#dean x child!reader

[delulu4dean]

“Five Gum…”

Warnings: idk, cringe outdated pop culture references. Gender neutral terms(just wanting you so you don’t get like confused <3 )

Pairings: Cas X autistic!reader(platonic), Dean x child!reader

Summary: Castiel is hanging out with Dean’s autistic child, and they have a lot in common.

Word Count: 1,278

Your dad, Dean Winchester, is out on a hunting trip with your Uncle Sammy. He left you alone with Castiel. You don’t know what Castiel is to your dad, they say they’re best friends, but the way they look at each other says more.

You didn’t mind being at the bunker with Cas though. Out of everyone, you got along with him the most. You had some sort of mutual understanding that Sam and Dean don’t get. You assumed it’s because Castiel didn’t know much about human interaction, social cues, pop culture references, and you were well, autistic. Your dad has made the joke that you and Castiel tilt your head the same way when you’re confused, and both don’t understand his sarcasm, and how even though your Dean’s kid, you’re a mini-Cas.

“So what are we doing today?” Castiel asks you.

“I know my dad is protective, but you really don’t need to babysit me, I’m 18. I am an adult,” you explain to Castiel.

“That’s not why he leaves me with you, he just doesn’t want you to get lonely.”

You nod, understanding. Today you’re probably going to do what you and Cas always do, exist next to each other while doing your own things. He’ll be reading something, you’ll be drawing something, and occasionally you two will look at each other, and ask how it’s going. It’s always worked that way.

And that is what you do today. You both go to the library together, Castiel picks out a book, you pull out your sketchbook, and you start doing what you learned is called “parallel play.” At least that’s what it’s called in kids, but you figured the term can be applied here too. You start sketching away as Castiel looks at you, narrowing his eyes.

“You wear that jacket all the time, why?” he asks.

“It brings me comfort. You wear that trench coat all the time, even indoors when you don’t need to. Why is that?” you throw the question right back at him.

“I suppose it also brings me some sense of comfort,” he concludes.

You nod, satisfied with his answer, and go back to sketching, as he goes back to his book. The only sounds filling the room are Castiel’s occasional page flipping, and your constant scribbling. This goes on for half an hour, only to be interrupted by your stomach erupting in hunger. Castiel does not say a word, as he gets up and goes to the bunker’s kitchen, and comes back with a prepackaged peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Oh thanks. When did we get these?” you raise an eyebrow.

“I got them the last time I went grocery shopping with your dad. He said you were having trouble eating because the foods we’ve been getting weren’t the right texture, and I remember when I was human I loved peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, you can never go wrong with them. But I know you sometimes just want ready made food, and when I saw these in the freezer section, I told Dean to get them.”

A smile comes across your face as you open the packaging and take a bite. These prepackaged peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were one of your safe foods, your other one being boxed mac and cheese. You bounce happily as you eat, something you do whenever you’re eating food you really like. And if it’s super good, you’ll kick your feet a little too.

You lick your fingers after you finish your sandwich, and sign “thank you” in ASL, something you do when you don’t feel like talking much. It’s a thing you do with everyone, you’ve taught them basic signs like “yes” or “no” or “please” or “thank you” or “food” or “water” to communicate when you don’t feel like talking.

“No problem,” Cas responds, smiling at you.

You nod and get back to your little activity while Castiel gets back to his. The silence is nice, you get to focus on you sketch, which is a picture of Castiel sitting down in his chair, reading. You occasionally glance up at him, getting the details you need, but you’re not going for realism. You have your own cartoonish art style and you’re drawing Castiel in it. Once you finish, you show him, and a big smile appears on his face as he puts down his book.

“You drew that? That’s me,” he says, and you nod. “I love it.”

You smile and start putting your art supplies away, as he goes back to reading. You clean up your space and put everything back in your room, before returning to Cas. You look over his shoulder at the book he’s reading, trying to not disturb him. He flips through the pages as he reads. But the page flipping and the silence get too much.

“Dicks out for Harambe,” you blurt out, not thinking.

Castiel once again sets his book down, this time not intending to pick it back up, as he looks up at you concerned. You didn’t think before speaking, but being on the internet you hear this phrase a lot. So you said it, and now Castiel is concerned.

“Who is Harambe and why are we exposing ourselves for him,” Castiel asks.

You think for a moment, wanting to answer him, but there’s no way to answer him without sounding stupid and insane. You take a deep breath, giggling a little at the thought of explaining “dicks out for Harambe” to Castiel.

