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yourmomxx · 1 year

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Family Line

father of mine masterlist

summary: the hunt for the monster starts. We find out what happened all those years ago between Dean and his daughter.

warnings: canon violence, child abandonment, swear words, angst, daddy issues, character death, descriptions of blood, descriptions of murder, this is written like an episode of Supernatural

word count: 8,5k

a/n: we did it, guys! this is the last part of the father-of-mine series. I’m really sorry about the late upload, but I do hope it was worth the wait! This might be the ending of this series, but not quite the ending of the story … thank you all so much for sticking around and supporting this story, sequels and prequels about dean and his daughter will definitely come!

pt1 pt2 pt3

Sioux Falls 2007

It was late at night, and in Bobby Singer’s Junkyard, the lights were still on. Accompanying the chirping tunes of the cicadas, a fading pop song from somewhere in the ‘70s was trailing out the windows.

On the small wooden table in the kitchen, Dean and Sam Winchester had spread out a multitude of lore books found in Bobby’s bookshelf, some worn out, some torn, and Sam was currently leaned over a particularly ugly-written paragraph dedicated to the magical use of a pan’s flute.

“Dean, I can hear you being silent.” Sam raised his head to look his older brother in the eye. “What is it?”

Dean shrugged, threw a look at the numerous variations of old books about supernatural creatures laid out in front of them, then at his little brother.

“You’re overworking yourself, Sammy,” Dean pointed out. The keyboard clicked as he typed something on the laptop.

“Dean, we’ve been over this,” Sam said. “I’m just trying to find a way for you to not die. You can’t exactly blame me for that.”

“Yes, exactly, we’ve been over it,” Dean countered. “And I told you there’s no way around it. I made a deal, that’s it. Period, no refunds.”

Sam clenched his jaw. “Well, I don’t want that to be it.” He muttered under his breath.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself when they heard the sound of tiny footsteps over the floor.

Dean perked up and turned his head.

“Hey, my little love.”

A while ago, the soft tone in his brother’s words would have caught Sam completely off guard. By now, he was already getting used to the way Dean’s eyes had a different look in them – one of pure love – and he spoke with a softness as if his words alone should wrap their recipient up in satin cloth.

Sam turned around to look at who Dean was talking to, and was not surprised to see a small girl trutting towards them, little legs still uncoordinated after only just waking up. Her small fists were rubbing her squinted eyes, the light in the living room must be blinding her.

Y/N made her way over to Dean and made grabby hands up at him.

Dean chuckled and picked his daughter up under her arms, placing her carefully on his thigh as she nuzzled into his dark flannel shirt.

Sam smiled at the contrast of Dean’s shirt, and her bright yellow children’s nightgown with the washed out Led Zeppelin-logo printed on.

Dean’s big hand was rubbing circles on her back, as he craned his neck to bow it down to her.

“What are you doing awake so late, sweetheart?” He hushed.

Y/N nuzzled her nose into his neck. “’d a bad dream,” she mumbled.

Sam could see the emotion cross over his brother’s face for a brief second as he made eye contact with him.

They both knew that this could – would – happen. That little girl had been through so much already, at her young age, had seen and lost things no child should ever see or lose.

They both had known that nightmares would probably eventually start haunting her, but yet, they had still not been prepared for when it was the time.

Dean didn’t know what he should be feeling, his daughter had had a nightmare, and all he wanted was to wrap his arms around her, keep her there, and kill everything in her way to becoming happy.

But he knew he couldn’t do that. And that’s why he wanted to, so much more.

“Really?” He asked instead, hand not leaving her back. “Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

“Everybody was leaving me,” Y/N sniffled, small fist rubbing her nose. “You, Auntie Ellen, Jo, Uncle Sam, Grandpa Bobby.” Another sniffle.

“I was all alone.”

Dean felt like sobbing. A heavy weight had latched itself on his heart. Oh, his little girl. How much he loved her.

“Sweetheart, it was just a bad dream,” he promised to her. “We are not going to leave you alone, I swear.”

Y/N pulled her face from the crook of his neck and looked up at him with red rimmed eyes.

“Pinky promise?” She asked.

Dean lifted his free hand and linked his pinky finger with hers. “Pinky promise,” he said.

Something told him he had made a mistake. But he couldn’t care right now.

Still, he felt like a liar.

“Now,” he said, a conspiratorial tone in his words, “What do you say we get you back to bed and I stay until you fall asleep, hm? How does that sound?”

Y/N didn’t fuss long about it, she just nodded her head and nuzzled closer to him.

Dean understood the silent command, and lifted her into his arms as he stood up. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Sam looked after them as they disappeared up the stairs. Now alone, he turned his attention back to his research. Why he was reading everything about the dog Cerberus right now, he couldn’t quite decipher, but he was grasping onto every straw.

A few minutes passed by, and Dean was still not back. Another few, another few.

Sam frowned as he looked at the clock on the wall. 5.13 in the evening. Sam realized now that the clock was broken.

Curtly, he stood up from the table and climbed the stairs to the bedrooms.

The door to Y/N’s room was open, hiding the colored sign she had written her name on (with Dean’s help) to inform everyone of her territory.

Careful to be quiet, Sam stepped closer to the threshold, peeking into the dark room. A dim night light in the form of a crescent moon was burning on the nightstand. In the bed laid a small bundle of blankets and stuffed animals, which Sam could only guess was Y/N.

Next to her, holding the girl in his arms, Sam spotted Dean, probably holding on for dear life on the edge of the narrow bed.

Sam smiled at them.

Through the silence, a soft, hummed melody reached Sam’s ears, and he perked up.

He knew that song from somewhere, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Na-na na na. Nana na-a.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Dude, are you singing her Smells like Teen Spirit?”

Dean looked at him, grinning. “Yeah. It’s a classic.” As if it was the most obvious thing in the world and Sam was the stupid one.

“I mean, look at her,” he said, his gaze shifting to his daughter again. “She’s gonna be a badass one day. Right? One day, you’re gonna be as badass and cool as your daddy.”

Oh yeah, that girl was out like a light.

Sam just shook his head chuckling. “All right, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Dean didn’t answer him, but he knew he heard him.

A few minutes after Sam had left, currently sitting at the kitchen table again, starting a new chapter of the same book, Dean came downstairs.

Wordlessly, he took his seat across from Sam, and pulled one of the lore books closer to him.

And though he had an idea where his brother’s new sense of determination came from, Sam didn’t say a word when Dean started reading.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

Now

When you called, for a brief second Sam was worried that Dean was gonna crash the car. The way his face morphed into shock, concern and then anger, while he was talking to you on the phone had his little brother worried.

After you hung up, Sam pretended not to notice the way Dean pushed further into the gas pedal.

The first rays of the morning sunlight made their way over the hills, when Sam and Dean arrived at the Group Home. Dean didn’t bother with a neat parking maneuver, and just turned the motor off, then made his way with fast steps over to the castle.

Sam trailed behind.

They had no problem entering the building, Maria had given them an official key card for their investigations. Dean stormed down the hallways with a fast step, as if he had memorized the entire way by heart.

Sam wouldn’t blame him.

You were sitting on your bed when they came in. Or more, cowering there.

Sam was all too familiar with the look of disturbed terror in your eyes, even when you firmly avoided looking at either of them.

“Y/N?” Dean moved a step forward, stretching his hand out towards you as if to soothingly touch your shoulder, but hesitated in his movement and pulled away.

Sam threw him a worried look that Dean didn’t seem to catch.

“What happened?”

Your fingers were continuously drumming against your knee pulled close to your chest.

“’d a bad dream,” you mumbled. Sam could hear the fear in your voice. Dean sat down in your chair opposite the bed.

“When I woke up, there was …” You swallowed and hardly squinted your eyes. “I don’t know what it was. Looked like two yellow … eyes.”

Sam couldn’t help the disgusted twist his face made at the word. He couldn’t imagine waking up to something like this.

Dean exchanged a look with him. Your story confirmed their theory even more.

On the bed, you had gone quiet again. Your fingers were still drumming an uneven pattern on your skin.

This didn’t make sense. This didn’t make sense. She was dead, Cass was dead. Roy was dead. Dean Winchester was here. He left you, and now he was here, but not for you, no, but for Roy. They were all dead.

And you were next.

“Have you ever heard of an alp?” Your head snapped up as Dean’s question pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“An Alp?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “I mean - yes, I came across that lore when I was still taking German literature.”

“You took German Literature?” Dean regretted his question as soon as he asked it.

“Yes,” you answered, but something had shifted in your tone. It was low and pressed. Shit. He knew he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. Sam felt like smacking his brother across the head.

“So you know what they are?” He asked instead, and you shrugged, looking at your feet again.

“Yes, well, I know that the Germans believed that an Alp would sit on their chests while they slept, and it would feed on their good dreams - plaguing the sleeping person with terrible nightmares. That’s why they used to have shortened beds, because if they weren’t lying down, the alp couldn’t sit on their chest.”

While you talked, realization hit you like a brick. Or more like a huge wave, rather, if the feeling of being violently ripped of all air was anything to go by.

“Oh my God,” You breathed out. “Cass and Roy both had nightmares before they died.” You looked between Dean and Sam with shock-widened eyes. “This Alp thing was the reason for all of this, right? I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

“Not if we have a say in it.” Dean’s jaw remained stoically clenched as he spoke his promise.

“What did you dream about?” Sam asked.

You ducked your head even further into yourself and picked at the skin next to your nails. “’s it important?”

“It could be.”

You took a deep breath and bit the inside of your cheek. “Same as Roy,” you simply said. “Worst day of my life.”

And, okay. Sam didn’t get into college for being slow, he knew exactly what day that was. And judging by the brief flicker of emotion crossing over Dean’s face, he knew, too.

But he didn’t address it and only cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Look, if it really is an Alp – which it probably is – then we already know how to get rid of it.”

“We would lure it into a trap. You know, get us some … bait and then just –“ Dean symbolically dragged a finger across his throat.

You raised your eyebrows in concern. “And how do you think that’s gonna work?”

Admittedly, this hadn’t been your smartest moment, but given the circumstances you were in, you figured you could be forgiven.

Sam dipped his head. “That’s where you come in.”

“You can always say no,” Dean carefully offered. “If you don’t want to do it.”

You lifted your chin in the air. “This thing is the reason two of my best friends are dead,” you said. “I want to pay back the favor.”

Sam nodded. “Alright then.”

“So you guys got a plan?” You asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look and Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, we do.”

—

It was loud in the cafeteria. It always was. Today, though, you were especially aware of it, because most of the noise was heavily directed towards you.

Or rather, about you, which had just the same effect in your opinion.

You had barely entered the big room and had already felt a few dozen eyes fixated on you. The whispering had started when you got closer to the buffet, and the occasional double-take and looking-fast-away-when-she-is-looking had continued when you had sat down.

Of course, how else should it be, you had been given the rehearsed “My condolences” or “I’m so sorry for your loss”.

Long story short, to you it felt like the day of Roy’s death all over again.

Except this time, they were serving pasta, and not chicken with rice.

It was days like these (which, in your opinion, had been happening far too often over the past few weeks), that made you hate this place even more. It’s not like you had had a reason for that before, the supervisors were nice, so were the helping staff and, of course, Maria.

Maria, who had taken you under her wing from the first day you arrived here. She had acted like a mother towards you, the one you had never had, no matter how hostile you had acted towards her.

Still, as you grew older, the whole thing felt simply more washed out and sickening.

Maybe this really was just a side effect of puberty, as your gynecologist had said.

As you let your gaze travel over the many familiar faces, you couldn’t help but notice that Finn wasn’t under any of them.

Finn, your beloved Finn. You then suddenly remembered the text conversation the two of you had had the other night. Before, well – everything. You still needed to stay true to that.

Silently, you made a note to yourself in your head, to drop by his room straight after lu-

A broad silhouette squeezing into the seat opposite you blocked your view over the hall, and your eyebrows shot up as you realized who it was.

“Uhm, hello?” You asked as Dean folded his hands on the table.

“You told everyone I was dead?” He asked, purposely skimming over your question.

You frowned and opened the small package of parmesan. “Well, aren’t you? About six times?”

Dean frowned and you caught him counting something under his breath with his fingers.

You shook your head, making a point of ignoring him and poured sauce over the dry spaghetti.

“That’s not even my point.”

“What, you’re saying you didn’t barge into the middle of my lunch – after the night I had – to scold me over the inaccuracy of your death rate?” You clicked your tongue. “Surprise.”

Dean apparently didn’t deem it necessary to address your sarcastic tone. That, or he knew just how much he deserved it, which you were fine with, either way.

“Look,” he started, and Jesus, this was going to be serious. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened last night.”

Confused, you tilted your head.

“I mean about the dream,” Dean quickly added. “I mean, we both know what it was about, and I just …” He cut himself off, cleared his throat, and let out a short breath that was probably supposed to be failed attempt at a laugh.

“I’m not a big … talking guy, you know? But I just … I always told myself, if I ever had kids, that I would be different then. That …” He stopped again.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

You scoffed. “You’re a bit late for that,” you spat. “I mean, it’s been what, almost a decade? ‘Sorry’ travels far, but not that many years.”

“I know that,” Dean said, “But I want you to know, that-“

“Well, I don’t want to know!” You interrupted him. Maybe too loud, if the simultaneous turn of heads was anything to go by. “I don’t want you to tell me anything. No excuses, no explanations, I want, and I need absolutely nothing from you, you understand?”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek.

“Believe me, I do.” He said. “But still-“

“No!” The dishes clattered as you slammed your hand on the table. “Dean, you don’t understand! You just left me here, at this orphanage –“

“It’s a group home.”

“Same thing, Dean!” You snapped. “Just a fancier word.”

Dean carefully pulled his hand away from the table, folding it with his other in his lap. You could feel him watching you, but you consequently avoided his gaze.

“Look, I’m not gonna have this conversation right now,” You decided. “I am going to go talk to my best friend, and when I go to sleep, I’ll try not to get killed! So goodbye.”

And with that, you picked up your still full lunch-tray, dumped it on one of the cleaning wagons, and made your way out of the cafeteria.

You never turned around to see Dean looking after you.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

St. George, Louisiana 2012

Dean Winchester was standing by a window. Through the clean glass he had a clear view of green gardens, well-kept flowers and trees leaning in the soft breeze of the wind.

Further away, he spotted the tall hedge walls of something that had to be a garden maze.

“I hope you know just how grateful I am for what you and your brother did for me.”

The voice of Maria Whitlock lifted Dean out of his thoughts, and he turned around to face the older woman.

She spoke in a soothing tone, one that reminded him of a mother he never had, but learned to long for.

Dean nodded. “That’s our job.”

Maria gave him a look and tilted her head. He was standing in her office, a neatly tidied room with a shelf for books and files, and a rather expensive looking desk. Very clean as well.

“What you decided to do was probably very hard,” she continued. “But I can assure you, in most cases, it turns out to be the better option for both parties.”

He didn’t like the way she talked about his plan like it was a good thing, when it wasn’t. It didn’t make him a good person for doing it.

“I’m sure, Dean, that there will be a lovely family out there who will take care of her –“

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant.” He quickly interrupted her. It was the first time in here he had spoken more than for words. “I don’t … I don’t want someone else to take her in.”

Maria raised her skeptical eyebrows at him. “Do I understand correctly, Dean?” She asked. “You want her to just - stay here?” And her tone was implying exactly what she held of that idea.

“Look, I know how that sounds.”

“I really hope you do.”

“But my job doesn’t allow me to properly take care of her. When Bobby was still - well, she stayed with him, and we visited her from time to time.”

Maria nodded. “I understand. But what you have to understand, is, that this will surely not be easy for her. Whereas many of the elder children indeed do live here, the younger ones are usually adopted by a foster family who can take care of them. Who can love them,” she added.

Dean looked out the window again.

“I understand that,” He said. “But this is how I want it.”

He couldn’t see Maria behind him, as he was turned away from her, but he could well sense the way her observing, maybe judging gaze was burning between his shoulder blades.

“Well, then.” She sighed.

And as Dean watched the flowers dance in the wind, listening to Maria shuffling through her papers, he couldn’t help but think that this might be one of the most selfish decisions he has ever made.

—

Soft wind was tugging at Dean’s hair. Somewhere in the distance he was aware of the rippling water of a small fountain.

Dean tried to not actively think of what he was doing here. Of the consequences his actions would inevitably cause. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Y/N’s hand was holding his in a strong grip, as they walked up to Maria and he greeted her.

Maria leaned down to be on eye level with his daughter and smiled at her.

“Hello Y/N, it’s very nice to meet you. Your Dad has told me so much about you! I’m sure you’ll settle in here just nicely.”

Dean crouched down and placed both his arms on Y/N’s for her to look at him. She had been eyeing Maria and the castle suspiciously.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he started. “Maria is really, really nice. And because Uncle Sam and I have to work so much, she is going to take very good care of you.”

Y/N averted his eyes and stared at her shoes. Then, sh burst forward, slung her small arms around Dean’s neck and buried her face in his chest.

“I wanna go with you,” she mumbled into his jacket. Dean sighed. With a heavy heart, be broke out of the embrace. “I promise I’m old enough, I want to go with you!” She pleaded again. With every word, Dean’s heart shattered just a bit more.

“Look, you remember when you stayed with Grandpa Bobby for a while when me and Uncle Sammy had to work?” She nodded, sniffling.

“This is gonna be just like that. I promise.”

Y/N sniffled again. Then she held out her hand to him. “Pinky promise?”

I promise that we’ll be fine.

I promise that we’d never just leave you alone.

I promise that Grandpa Bobby will be alright.

Dean pulled Y/N into his chest again. He breathed in deep, as if that would somehow help him savor this moment, savor her to be engraved in his brain to never forget. His little girl, the only thing good and pure in his life.

“Have fun, sweetheart,” he said when they broke apart again.

He stood up, and even though he wasn’t that old, everything in his body hurt at the movement.

“But I don’t know anyone here!” Y/N said again. It has been her go-to argument the entire car ride to the castle.

“I want to go with you and Uncle Sam!”

“Y/N!” The sharpness in Dean’s tone felt like it was cutting him. “I said you can’t.”

Her bottom lip started to tremble, before a big tear rolled down her cheek. Then another one, and another one, until she was full-on sobbing.

“Please, Dad!” She cried, and Dean’s heart shattered.

Behind her, Maria put a caring hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, sweetie, say goodbye to your dad.”

Y/N violently shook her hand off her body. “No! No, I don’t want to go with you! I want to stay with my dad!”

Maria and Dean exchanged a look. In her eyes, he recognized something that told him to change his mind.

