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spnexploration · 2 years

Text

Catatonic

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, female hunter (reader)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: Sam gets hurt on a hunt, but the message doesn't seem to be getting through to Dean. The reader has to think of something quickly to motivate him to move, but how will Dean take being threatened? And what happens when there are questions at the hospital?

Tags: (friends to) enemies to lovers, somewhat fluffy, angst, exploring Dean's feelings, pretend relationship, real relationship, hospital

Warnings: canon-typical injuries, female hands tied, gun violence threatened (from female and from male) but not acted upon, implied smut but nothing beyond kissing described.

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: I find "y/n" quite jarring when reading so I have avoided using it. However, it is meant to be the reader as the narrator. Also I'm Australian, there may be some Australianisms.

ETA: I wrote an extra bonus bit at the end, see here

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We just got out of there alive. Mission accomplished for the hunt, but only just. Sam staggered out of the cabin in the woods ahead of me, and I could hear Dean cleaning his knife behind me having just taken down the last of them. The three of us made our way to some rocks and sat down, exhausted and feeling the loss of adrenaline. I felt like I had hit a wall and my body was cashing in its previously written cheques.

“Uh...” Sam said. I looked up at him, noticing his paling face and then the blood on his hand against his abdomen.

“Sam?!” I called, jumping to my feet to run to him.

“I, uh, I got stabbed,” he said, almost as if he couldn't believe it.

I looked over at Dean, who was still sitting, hadn't responded. “Dean!” I called out to him. He didn't look up. “DEAN!” I screamed.

“What?” he said gruffly, like I was interrupting his favourite TV show.

“Sam’s been stabbed!”

Dean didn't react. What the hell had gotten into him that he would ignore Sam being injured?!

“Alright, Sam, come on, get up, let's get you to the car.” I helped Sam stand and draped his arm around my shoulders. I was too short to really be a good support for him, but it was better than nothing. Dean still hadn’t moved.

“Dean, I don't know how to get back to the car through these woods.” Nothing. “I can barely carry one Winchester, I can't carry two. You have to get up.” No response.

“Dean! I need you to lead us back to the car so we can get Sam help.” He just sat there, staring at his hands, catatonic. “Are you hurt too or something?!” No response.

I was starting to panic now. How was I going to get Sam through the forest? I could feel his blood seeping through his shirt and into mine. Why wouldn't Dean move? I had to think of a way to motivate him.

I suddenly realised what I could do. Risky, but it might get through to Dean, and I couldn't get out of this forest without him.

I pulled the gun out from my waistband. I pointed it at Dean and clicked the safety off. “Stand up, Winchester,” I said coolly. “You are going to lead us out of here.”

He looked up at me, anger in his eyes. “If you shoot me, how are you going to get out?”

Damn. I thought quickly, turning the gun to Sam at my side instead. “Not you. If you don't lead us out, I'll shoot Sam.” Dean glared at me before reluctantly getting up.

“You dare to threaten me with my own gun?” he asked, his voice low and threatening. “You come in, you use our weapons and then what, you decide to turn on us? Was this always the plan?”

“Just get moving, Winchester. Before your brother gets it.” I acted like it meant nothing to me, but it was killing me performing this act.

Sam nodded at Dean who grumpily started walking. Once he was a couple of metres in front of us, I put the safety back on and the gun in my pocket, ready to help Sam move.

“You know, I could overpower you like this,” Sam said to me quietly.

“Oh really, while you bleed out on me?” I replied, equally quietly. “You know I'm not going to shoot you Sam, I just needed something to motivate Dean. Not sure why you being stabbed wasn’t enough, but I thought he’d recognise the click of a gun and act on instinct and I was right.”

Sam grimaced as we went on, clearly in pain. I could feel the blood still flowing through my fingers as I tried to apply pressure to the wound while walking.

“He's going to try to disarm you.”

“I know. And I'll let him. We just need to get you patched up.”

We completed the rest of the walk in silence, Dean occasionally throwing glances back at us.

I tensed up as the clearing where Baby was parked came into view, expecting Dean to do something. I fished the gun back out of my pocket for appearances, although I was ready to drop it at any moment to avoid Dean shooting me instead.

I tried to still act cool, “Open her up and then come here and get Sam in. Nice and slow, Winchester, no funny business.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at me, coming to grab Sam. He felt the wet blood on his hand when he put it around Sam’s waist, looking critically at his hand and then accusatorily at me. “You shot him?!” he yelled angrily.

“What? No! That's where he GOT STABBED!”