“It’s an internet thing. This gorilla, Harambe, was killed, so we uh, expose ourselves, as you put it, to pay respects to him,” you attempt at an answer but Castiel furrows his eyebrows, getting even more confused.

“How is that paying respect?”

“Well it isn’t… it’s a joke…”

“I thought jokes were supposed to be funny,” he bluntly says.

“It is… to younger people I guess,” you shrug.

“And you said it because…?”

“I said it to fill the silence.”

Cas takes a moment to think, nodding, taking in what you just explained. He then takes his phone out and types away and you look at him, waiting for him to say or do something. He pats the seat next to him and you sit and look at his phone. It’s one of those fruit sensory videos on TikTok that you got Castiel into. Not the baby videos(well they are the baby videos) but the ones to popular music. You and Castiel watched as blueberries and strawberries bounce around the screen to Lincoln Park’s “Numb.”

“Why are we watching this?” you finally ask.

“You seemed like you needed something stimulating to watch or listen to,” Cas answers you.

“That reminds me,” you say, running to your room to grab something quick.

✰✰✰✰✰

Sam and Dean walk into the bunker, and as soon as they see everything, they just look around, confused. The ground is covered in bubble wrap, and the map table is full of Pop-it fidgets. You look up at your uncle and dad, as you and Cas run around barefoot on the bubble wrap, playing with the fidgets.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks.

You look up at him, with an innocent smile on your face.

“Five gum!” you yell at him, throwing a pop-it fidget at him, and he catches it. “Stimulate your senses!”

“I think they are making a joke, because this is a way to stimulate our feeling sense, which is something people on the spectrum often do,” Castiel explains to Dean.

“Yeah, I know what they meant, Cas,” Dean chuckles. “You two have fun while we were gone?”

You and Cas both nod.

✰✰✰✰✰

A/N sorry if this is silly, I’m autistic and Kin cas so I thought it would be fun to do Cas and Dean’s autistic kid. But autism is a spectrum! While this may be how autism is for me, it doesn’t represent everyone with autism :)

[zepskies]

Headcanon: When You're Having His Child...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: This one is requested by @cevansbaby-dove, and is kind of a continuation of this imagine: When you have morning sickness.

Tags/Warnings: Potential fluff overload.

HC: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would act while you're in labor.

Dean Winchester

Oh, sweet man...

Dean does the thing where he pretends he has his shit together.

He's really trying, for your sake, for his own, and to save face around Sam and Eileen and Jody and everyone else in the hospital waiting room.

They can see it, and he knows it: he's freaking the hell out.

When he's in the room with you, he's either helping you, holding your hand, waiting for you to be dilated enough to start the whole "having a baby" process, or pacing around on those bowlegs, occasionally dragging a hand over his mouth in that telltale nervous gesture.

"Babe, come 'ere," you say with strain. That last contraction really took it out of you. "You're making me even more nervous than I already am."

Dean goes to you and smooths a hand over your hair.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry. How're you holding up?"

Tears well up in your eyes, but you try to breathe through it. You're overwhelmed, you're in pain, and you've been in labor for several hours already.

"We're ready for this, right?" you ask, squeezing his hand. He sits on the edge of your bed and makes sure you look him in the eyes.

"We're about to find out," he says, with a bit of teasing. But his gaze is steady when he brings your hand up to his lips. "You don't gotta worry about anything. I'm gonna be with you, come whatever, okay?"

You smile, because you don't just believe him. You know.

Because after years of fighting together, surviving together, living together, you know that this is just one more adventure you get to go on with him by your side.

Now, Dean would rather not see all the gritty details of the birth, but he stays in the delivery room, letting you squeeze the shit out of his hand. He's not going to leave your side. He's wiping sweat from your brow and encouraging you, being whatever kind of support you need.

After the baby's born and the nurses bring her back all cleaned up, Dean holds his daughter for the first time.

He has tears in his eyes. For a long moment, he doesn't even blink. He stares down at that small, perfect face. Already he sees some of your features in her.

He can't put into words how he feels. It's overwhelming in his chest. But one thing is certain...

Dean's never been more grateful to be alive than in this moment.

He blinks, and the first of his tears fall. He brings her to you, sitting down carefully on the edge of your bed again so you can hold her. You're beyond exhaustion, sweaty, and weeping, but one thing is certain...

You've never been more grateful for Dean than in this moment.

You turn to him, giving him a small smile. He returns it, and he leans in to give you a gentle kiss.

"Do you have a name picked out yet?" one of the nurses asks.

You and Dean share a look: his imploring, yours knowing.

"We're not naming her Baby," you warn him.

"Aw, come on."

