've hunted on less," says Sam.

I nod before looking up at Mari, giving her a pleased smile. "Good work, kid."

She beams but subtly tries to hide the excitement from my gaze. "We should get going. It's a long drive, and we gotta make it before they clean up the crime scene."

"Why don't you hang back? Sam and I will check it out, see if it's our kind of thing." I speak up, wary of her coming along.

The younger hunter scoffs, shaking her head.

"No way, Winchester. I'm coming with." Before I could protest, she finishes. "It's my lead. So either I'm going with, or we don't go at all."

My eyes divert to my brother, expecting a little help. He closes his laptop before scooting his chair away from the table, standing to meet my height.

"Her lead." He concurs.

And so it begins.

Sam walks past me, going to his room to change into his Fed suit. A smug grin sits upon Maricela's face, only adding to my irritation. I cannot resist rolling my eyes at her sudden surge of confidence. It only took a few hours, but as predicted, they both overruled me. Having the final say was easier with Sam, but with Mari's stubbornness involved, it proved to be a little bit harder.

She picks up her laptop, resting it against her hip before walking towards me. I avoid eye contact, refusing to look at the objector. Her taunting chuckles echo in my ears when she notices my pout. My breath hitches when her fingers wrap around the placket of my overshirt, pulling it towards her. As if she were Wonder Woman using her lasso to hypnotize me, I helplessly surrendered my attention to her.

"We agreed I was here to help, so let me do my job."

I briefly gaze into her eyes before shutting my own. With a cautious but definite nod, I convey my agreement and acknowledge the validity of her point. "Yeah, you're right."

"Oh—I'm sorry," She lets the fabric go before cupping her hand around her ear and leaning forward dramatically. "I don't think I heard you right. Kev, did you hear him?"

She turned to Kevin, who was watching us with a playful smirk. "I don't know... Say it again, Dean."

"Shut up." I roll my eyes in exasperation before moving past her to change into my uncomfortable costume.

She laughs, following after me. "I think you said I was right."

"Don't get used to it," I grumble, expecting to be annoyed.

Instead, a slow and unexplainable smile spreads across my face.

Maricela's POV

"We stopped for that?" Dean asks, annoyance laced in his words. He gapes at the uniforms as I climb into the back seat.

"Of course! What'd ja' think? We would stroll onto a military base and pretend we were the FBI?"

"Yes, that's exactly what we're going to do." He answers in a monotone voice.

On the way to California, I had Dean stop at a friend's house so I could pick up Navy Fatigues for us to wear. My entire plan revolved around the uniforms. I knew from experience that there would be some pushback from the boys—i.e. Dean—but it was a great plan.

"The MPs aren't just gonna let a couple of Feds sniff around their crime scene. It happened on a military base, automatically making it theirs, not federal." I explained. "Now, these fatigues will be our tickets onto the scene, no questions asked. And if they do, I have a safety net."

"I don't think so," Dean argues. "We know how to do our jobs. You're not just going to come in and change what we've been doing for years."

"That's not what I'm trying to do. I'm just thinking sensibly here. We're talking about military police—"

"Maybe she's right, Dean. It's a little different than our usual gigs." Sam speaks up, thankfully agreeing with me.

"No, no!" The older Winchester's voice raises. "We're doing this my way. End of story."

I sit back in my seat, huffing with frustration. Sometimes, I forget how stubborn this man-child can be, and he never has a problem reminding me. None of us talked for the rest of the ride there. Since Dean wasn't the only one who was obstinate, I quietly got ready to change into the uniform. I traded out my glasses for contacts before slicking my hair into a low bun. After untying my bootlaces and shimmying off my jacket, I wait for the perfect time to slide on the fatigues.

When we arrived on base, local and military police flooded the area. Upon doing additional research on the way here—freak thunderstorms and every cow dead within three miles—it was concluded this was a demon-related case. And, as per usual, I was side-benched!

"All right, stay here," Dean mutters before he and Sam exit the car.

Once the doors were closed, I wiggled on the uniform, careful not to be seen by any passersby. My fingers moved at an unparalleled speed as I tied my laces, surprising even myself. Stealthily, I slipped out of the Impala with my cap firmly on my head. As I anticipated, it wasn't going well for them.

"Agents," I call over to the men. "I'm guessing D.C. sent you?"

They turned around, recognizing my voice. Their eyes scan me up and down, taking in my uniform. Sam stares with curiosity and amusement while Dean's disapproving glare says everything he couldn't out loud.

"Yes, ma'am," Sam plays along with a sly smile.

I halt next to Dean, his gaze fixed on me while the soldier across from us firmly asks, "And you are?"

My eyes scan over her name tape: Bates. Confidently, I introduced my cover, "I'm Corporal Maricela Ramirez."

Her eyes narrowly take in my youthful appearance—clearly doubting, she remarks, "You look a little too young to be a Corporal."

"And you look a little too Army to work on a Navy case." Without regard, I sass back. "Sorry, what's your rank?"

Her arms cross over her chest, staring me down. "I'm a Sergeant."

"Well, Sergeant Bates, my Captain ordered me to meet these agents and make sure they got to see the crime scene. So, if you could just let us pass—"

"That so?" She interrupted, her attitude smug. "Then maybe he and I ought to have a chat."