Sam swayed on his feet.

“Just get him in the car, Dean!” I yelled, gesturing with the gun. His eyes narrowed at my gesture but he did it.

I followed behind, not really sure where to go with the gun idea now. I hadn't thought this far ahead when I started it.

Dean was still bent down in front of me, getting Sam into the passenger seat. I walked up to Baby, “Ok, you're going to dr-“

I was cut off my Dean canoning into me. He'd used his already bent forward body, spun on his heels and launched himself at me, tackling me to the ground with his shoulder in my stomach. His hands went for the gun and I quickly dropped it, holding my palms wide open at him. “I surrender! The safety isn't even off, I wasn't going to shoot!” I gushed, a bit winded. I put up no fight, not wanting Dean to think I was a real threat.

He easily grabbed my wrists then hauled me to my feet with them. He spun me around and pushed me up against Baby, pulling my hands behind my back to him. “This here is exactly why I keep rope in the glove box,” he hissed in my ear as he tied my wrists together. He opened the back door and shoved me in the backseat before getting in the driver's seat himself.

“She wasn't going to shoot me, Dean,” Sam said weakly.

“How about I be the judge of that and you focus on not bleeding to death?” Dean responded angrily, starting the car.

---

We sped down the highway. I tried not to rub my wrists against the rope but I couldn't help it when I was being tossed around in the backseat, unable to brace myself or sit properly with them behind me. Dean had tied them tightly, there was no slipping out of it. The rope painfully tore at my skin, but I bit my tongue and kept it to myself.

We kept driving.

Finally, I saw the signs for the hospital, Dean following them. Sam was slumped in his seat.

“You’re going to have to untie me,” I said quietly.

“And why exactly would I do that?” Dean responded gruffly.

“Because they're going to notice if you go in with a stabbed brother and a woman tied up in the backseat of your car.” Dean tensed his jaw but didn't say anything. “I promise, I'll do everything you say. You can even tie me back up when we get back to the car once Sam’s patched up.”

“Fine, but you put a toe out of line and I'll be the one shooting you.”

“Yes, sir.” His eyebrow and the corner of his mouth tweaked slightly.

We pulled into the hospital car park. Dean lent over the front seat and undid the knot on my hands, leaving me to work the rope off them. I pulled a jacket from the floor and hastily put it on, hoping the sleeves would hide the marks on my wrists. Dean ran around the car and pulled the semi-conscious Sam out and carried him inside, me tailing close behind. Dean struggled a little with Sam’s weight and length, but managed it.

“Abdominal stab wound, lost a lot of blood!” Dean yelled as he carried Sam through the door. Health workers quickly scrambled to us, getting Sam on a bed and rushing him off.

---

Once Sam was gone, the questions started. Dean told them Sam had been stabbed in a mugging gone wrong. He said we'd put up a fight at our attackers, trying to have a plausible reason for the bruises, cuts and scratches that were also developing on Dean and I.

“Miss, I need you to come with me,” a nurse said to me.

“Oh, I’m not his sibling, Greg knows all his details,” I said, gesturing to Dean and using his current credit card alias.

“I need you to come, Miss,” the nurse insisted. Her eyes glanced at my wrist and I saw that my sleeve had slipped up when I'd reached for paperwork they passed us earlier, and she'd seen the rope burn. Crap.

“Ok,” I said, thinking fast. “Back in a sec, honey,” I said to Dean. He schooled his features and didn't respond with surprise.

The nurse took me to another room. “Is someone hurting you? Did he threaten you?” she asked me.

“Greg? No, he's my boyfriend,” acting like I was surprised by her question.

“What happened to your wrists?”

“Oh,” I giggled, acting skills to 11. “We, um, got a little carried away,” I lowered my voice like I was worried someone would overhear us, “during sex... I like to be tied up.” I thought about the most embarrassing thing I could, hoping my face would blush to match my story.

“If he is hurting you, you can tell us and we'll help you.”

“Oh no, he's really a teddy bear. It's all me with the, you know,” I dropped my voice again, “sex stuff.” I looked at the ground, like it was hard to maintain eye contact.

She looked at me critically for a second as if trying to see if I was lying. She finally shrugged and led me back to the room where Dean was.

“Any news?” I asked as I entered, looking at his clearly exhausted form. I could see why they thought he was violent, the tension in his already imposing shoulders was clear to see and his hands and shirt were speckled in Sam’s blood from getting him and out of the car. He shook his head to my question.