Beau Arlen

Round 2! 🫡

Beau runs the gambit from excited, to anxious, to freaking the hell out, and back to excited.

This is "Round 2" for him. His second child. But he's had reservations about being an "older" father to a new baby. (He's pushing 50 at this point. No matter how much he keeps in shape, he still feels his age in his bowlegged knees.)

You've assured him that plenty of men have children at his age.

Regardless of his insecurities though, you know he's still over the moon. Beau has always wanted more kids, deep down, and now thanks to you, he's getting his wish.

He's the man who's "prepared for anything."

When your water broke, he already had your to-go bag ready with everything you might need.

But he continues to ask you questions from the moment he's got you out the door to the drive over to the hospital, and even in the lobby.

"You thirsty? You comfortable like that? How's the pain? Just breathe, baby. I gotcha. Watch your step now. You hungry? We've got protein bars in the bag, unless you're cravin' something else. First things first, let's check in. Oh, I hope we can getcha in a private room. Let's see--oh damn, they sure are packed today, huh? Okay, how're you holdin' up? How's the pain, level of 1 to 10? Yep, got it, hold my hand. Just breathe through it. I gotcha."

Bless him. The man means well, but he's driving you freakin' crazy.

"Beau, I know. If you don't take a breath, I'm gonna pop you in the damn nose."

He tries not to smile at your grumpiness. "...Okay, I hear ya. Let's just get you into your room."

He rarely leaves your side during the entire labor, just to get you anything you might actually need. The radio at his belt occasionally goes off for work, but he apologizes, having forgotten to turn it off. He put Jenny in charge while he's gone.

"Let's just hope the precinct's still standing when I get back," he jokes. He finally turns off the radio and takes it off his belt, to your relief. And he returns his undivided attention to you.

Beau witnessed the birth of his daughter Emily, so he's no stranger to being in the delivery room. He even ventures past the curtain when your son is born, breathing air into his little lungs and letting out a powerful cry.

Beau laughs with tears in his eyes. "That's my boy."

When the nurses place him into your arms first, Beau supports your hold and brushes your sweaty hair back from your face. "Good job, honey. Good job."

"I know," you tease weakly.

Beau chuckles. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and looks down at the small bundle in your arms and his.

"We have a son," Beau says. His eyes are red and shining. "I have a son."

"You have a son," you nod. You look over at him and lean in for a kiss. He obliges you, and rests his forehead against yours afterwards.

Life is meant for moments like this, he thinks.

He's damn grateful it's with you.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Readers of Strong as Blood in the BMD-verse will recognize some of this HC...

This day has been a long time coming, for both of you.

He smells like cigar smoke when he comes back into your recovery room. For which you have no doubt, Ben had been puffing away with Butcher and M.M. outside the hospital. 

Ben was with you for most of the lead up to the birth, but you actually agreed that having him in the delivery room wasn't a good idea. He never did well with you in pain, and with his temper, he might just scare the shit out of the doctor and nurses.

He strides toward you though, when he enters the room. He lays a hand on your head and another on the baby's tuft of brown, downy hair.

"We have a daughter," you tell him, with a watery smile.

Part of him still twinges with disappointment. He didn't react well when he found out you weren't carrying a boy, his future son.

(You'd given him enough hell that he never brought up the subject again.)

But that all fades away when he looks down at his daughter's face.

He carefully sits on the edge of your bed, but he's suspended in time. His chest tightens in a way he's never experienced before.

It's almost like pain, but not. Not at all.

He brushes a thumb along the baby's soft cheek. He's almost hesitant to touch her, knowing how fragile she is.

"Beautiful, like her mother," he says at last. And he means it.

He earns your smile.

"Flatterer," you accuse. You know you look as wrecked as you feel. Somehow, none of that matter's whenever you look at your child's face.

You look over at Ben with a shining smile. His lips twitch. He leans in and meets your lips with a kiss, slow and deep and intimate in this quiet little room.

“You okay?” he asks you, after he pulls away. “Got everything you need?”

He’s become even more protective, of course, but also more attentive to you. Especially in the last few months of your pregnancy, seeing how uncomfortable you've become.

It warms you every time, when you consider how rough, how stoic, and how damn-near emotionally repressed he can be.

It seems that fatherhood is beginning to soften him, even before he begins. You quirk a smile at the thought, and at his question.

“Imagine pushing a super melon out of your dick. That’s how I’m doing,” you say cheekily.

He snorts a bit loudly at that, and you shush him, as if it wasn’t your fault he was laughing. He expects nothing less from you.