I could feel the boy's eyes on me, waiting for my next move. Ignoring them, I say with nonchalance, "Not a problem. Then, after, I could have a conversation with your Commanding Officer."

"Oh, yeah? About what, exactly?" She challenges.

"How sloppy you look," I say with fake disgust. "Maybe I'll start by telling him how you wear your hair: In a looong braid. I'm sure he'll remind you that when in uniform, if a woman's hair falls below the collar, it must be neatly and inconspicuously pinned, fastened, or secured to the head. Or, I can begin by asking why his officer thinks she can address herself as a higher rank than the first-class private badges she wears. But, hey, if you are telling the truth—no harm, no foul. Right, Sergeant?"

She uncrosses her arms, her demeanor growing softer. My hand reaches into the pocket of my fatigues, pulling out my phone. I extend my arm to hand her the cell phone, asking, "You still want to call him?"

Bates stares at the device, internally weighing her options. I glance up at the Winchesters, each holding their nervous breaths. The tension in the air was palpable as we waited for her response. The officer and I locked eyes, trying to read the other's thoughts. After what felt like an eternity, Bates shakes her head. The corners of her mouth barely lifted into a bitter smile as she exhaled in defeat before walking away. I drop my arm to my side, grateful for the win.

"That went well," Sam was the first to speak as we walked around the transit.

"Thanks to yours truly," I tease, stepping onto the high-floor bus sandwiched between the Winchesters.

"Well, sweetheart," Dean mutters into my ear. "Guess you're more than just a pretty face, after all."

As I swallowed his words, I swallowed back the knot in my throat. My mind raced, trying to make sense of the ambiguous remark. I should have been offended that he reduced my role within the team to mere objectification, and yet, when he pressed his back against mine as he purred the idiom, I was left feeling stupefied. Was what he said meant in a demeaning or complimentary way? Instead of dwelling on it too long, I suppressed the ambivalent thoughts to concentrate on the case.

The forensic photographer was toward the back of the bus, snapping various shots of a victim who was slumped over a few seats. My feet carried me further into the bus and away from Dean before stopping to examine the blonde woman's corpse. I gently lift her blouse and instantly see two scars: one on her lower abdomen from a blade and the other near her ribs from a bullet. A second gunshot scar was accounted for over her left breast, aimed toward her heart. I pulled her shirt back down before standing up straight.

"Her wounds are old—like completely scarred over—old. " I murmur, trying to puzzle the pieces together.

"So is this guy's," Sam adds.

My eyes wander over to see his victim's shirt pushed aside, exposing a similar scarred bullet wound over his chest.

"Hey," Dean walks over. "Anything?"

"Yeah, this guy was shot in the heart." Sam answers.

The older Winchester inquires, staring down at the victim. "That what killed him?"

"Maybe—15, 20 years ago." Sam points at all the victims. "Every one of these bodies has a fatal wound or two or three, but they're all old."

"So, we're looking at meatsuits?" Dean asks rhetorically. "The bodies took a licking, and the demon inside kept them ticking."

"Probably. I think they were possessed, and now those soldiers are." I say, looking at the lifeless bodies discarded around the public transit.

"Hey," Dean's gruff voice utters in a low tone, alerting us. He nods behind Sam toward the front of the bus just before Sergeant Bates steps on.

"Excuse me, agents," Bates says as we turn to give her our attention. She approached with a tablet in her hand before proceeding to share, "We pulled this off a security camera. You might want to take a look."

She gives the device to Sam, crossing her hands in front of her, and waits for us to watch. Parking Lot 4 surveillance begins to play; the soldiers walk off and away from the bus before the driver follows as if nothing had happened. Sam pauses the footage and zooms in on the driver, only to show the woman staring at the camera, smiling sinisterly. I glance at the younger Winchester as his eyes widen, and his mouth slightly falls in surprise. My vision blurs Sam out as it focuses on his brother. Judging by his same reaction—with a hint of anger—they knew who she was.

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[babyboywinchester]

Agegap Dean baby trapping Sam with the ultimate domestic life. You don't need college to get a white picket fence life baby boy big brother can buy whatever house you want.

“College? Why do you need to go to college? Just a fancy way to go into debt.” Dean would scoff and wave off Sam’s dreams of becoming a lawyer or professor or what have you.

“There’s nothing wrong with settling down and being a stay at home mom. In fact, I think that’s way more noble. Far more important. Anyone can be a shitty lawyer. You, Sammy? You’re too good for all that. Fuck those college kids with money and trust funds when you’re busy shaping the character and morals of a little me and you. That’s where the real payoff is.”

So Sam’s already 6 months pregnant, college life forgotten, and if he ever has any questions or fears it’s easily soothed over by big brother who is so much older, wiser, and who knows way more than Sam ever could.

[holylulusworld]

Can you write pls dean x virgin agegap reader when they are in love but dean he’s to asshole to admit and he’s thinks don’t deserve her virginity. So her and Sammy try to make him jealous(Sammy ask her out,kiss her in front of dean,hug her,push-ups with her) and dean is jealous but heartbroken,reader and sam see him punch the wall crying(he thinks they have sex) Angst and romantic smutt💕 Sammy and her are like brother/sister and reader tell D that always been him and she always been only his 💗

This sounds interesting. I will put it on my request list.