I crossed the room to him and slid my arm around his back, giving him a side hug. He put his arm around my shoulder, clearly having cottoned on to my ruse. “Where’d you go?” he asked me.

“Oh it was so embarrassing,” I giggled and dropped my voice, but still loud enough that it could probably be heard by the nearby nurse. “They asked about my wrists, I had to tell them about me getting you to tie me up in sex.” I buried my face into his shoulder and he chuckled. “My little firecracker,” he said, giving me a squeeze.

The nurse seemed reasonably reassured and left, but we were still in the waiting room where others could see us even if they couldn't hear.

“Let's go sit down,” I said to him, still with my arm around his back. He didn't move. I reached up on my toes to kiss his cheek, whispering to him as I did, “You need to look a little more like a worried brother and a little less like you did it.”

He turned and took my hand, leading me to the chairs. I'd seen him act before as all kinds of different personas, but I was impressed with how well he could slip into the role of boyfriend.

He kept a hand on me at all times, whether it be on my knee, around my back or holding my hand. I supposed the girlfriend ruse had really helped with his desire to manage the threat he felt I posed now.

We waited.

And waited.

“I'm going to the toilet,” I said to him. His hand on my knee squeezed in warning and he leaned into me, “Fine,” he breathed quietly, “But if I hear anything suspicious or you take more than two minutes, I'm kicking the door down.” I nodded and walked over to the bathrooms, Dean following me and heading into the men's as I went into the women's.

It was good to wash Sam’s blood off my hands, finally.

Dean was waiting for me when I came out and we walked back to our seats. I noticed his hands were now clean of blood too.

We waited.

“They're still watching you,” I whispered in his ear.

“I know,” he muttered under his breath, frustration leaking through.

We waited some more.

I looked over at him at one point, seeing the frown lines etched into his face. I reached up and ran my hand through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. His face relaxed a little, quite unrelated to acting.

More waiting.

And more waiting.

Finally, a doctor came in to see us. Dean jumped up. “He's going to be ok,” the doctor said, “we were able to stitch it up and give him a blood transfusion. He's very lucky they missed damaging his organs too much.”

“Can we see him?” Dean asked. The doctor nodded and led us through. Dean gripped my hand, and I reminded myself that he still thought I'd double-crossed him and Sam. He would be clutching me to him so he could keep an eye on me, even though it had felt for a moment like he wanted the comfort of someone else around when going to see his injured little brother.

---

Sam was discharged a couple of hours later. The doctors wanted to keep him in but he assured them he'd be ok at home, and so they let us leave.

Dean led the way to the car, my hand held tightly in his. He checked on Sam, getting in the passenger side, before returning his attention to me. He opened my door as if he was being a gentleman, but the hospital staff couldn't hear him muttering to me, “You pull any funny business before I get a chance to tie you up and I will end you.” I gulped and nodded.

15 minutes down the road, he pulled over. As soon as the car was stationary, he pulled his gun out and pointed it straight at me, over the seats. “Let's go have a chat, shall we?” he asked sarcastically, angry face back on.

I got out of the car, worried by Dean’s expression. Sam hastily got out too, wincing slightly.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked anxiously.

Dean looked cool, calm and collected with his gun trained straight on me. “Sam, test her.”

“Is this really necessary?” Sam asked.

“She pointed a gun at you Sammy. A gun I put in her hand after we let her in our house. So yes, this is really necessary!”

I stood with my hands up, a few metres behind Baby. Sam fetched holy water from the car and splashed it on me, to no effect. He edged closer to me and pressed the side of a silver knife flat against my forearm, again to no reaction. Dean continued to glare at me down the barrel of his gun.

“I'm not a demon, Dean,” I said. “I wasn't really going to shoot him, I just didn't know how to get you moving. You were just sitting there and Sam was bleeding and I panicked!”

There was a pause. “Get back in the car, Sam,” Dean ordered.

I started to shake, thinking he was going to shoot me. I'd braved plenty of others threatening me, but there was something about Dean doing it that had me weak at the knees, and not in a good way.

“Are you going to kill me?” I asked quietly.

Dean stared at me a beat longer, before finally lowering his gun. “No.”

He turned back to the car and started walking back, leaving me standing alone. “Are- are you going to leave me here?” I stuttered. I hadn't thought about what would happen to my relationships with the brothers when I'd had the idea of threatening Dean to get him moving, back in the forest. I didn't want to be abandoned.

“Get in the damn car,” Dean called out to me, not looking up. I ran to my door and climbed in.