“But I’m okay,” you answer his second question. “All I need right now is you.”

Ben considers you, a slightly gentler smile curving his lips, and he nods.

“All right,” he says. In this moment, he realizes that his entire world is in this room.

He’d never admit it, but it's a terrifying thought, for a man who once had everything and nothing.

You unknowingly stop the path of his thoughts when you ask him, "Want to hold her for a while?"

Ben perks up at attention. He's a bit uncertain on how exactly to hold the baby, but he can't lose face and tell you that. So he just accepts the bundle when you place her in his arms.

As he looks down at a small face that already has some of his features, he inhales a faltering breath.

It's the first time you ever see true tears in his eyes, despite how much he resists. One manages to draw a path down his cheek. 

“You know, you’re blessed to have my genes, sweetheart,” he says. It elicits a knowing scoff out of you. “But you’re also lucky as hell to have your mom.”

Ben looks up and finds the predictable well of tears forming in your eyes. His smirk softens around the edges.

“She’s the best damn woman you’re ever gonna meet,” he says.

AN: All right, I'll stop. 😭 I hope you enjoy this one, fluff overload and all! Who was your favorite this time: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 💜

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[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Just Keep Breathing

Sam and Dean & little sister!reader, Castiel & Winchester!reader, Rowena & Winchester!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: You get sick from a mysterious illness, and you just can’t seem to get better.

“Finally!”

Dean’s voice was the first you heard as you stumbled into the bunker after an insanely long school day. You were somehow sweating and freezing at the same time, and it felt like you might collapse any second.

“Grab a book, there’s a ton of lore to go through,” Dean continued. “We’re looking for more info on witches, seems like there might be…” Dean’s voice trailed off when he looked up to see you all but slumping down the stairs. “Hey kid, you ok?”

“Mm-hmm,” you huffed in response as your backpack dropped to the floor—had you done that? You didn’t remember making the decision to take it off, it seemed to just fall off your slumped shoulders on its own.

“Ok, commere.” You blinked and there was Dean, his hand lifting to your forehead and his brow drawn in concern. “Jeez, you’re burning up.”

At Dean’s words, Sam looked up.

“She’s sick?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Dean removed his hand and lowered himself to one knee to look at your downturned, unfocused gaze. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

You tried to focus on Dean’s eyes, but your gaze refused to settle.

“Yeah ok,” Dean sighed. “Let’s get you to bed.”

You let Dean lead you to your room and tuck you into bed. He even helped you take your shoes off when your fingers fumbled with the laces.

“Did you eat today?” Dean asked as you settled in.

“I…” you wracked your befuddled brain. “I had lunch…but then I threw it up sometime after sixth period.”

“Ok.” Dean cringed. “You get some sleep, I’m gonna go make you food.”

“Nooo.”

Dean turned in surprise at your desperate whine.

“What? What’s wrong?”

You grabbed at his sleeve and tugged.

“Don’t go,” you sniffled. “I don’t want food, I just want you to stay.”

“Ok, ok,” Dean relented, figuring that once you were asleep he could make you something. “You better not get me sick,” he said, only half kidding, as he sat on your bed. When you reached out to him, he went to put his arms around you, but the second his hands touched you, you flinched away.

“That hurts!” You were starting to cry now as you backed away from your brother.

“What hurts?” Dean was baffled. “I barely even…” he trailed off as he pressed the back of his hand to your head again, ignoring the way you hissed and tried to flinch away from him. “Jeesh, it’s even worse now,” Dean mumbled. “Just lay back now, you gotta get some sleep, ok?”

“Don’t go,” you begged.

“I’m not going anywhere, just take it easy sweetheart,” Dean promised. “Get some rest.”

Dean waited until he was sure you were asleep before he went to talk to Sam.

“She asleep?” Sam asked, not even looking up from the lore book he was studying.

“Yeah…” Dean’s voice trailed off as he stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Sam, something’s wrong.”

“Wrong? What, with Y/N?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how to explain it…she was getting hot so fast, and when I tried to touch her, it was like I burned her or something. I don’t know, I guess I can’t be sure, but something about her getting sick doesn’t feel…normal.”

“Ok.” Sam nodded. “Well, you call around at the school and see if there’s a bug going around. I’m gonna hit the lore a bit more.”

The boys didn’t speak as they got to work.

…

Sam was heading to the kitchen when he heard you calling for him. He detoured into your room, his heart constricting when he saw you—you were pale and sweaty, the sheets sticking to your skin. He couldn’t tell if your cheeks were glistening from tears or sweat—it was obvious you were in pain.