It took everything in Dean to turn around and walk away.

He fixated his eyes on his car a few feet away from him. He wasn’t walking very fast, but with the weight that felt tied to his feet, it was the best he could do.

Behind him, Y/N kept crying. And as she was pleading and pleading, for him to come back, for him to stay, the feeling of realization started heavily sinking in, that he was really waking away.

Not only from this situation, from his daughters cries, but from her. From his child.

His feet felt even heavier.

When he reached the car door and opened it, he didn’t feel anything. Everything happened in a haze. He vaguely registered starting the car and pressing his foot on the gas pedal.

His daughter’s sobs were still replaying over and over in his mind like the sounds of a broken vinyl, as the naked road flew by the dirty windows.

Sam didn’t address the single tear that rolled down his brother’s cheek. And Dean just kept driving.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

Now

Since forever on, you had never been quite good with your emotions. Portraying them, talking about them, feeling them.

It was an obstacle.

Looking back at it, you figured it was probably somehow running in your family, the whole being emotionally unavailable thing.

Could that be inherited? According to your biology teacher, yes, but you didn’t know how well you believed that.

Nevertheless, as you knocked on the cold door that was the entrance to your - only left – best friend’s room, emotions welled up in your throat as choking as a tidal wave clashing its weight over your head.

It was dark in there. The curtains had been pulled closed and the thick material wouldn’t let a flicker of daylight in the room.

A smell hung over the entire place, of stale air and leftover food, and the sensation of hopelessness. Finn was sitting on the edge of his bed, a dark silhouette staring crooked at his hands in his lap, only illuminated by the weak light of the bedside lamp.

Without properly acknowledging him, you took quick strides to the other side of the room, and without further ado, ripped his curtains open.

The sun was already lowering down the horizon again, but the leftover light was still enough to turn the dark silhouettes in the bedroom into concrete shapes, of dirty plates, glasses, and clothes scattered all over the floor.

From his place on the bed, Finn groaned lowly, like a small bear being awaken from hibernation.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes as you sat down next to him. The bed dipped under your weight and you moved over a few study sheets that laid on his duvet.

“Hey,” you said.

Finn dropped his hands into his lap again and turned his tired gaze on you.

“Hey,” he said back.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Finn’s eyes tiredly scanned the room around him, the mess it was in, and then shook his head.

“Nah.”

“Alright.” You weren’t, really, but that conversation could wait until another time.

“How you holdin’ up?”

Finn tilted his head to you in a way that said ‘Ain’t it obvious?’ and you shrugged in response. “Stupid question, got it.”

Finn sighed.

There was a silence building between the two of you that you didn’t like. You kept yourself from fidgeting impatiently on the sheets.

“I just-“ Finn cut himself off and ruffled his hand through his hair. “Ever since – well, yesterday – I’ve been thinking about …”

He broke off again, blinking with his face towards the ceiling to avoid the falling of tears.

“Y/N, the last thing I said to her, was – we fought.” Finn’s confession was almost a whimper as he looked at you, awaiting your reaction.

Your heart broke at the look in his eyes, so clouded full with guilt and self-loathing, you almost didn’t recognize him.

“Oh, Finn, she loved you.” You sighed, and placed a gentle yet firm hand on his arm. “She knew what you were going through, what we were all going through. And trust me, she never, not for a second, held it against you. That was one moment out of almost ten years we all spent together. It didn’t mean anything, not in the long run.”

Finn sniffed and rubbed his nose, diverting his gaze to his hands again.

“Finn, she didn’t die hating you.” You put emphasis on every word as much as you could, because you wanted him to hear you, to understand, to believe. You didn’t want to let him wallow in his own self-destructing thoughts about something that wasn’t even true, not in the slightest bit.

Finn just hummed, but didn’t meet your eyes, just kept them trained on his lap. You sighed and let your hand slowly slide from his arm.

For a while, it was quiet again.

“My father is here,” you then blurted out.

Finn’s eyebrows shot up. “The one that died?”

“Yeah.” You weighed your head. “In my defense, I thought he died too, until he showed up in a fancy suit, investigating my best friend’s murder.”

The typical phrase of ‘seeing gears turning in someone’s head’ was the only way you would describe what you were seeing displayed on Finn’s face right now, just before the realization hit him.

“Wait, your father’s one of the hot FBI agents?”

You pursed your lips and nodded.

Finn blinked in disbelief.

“Wow,” He breathed out.

“Yup.” You said, popping the ‘p’. “Just got a lot less hot, huh?”

Finn raised his hands in surrender and shook his head. “For my own safety, I’m really not gonna answer that.”

You let out a laugh and playfully shoved him with your shoulder.

“Idiot.”

Finn grinned. “You love me.”

You hummed. “You’re right, I really do.”

A long while later, the door closed behind you again with a click.

Finn had to promise you to get in touch with you if he felt the need to, and to at least try and keep his room in order. After a brief conversation of how his view of himself and his ‘need to call you’ was very different from yours, you had hugged him and decided to leave.

Before you had walked out, your hand had rested on the handle, and you had turned around to Finn, not quite looking him in the eye.

“You know I love you too, right?” You had said. “No matter what happens.”

Finn frowned, but if he got suspicious, he didn’t mention it. “I know. Same here.”

You swallowed and nodded.

Then you left the room.

Now you were standing outside of his door, gaze drifting into the distance, and the same weight that had been lifted off your shoulders replaced by another one, just as heavy.

Funny, how, even if indirectly, saying your Goodbyes, made the lingering presence of death looming over you like a dark shadow much more real. If only one thing went wrong tonight, then-

You shook your head at the thought. No, Sam and Dean were going to take care of it, they promised. You had to put their trust into them with this.

But if tonight really was it, then you were content with the feeling that the last conversation you had, had been with Finnegan Beckett.

The walk back to your room stretched longer than usual.

Sooner than you would like it to, the sun disappeared behind the hills and night reigned over the land.

Sam and Dean were standing in your room, rehearsing their – honestly, pretty vague – plan with you, making sure you knew exactly how everything would go down. To be fair, you didn’t really play a big part in the whole thing, but it was nice having some sort of reassurance.

“Alright, so you know what to do?” Sam questioned once again.

Slowly, you nodded your head. “Lay still and look pretty,” you joked. “And try not to get killed.”

“Leave that last part to us,” said Dean. “You don’t have to worry about anything. By the time you wake up, everything will be over.”

You nodded.

You had seen it in Dean’s eyes, that he wasn’t all in with the idea of using you as bait, but you had done it nevertheless.

You weren’t a little child anymore, especially not his, he wasn’t going to decide what you wanted or not wanted to risk.

You took a deep breath that lifted your shoulders and huffed it back out. You were going to do this. It was easy.

—

Like hell it was.

Whoever told you you had the easiest part of the plan had been fucking lying to you. Turns out, sleeping is way harder with the knowledge of probable death hanging over your head like a dark cloud.

Every time your eyes slipped closed, a glimpse of doubt squeezed its way into your mind. What if Sam and Dean didn’t make it? What if everything went wrong? What if, in the end, you did die?

The sheets were already pooling crumbled by your feet when you slipped out of consciousness.

The mass of hot bodies pressing together and towering over you was clamming. A figure was running away from you, you were chasing after it. You smelt old leather and gunpowder. It made you feel comforted. You wanted more of it.

Gravel clattered underneath your boots as you got out of the car on your own, like all the big girls would.

“Look, Daddy!” But Daddy wasn’t there.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” There she was again, the nice girl with the black hair. She held out her hand and you went to grab it, her warm presence looming you in, and then the floor opened up under your feet and you were falling into nothingness.

Your heart pounded rapidly in your chest, as you startled awake in your bed, feeling your lungs tighten up and making it hard to breathe.

Your panicked gaze flew to the door of your room – wide open, the light of the hall casting a dim shadow into the room.

“Wha- Sam! Dean!” Hastily, you pulled the covers off your body and hurried out the door. Something must have gone wrong, terribly, terribly wrong.

You followed the sound of footsteps and scuffle down the hallway, turned the lights on where it had gone off at a few junctions.

Your breathing was still shallow, but you pushed through that and your still dazing mind, adrenaline pumping through your veins with every step you took.

Rapidly turning around another corner, you almost stumbled over the long legs of Sam’s body on the floor. You came to an abrupt halt and kneeled worried next to him.

“Sam? Oh my God, are you-“

Sam groaned and moved his head, eyes still pressed shut. “’s strong,” he babbled, and you tried your hardest to understand what he was saying.

By the way he was slurring his words, you had well reason to think he had suffered a concussion.

“It’s alright, stay here,” you ordered him, as he tried to sit up.

Only then, you first noticed the struggling noises a few feet away from you, and lifted your eyes away from Sam to check where they were coming from.

What you saw almost made your heart drop into your stomach.

Not that far away from you, maybe a few armlengths, was Dean, laying on the floor on his back just like his brother. But he was wrestling with something sitting on his chest, something small and hairy, hunchbacked like an old witch but only with the size of a cat.

The thing, which had to be the Alp, had long, bony limbs, and was fighting tooth and nail, hissing, biting and scratching, against Dean.

It reminded you of a gremlin, of sorts.

In your head, you heard Roy’s voice scold you, “There’s a distinct difference between all supernatural creatures. Elves don’t equal fairies, and gremlins don’t equal goblins, because while gremlins are fuzzy and cute in the beginning and only bad later when they turn, goblins have always been known for harassing humans.”

Alright, so no gremlin then.

Near you, Dean was still rolling around on the floor, fighting for the upper hand with the Alp.

Your heart sped up as you realized that something had to be wrong. Because why wasn’t he just killing it?

“So how do you kill it?”

Sam pulled something out of his duffel bag and turned it in his hands, the dim light of your lamp reflecting on the material. “Silver dagger dipped in vampire blood.” He spoke.

“Wait – vampires bleed?”

Dean scoffed. “This isn’t Twilight, kiddo. Yes, vampires bleed.”

You shrugged and inspected the phial he had laid into your hand. “I was thinking more of Fear Street, but alright.”

Dean ignored that he didn’t know what that was, but made a mental note to look it up later.

Sam stuffed the dagger back into his arsenal.

“You don’t have to worry about that part, though,” He assured you. “That’s what we’re here for.”

Dean nodded. “He’s right. You just dream sweet, and we’ll handle the rest. Fool-proof.”

You nodded, passing Dean the blood back. You could only hope they were right.

The shining silver of the dagger caught your eye. It had most likely been scattered away from Dean and landed near a wall, far out of his reach.

You took quick steps over to pick it up, Dean’s struggling grunts making you alert, and probably the reason why you didn’t think about what you did next, you just did it.

The silver dagger felt light in your hands, coated in the dark fluid of what had to be vampire blood. The blade reflected the clinical white light from the hallway as you lifted it up over your head, and, using the strength of both your hands, pushed it with force into the monster’s upper torso.

The squelching sound it made, as it penetrated bristly fur, skin, and organs, would later make you feel repulsed and gagging, sort of like nails scratching on a blackboard, but in this moment, you just clenched the dagger tighter and pushed it further into the monster’s chest.

The screech it let out could not be compared to any animalistic sounds you had ever heard before. In a swift move, you pulled the weapon out of the Alp’s body, and the small creature slumped to the floor right next to Dean.

You waited for a second. Two, three panting breaths. Dean was the first to move. He put a hand somewhere where the thing’s neck should be.

Then, swallowing in-between his hard breaths, he nodded. “Done,” was all he said. But it was enough for a sigh of relief to leave your tired lungs, and you sunk to the ground right next to him.

Looking closer at its lifeless body, the Alp had more similarity with one of those dead, stuffed animals that hunters hung in their houses as trophies. But maybe that was just rigor mortis.

Through your haze, you barely registered Dean clapping a firm hand on your shoulder. You turned your head to look at him, eyes suddenly feeling heavy as the adrenaline was wearing off. Like sucking air out of a balloon.

“You did good today, kid.” He said, and though you were tired, in his eyes you could see that he meant it. It filled your chest with a warmth that hadn’t been at home in there since … God knows when, and it made you smile.

Near you, Sam staggered closer, still holding his hurting ribs, and tilted his head as he squinted his eyes at the lifeless Alp before you.

“Is it just me or does it … look like a cat?”

You and Dean both looked over at him, and then at the dead monster on the floor.

“Looks more like a gremlin-goblin hybrid,” You panted. “A gromblin.”

Sam threw you a look of pure confusion, while Dean was grinning proudly. You smiled back. It felt honest.

And very likely, it was.

-- It was quiet again.

From the fight and struggles a few days ago was no trace left, as you stood by your desk and sorted through some old photographs you had replaced on your wall.

The pictures you were sorting through mostly showed you, Finn, Roy and Cass together.

At school, at the movies, going out to eat.

You sighed and plucked some tape from the back of another one.

Right at that moment, a knock sounded from your door. Without even looking up from Cass and Roy smiling at you, holding a stray cat, you let out a “Come in,” at the person on the other side of the door.

The familiar sound of the hinges creaking signified the opening and closing of the door. And then, Dean Winchester was standing in your room.

“Uhm …” He was rubbing his neck awkwardly, as you looked at him expectantly.

“Hey. What’s up?” You asked, and put the photographs in a drawer.

Dean took a deep breath and looked at you. He wasn’t wearing the same casual clothes as he had been that terrible night, but had settled on his FBI suit again. Maybe for effect.

“Look, I was just-“ Dean fumbled for a second and then took a seat on the small chair that was standing around. “We should talk. This time for real.”

You tilted your head, and avoided looking at him.

Dean didn’t wait for any response, he simply kept talking. Maye rambling.

“I know I already tried, but it wasn’t my best, so I …” He sighed.

“I never explained anything to you. why things went down how they did. Y/N, please look at me.”

You had sat down in your deskchair, pulling your legs to your chest and now did your best to fix your eyes on Dean.

“What we do, the hunting … it’s no way to grow up for a child. I know how that is. And I never, ever, wanted that for you. I already had plans to end things sooner than they did, but then ..” He shook his head. “Didn’t work out. So, when Bobby died, I saw no other chance than to get you somewhere else. And I took that chance to just … remove you from my life, as hard as it was.”

“But I promise you, Y/N, it was all just to keep you safe. I never would’ve done it if there had been another way. And I wanted you to know that.”

Dean stood on his feet again and placed the chair back on its original spot. You looked away as he reached for the door handle, to get out of your life, again.

“So you’re just gonna leave? Again?” Your words were accusing and they were meant to be that way, but still you almost felt bad, as Dean dropped his hand by his side and let out a sigh.

“Like I said, it was for the best. Still is, in my opinion.”

“What, to remove me from your life again?” You jumped out of your chair, fury burning in your eyes and voice growing louder with every word you spoke.

“Y/N, you don’t get it-“

“No, you don’t get it!” You jelled at him. What was burning in your eyes were now more tears than anger, but it didn’t matter.

“For years, I’ve been trying to … to figure out what I did wrong. For years, I’ve been trying to do better, every day, I wanted to be better, because I thought —. I thought that if I had good grades, and if I started working out, and if I was always on my best behavior … I thought that you would come and get me. But somehow you never did. And I just … I don’t understand, I want you to tell me, what did I do wrong, what made you leave, because I swear, I’ll change. I’ll change, and I’ll work on it, just please…” A begging undertone accompanied your tear-choked words. “Don’t leave me here again.”

Wordlessly, Dean quickly crossed the room and put his arms around you. it took you a second to realize what was even happening, before you clung to his suit jacket, digging all your strength into it, as if the fabric was the only think that kept you from drowning in black water.

You felt the shadow of warmth, as Dean turned his head to press a featherlight kiss into your hair.

“I regret having to leave you.” He murmured next to your ear. “But what I do not regret is keeping you safe. Even if that meant leaving you.”

You sniffled, and pulled away from him. Dean’s own face wasn’t full of fresh tear stains, but still you could see the sincerity and something like sadness on his features.

You wiped your cheeks to clean them off the drying liquids.

“I’m older now,” You said, and Dean scoffed, already knowing where this was headed. “No, please, listen to me! I’m older, I can make my own choices, take my own risks. You saw how great I was a few days ago!”

“Yes, but that was one monster!” Dean countered. “Out there, there are hundreds of those things. We don’t get enough sleep, no nice food, not even nice beds! Trust me, Y/N, compared to this-“ he gestured around your room, “what we do has nothing on it.”

You shook your head. “But you’re together when you do it. You and Sam. And I just want that, I want to be with you.”

Dean sighed and took a step back.

“Please, Dean, I’m begging you!” You urged. “You said you never wanted to come back here, but now you had to, I mean – don’t you think that’s some sort of … sign or something?”

“I don’t believe in signs.”

“Well, screw signs, I’m here!” You pointed to yourself. Your voice was desperate, but so were you.

“I am here, and I want you to take me with you.” And in a whisper, you repeated, “Please, Dean, this time – let me come with you.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, Dean heavily sighed and pulled the chair closer to him to sit down.

The church bells were tolling a loud, fast tune. It was ironic, you thought, and you didn’t know if you should cry or laugh about it.

You watched as two dark caskets were lowered down into the earth, into two separate 6-feet deep holes right next to each other.

The gravestones had not yet been prepared, but you didn’t exactly need those anyway. If the huge pictures were any indicator on who was getting buried here.

This was your last time saying Goodbye. To Cass and to Roy, and, unfortunately, to the last one remaining.

Funerals weren’t for the dead, you had once read somewhere, they were for the living, for those seeking closure in their desperate times of grief.

You had thought it to be bullshit, what difference would a burial make in a journey of overcoming the loss of someone so important?

But, as you threw a full hand of dark earth onto each of the dark caskets, you somehow understood. It was one weight less.

They were still here, some part of them. Something you could always come back to, they hadn’t just vanished off the back off the earth. That thought was, indeed, comforting.

Damn life lessons that are right.

“Hey,” you suddenly heard a voice next to you, and were a bit surprised to see Finn standing there.

You had been too lost in your own thoughts to even notice him approaching. The lack of sleep probably didn’t help your attention skills much, either.

“Hey,” you answered.

“Look, I need to tell you something,” you started, just at the same time as Finn said, “I know what you wanna say.”

Both of you let out quiet laughs.

“You first,” He said.

You took a deep breath and avoided looking at him, scanning the gravestones before you as if you had known everyone buried under them personally.

“Sam and Dean,” you started, “I mean, they’ve been here for a while and honestly, I never even thought I’d see them again. So I never really thought about what would happen if they would just – show up, you know?”

Interesting, Peter Gravill only lived to be 57 years old.

“But now they’re here, and I just-“

“I get it.” Finn suddenly interrupted you. Your head whirled around so fast you were afraid you were gonna get whiplash.