---

We pulled up at the bunker and all climbed out of the car. The trip had been tense and silent.

Sam went to pick up his bag from the boot, but Dean was faster. “I got it,” said the older brother.

The three of us headed inside, Sam walking gingerly with his hand against his injured side. “How about you go lie down?” I suggested to him gently, noticing how tired he looked.

Sam looked between Dean and I, a frown on his face, “Are you two going to kill each other if I leave you alone?”

I smirked and shook my head. Sam glared at his brother, “Dean?” he demanded.

“We’ll be fine,” Dean responded gruffly. “Quit your fussing.” Sam looked relieved and headed off his room.

I headed to mine too, keen to wash Sam’s blood and the remnants of the hunt off me. The water stung my raw wrists, but it felt good being clean. I put on a t-shirt and some trackies and headed back to the living area.

I found Dean sitting by himself on the couch, staring into space. He'd cleaned up a bit too, sitting in fresh clothes with damp, short hair.

I grabbed two beers from the fridge and headed for the couch, cracking the lid off one and holding it out to Dean. It took him a second to notice. He reached out for it, and then caught sight of my wrist, with the bruising and rope burn from when he tied me up. One hand took the beer and put it on the table, while the other gently cradled my wrist. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly, turning my arm over to look all around it.

“It’s nothing,” I said, pulling my arm back. I had enjoyed the feeling of his calloused hands gently holding mine, but I didn't want to add to his pity party.

I sat next to him on the couch, opening my own beer. “Wanna tell me what's going on in that head of yours?”

“No.” His tone clearly indicated he wanted me to drop it, which I had no intention of doing.

“It’s not like you to not care that Sam was stabbed and bleeding.” He looked up at me sharply, clearly annoyed.

I waited a moment, but he didn't say anything. I tried again, “I have a theory.”

“Oh yeah, what's that Dr Freud?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I don't think you heard or understood us. I don't think you registered that Sam had been stabbed when you just kept sitting there. At the time I thought you were ignoring us or downplaying it, but the look on your face when you thought I'd already shot him, it seemed like surprise that he was bleeding.”

He took a deep breath and stared at his hands, clasped in front of him with his elbows on his knees. “I would never ignore that you or Sammy was hurt,” he said quietly.

“So, what happened?” I asked, equally quietly.

He took a deep breath. “I don't know,” he said, clearly reluctant to admit it.

I reached over and ran my hand through his hair, like I had when pretending to be his girlfriend in the hospital. I’d noticed then that he liked it. “It's ok to make a mistake sometimes,” I said, still speaking quietly.

“It’s not ok if it leads to Sammy bleeding out,” he criticised himself angrily. “I can't afford to make mistakes.”

“It's ok to be exhausted and thinking the hunt is over and have your brain not quite process everything it hears. It's human. When was the last time you slept?”

He laughed mirthlessly. “Sleep doesn't come easily to monsters.”

My hand was still in his hair. I slowly brought it down the side of his face, cupping his cheek. He looked up at me, my eyes meeting his beautiful, tormented green ones. He looked so vulnerable, I could tell he was beating himself up about what had happened.

I leaned in towards him, crossing most of the distance but leaving a small amount so he could choose not to lean in. After a tiny pause, he leaned in to the kiss. Our soft lips met tenderly.

“I don't think you're a monster,” I whispered to him afterwards.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me on to his lap, leaning in to kiss me again. His kisses were deeper, more passionate and more needy. “This ok, sweetheart?” he whispered during a pause in kissing. “Mhmm,” I agreed, running my hands down his muscled torso.

“Wanna take this somewhere more comfortable?” he asked me, his hands roaming my body. “God, yes,” I breathed back to him. He turned my legs so I was straddling his lap instead of sitting across it, and then stood up, holding my legs wrapped around his waist. I squealed in surprise. He laughed, “Careful how loud you scream, you'll bring Sam running.” I felt my face blush at the thought.

Dean carried me to his room, depositing me on my back on his bed while he kept kissing me passionately. He started removing my clothes, and I his.

---

It was later. I cradled Dean’s sleeping head on my chest, gently stroking his scalp. He had me wrapped in his strong arms under the covers of his bed.

He finally looked peaceful, and certainly seemed more soundly asleep than he ever had in any of the motel rooms we had stayed in recently. I wondered how long since he had felt safe and relaxed enough to properly sleep. Perhaps that was why he could only process information in the presence of adrenaline, today at least.

I wrapped my arms around him and fell asleep myself.

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