“Hey honey,” he greeted gently. “Did you need something?”

“Can you stay with me?” You pleaded. Sam didn’t hesitate, coming over to sit on your bed. You reached out to hold his hand, but when your fingers touched his you hissed and pulled away.

“Something wrong?” Sam asked, remembering what Dean had said.

“It hurts.” Now there was no mistaking the tears on your face for sweat—Sam had never seen you so upset and in pain. “It’s like-like my skin is on fire and-and I just want a hug but when anybody touches me it just—it just gets worse.” You were out of breath and choking on your words by the end, and it took every ounce of Sam’s will to ignore his big brother instinct and not pull you into his arms—the last thing he wanted was to hurt you worse.

“Stay right here, I’m coming right back,” Sam said as he stood. You didn’t say anything, you just watched curiously—and a little worried—as Sam left. Sure enough, he returned a minute later with a bowl full of water and a glove.

“Ok, I’m gonna try something, hold still,” Sam instructed.

You started to giggle when Sam pulled the glove on and plunged his hand in the bowl. He grinned at you, happy to hear you laughing again.

“Ok now, hold still,” Sam insisted. “This is serious.” But he was still grinning as he took his dripping, gloved hand and pressed it against your forehead. “How does that feel?”

You closed your eyes in contentment as the cool water hit your skin and the gentle cloth brushed against your forehead.

“Better,” you told Sam with a smile. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Anytime,” Sam said.

The two of you stayed like that for most of the afternoon, with Sam comforting you and trying to cool you off with the wet glove. Sam was determined to do anything he could to make you feel better while Dean was trying to investigate the cause of your illness. He’d also been calling Cas all day, but he hadn’t gotten an answer.

Dean was just about to give up on the books and catch a few hours of sleep when he heard Sam calling for him. He followed the sound to your room, where he found his little siblings resting on your bed.

“Can you sing me a song?” You asked, shyly picking at your sheets.

“Uhm…” Dean swallowed, a little uncomfortable. “Sure sweetheart.”

Sam relented his spot next to you so that Dean could climb in. He started off just humming “Hey Jude,” and within minutes you were fast asleep.

“You were right, Dean,” Sam said when he was sure you were asleep. “I don’t know what it is but—but it’s bad.”

“Ok well we don’t need to panic,” Dean assured him, noticing Sam’s rising anxiety. “She’s been sick before, let’s just give it a little longer and see what happens. Maybe Cas’ll finally come around and set her straight.”

“I don’t remember,” Sam mumbled.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Her getting sick. I barely ever remember her being sick.”

“Dad always sent you to school whether she was sick or not. I usually stayed behind to take care of her.” A ghost of a smile passed across Dean’s lips. “Most of the time I had to convince dad that I’d caught whatever she had so that he’d let me stay with her. I never wanted to leave her when she was sick.”

Sam was quiet for a long moment before a thought occurred to him.

“I don’t ever remember you sick.”

At this, Dean shrugged.

“I usually just powered through it. I had a job to do, after all.”

Sam was about to comment on that when his eyes suddenly snapped to you.

“Dean, is…is she breathing?” Dean jumped up as Sam moved closer to you. “Dean she’s not breathing!”

Dean blocked Sam from getting in the way and grabbed hold of your shoulders.

“Hey…hey!”

You jolted awake when Deans shook you, taking a great gulp of air the moment you were awake.

“Hey…ok…” Dean breathed a sigh of relief, holding you in his arms until he heard you crying as you tried to pull away. “You ok?” He asked as he let you go.

“It still hurts,” you sniffled. “What…what happened?”

“You stopped breathing,” Sam said. “It…jeez kid, you scared us.”

Dean noticed that your breaths still sounded labored.

“Are you ok?” He asked.

“It…it kinda hurts,” you muttered almost to yourself as you rubbed at your chest.

“Breathing?” Sam met Dean’s eyes—they were terrified.

Your only response was a tiny nod as you continued to take shallow breaths.

“I’m gonna try Cas again,” Dean said, standing from your bed.

“I’m…” Sam hesitated, as though he didn’t want to tell Dean what he was thinking. “I’m gonna call Rowena.”

“Rowena?” Dean demanded. “Why?”

“Because we don’t know what this is, Dean!” Sam insisted. “For all we know, she got cursed! We were looking into witch activity in the area. Maybe Rowena can help.”

Dean backed off.

“Fine. Call her.”

…

“I can’t heal her.”

“That’s because it’s a spell, you idiot.”

“I can’t be sure of that.”

“Well I can!”