At your confused look, he added, “I mean, if my parents suddenly showed up on my doorstep and gave me the option of going with them –“ he shrugged his shoulders. “-I would most definitely take it.”

Before you could even think about it, you already lunged forwards and wrapped your arms around his body, burying your face in his neck and holding him tightly.

The hot feeling of tears burned behind your eyes, but you managed to put them away. You pulled Finn even closer.

“Everything’s gonna be alright, kid.”

“You’re still younger than me.”

“I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

The hug lasted endless, but endless went by way too quickly. You fixed Finn’s suit jacket, apologized for the tear- and make-up stains you had gotten on the expensive material, and waved him a last Goodbye.

Down by the parking lot, a black car was already waiting for you, two adult men leaning against it. They had been watching the entire thing go down from a safe distance, not wanting to interfere in either the funeral, or the emotional Goodbyes.

Sam tried not to think about what laid ahead of them, or behind them, as his niece walked towards them, away from the graves of her best friends, and leaving the only one that was still alive, behind.

His niece. How long hadn’t he said that title, let alone thought it.

He liked the familiarity of it. The rightness.

Dean opened a creaking car door for you, as you reached them.

“You ready?” He asked.

Sam could see your shoulders tighten, as you lifted your chin, and looked his brother straight in the eye.

“Yeah.”

Dean nodded, and you got in the backseat. He slammed the car door closed behind you. With one last look at his younger brother, Dean rounded Baby and took his place as the driver, Sam claiming shotgun.

Behind them, you leaned your head against the window as the engine roared and you drove off.

The car smelt like leather and gunpowder. It made you feel comforted.

And in the backseat of an old 1967 Chevy Impala, listening to the music that was a mix of Metallica, Kansas and Billy Joel, you slept the best night’s sleep you had had in weeks.

taglist:

@psycho-magnotheric-slime , @openmindedperson2200 , @emily-roberts

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lila-lou · 9 months

Text

✨The Talk✨

Summary: Your daughter asks Dean for "the talk".

Pairing: Dean x Daughter (no incest), Dean x Reader, Dean x Sam & Cas (just background)

Warnings: Language, Sensitive topic, Dean being too harsh, fluff at the end

Word Count: 1624

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

"Daddy… do you... umm... you have a sec?", Dean's daughter was standing in the doorway of the library. Dean leaned back in a chair, legs crossed on the table and was looking through some files when his daughter rocked nervously in place. “Sure munchkin. Shoot”, he muttered, lingering on an article.

"You know, Scott and I..umm… we've been together for a year now and... I... I actually wanted to talk to mom about this, but she's not coming back until next week", Luna started talking. "And we're meeting on the weekend and I'm… I want him to like it and I´m not sure how to say this, because it´s…", her hands waved wildly in the air.

“Dad, can you please tell me what I have to do during sex?”. Towards the end, Luna lowered both arms in surrender and looked everywhere but at her father.

Dean took a sip of beer and gagged violently when he heard his daughter's words. Sam, who had just come out of the kitchen with two burgers, stopped dead in his tracks. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Well, I'll be in my room", Sam placed a burger in front of Dean, who looked at him completely desperate and looking for help.

Luna, on the other hand, had a bright red head and covered her face with her hands. It was hard enough for her to say those words to her father, but now that her uncle also knew what was going on, she just wanted to die.

Dean cleared his throat a few times before taking his legs off the table and sitting up more or less upright. Elbow on the table and face in his hand, he thought as he looked at the bookshelves. After taking a few deep breaths, he rubbed his face and looked at his daughter, who was obviously not so little anymore. "Lu... can you…umm... wouldn't you rather wait until your mom comes back?", Dean answered, trying to control himself. His cheeks are now bright red too.

"No Dad… We...Saturday is our anniversary and Scott's parents aren't home and... please Dad", she murmured, looking pitifully into his eyes.

While Luna explained why she didn't want to wait, Dean's head was already spinning. He imagined the worst possible scenarios, how a boy could break his little girl's heart. His mood suddenly changed from overwhelmed and worried to angry.

“You’re only 15, Luna! You shouldn't worry about something like that! You're going to stay the fuck home this weekend!”, he replied in a stern tone and a little too loudly, which visibly frightened his daughter.

Luna jumped up and looked at her father with her big green eyes. "But Dad! I-", she started, but was immediately interrupted by Dean. "To your room! I don't wanna hear about that shit anymore! Go!", he even yelled at her, which was enough to make her cry. Luna knew better than to argue with her father when he was already angry, so she immediately ran to her room, but not before slamming the door loudly. The apple didn't fall far from the tree.

Dean put his face in his hand again. His expression was dark, just like his mood at the moment. He was angry. At his daughter, at you for not being there and at himself for making Lu cry.

"That was a bit harsh, don't you think?", Sam entered the library and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder before sitting down across from him.

Dean didn't say anything for a while. He knew Sam was right, but he just didn't know how to handle the whole situation. To Dean, Luna was still a child. Of course, he saw that she was slowly growing up, but that didn't change his protective instinct. It was bad enough when she said she had a boyfriend, now this? That was just too much for him.

“Look at it this way, Dean. Be happy that she has so much trust and comes to you. Very few kids do that these days. Jackson didn't come to me or his mother. Luna is a sensible young girl and Scott makes a good impression too, doesn't he? You have to learn to let her go". Sam's gaze pierced Dean's conscience, even though he still didn't look at his little brother.

“I’ll call (y/n). I want to know what she thinks”, he grumbled, got up and disappeared into the garage.

It took him two tries before you finally answered the phone.

“Fucking finally! It’s nice to have you answer the damn phone!”, your husband complained before you even heard a `hello`.

“Dean, language, for fuck´s sake!”, you scolded back.

“Sorry”, he just grumbled and leaned against the Impala.

"What is wrong?", you sighed and looked out the window of the motel room you were currently staying in with Rowena.

"I... Luna... damn it!", Dean pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing, raising his hand. "Did you know that Luna wants to sleep with her boyfriend?". Subconsciously, he immediately made a disgusted face and put his free hand in his pocket before he started to angrily walk around the garage.

"Oh…". It was quiet between the two of you for a while. Now you could explain where Dean's bad mood came from. “Babe, we both knew the day would come sooner or later”, a small smile crept onto your lips. Dean had such an intense relationship with your daughter that it was clear he wasn't exactly open to this kind of topic.

While your husband explained to you why your daughter was talking to him and not you and what had happened, you thought about how you could calm Dean down a bit.

When he finished talking, you cleared your throat before starting to try your luck. "Dean. Don't you think it was a huge step for her to come to you with this topic? Almost no girl discusses such things with her father. You should feel honored. And... Come on, Scott's a really nice guy. He likes Luna… and you too, by the way. He won't hurt her. And even if Dean, that's part of it. You won’t be able to protect her from everything”. Your voice was calm and empathetic, exactly what Dean needed right now.

“Go talk to her and apologize for your outburst. The rest will fall into place. Inform her and answer her questions. You can do it, baby. I know you can”, you smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.

“I love you (y/n)”, he murmured. “I love you too”, you chuckled before hanging up.

Dean stayed in the garage for a few minutes to think about everything. Just as he was about to leave, Cas appeared behind him, startling him. "Dean", he murmured monotonously. “Damn it, Cas! Stop it!”, Dean grumbled. Cas looked at him confused for a moment, but then he realized what Dean meant. However, something different took precedence in Cas's eyes.

“Luna is crying. You need to check on her”.

Dean sighed briefly. Since the birth of your daughter, Cas has been something like her personal guardian angel. He had almost as close a relationship with her as Dean did. "I know. I'm on my way", Dean grumbled, leaving Cas to just mumble, "Fine".

Five minutes later, Dean finally knocked on his daughter's door but got no answer. "It's me Munchkin", he sighed.

“Go away”, Luna sobbed from behind the door. Her voice sounded like she had the blanket over her head.

"Lu... I wanna talk to you... please... can I come in?", Dean's voice was much softer than in the library. Luna's whiny voice had hit him right in the heart, which only made his guilty conscience worse.

There was silence again until after a few minutes the door opened a crack and Luna scurried straight back onto the bed under the covers.

Dean entered the room and slowly walked towards her bed. He tried to pull the blanket away from Luna's face, but she held it tight, sniffling.

Sighing, Dean placed his hand over the blanket on her back and stroked her gently.

“I'm sorry, Sweetheart... I shouldn't have yelled at you like that... I'm so sorry... it's just... Lu, you're my daughter. My little girl. When you were born you turned my whole world upside down. Since that day you have been the most important thing in my life. I... It's just hard to see you growing up so quickly and... I... I don't want you to get hurt", Dean admitted quietly.

It took a moment for Luna to poke her head out of the blanket. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, which only hurt Dean more.

“C´mere”, he murmured, pulling her close to him. "I love you, Munchkin", he kissed her head and stroked her back again. “Just like you´re a daughter for the first time, I´m a father for the first time”, he smiled bitterly. “I'm really doing my best”.

Luna looked at her hands as she enjoyed her father's closeness and affection. “I know Daddy. And you're a really great dad... just... I can take care of myself, dad. You taught me everything I need to know and do to defend and protect myself. I know every single monster. I’m not 5 anymore”, she murmured against his shirt.

“But sometimes men can be worse monsters than any supernatural being, Sweetheart. I just don't want you to regret anything or… for anyone to hurt you".

It took a while before Dean had the courage to broach the sensitive subject again.

“Anyway… I know you’re sensible and I’m more than glad you came to me with this. So…”, he took a deep breath.

"Shoot. What do you want to know?".

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

#jensen ackles #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #dean x y/n #deanwinchtser #dean x you #dean x reader #dean x daughter

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

Note

What if Crowley(spn) had a kid and the Winchester’s almost kill them? What would/how Crowley do/react and what would the Winchester’s do?🤔

That’s My Goddamn Daughter!

Team Free Will x cambion!reader

When Castiel locates another cambion, potentially with the power to kill a knight of hell, he and the Winchesters go after her but then Crowley shows up claiming she’s his daughter.

Warnings: MOC Dean, mentions of rape but really just misunderstandings, blood, concussions, I have no medical knowledge, swearing, reader gets knocked out a lot lol

WC: 2.2k

A/N: I kind of want to do a part 2 to this. What do you guys think?

Minors DNI

“I’m sorry what? Can you repeat that?” Castiel sighed, slightly exacerbated. He thought he explained the situation pretty well. Dean’s eyes were wide in both shock and disbelief and Sam just looked exhausted.

“Like I said before, there is another cambion in existence and she could be the answer to the Mark.” Dean swallowed the last of his now warm beer and glowered at the angel.

“And you didn’t think to tell us this before now?”

“Dean.” Sam started but the elder held up his hand to stop him. Cas sighed, mentally preparing himself for a classic Dean tirade that always seemed to come when he presented the brothers with a new lead.

“You’re hiding things from us, lying. How do we even know if this so-called cambion is the real deal? Why didn’t she show up before?” The angel’s eyes rolled, why did they have such trouble understanding?

“There was a spell concealing her from the angels’ view but for some reason, that spell is now gone. I assumed it was tied to someone in her family, possibly the parent that was a demon. But now, that demon is dead so the spell is gone.” Sam seemed to accept that answer but Dean was more skeptical.

“So what do we do if we do find this girl? Just ask her to come back with us for tea and cake? She most likely knows that daddy dearest was a demon and might want revenge and we are probably the ones that did it or we know them. So what then?”

Sam leaned against the war room table beside his brother. “Dean’s right. Remember that kid Jesse, he had a whole town under his thumb without even thinking about it and he was just a kid. What could an adult with an obviously powerful parent do?” Dean nodded along and Cas had the distinct urge to smite them both.

“We need to take that chance. She might be our best shot at killing Cain without the First Blade.” Dean huffed, still clearly miffed at being so blatantly brushed off by the angel.

“Alright fine but you can’t get mad at me when I say I told you so when this inevitably goes wrong.” He shrugged and Cas smirked slightly, happy to get his way.

——————

“Well that was easier than expected.” Dean sulked, sitting on the motel room bed pouting like a child. The woman had been easy to find, in fact it was too easy. She was a goddamn librarian in a small town where everyone knew her face.

No locks on her doors, no weapons in the house. She welcomed them in with open arms after Sam fed her their story of being lost and needing directions. She gave them pie and lemonade, answering every question they asked, including Dean’s flirtatious ask about a boyfriend.

Her head dipped and she avoided eye contact as she shyly replied that no, she didn’t have a boyfriend. Sam smacked Dean upside the head for that when she wasn’t looking. Cas, getting sick of the circling conversation mixed with too much human lust, had stepped forward and knocked her out with his grace.

He caught her soft body as she crumpled, ignoring the pointed looks the brothers sent him. “She would’ve come willingly.” Sam pointed out but Cas replied with a simple, “There isn’t enough time for you two to ‘convince’ her.”

Sam blushed and Dean just smirked, too proud of himself. They quickly smuggled her out to the car and started the long journey home. Now, they were taking a break for the night and Dean watched as the girl slept on, blissfully unaware of everything going on in the world.

“She really doesn’t seem demonic. She’s just-“

“Nice.” Dean finished his brother’s sentence for him, saying the word like it disgusted him. “Are you sure she’s the half-breed we want?” Again, Castiel was questioning why his destiny was intertwined with the Winchesters. Y/N shifted in her sleep, curling up on her side cutely, giving out a large sigh.

Cas stood at the foot of the bed, intensely watching the men who flanked her on both sides, like guards watching over their ward. “I can sense her power, it is far greater than any other cambion. Her blood has old magic in it, she is quite possibly descended from a natural witch.”

Sam froze, his entire body going stiff with surprise. “I’m sorry, so this girl is a product of a natural witch and a demon.” Cas shook his head, arms crossing over his chest.

“No, the magic is too deluded for the witch to be her mother or father, it is more likely that it is her grandparent.” Sam’s eyes flicked down to the girl, somehow already feeling incredibly protective of her. She was by far the kindest person he had met in a very long time, how could she have such evil in her blood? But he was wary, both because of her power and the fear of what could happen should she succumb to that power. He knew that feeling, that rush from demon blood, how addicting it could be.

Dean could feel the heat radiating from her body as she rolled closer to him. The mark was quiet around her, soothed like a feral cat getting love for the first time in its life. But how dark could she get, what was she capable of? And who in the hell was her demonic parent?

“We should keep moving. If we found her so quick, there’s no telling who else would be coming after her.” Cas nodded and fluttered away, presumably to ensure that no demons had followed them.

Dean moved away from her as quickly as he could, a curling in his gut making him feel like he should be repulsed by her but her presence also called to him. He fished a half-drunk bottle of whiskey from his duffle bag and settled himself in the chair in the far corner of the room. “Get some shut eye, I’ll take first watch.”

Sam pulled a ratty blanket over top of her, careful to not wake her and took a seat on the other bed. “Do you think this could work?” Silence settled over the brothers.

“It’s our only shot.” And with that, Sam settled back against the thin pillows, keen to get any rest he could to escape his swirling thoughts.

——————

A rattling woke Dean from his alcohol induced slumber. With a groan, he lifted his head from the back of the chair he had accidentally fallen asleep on. His neck screamed in pain but that was nothing compared to the throbbing in his arm.

The mark burned and the rattling became louder. His green eyes fluttered open, only able to see vague shapes in the dark room. A shadow stood by the door, their hand on the knob, desperately trying to open it. “Please please please.” Her voice was filled with tears and a panic that made his heart lurch in his chest.

“Sweetheart.” The sound of his own voice made her work even faster at trying to open the door, but it was of no use. She screamed and Dean bolted forward. Moving faster than even he could comprehend, he grabbed her, wrapping a large palm over her mouth to keep her from making any more noise.

Her back hit the mattress with an exhale of air through her nose. Her eyes were wide with panic, her breathing quickening becoming erratic as his muscular body settled between her plump thighs, shoving her skirt up her legs. She tried to grab at Dean’s shoulders to shove him off but using his free hand he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.

Tears rolled down her temples, wetting the sheets below them. “I’m not going to hurt you. You need to trust me.” Her head shook furiously beneath his hold, on the edge of hysterics.

“Dean?” Sam muttered sleepily, sitting up in the bed. “What’s going on?” His hair stuck up in all different directions as he lazily looked around the room. His eyes landed on the situation in front of him and everyone froze.

Suddenly, the room exploded. With no hesitation, Sam launched himself at his older brother and tackled him to the floor. “What the hell were you doing!” Dean thrashed violently.

“She was trying to run! I had to stop her.”

Sam snarled. “Not by doing that.” Dean landed a good punch to his jaw, knocking Sam for a loop but his grip remained strong even as his head spun.

Seeing her chance, Y/N slipped from the bed as quietly as she could but her legs gave out as soon as she rocked forward onto her feet. She yelped, catching the boys’ attention and they watched her fall, almost in slow motion.

Her head slammed against the corner of the bed before slamming into the floor. Blood pooled under her forehead, her eyes went hazy before they shut. “Shit!” Sam scrambled off of his brother, fear coursing through his veins like a fire. He slid a hand under her head, cupping her face gently. “C’mon open those eyes for me.”

But she didn’t respond. Thick fingers fit against the dip of her throat, and he struggled to find her pulse. When he finally did, it was thready and weak but it was there. He breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s alive, probably a bad concussion though.”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean growled, sitting up against the bed frame. “Why does this shit always happen to us?” As gently as he could manage with shaking hands, Sam lifted Y/N into his arms, resting her face against his strong chest. He could now feel the way her own chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

Sam laid her on his unmade bed, keeping her on her side in case she got sick. The wound, a small gash on her right temple, had slowed its bleeding. It wouldn’t require stitches, just a couple butterfly bandages. “I don’t know, Dean.” He sighed and got to work fixing her up.

Meanwhile, Dean was stewing, thinking. She could have used her powers to save him off, to escape but she didn’t. She was just a normal girl getting involved in something that she didn’t want to do. “What are we doing Sammy? That girl doesn’t have any powers, she’s just a kid.”

“Without the blade, we have no chance at getting rid of the Mark. She’s our best shot.” But there was no conviction in his tone. Sam was also doubting the integrity of this plan but he was desperate. Dean with the blade was far more dangerous than this girl could ever be, they needed her.

“How dare you touch my daughter!” The door burst violently, shattering under the force at which it was hit. Crowley stood, absolutely fuming in the entryway, eyes red with pure rage. Sam and Dean sprung into action, their guns drawn.

“What are you talking about Crowley?” Dean shifted so his body blocked the demon’s view of the girl on the bed. His shoulders were tense, the Mark telling him to protect her with everything he had. But apparently, Crowley wasn’t having any of it today.

With a wave of his hand, the boys went flying into the wall, their guns tossed away and ropes appearing from nothing to pin them down. “I told you I would find the blade and this is how you repay me! You kidnapped my daughter! Lust after her! And then you harm her!” His voice thundered through the room, shaking the foundations of the building with his fury. “You sniveling weasels! I kept her out of this life for a reason!”

The Winchesters struggled against his hold. Crowley loomed over the double bed, intensely staring at the woman. “She was never meant to know. I just wanted her to have a normal life.”

Dean’s nostrils flared with anger as the demon leaned forward and cupped her round cheek with one hand while the other brushed against the bandage on her forehead. “Don’t touch her.” The hunter snarled. His arm burned as the mark screamed at him to rip apart anyone that even so much as looked in her direction.

A vein in Sam’s neck ticked in time with his pulse while he pulled at his bonds. He could feel the loosening of the ropes around his wrist. An angel blade rested on the chair Dean had been occupying, if he could get even one arm free, he could grab it. “You are the ones that hurt her! Not me!” Crowley snapped but didn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Last warning.” But he disregarded the Winchesters and instead lifted Y/N from the bed, taking extra care not to hit her any more than she already was.

Her face easily tucked into the dark material of his suit shirt as he held her close. “Stay away from my daughter.” And with that, both him and the ropes disappeared, leaving only her sweater and the bitter smell of sulphur.

The boys collapsed to the ground. Dean wasted no time as he scrambled forward in a desperate attempt to reach the now gone pair.

“Son of a bitch!”

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marie-swriting · 5 days

Text

I'll Never Leave You - Dean Winchester

Masterlist

Summary : You thought your father, Dean Winchester, would always be by your side.

Warnings : Spoiler last episode of the show!, reader is Dean's daughter, no age mention but reader is a young adult, angst, character death, feeling of hopelessness, loss of a parent, bittersweet ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English isn't my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 4.6k

French version

Song inspiration : Marjorie by Taylor Swift

Laying on your bed, a book in hand and your dog Miracle at your feet, you patiently wait for your dad and your Uncle Sam to come home from the hunt. Since the apocalypses, the wars between Angels, Archangels and God have officially stopped, you took a step back from the hunting life. You still help them with the research but you don’t go on the field as much. You can finally have a normal - as normal as it can be when your last name is Winchester - and Dean supports your decision, glad to know your future is full of possibilities.

You’re in the middle of a chapter when you hear the bunker’s door opening. Miracle raises his head while you put your book on the bed. You trot to the entrance where you only find Sam with an emotionless look on his face however you don’t notice it.

“Was the hunt good? Where’s dad?” you question with a smile.

“Y/N, something happened.”

“What? Did you scratch Baby?” you laugh, yet your smile disappears as soon as you see his serious face.

“No, it’s Dean.”

“What is it? Uncle Sam, what happened? Is dad hurt? Where is he?”

“Y/N, wait,” Sam holds you back as you’re about to leave the room. “You should sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit down, I want to know where my dad is.”

“We found a vampire nest so we went there to kill them but Dean got hurt.”

“Is he okay, though, right?”

Sam stays silent for a long second before speaking again.

“One of the vampires pushed them against a beam and there was a spike. He got severely injured.”

“What do you mean, Sam? Tell me my dad is okay!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, Dean… he died during the hunt.”

Upon hearing this sentence, the floor crumbles underneath your feet. You can’t believe it. You stay speechless whilst Sam keeps talking.

“You dad wanted you to know he’s always been proud of you and he loves you. He also told me-”

“No…,” you interrupt him with watery eyes. “Wh-, How-, it can’t be.” you stutter, shaking your head. “He can’t die! He is Dean Winchester. He’s survived so many things. He can’t be dead!”

“Y/N/N, I’m terribly sorry.”

“No!” you scream when Sam is about to hug you. “I… I need…”

You don’t finish your sentence, too stunned to speak. You run to your room, tears rolling down your face, Miracle hot on your heels. You let the dog in the room before locking yourself in. Completely confused, you don’t know what to stare at. Your eyes look everywhere while Sam’s words are echoing in your head: ‘He died during the hunt.’ You choke whilst big tears stream down your cheeks. You fall to the ground as your heart bleeds. You can’t believe you’ve just lost your dad.

One could think it wouldn’t hurt as much after Dean cheated death so many times, however the pain is still unbearable - if not worse, this time. You grew up with only your dad and your Uncle Sam as your mom died in childbirth. Your family isn’t big but your love for them knows no limit. You had to overcome a lot of loss the past years, whether it was Bobby, Charlie, Castiel or other people, though the pain you felt at their death is nothing compared to what you’re feeling right now. You’re lost, begging in the empty for your dad to come back to you. Miracle has his head on your legs, trying to comfort you. You stare at him and you hurt a bit more.

Dean never wanted a dog, no matter how many times you asked him for one. He always used to say with your way of life, you couldn’t take care of one and above all, he’d say no dog would ever get in the Impala as long as he’s alive. However, the second your life went back to normal, he rescued Miracle. You secretly suspect he’s always wanted a dog and your whim was the perfect excuse to adopt one. When he brought Miracle home, you weren’t surprised to see he was the one he got. Miracle managed to find his way to Dean’s heart since they first met, though he would never admit it… would have never admitted it.

Dean was finally having the life he’s always wanted, far away from the repeating apocalypses and it was taken from him as quickly as it came. It isn’t fair. You dad doesn’t deserve to die this young and you still need him. You’ll always need him.

You stay with your back against the door and Miracle in your arms for several hours. Actually, you don’t know how long you stayed in this position. You’re numb, time is standing still since your discussion with Sam. Maybe only two hours passed or a whole day, you have no idea and you don’t have the strength to check it on your phone. All you want is your dad. You don’t care what time it is or if you need to eat. You just want Dean and his comfort.

You think back to all the times you lost Dean and all the times he came back. There always was a solution. There must be one for this time, too. His time hasn’t come yet. You still can bring back your dad to life, no matter the sacrifice you have to make. You dry your cheeks and stand up. Determined, you leave your room and walk to the library, Miracle following you. You take several lore books you already know and others you’ve never read but could be useful. On the table, you have at least four piles of ten books, yet you’re still motivated. You could read thousands of books, as long as you find a solution, that’s all that matters. You take one and start reading it and taking notes with information that might be helpful.

You’ve just finished a whole stack when Sam’s voice snaps you out of your reading, startling you. Sam stares at you, worried while you don’t pay much attention to him before going back to your research. Sam sits in front of you yet, he stays silent. He watches you for a few minutes before speaking.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Alright. I’m gonna give Dean a Hunter’s funeral tomorrow. If you wanna join me.”

“Don’t burn his body!” you exclaim following his information.

“I have to and you know it.”

“No! If you do it, it’ll be even harder to save him.”

“What exactly are you researching, Y/N?” Sam questions, fearing your answer.

“A way to resuscitate dad.”

“Y/N, we can’t do that.” He firmly says and you look at him sternly.

“Why? That didn’t stop you and dad from doing it numerous times before, why would it be any different now?”

“Because everytime we wanted to cheat death, it caused major issues, you know that damn well.”

“Nothing we can’t handle. Dad can’t be dead, not like this, not now that everything is starting to get better. I’m gonna bring him back, no matter the price.” you affirm, opening a new book.

“Even if you have to die?” Sam interrogated, surprised.

“As long as he’s alive, that’s all that matters.”

“Y/N, your dad wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your life for him. He’d want you to live it.”

“It means nothing if he isn’t there.” you say, your lip quivering. “I need him, Uncle Sam. I have to bring him back.”

“We can’t.”

“We damn well can! We can find a solution.” you argue before having an idea. “I’m even sure if we asked Jack, he’d do it. After all, the current God likes us more than the last one, we’re his family.”

“Y/N, we can’t save him, not this time.” Sam insists, making you angry.

“If you don’t want to save your big brother who sacrificed everything for you, that’s your problem, as for me, I’m gonna save him, so either you help me or you leave me alone.”

“It’s time he rests in peace, especially after everything he went through.”

“Because of everything he went through, he deserves to live without worrying about Lucifer, God or another Archangel.”

You look at Sam, sure of yourself. Sam doesn’t reply right away before weighing pros and cons and admitting to you:

“Dean specifically asked to not be brought back to life because he knew too well the consequences so respect his wish.”

“He was dying, he didn’t know what he wanted. Now, leave me, I have lots of research to do.”

Defeated, Sam sighs before leaving the library. He sees how desperate and in denial you are. He just hopes you’ll realise very soon bringing Dean back is dangerous and useless. Though he fears you’ll realise it too late and you’ll suffer even more. Either way, he promised Dean to be there for you and that’s what he’s going to do. Whether you want it or not, Sam will stay by your side to comfort you the instant you’ll accept Dean’s death.

The following day, Sam gives Dean a Hunter’s funeral alone. He tried to convince you to come but you refused, preferring to lose yourself in your research. Sam wished he could have done the funeral later, fearing you might regret it later for missing this last goodbye to Dean, unfortunately, it had to be done as soon as possible.

Sam worries more and more for you. You’ve completely shut yourself out. You only read books in the library and do more advanced research on the internet without sleeping or eating. He brings you food however you almost never eat and you pull all-nighter after the other, despite his disapproval. He doesn’t know what to do to help you. He knew you’d be devastated when he told you Dean’s death but he didn’t expect this reaction.

A few weeks later, the situation hasn’t evolved, except that now you’re locked in your room and not in the library as a way to avoid Sam. You’re still mad at him for not wanting to help you save your father. You don’t understand how he can be this passive. Your father would have done everything to bring back Sam if the roles were reversed, you’re sure of it.

You finish reading the last book you took from the library when you have an idea. You think you know where to look, except you didn’t see the book when you rummage through all the shelves or you would have started with this one right away. Just in case, you go through the mess that is your room now before going to the library and checking everywhere four times. You try to remember where it might be when a memory comes into your mind. You saw it last in your dad’s bedroom a few weeks before his death. You haven’t stepped a foot there since Dean’s last hunt. You just can’t. You’d like to, though. Normally, whenever you’re feeling down, you go find your dad in his room so he can comfort you. However, if you went to his room now, you’d face a loud silence and you can’t face it.

Reluctantly, you end up walking slowly to Dean’s bedroom. You stay in front of the door for some time, pondering if you should go in or not. You don’t know if you’re ready to enter his room but on the other hand, you need this book, it might be the solution. You take a deep breath and open the door. The corridor light penetrates the room and you can see the bed which is made, his music collection and the book you’re looking for on the desk. You turn on the light and take big steps to his desk, wanting to leave the room as soon as possible. However, you don’t do it. On the desk chair, you find one of your dad’s shirts. You get teary eyes as you take it and bring the cloth to your nose. You smell the familiar scent and you burst into tears in one second. You wish Dean would come to his room and tell you not to steal one of his tapes like you usually do. Everytime he’d admonish you, he’d pretend it bothered him when in reality, he loved knowing he passed on his love for classic rock to you. His bedroom is now all that’s left of him and you don’t want to lose this place, even the most insignificant piece of scrap such as the menu from the burger place a few miles away is now of an inestimable value. Your eyes fall on a piece of paper lying in the middle of the desk. Carefully, you read it and find it’s an application to become a firefighter on which you can see his signature with his name on the bottom of the paper. You sob when you think back of the first time your dad confessed to you he would have loved to be one if he hadn’t been a hunter.

***

It was a few years ago during a fall morning. Dean had woken you up early. Too early. At 4:00 P.M. to be specific. He had woken you up because he wanted to have a father-daughter day. This was how you found yourself in the Impala this early whilst you were still mentally sleeping and your dad was happy to spend the day with you.

“You know, a father-daughter day can start at 10:00 P.M.,” you complained, yawning.

“You’re not gonna regret waking up early, trust me. We’re almost there.”

“It better be amazing or during the next roadtrip I pick the music.”

“Hell no! You know the rules.” Dean refused.

“Yeah, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole, whatever. I deserve some compensation!”

“I got you some donuts.” he exclaimed, showing the pink box at your feet.

“It’s a good start.”

A few minutes later, you arrived in front of a lake. Dean told you to get out of the car and to lean on the hood with the donuts in hand. Despite the morning breeze, you started eating while watching the sunrise. The sky was a beautiful amber colour and it was reflecting on the lake, making the scene even more stunning. It was peaceful, save for the birds which were waking up.

“So, wasn’t it worth it?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“Ok, you were right and besides, the donuts are delicious. I didn’t think of you as a fan of watching the sunrise.”

“I can be interested in nature!”

“Stop it or next thing you know, you’re only gonna eat salad like Uncle Sam.” you answered with a fake fear expression on your face to which Dean rolled his eyes.

“The fact is we’re having a great time as a father and daughter, away from all the supernatural threats.” Dean said, holding you close to him.

“True.”

“And like this, I can make it up a little bit for the father I am.”

“You don’t have to make it up. You’re a great dad.”

“No children should grow up like you did, like I did. I always promised myself I wouldn't make the same mistakes as my father and here you are in the middle of all this crap between two High School periods.” He grumbled, avoiding your gaze.

“Do I have to remind you I started hunting because I followed you, not because you forced me to?”

“I’m still mad at you for that. You shouldn’t have followed us when you didn’t even know what you were fighting, it could have ended badly!”

“The fact is I saved your ass from some werewolves.” you retorted with a proud smile.

“You especially got lucky. I didn’t know what I would have done if you had gotten hurt.”

“I learned from the best, nothing can happen to me.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. With Sam, we always got ourselves out of those messes just on time. I don’t like knowing you’re part of the hunting life.” Dean confessed with sad eyes.

“I chose it. You always give me a way out and I never take it because I like to hunt.”

“Maybe, but I wish you had the opportunity to lead a normal life, you deserve it.”

“I might not hunt my whole life, I don’t know for sure. For now, it’s what I want to do, though. To be honest, I don’t even know what I’d do if I weren’t a hunter. Besides, you deserve a normal life, too, you know.” you affirmed, firmly.

“It’s too late for me. And I’m not made for the apple pie life but it can be different for you.”

Your heart broke in your chest upon hearing your dad saying this. You wish his life had been different, that his dad had given him the choice when he was younger. Dean might have kept everything buried inside yet, you could read him like an open book. No matter what he affirmed you, you knew your dad wished for a calmer life.

“What would you have done, if you hadn’t been a hunter?” you randomly asked.

“What do you mean?”

“If you had the apple pie life, what would be your job?”

“I don’t know.” he replied but you didn’t believe him.

“You’re telling me you never thought about it ? You’re lying. I can totally see you in a job where you help others.”

“I would have loved to be a firefighter.” Dean confessed after marking a pause.

“You would have been a good firefighter, I’m sure of it. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll have your chance?”

“I don’t think so. I made up my mind I’ll always be a hunter and besides without hunting, I would have never met your mother and you wouldn’t be here so I’m grateful for this life.” he affirmed with a genuine smile.

“You’ll always be here, right?”

“Always.” he promised.

You kept watching the sunrise while talking about more random topics, you particularly complained about some teachers and Dean shared his High School experiences - whilst leaving behind some details as to not be a bad influence.

The rest of the day, Dean taught you how to drive Baby, something that didn’t happen often. You were so happy to see your dad trusting you this much. You carefully listened to Dean to avoid making any mistakes. Dean, as for him, loved sharing this knowledge with you, despite having some anxiety over Baby potentially being injured at any given moment. After that day, this place by the lake quickly became your father-daughter spot.

***

In hindsight, you realise to what extent Dean could have lived the life he wanted. He was probably going to go less and less on hunts so he could do the job he always loved and his chance at a normal life has been ripped away from him. After everything he went through, he deserved this chance.

Furthermore, you become aware you’ll never have a father-daughter day again where Dean wakes you before the sun so you could enjoy every instant. Had you known, you would have made sure to memorise every second of your last day. All of these memories are part of the past and you can’t bear the idea of it. You can’t stay another day away from your dad, you’re desperate and you must save him. You keep the shirt in your hand while you close the door then, you pray to Jack, looking up

“Please, Jack, if you can hear me, you have to help me. I’ll bother you only this one time, I promise. I won’t ask for anything else. I just need my father, you have to bring him back. Please, help me.”

You keep begging as you close your eyes as if it gave more strength to your prayers. After a few minutes, Jack’s voice saying your name resonates in the room. You open your eyes and throw yourself in his arms. You missed him so much. You quickly considered Jack as your little brother after he was born so the second he took over Chuck, you heart broke. You’re glad to see Jack replied to your call, despite his responsibilities.

“I’m happy to see you, Y/N.”

“Me too, you have no idea.”

“You prayed so we could talk about Dean. Let me tell you, he is in Heaven. He deserves it after everything he’s done.” he informs you with a genuine smile.

“He particularly deserves to live. Jack, I know I’m asking for a lot but he can’t stay in Heaven, he has a life here, he has to live it.”

“I can’t do that and you know it.”

“You’re the new God, of course you can!” you exclaim, appalled.

“After everything he’s sacrificed, he can finally rest.”

“No, he can finally live! Jack, you have to save him.” you beg, tears in your eyes.

“I can’t break the new balance we just made and also, he doesn’t want to, Y/N, he knows the price to pay and he doesn’t want you and Sam to pay it, you in particular.” Jack says, calmly.

“You’re lying! My dad would never leave me. Please, Jack, I’m begging you to help me. Whether you do it or not, I’ll find a way but with your help, I’ll cause less damage.”

“My answer stays the same. I’m sorry.” he insists, making you mad.

“Leave. I’ll do it alone. I don’t need you! Leave!”

Disappointed, Jack disappears, leaving you alone in Dean’s room. You can’t understand why no one wants to help you. You’re not asking to bring back a monster, just your father so why is everyone letting you down? Your tears who had stopped rolling down earlier find their way back on your cheeks again in a second. You’re sick of everything. You’re sick of crying. You’re sick of no one helping you. And more specifically, you’re sick of not having your father.

Mentally tired, you end up laying down on Dean’s bed and you hold the shirt close to you, hoping it’ll bring you some sense of comfort. You keep crying until you finally fall asleep for the first time in weeks.

A light breeze going over your body wakes you up. You open your eyes, not understanding where it comes from and you find yourself on the backseat of Dean’s car. You just have the time to look up when you see the car door opened and your dad telling you to get out of the car. Surprised, you need a second before jumping into his arms. Dean hugs you back and strokes your back while you pay attention to his shoulders moving at the rhythm of his breath to make sure he’s alive. After a few minutes, you break the embrace and Dean drags you so you can lean against the hood of the Impala which is parked in front of the lake. Dean puts his arm around your shoulder whilst you put your head against his.