“Ok, ok,” Dean interrupted Rowena and Cas’s argument. “This isn’t helping anything. Rowena, what can you do?”

“Not much I’m afraid,” Rowena sighed. “I can’t undo the spell.”

“Well can you at least tell us what the spell is?” Sam cut in before Dean had a chance to get angry.

“That’s easy enough. It seems to be some kind of…anti-body spell.”

“What does that mean?” Dean demanded.

“It means that her body is slowly starting to reject what it needs or wants the most. Basic needs like food, water, probably even sleep, will start to hurt her.”

“It hurt when I touched her skin,” Sam interrupted.

Rowena shrugged, and continued. “I suppose the need or desire for physical affection counts. It will get worse, though. Things that she can’t live without will be too painful for her to do. Eventually even breathing will be unbearable.”

“It already hurts to breathe.” Everyone had all but forgotten you were there until you made yourself known. Your voice came out in a terrified whisper, but everyone heard you clearly.

“We’re gonna fix it,” Dean asserted. “All we have to do is find the witch, right? Then kill her.”

“It might not be that simple,” Rowena sighed. “I mean, it could’ve been anyone. For all we know, they put a spell on Y/N to make her forget them.”

“Then what are we gonna do?!” Dean demanded.

“You and Cas try to find that witch,” Sam jumped in, trying to find a way to keep panic down. “We already have a head start, since we were pretty sure one was in the area anyway. You know where most of the strange activity was, start there. Rowena and I will stay here, try and see if there’s an undo spell.”

Dean didn’t hesitate to agree. If he wasn’t so preoccupied worrying over you, he would’ve been very proud of Sam, stepping up while he was panicking. Now that Dean had a direction, he was calmer—he was ready.

“Ok. Let’s go.”

…

“Please don’t leave me.”

Dean and Cas had already left, and Rowena and Sam were halfway out of your room when you tear-strained voice reached Sam. He turned to face you, and his resolve to hit the books in the library crumbled when he saw you, shaking in fear and taking shallow, painful breaths.

“Bring me some books to look through,” he muttered to Rowena before coming to sit on your bed.

It was silent in your room for a few deafening seconds, before your shattered gaze met Sam’s and you spoke, breaking his heart.

“I don’t wanna die, Sammy.”

“Hey,” Sam turned to face you, resisting once again the urge to pull you into his arms. “Me and Dean are never gonna let that happen. You know that, right?”

“It-it hurts to breathe,” you cried. “And it keeps getting worse. I don’t—I don’t know how long I can do it.”

“Hey, hey…” Sam was reaching for you when he remembered that that would only make you hurt worse. His hand froze in the air, halfway to your face. “I…” Sam‘s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Don’t…don’t say that, ok? You have to keep fighting, ok? We’re gonna find a way to fix this, but you just have to keep fighting.” Sam was so desperate to hug you that he pulled his sleeves over his hand to cover his skin and pulled you into his arms. You allowed it for several seconds, wanting so desperately to just sink into his arms. But you couldn’t.

“That…” you struggled to get the words out; you didn’t want to say them. “That hurts, too, Sammy.”

Sam flinched back like he’d been shot, looking down at you in utter defeat.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

The despair in the room was total.

…

“I’ve got it!”

Sam regretted his outburst when you jolted awake. Rowena had warned the both of you that sleeping might end up making you hurt more rather than feel better, but you had all but passed out from exhaustion and pain, and Sam didn’t have the heart to stop you. Even in sleep, your body and face twitched in pain periodically.

Now that you were awake, it was obvious that Rowena was right; it had made it worse.

“What—“ your breathing was labored as each breath pained you. “What happened?”

Rowena stepped into the room, having heard Sam’s declaration.

“I found the spell,” Sam insisted, holding the book up. Rowena approached him with a dubious frown. However, once she started to read the spell she slowly nodded.

“This might just do it,” she said.

“I’m gonna call Dean.”

…

Dean and Cas returned within an hour.

“Not a single lead,” Dean said, annoyed. “So this had better work.”

“Let’s hope so,” Sam sighed, looking at Rowena. She nodded.

“It’s a good thing that this bunker is well-stocked,” she said. “I believe we’re running out of time.”

Your gaze turned downwards when everyone glanced at you at Rowena’s words. Sure enough, your breaths had been getting shallower and shorter in your failed attempts to make them hurt less. You were also weak and pale from the lack of food and water you’d had over the past two days.

“Do it.” Dean was the first to look away from you as he spoke to Rowena.