“Dad, is this a dream or real? I’m confused, I haven’t found a solution yet so how can you be here? And how did I get in the Impala?”

“Jack must have found a way for us to meet again.” Dean answers, giving you hope, in spite of himself.

“So, is it all good? You’re safe?”

“No, sweetheart. Jack and Sam were right when they said I didn’t want to be brought back to life.”

“Why, though? You finally had everything you wanted!” you anger, taking a step back from Dean.

“I can’t keep on dying and coming back to life, I had to die for good one day.”

“Yeah, when you’d be old, very old, not now!”

“I wish it could have been later, too, but it is what it is, there’s nothing we can’t do. Y/N/N, I don’t want you to spend your life trying to find a way to bring me back, it always ends badly. I promise you, I regret nothing, I’m fine and I can finally rest. You have to keep living without worrying about me.” he tells you, calmly.

“But I need you, dad.” you retort, shaking your head. “There’s so much I don’t know, there’s so many questions I should have asked you about the supernatural, what I’m supposed to do, on how to be and even more questions I haven’t thought about yet. It’s too hard without you.” you say, your voice breaking.

“You’ll be okay, I know you will. You’re a fighter, a Winchester. I’m proud of you and the woman you became, I hope you know that.”

“Uncle Sam told me, yeah.”

“Don’t push him away. He tries his best to support you while respecting what I asked him.” Dean tenderly states.

“You told me you’d never leave me. You promised you’d always be here.”

“And I meant it. I’ll always be by your side even if you don’t see me. I’ll never leave you and when the moment comes, we’ll meet again.”

“I want us to meet again now.” you cry and Dean takes you in his arms.

“I wish we could but we can’t. I’m sorry we didn’t have much time together. I love you, sweetheart, never forget it.”

“I love you, too, dad.” you say before breaking the embrace. “I’ll apologise to Uncle Sam, I shouldn’t have yelled at him.”

“He isn’t mad at you, I’m sure of it. It’ll be okay, don’t worry.” he says, kissing your temple. “Come on, let’s enjoy this moment. Donuts?”

A small smile finds its way to your face as soon as he hands you a donut. You take it and eat it, enjoying this precious moment. Mentally, you thank Jack and apologise to him before focusing back on the lake illuminated by the sunrise until you slowly fall back asleep.

The second you wake up, you’re in Dean’s room again, his shirt next to yours. A single tear streams down your face yet, this time, this tear isn’t only for the pain of losing your dad. This tear is full of sadness, yes, but also of joy as you got one last goodbye. This tear rolls down because you know Dean’s death is still affecting you notwithstanding, he’s right, he can’t be brought back to life and you have to accept it. You know that despite everything, he’s still all around you.

You look at the clock on the nightstand and discover it’s still early and the sun is still rising in the sky. You take one of your dad’s jackets in his closet and leave the bunker with Miracle who woke up when he heard you. Outside, you admire the dawn, your heart pinching in your chest a little. No matter how many sunrises you’ll have to live without Dean, you promise yourself to have at least a day during the week where you’ll wake up early and think about your dad. You want to keep him alive in your head and for this, you want to keep the traditions you had when he was still there.

The day officially started, you grab Baby’s keys and drive downtown, more specifically to the Fire Academy. You enter the building and wait for your turn at the reception. As soon as it’s your turn, the woman tells you to come closer and asks what you need.

“I’d like to apply to be a firefighter, please.”

The woman gives you some information and papers to fill and when she’s done, you thank her and go back to the Impala. Sat on the driver seat, you look at the papers with a bittersweet smile. Though you don’t see Dean, you know he’s here, right next to you, happy to see you officially quit the hunting life and realise your dreams and his.

Masterlist

#marie swriting in english #marie swriting with taylor swift #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x daughter!reader #dean winchester x daughter reader #winchester!daughter #winchester!reader #dean winchester imagine #Spotify

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zepskies · 9 months

Note

Hi, do you know anyone who writes Dean x y/n Singer as in Bobby's daughter? Sorry if I'm spaming you.

No worries, hun! I like hearing from you! ❤️

I don't know of anyone who writes Dean x reader who is Bobby's daughter, but I did write "Never Say Goodbye," a series in which the reader is Bobby's niece. So that's close!

If anyone else knows or has any Dean stories where the reader is Bobby's daughter, please drop the link for our girl here in the comments.

#ask me stuff #dean winchester x Bobby's daughter!reader #dean winchester x Bobby's niece!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn #dean winchester x you #never say goodbye #soulmate au #zepskies answers

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avada-kedavra-bitch-187 · 3 days

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There was a fic i saw a WHILE ago but it was stiles stilinski x reader but she is dean Winchester daughter and i think like he didn’t know he had one until he went on a case or something i dont rlly remember anything that happens in it

#dean winchester x daughter!reader #stiles x y/n #stiles x you #stiles x reader #pack mom stiles #stiles fanfiction #teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf fic #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x supernatural

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lachelledavies-winchester · 3 months

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She heard the two talking but paid no attention and headed for the basement in a hurry; anxiety that Bobby had gotten himself into something he could not handle possessed her body. She saw the man in the wheelchair setting up the duffel bag he usually used to go hunting.

"Where do you think you're going? It's dark, we still don't know what it is, how to kill it, where to look for it, and you--" she blurted out, then suddenly froze.

"Are you just an old man in a wheelchair? Say it, because that's what I am. But do you think I should stay home and be a secretary all my life?"

"Of course not, but you can't-"

"I can't what? It's my life and I decide what to do with it."

The cards had been laid on the table for yet another argument and no one could put their mouth when those two were arguing; the Winchesters went downstairs when they heard the tones escalate but remained on the first steps without intervening.

"What's the use of taking unnecessary risks? And you can't just walk around like nothing is wrong."

"Because I'm incapable even of going to the toilet by myself, aren't I?"

"I will not allow you to disguise your suicidal instincts in a hunting accident."

"Don't use that tone with me."

The voice had such a harsh tone that even the two hunters shuddered. Instead, she stood motionless and stared at him as he fumbled with his hands along the wheels of the wheelchair to get out, grabbed his gun and fired a shot to puncture a wheel. After the bang, a sound of pressurized air came out of the chair as it tended to converge on one side.

They all remained silent as she coolly walked out into the garden.

"Balls." he burst out furiously; it was the second one the huntress compromised.

Dean elbowed his brother as they came down to help him.

"Remember never to anger her," he whispered, and the other nodded.

#supernatural #dean x original character #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x you #supernatural rewrite #supernatural smut #dirty talk #slow romance #bobby singer #father and son #father and daughter #family

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 6 months

Text

Hexed?

Dean Winchester & daughter!reader, Sam Winchester & niece!reader

Requested by anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: you get your period for the first time, and Sam and Dean help you through it

Warnings: blood, period, crying, fluff

You awoke in the middle of the night, unsure at first what had woken you up. Then a sudden, stabbing pain in the pit of your gut had a pained gasp escaping your lips.

“What…” you mumbled as you pulled your blankets aside and clicked on your lamp. Another gasp, this time one of shock, came out as you saw blood covering your sheets and blankets. The gasp was followed by a whimper as another wave of pain washed over you.

You didn’t understand; you hadn’t been injured anywhere recently, and certainly not down there…

The only thing you could think of was a witch—Rowena had been around lately, and though she seemed to be on your side, could you really be sure? She could have left a hex bag in your room, something that would make you bleed to death! You checked your mouth, your nose, your ears—anywhere else that you could be bleeding from—but nothing; it was just between your legs. Your chest was tight, your throat constricted, as panicked gasps left you. You tried to take deep breaths—you needed to keep calm—but it wasn’t very effective.

You wanted to go and get your dad and Uncle Sam, but first you decided to do a quick sweep of the room; you didn’t find any hex bags.

You made your way awkwardly towards your fathers room, very aware of the blood running down your right leg. Your hands were shaking as you reached out to knock on his door, and when you looked down you realized that all of you was shaking.

Dean opened the door, rubbing his face and looking half asleep.

“N/N? What are you doing up?”

“I-I-I…” you swallowed hard and tried again to speak past your tears. “I think I got hexed.”

Dean was suddenly alert, his eyes fully open and his stance straight.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Im ble-bleeding and it won’t stop,” you sobbed.

“Bleeding? Where?” It was too dark for Dean to see the growing stain on your pajama pants.

“Um…my-my…” you were suddenly shy, struck with how awkward it felt to talk about this with your father. You clammed up, alarming Dean.

“Commere,” he said, opening his room for further and gesturing you in. He clicked on his bedroom lamp and looked you up and down. It took him mere seconds to see the blood on your pants, and to your surprise he relaxed completely. “Oh kiddo…”

His lips began to twitch ever-so-slightly, and now it looked like he was having an internal battle. Was he…

“Are you smiling?!” You demanded. “Dad, I could be dying!”

A single second of laughter escaped him before he schooled his features, noting how scared you were.

“Honey, you’re not dying, I swear. This is totally normal.”

“Normal? How could this be normal, I’m bleeding!” Dean’s nonchalance just made you more frustrated, which just made more tears fall.

“Hey, hey ok,” Dean’s voice was gentle and understanding. “Just take a seat and I’m gonna go get Sam. He can get you what you need for this and while he’s gone I’ll explain it.”

“Do-do we have to tell Uncle Sam?” You mumbled, still embarrassed, but less panicked.

“Trust me, Uncle Sam knows what this is too. It’s not gonna bother him a bit.”

“Ok.” You nodded your assent. “But-but I can’t sit on your bed, I’ll get blood all over your sheets.”

“Just sit, I’ll wash them later, ok?” Only after you’d hesitantly sat on your dad’s bed did he leave to get Sam.

…

Dean was just wrapping up his explanation when Sam returned with a Walmart bag and a gentle smile.

“Hey there,” he greeted. “How are we doing?”

“Um—ok,” you mumbled. Now that you understood you weren’t dying, you were more embarrassed than anything. “Sorry for freaking out.”

“Don’t apologize,” Dean insisted. “I should’ve told you earlier, I just…I thought I’d have another year or two.” Dean ruffled your hair. “You’re growing up fast, kiddo.”

Your lips twitched up—only a little—and Dean grinned before turning to take the bag from Sam.

“Ok, what do we have here?”

“Uh—“ Sam scratched the back of his neck. “Well I asked this lady that was buying some of this stuff herself, just to make sure I got everything. I got pads and tampons, because she said that Y/N should get to pick. Then I got a heating pad—that’s supposed to help with cramps. I got this one that you can plug in, it looks easy to use, but then I got this one shaped like a teddy bear that you can put in the microwave.” Sam reached into the bag as he spoke, pulling out each item in turn. Sure enough, he pulled out a little brown bear, and you smiled. “And then I got a lot of chocolate, and some, uh…” Sam pulled out a bottle. “I don’t really know what they are, but it’s supposed to be better for cramps and stuff than Advil, so…”

Looking at all the stuff on the table, you felt incredible overwhelmed. You needed all this stuff?

“Ok.” Dean clapped his hands together. “I guess you should start with these.” He held out the box of pads and the box of tampons. You took them both, reading the instructions on the back carefully before taking both boxes with you to the bathroom. You returned a few minutes later to both men busy at work—Dean taking the sheets off his bed while Sam was returning from your room with clean clothes.

You took the clothes from Sam and retreated back into the bathroom, and after a quick shower to clean yourself off, you emerged again in clean pajamas. Dean was just returning to the room with the teddy bear fresh from the microwave, and Sam had gotten you a water bottle.

“Do you want us to take this stuff to your room?” Dean asked, and you saw his question for the open invitation that it was.

“Could I stay in here?” You asked, and Dean smiled.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m gonna go get some clean sheets, and then we can go back to bed, ok?”

Not ten minutes later, Sam had returned to his room and you and Dean were getting comfortable in his bed.

“Just let me know how you’re feeling in the morning, and we’ll go from there ok?” Dean said.

“Ok,” you mumbled sleepily, burrowing into Dean’s side. “Hey dad?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure, kiddo.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

#dean winchester #the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #sam winchester x niece!reader

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castiwls · 8 months

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never grow up - d.w

Pairing; Dean & sister!reader

Synopsis; Based on the song by Taylor swift

Warnings; None

Notes; This is kinda random but also ties in with my post a few days ago about being the middle child in the Winchester family :)

Masterlist

‘Your little hands wrapped around my finger. And it's so quiet in the world tonight

Dean didn’t understand what his parents had meant when they told him he would be a big brother. All he knew was that his mom had a baby in her stomach and in a few month’s the baby would come out.

Now his mom smiled softly as she gently placed a small baby on his lap. He grinned at her from his spot on the hospital bed before looking down at the baby. “She’s so small.” He looked between his parents and his dad chuckled at his comment. “You were that small once bud.”

Dean looked at him with wide eyes. “I was?” He sounded almost astonished at his Dads comment as both his parents fell into quiet laughter. After a moment he felt something grip onto his small thumb and his attention was drawn back down to his sister.

Her little hand had wrapped around his thumb and she was now gazing up at him. “I think she likes you.” His mom whispered before pressing a kiss to his head. Dean grinned up at her for a moment before cuddling further into her chest.

He still didn’t truly understand what his parents meant by being a big brother, but he knew that he would always protect her from this moment onwards.

‘I won't let anybody hurt you, won't let anyone break your heart. And no one will desert you. Just try to never grow up, never grow up'

“Dean. Are you awake?” Your brother let out a small groan before rolling over to face you. “Y/n it's three in the morning why are you awake?” He frowned at you before a look of concern took over his face. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he noticed the unleashed tears brimming your eyes and the way your hands shook slightly.

“I killed someone.” Your voice was barely a whisper as you spoke. Your hands seemed to shake harder as you gripped the thin sheets closer to your chest. “Someone dead cause of me.”

Dean shook his head sitting up and pulling you with him. “No. You didn’t kill someone ok. They were bitten and had fed y/n, it was only a matter of time before they turned.” He kept his voice low not wanting to wake Sam or your Dad who were both asleep across the room.

“Still. He hadn’t turned yet.” You sniffled leaning onto his chest. “Dad told me this job is about saving people Dean. How is that saving people.” Your brother didn’t say anything as he wrapped his arms around you tighter.

You were only 14, you shouldn’t have to deal with this. Hell, he never imagined that at 16 he would be spending his time cleaning guns and learning how to kill monsters. Dean understood why his Dad did what he did and he understood why he’d chosen now to start letting you on hunts but at the same time, it made him feel slightly sick.

The idea of his little sister doing this job left him with a bad feeling in his stomach (he didn't want to even think of Sam doing it) Dean swayed slightly as he tried to soothe you as best he could. “I know you don't think it now, but you did the right thing y/n. I promise.”

You nodded against his chest before pulling back and whipping at your eyes. “Come on. We need to be up in a few hours.” Your brother moved to lie down before opening his arms for you. You happily settled into his arms, feeling his hand run through your hair.

You both lay in silence for a while. The sound of his heartbeat slowly lulled you back to a dreamless sleep.

Dean closed his eyes sucking in a breath before relaxing. Life was so much easier when you were younger. If he had it his way you and Sam would never have to worry about the things that went bump in the night. He’d happily let you both live in peaceful ignorance as long as you were both safe and happy.

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lunajay33 · 5 months

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Guardian🩶

Summary: You’re Sam and Deans little sister and they always looked out for you, so when you feel like you disappoint your dad, they all remember how fragile you are

Pairing: Big brother Deah Winchester x little sister f!reader, big brother Sam x little sister reader, Father John x daughter reader

•Masterlist•

Growing up as the youngest in the family of hunters was rough but being a girl was even harder, you always tried your best to live up to your fathers expectations and be as strong as your brothers but in some way you felt like you always fell short

Now you were all older, Dean was 26, Sam was 22 and you were 19, Sam finally came back from College after his girlfriend died but now it was just the three of you on the road since John had left to go on his own hunting

Sitting in the back of the impala on the way to another case you were unusually quiet and the guys noticed

“You okay back there?” Dean asked looking at you from the rear view mirror

“We have bigger things to worry about” you mumble not wanting to add to the bigger case here

“Hey you’re out baby sister you matter more than some case, so what’s going on?” Sam asks as he turns in the front seat to look at you

“I…….i miss dad, i feel lost without him” you don’t mean to but the tears drip down your face something you rarely did which shocked them, seeing the panic on their faces you wiped your tears and balled up in the back seat

“He’s been gone months you’ve seemed fine” Dean states you knew they missed him too but your relationship with your father was different you are his little girl even if you didn’t always make him proud

“It’s nothing”

“Come on Angel”

“I just don’t wanna lose anyone else, I love you both more than you could know and I love our time together, but I want dad too”

“We’re here” Dean said pulling up to the motel, you all settled in tired from a long drive

“I’m gonna go see Meg I’ll bring food on the way back” Sam said after he hung up the phone probably talking to this Meg chick

Now it was just Dean and you sat across from each other on opposite beds

“Dean can I ask you something” you ask biting your lip anxiously, after your father left you felt the weight of disappointment crushing you

“What is it kid, you’re so glum today”

“Do you think…..do you think dads proud of me?” His eyes widened but you could see the hurt

“The hell are you talking about, he loves you, you’re probably his favourite”

“I think he left because of me, because of the way things happened on the last case with just me you and dad, I made a mistake and I disappointed him and he left, I didn’t mean to”

“Baby girl you did nothing wrong, he just had a case he needed to work on alone, said it was too dangerous for us to go” he said sitting next to you in the bed wrapping his around your shoulders

“Maybe I should leave, I always held you guys back anyways”

“Hey don’t talk like that you’re family you’re not going anywhere you hear me?” He grunts out

You sigh mentally and physically exhausted

“I think I’m gonna turn in early” you say crawling up the bed and pulling the covers up, you slept through the night not even waking up for dinner when Sam got back

The case went on and you all did some digging, you were looking through a book when you found that symbol again, it was used for ancient spirits that someone could use to their will, Sam had found Meg’s hide out and so you all drove down there

“Y/n you’re sitting this one out” Dean says as you all get out of the car that’s blocked a street away from Meg’s building

“What why I can help”

They loaded up on weapons like usual

“Because kid you’re not in your right mind right now, it ain’t your fault but I just want you to take it easy for this one, just stay in the car we will be back in no time” you wanted to fight Dean on this but the look he gave you shut you up, you didn’t wanna disappoint him too

“Okay just be safe”

You sat in the car waiting and waiting until you saw them in the rearview mirror running across the street running in the direction of our hide out, you got out running behind them but they were farther ahead than you, when you got to the hideout room you heard screaming, you bust into the room seeing shadows slashing at Dean Sam and……and John, you run infront of your father taking the harsh slashes from the spirits, you can feel you stomach being shredded, claws run down your face then you felt 4 long claws go straight through your back, gasping for air that you couldn’t inhale, you drop to the floor the pain unimaginable

Sam sets off a flare destroying the spirits, someone dragged you out into the hallway as you came back into focus seeing the three of them watching over you

“Daddy I’m sorry, I just…..*gasp* wanted to make you proud” then everything fades quickly leaving nothing but black

John, Dean and Sam brought you to the hospital, waiting for your diagnosing the nurses helped patch them up, they waited in your room sitting around your hospital bed praying you’d wake up

“How is she doc?” Dean asks as the doctor walks in to check your progress

“This was one angry bear, slashing is one thing but to stab its claws through her is strange behaviour” they boys looked at each other hoping the doctor believed the lie

“But we’ve done all we could, she lost a lot of blood we just have to wait for her to wake up, sometimes talking to patients who are unconscious helps bring them back, might wanna try it” he said before he left the room

Sam held you hand as he pushed back stray hairs that stuck to your face

“Please pull through, you’re the glue that holds us together, the person who brightens our hellish lives, we need you” he sighs resting his head against your intertwined hands, John and Dean had a war going on inside their heads, Sam always had a different relationship with you than Dean, Dean was crazy protective and still saw you like you were the baby he first held, Sam saw you like his twin, his confidant and the only one in the family who understood him, and those last words you said played over and over again in Johns head

They stayed there for hours just waiting for any sign that you’d wake up until eventually they all passed out from exhaustion, you woke up late in the night, the only thing that lit the room was a lamp on a near by table

You try to sit up but let out a little scream when you feel the wounds that littered your body, waking the others up, they stood by your bed , John at your right Sam next to him and Dean on your left

“Sweetheart you’re up, you’re one tough cookie” John says resting his hand against your cheek

“Are you guys okay?”

“We’re not the ones who are in the hospital bed Angel” Dean smiles squeezing your hand

“I just wanted to help, wanted to protect you daddy” when you called him that it struck right through his heart, remembering how you’re really just his little girl the one who’d stay up late into the night at the end of the motel beds waiting for him to come back, squealing when he’d walk through the door jumping into his arms

“I’m sorry baby girl, Dean told me what’s been going on and you have to know, even though I can be a hard ass sometimes I love you more than anything, I remember when your mother first had you and I held you in my arms I knew I’d do anything to make you happy and safe and I know your brothers felt the same, I’m sorry I left and made you feel like I was disappointed in you, you’re the strongest young lady I know, especially to have to deal with these two all day everyday, I love you sweetheart, my hope” by the time he was done you were a blubbering mess finally letting out all this pent up emotions

“I love you too, please don’t leave me, I need you dad”

“I’ll stay angel, I’ll stay”

#supernatural imagine #supernatural #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #jeffrey dean morgan #dean winchester #sam and dean #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #john winchester x reader #john winchester #John Winchester x daughter

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figurantedefilme · 4 months

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i was simply reading a dean x fem!reader, which was in progress, it was already in the fifth part, but the author simply deactivated the account???

i have no idea what happened but it was so good, i really felt sad, and they wrote so well :(

#what's cake talking about??#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #bobby singer #sam winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #bobby singer x daughter!reader #jensen ackles

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yourmomxx · 1 year

Text

Sweet Child O’ Mine

father of mine masterlist

summary: It’s time for Dean to face what he has been so afraid of the entire time. Meanwhile, the monster that has already taken one young man’s life, is on its way to claim the next one

warnings: canon violence, child abandonment, swear words, angst, daddy issues, character death, throwing up, this is written like an episode of Supernatural

word count: 11,2k (whoops)

disclaimer: What I know about Group Homes is what I know from my country (and Google), so I apologize if I made any mistakes

pt1 pt2 pt3

@psycho-magnotheric-slime

Now

The cafeteria was loud. The mixed noise of talking children and clattering dishes and cutlery filled the air, creating a yet bearable loudness.

You were sat at one of the light blue tables, across from you your best friends Cassandra Claire and Finnegan Beckett.

Cass and Finn.

She was lowly cursing at the paper straw in her apple juice box and a few strands of her black bangs slipped into her view. The wolf cut, which had been so present a few months ago, was now already grown out and even the shortest strands of Cass’s hair were reaching her shoulders.

Finn seemed caught up in his own world as he carefully laid out little figures and symbols with his french fries. He still had a few, slightly red acne spots lingering on his skin, amongst freckles covering his nose and cheeks. His hair was flaming red, just as Roy’s had been, but other than him Finn usually hid the tousled locks under a cap.

Roy. The news of his death had hit the three of you hard. You had been a friendgroup of four, Roy and Finn, and Cass and you.

Almost a week ago you had been eating lunch at this exact table, the seat to your right had been taken, laughing about terrible jokes, bickering, and not even considering it all to end as soon as it did.

And especially how it did.

Roy’s body was still lying at the morgue. The authorities had kept it there for ‘further investigation purposes’ as they had said, so no funeral had been possible yet.

Of course, the adults had introduced all of you to helping hotlines and offered their own support in case anyone wanted to talk about their feelings and their grief in the safeness of a closed room.

Not that one of you took that into consideration.

The only way you three were coping with the whole situation was through joking around and pretending none of it ever happened. Which was fine.

You and Cass had sometimes talked in the darkness of your rooms, careful and short conversations while sleeping over because neither of you wanted to spend the night alone.

But other than that? Zero. And it was alright that way. The right moment would come.

Maybe.

“Aha!” Cass suddenly yelled out triumphantly, and startled Finn out of admiring his artwork.

You looked up at her from half-heartedly poking around in your own food, as she proudly held up the apple juice that was now pierced with what looked like the abused version of a thin straw.

You gave a small clap. “Bravo” and she grinned at you before turning to Finn.

Well done, Cassie,” he sarcastically said. “You won the hard fight against the opening of a box of apple juice.”

Cass pouted and took a sip. “You don’t appreciate my victories enough, Finn. And don't call me that. Cassie.” She dramatically shuddered at the nickname.

“I’m mentally unstable, not five.”

Finn examined her perfectly done eyeliner and makeup with skeptically raised eyebrows. “You don’t look mentally unstable to me,” he remarked.

Cass gasped. “Excuse me? Prejudices??” She exclaimed.

“You see that?” She asked, frantically pointing at her face. “See how perfect my makeup is today? That's not a good thing, dumbass! Perfect makeup means that I am absolutely mentally fucked!”

You nodded supportively, and Finn just raised his eyebrows, before he dedicated his attention back to poking around in his food.

“Don't you think that's kind of ironic?” He pointed out, and Cass simply ignored him, except for the tiny eye roll she gave.

“Guys, I need your help deciding what color I'm going to dye my hair next,” she changed the topic instead and desperately ran her hands through her hair.

Finn’s head whipped around, back to his friend. “You're honestly thinking about dying your hair right now?” He asked incredulously.

She groaned and threw him a look.

“No, Finnegan, I am not actively thinking about dying my hair, but I sense a mental breakdown coming and if I'm going to absolutely lose my shit and take it out on my hair, I want the result to look good. Otherwise, we are met with that weird yellow-green-combination again.” Cass let her body shudder dramatically.

“I liked the yellow-green-combination,” you interjected.

Cass reached over the table to lay her hand above yours and looked up at you with sweet eyes. “Thanks, hun.”

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it,” mumbled Finn, his mouth stuffed full of fries. “Just leave them black.”

“I don’t think you quite understood how a mental breakdown works, man,” you said.

Finn shrugged and dipped a frie into his ketchup. “Whatever.”

You looked at Cass. “I’ll go shopping with you soon and then we will choose a color together,” you promised.

“Thanks,” she said and eyed Finn, “at least someone who cares if I ruin my good looks or not.”

But Finn didn’t hear her, or maybe he just ignored what she was saying. Because he changed the topic.

“Did the FBI agents get a hold of you guys yet?” He suddenly asked.

Your eyebrows shot up in confusion. “The what?”

“The FBI agents,” Finn repeated.

“Why, thank you, I got that part, but what is the FBI doing here?”

Cass just shrugged her shoulders. “Apparently they are here investigating Roy's murder.”

“What, they think someone murdered him?” You asked in disbelief.

“Well, he will not have crushed his ribs all on his own now, will he?” Finn drew a heart shape with the remaining ketchup on the plate.

“It's better than the state police,” retorted Cass, “who still think that it was some kind of ... animal attack.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right, because a bear sneaking into a castle, pushing down on someone's chest and then just leaving seems so plausible.”

Your friends raised their eyebrows in agreement.

“What did they ask you guys?” You closed your waterbottle and absentmindedly started cleaning up your plate.

Cass shrugged and leaned back in her chair with crossed arms. “Not much, the usual, I guess,” she answered, “Wanted me to tell them some things about Roy, his behavior lately, who would have wanted to hurt him…” She trailed off.

“Same here. Routine stuff,” Finn said. Then he leaned a bit closer and lowered his voice.

“To be honest, I don't really care why they're here, they are both incredibly handsome.”

“Finn!” You and Cassandra exclaimed at the same time.

“What?!” The boy widened his arms in defense. “Let me enjoy the one good thing that came from Roy's death.”

Cass shoved him in response. “God, you are a manwhore!” She grumbled.

Finn rubbed his arm with an offended pout on his lips and you giggled. “Geez, we must seem so fucked up, our best friend got murdered and here we are, joking about his death.” You shook your head lightly.

“It's what he would have wanted.” Cass scooted a bit closer on her seat and took both yours and Finn’s hand in acted solemnity.

“If I die,” she vowed, “you are now officially allowed to joke about my death as much as you want. On any occasion.”

“Sick!” You called out and Cass smirked.

“Can we please get back to the part where she said if?” Finn pointed out.

Cass rolled her eyes and pulled back.

“I'm a witch, after all,” she reminded him with a threatening silken voice that had a tone of mockery. “And one day, I will figure out the secret of necromancy, just you wait.”

Finn scoffed and grinned. “Right, you with your crystals, and your smokey sticks and your herbs and tarot cards.”

He wiggled his fingers in front of her face. “That's some real serious stuff you got there, Cass.”

She pushed him away. “Yeah, keep making fun of it. We'll see who has the last laugh when I turn immortal and outlive all of you idiots.”

Finn shook his head. He looked at you and pointed his forefinger to his temple, moving it in circles to indicate what he held of her words.

You shook your head grinning, and Cass, who noticed the interaction, promptly took Finn’s sugar-glazed donut and dumped it in his untouched mayonnaise.

"Ew! Jesus, Cass, you are disgusting!" Finn yelled as he stared at the disaster.

She just shrugged and was quick to eat her own food before he would get any ideas.

For a while, it was quiet. You continued cleaning and sorting your lunch plate, while Cass ate and Finn and her did not speak a word to each other.

It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though, just a break from conversation.

Eventually, Cass was the one to break it.

“So, uhm, did you guys, like - I mean, have you been thinking about Roy, too? Or, like, dreaming or something?” With every word her voice got more quiet until it was only a low mumble, drifting apart in the busy noise around.

But still everything she said managed to pierce through the air and directly into your heart.

“Why would you bring that up?” Finn asked through gritted teeth, he almost sounded mad.

Cass avoided eye contact with both of you and pressed the palms of her hands against her forehead, as if to stop it from giving her incredible pain.

“I’ve been having those horrible nightmares, since it happened,” she sighed in despair.

“It’s the same thing over and over again. I see something going into his room, but when I try to open the door, it’s locked. And I hit it, and I scream, but there’s just no sound coming out of my mouth. And when the door finally opens, there he is, lying on the bed, just-”

A heavy clatter interrupted her monologue and made you flinch. Finn had thrown his fork onto his dinner plate.

“Didn’t ask about fucking details, Cassandra,” he hissed lowly, stood up and walked away with his tray in hand.

Cass looked after him as he left and put her head in her hands with a groan.

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” she mumbled into the fabric of her sleeve.

“I know,” you said. She raised her head. You gave her a sympathetic smile.

“D’you think he hates me now?”

You shook your head no. “He’s just grieving. We all are. He will get himself together again, promise.”

For a second, her lips quirked up in a small smile.

“Come on,” you said then and swung your leg over the bench, standing up. “We’ve been sitting here for far too long anyways.”

You took your tray and Cass was quick to follow you and put the dirty dishes away.

“I didn’t have any, by the way.” Confused, she looked at you.

“Nightmares,” you added.

Cass nodded. “Yeah, didn’t think so.” She shrugged. “Guess I’ll deal with this the same way I deal with everything: completely and utterly alone.”

You jokingly shoved her at her theatrics, and she grinned. “Shut up. I’ll be damned if I let you deal with any of this on your own. Got me?”

She laid a hand upon her heart and the other on your shoulder. “You’re so sweet,” she said. “And I suppose that also includes helping me study for my biology exam which I have definitely already studied for?”

You pulled back and inhaled sharply, pretending to think. “Ah ma’am, I am afraid this feature is not included in your subscription. We apologize for any discomfort this may bring.”

“It brings a great deal of discomfort!” Cass exclaimed while you two walked the hallway to your rooms.

“You can write me an email-complaint,” you joked. “No guarantees though. You’ve had like two weeks to study for that one.”

“I know, I know, but it’s so endlessly boring and complicated!” she cried.

You shrugged. “There’s a reason I didn’t take the AP class.”

“And I will forever envy you for it.”

You stopped when you reached the two doors to your bedrooms that laid right across of each other.

“Then,” you said and bowed lightly, “farewell my friend. May your head not explode while rehearsing for the terribly difficult school subject that is AP biology.”

She flipped you off and disappeared into her room. Laughing to yourself, you opened the door and slipped into your own.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Central Nebraska 2007

The past few hunting days had been rough. Sam and Dean had driven from one case to the next without a break, been beaten up by an entire pack of werewolves and hunted down a loose chupacabra outside of its usual territory.

Dean was beyond exhausted. His muscles ached, his head was pounding, and the lack of sleep was weighing his limbs down. He was practically dragging himself over the gravel path, before he swung open the door to Harvelle’s Roadhouse.

The air that hit them from inside was stuffy, warm, and smelt like sweat and alcohol. Low but loud enough music fell into an uncoordinated melody with loud chatter and the clinking of glass.

Dean felt like he had never experienced something more beautiful, after the weeks he’s had.

“Deeeeeannnn!”

He heard the excited cry of his name before he saw where it came from. He spotted a bright sundress on a small girl, and out of instinct crouched down as she sped towards him.

With a grunt, Dean picked her up in his arms mid sprint and lifted her up. Behind him, Sam closed the door again as Dean made his way over to the bar with little Y/N on his hip.

“How is my favorite girl today?” He asked her and she grinned at him.

“I’m good! I missed you,” she added.

Dean’s chest clammed with how much he loved her.

“Well, I’m back now, ready to give you allllll my attention. Come on, show me those fangs.” He nodded his head at her chin at his request, and Y/N drew her lips back and bared her teeth to him.

Dean held the hand that wasn’t holding her in front of his eyes and pretended to be blinded. “Wow, those are clean! I can’t even see anything.”

With a giggle, Y/N closed her mouth again and Dean blinked hard a few times.

“I brush them extra hard. Ask Auntie Ellen.”

Dean nodded. “I totally believe you. Every werewolf would be jealous of those teeth. Oh, did I say werewolf? I meant vampire, of course.”

Dean shook his head at himself, and Y/N beamed up at him with the brightest shining eyes he had ever seen.

“Good to see you again, boys,” Ellen greeted them and pulled out two glasses. “The usual?”

Sam and Dean nodded. Ellen started pouring. When Sam took his drink, he pointed somewhere in the back of the bar and said, “I’ll go have a talk with Ash.” Then he was gone.

Dean placed Y/N on one of the bar stools and took his seat next to her.

“Dean, can you play Operation with me?” Y/N asked him, and Dean stilled in his movement to take a sip of his drink. He opened his mouth to answer her, but Ellen was faster.

“Baby, let Dean rest for a bit. I’m sure these past few days haven’t been all sugar and cakes for him. Maybe later, alright?”

Y/N pouted a bit, but then shrugged and shuffled off the barstool. “Okay,” she said, and disappeared between the people, probably to the private rooms.

Dean looked after her and then turned back to Ellen with a thankful look on his face.

“Can’t believe that game is still so popular. I mean, I used to play with that in my childhood,” he said, and took a sip from his drink. The alcohol burned a bit down his throat, but it was exactly what he needed right now. Dean closed his eyes and sighed appreciatively.

“Really glad you’re back,” Ellen then told him honestly, as she opened up a beer for herself and folded her arms on the counter. “She’s been asking me nothing else than ‘When will Dean come back’ for the past few weeks. I can’t hear that sentence anymore.”

Dean chuckled and she took a sip.

“Yeah,” he dragged, and threw a look in the direction that Y/N had disappeared in. Ellen tilted her head and gave him a look he couldn’t quite read.

“You’re really good with her, ya know?” She twirled the bottle loosely on the counter. Dean avoided her inquiring gaze and looked into the liquor in his glass instead. He vaguely saw his reflection in it.

“’ve always been good with kids, I guess.” He shrugged it off.

Ellen hummed. Dean didn’t know what to make of it. He looked up at her again.

“For what it’s worth, she makes it really easy,” he said. Ellen raised her eyebrows. “To lo- to like her, I mean. She’s a great kid. You did good with her.”

Ellen sighed. “Yeah, I like to think I did. Wasn’t always easy.”

Dean nodded. A bit after they had met, Ellen had vaguely told him how she got to Y/N. How someone had just dumped the little girl, barely one year old, on her doorstep. No note, only a name and date of birth, and a blanket in the basket she had been put in.

When he had first heard the story, Dean’s hand had cramped around his beer bottle so hard his knuckles had turned white.

Stories like this about kids always got to him. But about this one? Hell, the lengths he would go to protect that little girl. She had made her way into his heart so easily, no preparation or caution, just boosted right into it with her bright smile and those happy eyes.

And Dean had never spent a day not wanting to know her.

Sometimes, when he thought about it, he thought about how easy it was. To love a kid. She wasn’t even his, but every time he had to say goodbye to her for God knows how long again, his heart broke a little more.

And he thought about how it was that easy, and how yet, somehow his father had not managed it. Had left his children alone, abandoned, in ran down motel rooms, without any contact for days and sometimes weeks. How he had felt absent, even when he was physically present, and how Dean could never do enough to feel enough for him.

It made him ache, but he had promised himself to never make anyone else feel this way. And maybe, just maybe, this little wonder he had come across was supposed to be his salvation.