Rowena handed you a cup filled with a mixture of herbs and things you didn’t want to know about. Your lip was quivering as you lifted the cup to your lips—you’d avoided food and water for a reason; if breathing was like a stab to the chest, how would swallowing down a potion feel?

Sam’s heart was breaking as he watched you struggle to swallow through the pain, and Dean couldn’t even look.

As soon as you had the potion down, Rowena started reading a Latin incantation from the book. Sam watched you carefully as Rowena finished it. He crossed his fingers behind his back, holding his breath as he hoped that your own would become less labored. Instead, your eyes widened in surprise as your breaths became even more panicked.

“What’s happening?” Dean demanded, his eyes flashing from you to Rowena. “What did you do?!”

“I-I don’t understand…” Rowena muttered, flipping through the book. “It should have…”

“Sam…De…” you whimpered.

Dean’s panicked eyes met Sam’s, then yours, before they went back to Rowena.

“Found it!” Rowena breathed relief, before her eyes once again clouded with worry. “Oh no.”

“What?” Sam and Dean demanded in unison.

“The-the counterspell…it takes an hour to work, and as it works through the curse, the curse…fights back.”

“What does that mean?” Dean’s breathing sounded almost as labored as yours as he struggled to keep down his fear as well as his anger.

“It means that it’ll get worse before it gets better. If we…if we had found this at the beginning, it would’ve worked easily, but…”

“But she might not survive an hour like this,” Cas finished for Rowena, realizing what she was saying before either brother.

“What can we do?” Sam asked.

“Nothing.” Rowena shook her head. “This spell was her only hope, so…so we just have to wait and see if she outlasts the curse now. It shouldn’t take any more than an hour.”

“Ok,” Dean said, coming to sit by you. “You can do this kiddo, ok? We’re gonna be right here, you’re gonna be fine.”

The seconds crawled by one eternity at a time. Every time Dean thought you couldn’t look more in pain, your face twisted again as you tried over and over to take a deep enough breath to satisfy your starving lungs. Once it reached fifteen minutes left, Dean noticed that every minute or so you stopped breathing completely.

“Hey, c’mon.” Dean resisted the urge to cup your face. “C’mon keep breathing, you can do it.”

Suddenly you were reaching your arms out to Dean, and he was backing away.

“I-I don’t want to hurt you,” Dean said.

“Don’t…care,” You whimpered. “I…n-need y—“ you couldn’t seem to get out full words, but Dean didn’t need anything more.

“Ok, yeah.” You were in Dean’s arms in a second. “Ok, I’m here sweetheart. I’m here, you just gotta keep breathing. Keep breathing for me.”

You burrowed against your big brother despite the pain, trying all you could to keep breathing. The pain was so blindingly unbearable that you started to feel your vision blur and blacken. Sam was the first to notice you drooping in Dean’s arms, and he reached down and pulled your face away from Dean’s chest so he could look at you.

“Hey, you gotta stay awake honey,” Sam insisted.

“Don’t let her sleep!” Rowena commanded. “Her body will stop breathing automatically if she passes out.”

“Hey, hey,” Dean’s gentle taps to your face felt like full-on punches, but they did the trick. Your eyes fluttered open once more, and your hands gripped onto Dean even harder. Sam had joined Dean on your bed, his one arm wrapped around your shoulders from behind while Dean continued to hold you in his lap. Their touch was like fire on your skin, but never had a burn been so welcome.

“Keep breathing,” Dean was repeating over and over, and without that mantra you truly would have stopped ten minutes ago.

“Seven more minutes,” Cas announced.

You went to take another small breath, and you couldn’t keep the cry of pain in when it was the worst pain yet. It hit you so hard that you felt the darkness returning.

“No no no, hey,” Dean pleaded. “Breathe kiddo, you’ve gotta keep breathing.”

You’d barely even noticed that you stopped. It felt so good to stop. The pain of your unfilled lungs wasn’t nearly as horrible as the pain of breathing.

The relief was so great that you barely even felt when the blackness finally took over, and you slumped in Dean’s arms.

…

“No no no no…” Dean was shaking you over and over, but you were out cold. “Come on, breathe!”

“Six minutes,” Castiel said.

“She won’t last that long,” Sam breathed.

“It-it’s not an exact science,” Rowena cut in. “It might…maybe it will work a little faster.”

With nothing else to do, the four watched, barely breathing, as your body lay unnaturally still on your bed. Cas was watching his watch like a guard dog, counting the seconds until you would have brain damage…until you could die…

The great, gasping breath that escaped your lips as you sat up had all four onlookers nearly crying in relief. Sam and Dean had already been crying, but even the witch and the angel couldn’t hold in their emotions anymore as you began to breathe deeply again, tears of relief streaming down your own face.