“Dean, I have to tell you something.”

Somehow, the way Ellen said it, made Dean stiffen. A strange mixture of regret and hurt crossed her exes.

“It’s about your daddy,” she added.

“And about Y/N.”

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Now

If Sam had tried to read the different emotions that were crossing his older brother’s face right now, he would have given up as soon as he had started.

But one thing was certain, they were many, and probably none of them were good.

They stood in front of the wooden door to their last room.

Your room, to be exact.

And they stood there for the second time today, to be exact.

Maria had pointed them the numbers of the bedrooms where Roy Kendall’s friends lived, they had paid each of them a visit and asked them questions about the deceased.

None of those interrogations had proven to be useful to them, though.

Also, funny enough, it turns out that Cassandra Claire and Y/N Winchester’s room happened to lay just across the hallway from each other.

But when Sam offered to move on to her after finishing Cassandra’s questioning, Dean had not-so-smoothly avoided his question and decided he was in desperate need of some lunch.

Which is why, now, they were standing here, staring at the old wooden door with filled stomachs and angel Castiel in tow - who had decided to join them after all.

Said angel now leaned in closer to Sam and not so silently whispered, “Is he- frozen? Shall I wake him?”

Dean snorted and shook his head, as if Castiel’s words had actually woken him up from the sort of trance he had been trapped in.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, still talking into the direction of the - apparently very intimidating – wooden door.

Sam raised his eyebrows, fully aware that his brother couldn’t see him. “Well then,” he said, extending his hand to the door. “Knock.”

Dean threw a murdering look over his shoulder at his little brother and took a deep breath in, shook his shoulders.

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew this had to be difficult for Dean, but he also wanted to get all of this over with. He could think of more fun things than spending his entire day in an orphanage, investigating a murder. Also, his suit was starting to get itchy.

The sound of Dean knocking at the door felt like a salvation. “Agents Shield and Stark and …” He threw Cas a look, “… Miller. We’re here to ask you some questions about the death of Roy Kendall.”

For a second, it was quiet. Then, “It’s open.”

The voice from inside made a chill run down Sam’s spine. He couldn’t imagine what his brother felt. But even if Dean was falling apart inside, he didn’t let his face show any of it.

Dean’s heart twisted with the door handle, as he pushed the door open and entered into the room. After him, Sam and Castiel entered, and Dean closed the door behind them again.

The room wasn’t big, but it had been decorated to be comfortable. In the middle of the wall to their right, a twin-sized bed with unified colors was placed, a small bedside table next to it.

To their left was a tall wardrobe that almost reached the ceiling, and under the window on the wall opposite them stood a nice desk.

And there, shuffling through some papers, stood a young teenage girl, with her back turned to them.

“Sorry about the mess, I-“ Dean’s heart skipped a beat as you turned around.

You hadn’t changed, not a bit, but had grown so much. The roundness in your features, like with all children, had gone away as you grew older. You had changed your hair, and your voice was different, but it was so unmistakably you that Dean needed a second to catch himself.

He feared his feet would buckle under him, as you looked at him with wide open eyes, those eyes that he remembered looked so much like your mother’s.

You felt your whole world tumble around you as you looked at them. At him. Your heart was speeding in your chest, a feeling spreading in your stomach as if you had been sucker punched.

This couldn’t be real, there was no way. But then again, there was no reason why it wouldn’t be. There were more epic scenarios you could have come up with to reunite with your … family. And nevertheless, you had stopped having dreams like that a long time ago. You had given up on hoping a day like this would come.

But now it was here, apparently, and it was so unspectacular, it was almost funny.

They walked in here, after years, in fancy suits and badges, wanting to know about- what exactly was it they wanted to know about?

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath, gathering yourself.

“What are you doing here?” Compared to the chaos inside of you, your voice sounded calm and collected, almost devoid of any emotion, and a part of you was proud.

Sam cleared his throat. You noticed he looked older.

Well, no shit. But more … drawn, from his experience. Trauma, maybe. You hadn’t been aware of much when you were a child, but that their work took a toll on them, that had been unmistaken.

And Sam’s eyes held a story that seemed as tragic as it seemed muddled.

“We heard about Roy Kendall’s death,” he answered.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline. They had heard about Roy. Did that mean they were here to-

“And we’re here to find out what killed him.”

What?

“What?”

“Yeah, we, uh-“ Sam shifted his weight awkwardly, “We don’t think it was a … natural death.”

“Well, no shit.” Roy’s chest had been cracked open. You were no coroner, but even you knew that couldn’t exactly be filed under the case of natural deaths.

Now, Dean took a small step forward, trying his best to hold eye contact with you, and your shoulders subconsciously stiffened.

“Y/N-,” he started.

“Dean,” you shot back.

And that wort was like a punch in his guts. Dean felt physically sick. But how could he expect any different really?

You noticed him stumbling slightly at the word, a look of hurt crossing over his face.

Good, you thought.

A part of you wanted to hit him in the chest, scream at him until your voice was raw, Why did you do this? Why did you leave me? When did you stop loving me?

But in the end, you didn’t.

You would rather die than give him the satisfaction of breaking down.

Why you thought he would feel satisfaction at your hurt, you didn’t know.

“So, Roy,” you simply said, something to break the pressing silence in the room.

Sam nodded. “Yes, exactly. We, uhm –“ He pointed to the third man you had never seen before, “and Castiel, we wanted to ask you a few things about him.”

You glanced at the guy in the trenchcoat, who raised his hand to do an awkward little wave. “Nice to meet you.”

“Too,” you said.

There was a silence again, until Dean took the floor. “So, he was one of your friends?” He asked, “That Roy kid?”

People had been doing it for days, yet something about them talking about one of your best friends in the past tense made your stomach turn with uneasiness.

You hummed in agreement.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Sam said.

“Stick it,” you bit back, and crossed your arms in front of your chest. Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

“Did your friend mention anything … out of the ordinary happen, before he was killed?” The third guy, with the trenchcoat and the weird name which you had already forgotten, asked.

You clenched your jaw and something about the way Dean pressed his eyes shut in exasperation made you believe that this guy’s bluntness was something quite common.

“No,” you simply said. Trenchcoat frowned.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, taking a slight step forward.

“Yes, I am. Roy never said anything about anything strange that would be in any way valuable to your case.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dean questioned.

You shrugged. “What I said.”

“Y/N, any information you can give us about Roy’s behavior before he died is extremely important and could really help us,” Sam urged.

Something about the way your name slipped off his tongue, with that sense of familiarity and normal, made your skin itch.

You took a deep breath and cleared your throat. “Well, I mean - he just mentioned that he was having those … terrible nightmares all of a sudden.” You shrugged. “Like I said, nothing that would be worth writing down.”

Sam did it anyways.

Dean tilted his head and looked at you quizzically. “Why would you think his nightmares were unusual? I mean, everyone has bad dreams from time to time.”

You shifted your weight uncomfortably. “Yeah, I know, but it’s just …” You paused. This was stupid. “It’s stupid, really, but – Roy doesn’t usually dream.”

Didn’t, you corrected in your head, but the word didn’t make it past your lips.

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“And it was just strange, because he was having these nightmares frequently, or rather this nightmare, because it was always the exact same,” you keep rambling on.

“What was it about?” Dean asked.

You swept your hand across your forehead. “I don’t know, he wouldn’t talk much about it. Just said that it was like the worst day of his life replaying over and over.”

Dean nodded. Sam frowned in interest.

“Do you know what that was? The worst day of his life?”

You shrugged. “The day he lost his parents, probably,” you said. “The entire house burnt down right in front of him. He made it out, they didn’t.”

Your voice was quiet and pressed, still feeling bad about sharing such an intimate part of Roy’s history with those … strangers. A nagging part in the back of your mind kept telling you he wouldn’t – couldn’t – mind anymore.

Sam’s pen kept scraping over his notebook, and Dean threw a glimpse over his brother’s shoulder. As you watched them, your gaze fell on trenchcoat-guy, who was still positioned in the corner of your room, just a few steps behind them.

He was observing you with interest, blue eyes staring back into yours as if he was looking directly at your soul. Something like a chill ran down your spine.

The man tilted his head, as you diverted your attention back to Dean and Sam. His brows were furrowed.

Cas recognized you. He didn’t know where from, but you looked so weirdly … familiar. Your features, the shape of your face. They way you talked and moved.

“Your boyfriend is staring at me weirdly,” you mentioned to Dean, as you caught the man’s gaze again.

Dean turned his head and looked at him, then back to you. “Yeah, he tends to do that.”

You lifted your eyebrows and made an ‘Ah’ sound. Trenchcoat was getting weirder by the second. But at least the guy had stopped his creepy staring. For now.

“Look, I don’t want you guys here. But I understand that your presence is necessary in order to catch whatever it is that’s killing my friends. So, you just do your thing, look around a bit, kill something, and then leave. Both of you.”

With a look at the third guy in the trenchcoat, you added, “Three.”

Dean avoided your eyes, but Sam nodded jerkily and cleared his throat again. “Yeah, we uh … we understand that.”

He straightened his coat and turned to leave the room. “Thank you for your help for now, really. We’ll get in touch if we need anything else.”

You nodded simply, even though you didn’t exactly know what to make of that idea.

As Sam and trenchcoat-guy made their way to leave the room, Dean took a small step towards you and pulled something out of his suit jacket.

“And if there’s anything else you might remember or see, you can always give us a call.” You stared at the small paper he had handed to you. With dark blue pen, a phone number was sloppily scribbled on it. The edges of the paper were uneven, it had probably been ripped off a bigger sheet.

You pursed your lips and nodded.

“Yeah.” You didn’t know what else to say. Thank you wasn’t really in the cards right now. Dean cleared his throat and stepped back with a nod. Then, they left the room one by one.

“Have a nice day,” Sam said.

“You, too.” The answer came automatically. The door closed behind them with a click, and you were alone again.

The small paper suddenly felt incredibly heavy in your hand.

—

When Dean stepped through the threshold and out into the hallway, he felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off his chest. He took a deep breath like a man starved.

The sick feeling in his stomach still lingered.

He didn’t even wait for the click of the closing door before he started making his way to the exit, trusting that his brother and Castiel would follow.

His fast steps echoed over the hallway, when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder yank him around. Dean was staring into the eyes of his younger brother. He shook his arm to let Sam’s hand harshly fall off.

“What?”

Sam didn’t say anything, and Dean just glared at him. It was Castiel who spoke up first. His head was tilted, eyebrows scrunched, and a curious tone in his voice.

“She is your … daughter.” It wasn’t a question. Cas had figured out the root of all of Dean’s hesitation – to come here, to stay here, to investigate. All because of one person, that he knew was so close to Dean Winchester, but yet way too far than two people with their natural bond should be.

“What gave it away?” Dean turned to Cas. His tone was bitter. “The attitude or the way she hates my guts?”

Castiel looked him up and down.

“She is so similar to you,” he stated matter-of-factly, completely ignoring Dean’s sarcastic response.

Dean exchanged an annoyed look with his little brother, who simply shrugged.

“All right, now that we’ve cleared that up,” Dean gruffed and made his way down the hallway again, “Let’s go.”

He trusted that the others followed him quietly.

When they reached the gravel path that led from the small castle to their car, Sam picked up his pace to catch up with his older brother. “Dean, I’ve been thinking.”

The man scoffed. “Oh, don’t hurt yourself like that, Sammy.”

“I’m serious.” Sam halted next to his brother and pulled him to a stop with a firm hand on his shoulder. “And I think, maybe… we should sit this one out.”

The way Sam said the last bit was careful, and Dean tilted his head as he turned to his younger brother. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying, maybe this case is too personal for us, Dean. Maybe we should let some other hunter take care of it.”

Dean shook his head. “No way. This is the first time in years that I get to see my daughter, I will not just throw this away.” He lifted his index finger to point it at his brother.

“Well, what exactly is it that you want to do, Dean? It’s not like the two of you have the strongest father-daughter bond!” Sam scoffed and his arms in the air.

Dean started walking towards the impala again. “I know, and that’s why I want to make things right with her.”

“What for, Dean? Just so we leave her here, again?”

"I don’t know!” Dean whirled around in fury as he yelled the words. He slumped his shoulders.

“I don’t know, okay?” He said, his voice was smaller now. “Look, let’s just … let’s finish this case. Give me some time to figure things out and then we will decide.” Dean peeled himself out of his suit jacket and tossed it in the backseat of the impala. He slammed the door. “But first, let’s save some lives.”

Sam shook his head. “Alright. Whatever you say.” He matched Dean as he opened the door to the back and tossed his jacket on the leather seats.

“By the way, where’s Cas?”

Sam threw a look around them. He was right, the angel was nowhere to be found. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he zapped to the motel again.”

Dean frowned as he pulled open the front door. The hinges squealed. “We need to have a serious talk with him about that. Can’t have him disappearing on me the entire time.”

Sam frowned. Dean meant them, right? Couldn’t have him disappearing on them the entire time. Us.

Right?

Sam decided to shrug his brother’s strange comment off for now and got in the passenger’s seat.

“We have to go there anyways. Do some research,” he said.

Dean hummed and started the car. Sam could about assume what that meant. The gravel gnarled under the Impala’s tires as they drove off.

—

Back alone in your room again, you sat on your desk chair as your playlist of favorite songs blasted through your headphones. Dark ink started covering your thighs, where you were drawing on them with your pen as you had placed them on the surface of the desk.

The past few minutes, your mind had been insanely occupied with processing what the actual fuck had just happened. Because. Well. What the actual fuck had just happened?

When they had knocked on your door, you had expected the normal questioning, something that Cass and Finn had been talking about anyways.

When you turned around, just to stare at the face of Dean Winchester, your mind had gone fully devoid of every thought ever formed.

The typical “heart slipping into your pants.”

It felt as if you had worked on autopilot, not even coherently remembering what you had said to them. Had your reaction been an appropriate one? After years of imagining this exact scenario, in all ways and forms it could’ve played out, you not being able to form a simple sentence had not been one of them.

In afterthought, maybe you should’ve punched Dean.

Maybe that would’ve been the appropriate response.

The sharp sound of a knock at your door made you startle. You pulled your headphones off your ears and turned the music off. Those things were great, but in all those years they had never quite managed to overpower the sounds around you.

Maybe that was why you were still allowed to wear them all the time.

“Who’s there?” You asked loudly into the room.

“Me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. The fuck? How was there not a single normal person knocking on your bedroom door today?

“Who is me?” You asked again.

The door opened just the tiniest bit, creaking in the process, and through peeked the head of the third man that had accompanied Sam and Dean earlier.

Trenchcoat guy.

“It’s me,” he repeated.

You frowned. “Uhm - come in?” You invited him and lifted your feet off the table.

Trenchcoat guy carefully shuffled in through the gap in the door until he stood in your room, awkwardly, and his stiff posture made him look so out of place, it was almost funny.

When he didn’t seem to plan on doing anything more than eyeing the bookshelf on the other wall, you decided to speak up.

“I’m sorry, but I think I forgot your name.”

Slowly, he turned his attention back to you, as if he had now just remembered that you were there. “I’m Castiel,” he answered in a deep, gravelly voice.

You raised your eyebrows. “Ah. Right.” Another beat of silence. “Are you, like - Dean’s boyfriend or something?” You asked.

Castiel frowned and tilted his head. “Me and your father are not romantically involved in any way whatsoever,” he reassured you.

“Ah,” you said again. Then, “Did Dean send you?”

Castiel shook his head, almost offended at the implication. “After our … conversation, earlier, he figured you were not too enthusiastic to see him. That is why only I am here.”

You swallowed hard. No, that wasn’t true.

“He’s damn right.”

Castiel nodded.

Then it was quiet again. “Is there … anything you need?” You dragged out, unsure of what he was planning to do in here exactly.

“Well, no, not specifically, I just - wanted to talk to you,” Castiel said, though he seemed not too secure about his purpose himself. “About your father.”

“Dean,” you corrected, but were sure Castiel didn’t miss how your shoulders stiffened at it. The man in the trenchcoat frowned and dipped his head lightly.

“Yes, your father.” He repeated.

You shook your head. “He’s not my father. He’s just Dean.”

“As I understand it, you were conceived through him and your mother having sexual intercourse, therefore-“

“Okay! Thank you,” you interrupted him and raised your hand to sign stop. “What do you want?”

Castiel took a few steps closer to you, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor as he seemed to look for the right words.

“I fear your father- Dean,” he corrected himself with a look in your direction, “does feel very bad about what happened between you and him.”

You pursed your lips. “So? Did he tell you that?”

Castiel looked sheepish. “No,” he answered honestly, “But I know your- him. Just because he does not like to talk about his feelings does not mean that he does not feel them.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Let me ask you something, Castiel,” you said. He nodded. “Anything.”

“Do you know at all what happened? Between me and him?”

Again, Castiel looked away. You did not know this man. You did not know what his history with Dean was, or with Sam. But you knew that he knew nothing.

“No.” That one word confirmed it.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Then - excuse my choice of words - but you have no room to talk. And if Dean wants to tell me something, he can always do that himself. In person. He’s here anyway.”

Castiel nodded. “Alright.”

It was silent again, between you and him, until Castiel took in a sharp breath and leaned forward into something close to a bow.

“I’m sure they await me,” he explained. “Goodbye, Y/N.” He then turned around to open the door, but paused mid his action.

“You do look a lot like him, you know?” He said.

That’s it.

“Out,” you ordered him harshly and Castiel walked through the door, closing it behind him.

—

You had, in fact, ended up helping Cass study for her upcoming exam. Well, what means help, you had asked her questions and she had to answer them correctly - which worked expectedly not so well.

“I can just play the dead friend card,” she had joked, but you knew that she was actually actively considering it.

In that moment though, you had just skipped over her remark and continued asking her about the digestive system of a Baird’s beaked whale.

It was already late at night when the two of you finally hugged goodbye.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “You helped a lot. I’ll forget it all until tomorrow morning, but I do appreciate your effort.”

You smiled at her. “Don’t worry, you’ll nail it. Or at least not fail.”

She laughed. “You think too highly of me, Y/N.”

For a few moments, nobody said a word. “I never asked you,” Cass eventually started, “are you okay?”

You took a deep breath and shifted your weight. “Considering the circumstances, I guess. You?”

“Same thing,” she said. You laid your head back and stared at the ceiling. “It still feels weird only being three people,” you realized.

“Yeah,” Cass agreed quietly.

A few beats of silence passed, until you got yourself back together and shook your body as if to shake off your grief.

“But whatever,” you sighed. “Can’t change that now, can we?”

You looked at Cass and she hummed with a dull shrug, seeming lost in her own thoughts.

She absentmindedly opened her bedroom door, but just as she wanted to disappear into the room, you grabbed her arm to stop her for a second.

“By the way, about your nightmares,” you said, “maybe you can take some pills against that, if it gets too much. Unregulated sleep is probably worse than no sleep.”

Cass managed a tired smile. “Will try, thanks. Goodnight babes, love you,” she threw you a kiss.

“Love you too, good night,” you said back and smiled at her, waiting until she closed the door to enter your own room.

—

You didn’t know what woke you up. The glowing numbers of the digital clock on your nightstand showed it to be somewhere around half past three. Really not your usual wake-up time.

Just as you rolled around in your sheets to get your missing hours of sleep in, you heard strange shuffling outside your door. Perking up, you realized it sounded like the overlapping chatter of voices, and shoes pounding over the smooth floor.

Yeah, no way you would be going back to sleep now.

Especially not with the uncomfortable feeling that had settled into your stomach.

Stumbling a bit, your joints not quite awake yet, you trutted over to your door and creaked it open slightly.

The white light burned your eyes at the start, as you slipped out of your room and were met with the sight of multiple people fussing around not that far away.

The uneasy feeling only got worse, as you realized two things at once: The people were first responders, firefighters, to be exact. And they were all gathered around the open door across the hallway to yours.

Cass.

You moved on autopilot, as your feet carried you closer to the scene, eyes not leaving the gaping black hole that was the entrance to your best friend’s room.

“What happened?” You asked the closest paramedic next to you, a young man with brown hair and dark gear. It didn’t help much, because his voice faded out into the back of your head, as movement began to settle over the group.

The paramedic gestured his hands, as he talked to you, though that was not at all what had grabbed your attention.

You could only look at her, as she was lying sprawled out on the stretcher that was being wheeled out of her bedroom.

Cass.

But it wasn’t Cass, it couldn’t be. Dark grey plastic was wrapped around her body, covering her features as one of the firefighters that pushed the gurney zipped the material closed.

A body bag.

You felt bile rise into your throat.

Who put a seventeen-year-old in a body bag?

She wasn’t supposed to be there. What was she doing in there.

She had a biology exam tomorrow. She was supposed to join you at breakfast. In just a few hours. She was supposed to still lay in her bed and sleep, fast and sound.

Lay in her bed. Not on a moving gurney. Her bed.

You had laid in that bed. Just a few hours before.

The exam.

Breakfast.

Dark grey plastic.

Body Bag. A body. Dead. A dead body.

Dead. Dead. Gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone. Dead.

Like a distant echo, you still vaguely registered the young paramedic talking to you; he came to an abrupt stop when you bent over and threw up on his shoes.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Sioux Falls 2009

The soft music that sounded through Grandpa Bobby’s old house reminded you of Auntie Ellen’s Roadhouse.

It made you a bit homesick, but for a while now, whenever you asked Dad if you could go there again, he just shook his head and said that it wasn’t possible.

That’s also the reason why you’d been living with Grandpa Bobby for very long now, he had told you.

Auntie Ellen and Jo came to visit sometimes, but it wasn’t the same. But you saw Dad much more often, and you liked that. You missed him whenever he went out and saved people.

Grandpa Bobby had told you that it was very important, what Dad and Uncle Sam did. That’s why you never complained when they stayed away for long.

Grandpa Bobby said they saved lives. Like firemen, he said. Or Sheriff Jody.

Auntie Ellen and Jo came over for a visit today. Dad had said that they were here to help him and Uncle Sam take care of something, that’s why they had to leave later.

Jo was playing your favorite boardgame with you. You had missed her. She was still very pretty. You knew your Dad thought that too.

“Alright,” Dad said, walking through the threshold that connected Grandpa Bobby’s workroom and the dinner table where you and Jo were currently playing. “It’s time to get this little Lady to sleep.”

You pouted at him.

“But Dad, I still want to stay up and play with Jo!”

Dad raised his eyebrows and threw a pointing look at his watch.

“It is already way past your bedtime, kiddo. And I heard tomorrow is a big school day?”

He was right. Tomorrow, you started your first singing lessons with all your bestest friends. Not all of them as best friends as Jo was, though.

Your shoulders slumped.

“Can I at least say Goodbye to you?”

Dean’s gaze went soft as he looked at you. He knew how hard this was for you, how he left all the time and came back for only such short periods. But he wanted to make this a better world for you to grow up in. And when all of this was over, and it would be tonight, hopefully, then he would allow himself to settle down and spend all the time he could give with you.

“Of course you can, my little love.”

Dad crouched down and lifted you up into his arms.

“Dean, Jo!” Came Auntie Ellen’s voice from the study, “We’re ready!”

Dad threw you a mysterious look as he stepped into Grandpa Bobby’s workspace, where he and Auntie Ellen and Uncle Sam already stood lined up.

You noticed the camera set up on a strange construction.

Auntie Ellen and Uncle Sam smiled when they saw you.

“You don’t mind a small addition, do you, Ellen?” Dad asked, and Auntie Ellen shook her head.

“Of course not!” She smiled, and made space for you and Dad to stand next to her. He was still carrying you in his arms, supporting your weight with his hip.

“Alright, on the count of three, all smile in the camera!” Uncle Sam said.

“One, two, three!”

You giggled when Dad tickled your stomach. You wanted to see the picture right now, but Grandpa Bobby had told you it would take a while to develop.

Enveloped in bear hugs from Auntie Ellen, Jo, Uncle Sam and Dad, to say goodbye to them, you finally agreed to go to bed.

“Dad?” You asked him, as he went to close the door behind him. Dad turned around and looked at you, snuggled into the warm blanket with your favorite stuffed animal under your arm.

“You’ll come back soon, right?”

Dad smiled at your words. “Of course I will, sweetheart. And Uncle Sam, and Auntie Ellen, and Jo. All of us.”

“You promise?”

Dad pressed a kiss into your hair.

“Don’t worry about that, baby. Sleep well.”

Even years later, Dean Winchester still carried an old photograph in his wallet, of a brunette mother, a blonde daughter, a father figure, and two brothers.

Though, one of them wasn’t looking at the camera, but rather at the small child he held on his side, his hand on her stomach as she blindingly smiled a carefree smile into the camera.

His own was dreamy as he watched her, and yes, for that moment, he dared to say, maybe even carefree as well.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Now

Cass’s room was never quiet. Whether she was blasting music or playing guitar, singing her soul out in the shower or watching a move obnoxiously louder than it had to be.

Cass’s room was never quiet. Especially not as it was now.

The silver streams of light reaching through the window made her bedroom almost look so soft and inviting, as you stood there, observing, not quite in the hallway but not exactly in the room either.

It was macabre, what you saw. Not because the room looked so terrible, no, because it looked so … normal.

None of the bookshelves were tumbled over, or paper sprawled all across the floor.

The loose decoration items weren’t lying disheveled everywhere. No signs of a fight. A physical one.

The bed wasn’t made. Cass never did that.

The room looked so normal.

It looked so right.

So why wasn’t she?

“Y/N, sweetheart,” The sound of the familiar, comforting voice of Maria Whitlock reached your ears and made you slowly turn around.

Even through the blur of unshed tears in your eyes, you could make out the two familiar figures standing behind her.

“There’s someone here to talk to you.”

You blinked away the tears and caught Dean’s gaze, and for the first time since you had seen him again, his features looked so soft and merciful, towards you, it had the power to almost shatter your heart.

And you hated yourself for how much you wanted to be comforted by him, be held in his arms like the small child that once had been, only seeking safety with her-

“What are you doing here?” The question came out harsher than you had expected it to, almost an accusation. But neither Sam nor Dean did flinch at your tone.

“We wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?” It was obvious why. They knew, you knew, they knew you knew.

“I think you know about what,” Sam said, the softness in his voice grazing your stuttering heartbeat like a soft breeze.

Dean gestured in the direction of your room.

“In private.”

You didn’t want to speak alone to them. Then again, for the past almost-decade, it had been everything you could’ve wished for.

As you settled onto your bed, both Sam and Dean taking it upon themselves to find chairs to be comfortable, you felt like a small child again.

Looking at Dean, there was a familiarity that you needed, it was grounding, and you hated that it was. His presence, which had felt like home, and like safety for so long, being everything that you craved these past few days made your skin itch, because he still felt so right.

And you still felt so safe with him.

In a matter of seconds, you stood there and turned from a young woman into a small child, that wanted to throw herself in his arms and let him tell her that everything would turn out to be alright, because he was there, and he would look out for you. No matter what happened between the two of you, that had not changed, and you didn’t know what to think about it.

Sam was the first one to clear his throat. Of course he was.

“How are you feeling?”

Half-heartedly, because that was all you could muster right now, you raised an eyebrow at him. At least he had the decency to look a bit ashamed of his question.

“We’re sorry for your loss.”

Surprised, you turned your head to look at Dean. His green eyes were soft with sincerity.

“I don’t know how much she meant to you.” He glanced at Sam. “But I can imagine.”

You swallowed hard and looked back at your fumbling fingers again.

“Yeah, she was – she was great.” Your voice broke mid-sentence and you sniffled.

You cleared your throat. “Uhm, but – anyways, that’s not why you’re here. Am I right?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, that could be regret as much as it could be pity, and then turned back to you.

“We’re sorry. But if we want to catch whatever is doing this, we need to have all the information,” Sam apologized.

You nodded. You already knew what they were going to ask, so you saved their time and jumped straight to the answers.

“There was nothing – unusual.” You rubbed your eyes. “She was okay just yesterday, she was- I helped her studying biology, we-“ You interrupted yourself.

Sam threw you another pitying look.

“Is there a chance she might’ve had nightmares too? You know, like Roy,” Dean asked you.

You threw your hand in the air. “Yeah, I guess,” you said. “Didn’t really think that much into it. You know, considering what happened.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheeks and gulped. “Right.”

It was quiet again. The brothers looked at each other one last time, before Sam stood up and fixed his suit jacket.

“Alright. We’re gonna leave you now.”

Please don’t.

You nodded.

Sam stretched his hand out to reach for you, but hesitated mid-air and pulled his arm back again.

“Whenever you need something,” Dean said meaningfully, before he stepped out the door, “Call us.” Call me.

You hummed absently.

The click of the lock drowned the bedroom in a deafening silence again.

—

Night came sooner than you thought it would. Sleep didn’t.

You thought, with the exhaustion that had been dragging down your bones all day long, it would only be a matter of time until exhaustion claimed you.

Without thinking about it, you grabbed your phone from your nightstand and opened up your chat with Finn.

With a sting in your heart, you realized that the last text conversation the two of you had had, had been more than a week ago.

Before all of this started.

Your keyboard clicked as you typed out the message.

hey

The answer came almost instantly.

Hey

can’t sleep either?

Your thumbs hovered over the buttons as you thought of what to type next.

I’m sorry we didn’t talk the entire day

It’s okay

It’s not like I came to see you either

would it be terrible to ask how you’re feeling?

Everyone’s been asking that

Oh, how you knew.

But to be honest

I don’t know

First Roy now Cass

Hasn’t reached my brain tbh

Feels more like a dream and I could wake up any second

I know what you mean

You paused for a moment, before you decided to send out the next text.

I’m still waiting for her to waltz into my room at 6 in the morning because she wants to get some mini donuts at breakfast before they’re all gone

You could practically hear the snickering laugh of Finn’s, as the icon told you he was typing out his next message.

Or letting my Alexa play the most random songs

I swear to God I’ve heard less sexual content in actual porn than that one Nicki Minaj song

first of all, it was cardi b, you pig, and

second that song is legendary

she was right to show it to you

A short while, you didn’t get an answer and you were almost afraid that Finn had either fallen asleep or that you had said something inappropriate, when the familiar ding made your screen light up.

We can catch up tomorrow

You know, maybe it would help us both

I know we haven’t been the same since all of this started, but I would really like us to be

Now more than ever

A heavy tug clamped around your heart at his words

you’re right

let’s talk tomorrow

Alright

Goodnight Y/N

good night finn

Sleep didn’t come in the first second after you plugged your phone on the charger, or even after you turned around to face the other wall.

But, as you laid on your back and felt the comforting arms of exhaustion grab after you, you had a feeling that it would’ve been worse if you had not talked to Finn.

—

Meanwhile, in the motel, Dean was slamming his third book this evening shut and tossed it onto the ever-growing pile of “absolute useless crap that nobody needed and was a total waste of time”. The name had been his idea.

Sam didn’t even look up as his brother stood up with a screeching from the wooden floor as he slid the chair back, and started pacing around the room.

“I hate this,” he mumbled under his breath.

“How is it even possible that, everywhere we look, there isn’t even the smallest hint at what we might be chasing?”

Demonstratively, he picks up a book from the pile they brought back from the library, and lets it fall on the desk again.

“Not to mention that we’re completely wasting our time here reading through this absolute crap, and we’ve got jack squat!”

The paper rustled as Sam turned another page.

“I already told you, Dean,” he muttered, eyes still concentrated on the faded ink of the book. “There was nothing online, so we had to go old-school.”

Dean kept muttering under his breath. “This is ridiculous.”

Sam rolled his eyes and placed a new book where his brother had been sitting a few minutes ago.

“If you want it to go faster and we can catch this thing, sit down and get to reading. Research doesn’t do itself.”

Dean was still cursing under his breath when he reached the second chapter.

—

The loud chatter of multiple conversations, accompanied by faint music playing in the background and the occasional clinking of glasses or beer bottles was an all too familiar mix of noises for you.

The light in the Roadhouse bar was still a warm-toned white, and the men and women all towered over you in lengths. Immediately, the feeling of home engulfed you.

You were looking around, searching for the familiar set of colorful crayons, where had your Auntie Ellen put them? You were bored and wanted to draw a pretty picture of the horse you had seen this morning.

Squeezing through the people, they all made way for you when they realized who wanted to get past them, you tried calling out for Auntie Ellen or Jo, but no tone left your throat.

A panicked feeling settled in your stomach.

Then, you spotted a tall figure just a few feet away from you. They were wearing a cool leather jacket and had their back turned to you.

You made your way over to them. You didn’t know why, but somehow you knew that this stranger could help you.

When you had almost reached them, they suddenly started moving and walked away. You wanted to cry after them, but you still couldn’t speak.

You moved your legs as fast as you could, running after them, but the people in the bar suddenly got more and more, always shoving and not making room for you anymore.

The person still hadn’t shown you their face, you could only see their back as you fought to get to them. Then, they walked through the door out of the Roadhouse.

With one last push, and a protesting yell that didn’t leave your throat, you rushed after them into the light.

With a creak, the Impala’s door swung open, and you shuffled your feet out of the car until they hit the gravel.

Dad had offered to open the door for you, but you were a big girl already, you could get out of the car on your own.

When you turned around to ask him what you were doing here, you faltered.

The Impala was gone. So was Dad. And Uncle Sam. You looked around, but they were nowhere to be found. Your breathing quickened as you realized that you were alone, somewhere you didn’t know, on stoney ground with only your bunny slippers. You didn’t even have your favorite stuffed animal with you!

“Hey, let’s go,” you suddenly heard a voice say, and turned around to see a girl with black hair stand in front of you.

Suddenly, as you had just been looking up to her, the two of you were now eye to eye. She just stared at you.

A name popped into your head.

Cass.

That’s weird. You knew a Cass. And then it hit you.

Your best friend. Roy, Finn, Cassandra. Sam and Dean.

But Cass was dead. She couldn’t be here. Looking around, you noticed that the scenery around you was blurry by the edges.

Weren’t you standing on a pathway just now? Why were you in a cafeteria?

This wasn’t real, none of it. It was a dream.

Harsh dread clawed itself into your heart like iced water. You had to get out of here. How did you get out of a dream?

You knew it, you had done this before, with your nightmares. You had to die.

You moved your feet, tried running away, but the floor wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard you tried, you didn’t move an inch, it’s like you were stuck.

You began to panic. This couldn’t be, there had to be a way for you to get out.

The next thing you knew, you lost the ground beneath your feet, and everything was black. You were falling.

You felt your organs being lifted by the air pressing you up, felt your heart pump so hard you were afraid it would jump out of your chest.

There was nothing around, only darkness, only empty.

No, no, no.

You wanted to scream, but your vocal cords were cut. Not a sound escaped your lips.

You had to get out, if there was nothing around you, how could you die?

You screamed without a sound.

If this was your dream, why couldn’t you just shape it the way you wanted?

The next thing you knew, there was light around you, and you were running again.

“Dean, look at this.” Sam slammed a massive book under Dean’s nose, dangerously close to Dean’s freshly filled coffee. Reflexive, Dean pulled the cup a few inches away.

Sam placed his finger on one of the open pages of the book. “Here,” he said. “I think this could be it.” Dean leaned forward to read.

You had landed on a road, a highway, judging by the many cars around you. This time, you actually managed to run somewhere, even if a lot slower than you usually would. Like treading through water.

It felt like you were chasing something, but you didn’t know what it was.

“If this is really it,” Dean said, when he finished reading, “Then we have a big problem.”

You did your best to remember your original plan. Right now, you were on a stripe of green next to the busy road. You had to change that.

Sam nodded heavily. “We need to get to Saint George’s immediately.”

Sam grabbed his jacket, but Dean didn’t move an inch, still staring at the handwritten words on the old paper in front of him.

You used all your strength to tread to the left, where cars were rushing from both sides over the street.

“This thing basically feeds off of bad experiences, right?”

Sam nods.

It was a red car that did it. You saw it coming as you made a beeline over the highway. As you noticed the headlights speeding towards you, for a split second you asked yourself, “What if this isn’t a dream. What if this is real.” You didn’t feel the impact when the car hit you.

“Then that means-“ Dean’s head shot up so fast Sam feared his brother would get whiplash.

“Y/N,” Dean breathed out.

Your heart was still beating rapidly in your chest when you officially woke up. The memory of the nightmare was still rushing through your minds, pictures playing behind your eyelids.

You had a hard time breathing, your chest felt as if it was carrying a hard weight that caged in your lungs.

You forced open your eyes to get yourself a glass of water. You were met with two yellow glowing orbs staring right back at you, merely inches away from your face in the darkness of the room.

You couldn’t stop the terrified scream that erupted from your throat.

oooh guys, only one chapter to go! what are we thinking? do you have any ideas on what the monster could be? and what do we think about cass and finn? comments & reblogs are always appreciated, see y’all in the next part!

#dean winchester fic #dean winchester x child!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x daughter!reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural imagine #supernatural #father of mine #sweet child o mine #yourmomxx

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