Dean held you in his arms without fear, and you clung to him without pain. Sam’s arm was still around your shoulders—he hadn’t moved an inch.

“You’re ok,” Dean breathed as you cried on his shirt, and no one was sure if he was reassuring you or himself. “You’re ok sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

You refused to let go of your brothers, having spent two days unable to take comfort in them when you needed them most. The three of you stayed like that for so long that eventually Rowena left, but Cas stayed to watch over the Winchesters he had sworn to protect—to watch over the one he’d almost lost.

He watched silently as the three siblings fell asleep—you first, then Sam, then—once he was sure that his little brother and sister were ok—finally Dean.

He watched, knowing that they had almost lost everything today.

He watched, knowing that they would only be closer because of it.

Taglist:

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

[castiwls]

"sacrifice, that's what we do for the people we love"

being the middle child in the winchester family...

I’d imagine you being like two years younger than Dean and two years older than Sam. So like literally the middle child

Your memories of your mum are fuzzy but you can recall a few things

When Mary died you were only two so you didn’t really understand what was going on for a while.

When you all first left Lawernce you spent most of that first night in a motel room crying because you wanted your mom and your bed. (Dean had to comfort you cause John left his two toddlers and baby alone in a motel #dadoftheyear)

When you were like ten your dad told you about what he had been doing for the past eight years. You were terrified but he made you promise not to tell Sam. He also made sure you knew that it was your job to keep Sam safe. 

Basically, you stopped being a child at ten.

You and your brothers were really close.

You and Dean basically trauma-bonded over hunting and also having wayyyy too much responsibility at a young age. 

Out of you and Dean, you were more emotionally available so Sam tended to tell you more.

As he got older he would talk to you about getting out and stuff. While your dad and Dean were very much into hunting you and Sam were more of on the sidelines. 

Sam got his love of reading from you. He’d always tell you about the books he was reading and what he was doing in class.

You’re the mediator for the family. It was always you who broke up fights. You were also able to calm your father down.

Mentioning in a passing comment that you didn’t want to hunt when you were like 15 and John flipped.

“If you don’t want to help kill the thing that killed your mom then you can get out.”

So you did. You left at 15 for 6 months.

In reality, you went to stay with Bobby but you never told your dad that.

Dean begged you to stay and would call every day. So would Sam.

Around this time Sam also started to want to leave. 

“I wanna come stay with you.” You sighed leaning against the wall. The phone rested between your ear and shoulder. “You can't Sam. Dad would flip your too young.” He let out a frustrated noise but let the topic go. (for now)

Dean would also call often and beg you to come home.

“Look he didn’t mean it, alright. It was just a heat of the moment thing.”

You did eventually come back. (Bobby wasn’t happy but let you go)

Your brothers were overjoyed and you actually got an apology from your dad (shocker.)

Things were ok for a few years and then Sam got a bit older and started talking about school. He’d only talk to you about it though. It wasn’t that Dean hated the idea but he didn't understand.

One day when you were 18 and he was 16 Sam asked to talk in private. So you took him to a dinner near the motel and he told you about Stanford.

“One of my teachers thinks it's possible.” He pushed the pamphlet towards you. “I just need a signature from an adult and I know Dad won't sign it.” You quietly looked over the pamphlet for a moment. A sense of pride washed over you as well as relief. This was his way out. “Of course, I’ll sign it.”

You both kept it quiet for the next year and when his acceptance letter came in you both kept it to yourselves but you were so proud

#proud parent moment.

Though eventually, Dean found the letter. 

“Did you know about this?” He asked holding up the letter. You felt your blood run cold as you grabbed the letter from him. “Yes. I did know.” You admitted. “It was me who signed the papers.” Your brother's eyes widened a look of betrayal crossed his face. “Why would you do that?” His voice began to rise as he spoke. “Because Sam deserves a future Dean.”

You two didn’t speak for a while after that. Dean got over it though.

When it came time for Sam to leave that's when all hell broke loose.

You’d never heard your dad yell so loud. He and Sam went back and forth for hours until your younger brother just walked out. You and Dean both followed him. After calming him down you went with him to the bus and said goodbye.

Dean was kinda non-plussed (inside he hated it and was worried sick). You were worried but happy that he was getting out.

When you and Dean went back to the motel John was furious. He blamed you (of course)

“This is your fault. You're the one who put all those ideas in his head and look what happened.”

Dean jumped in front of you and told him to back off. 

“Sam’s his own person you can’t blame her for this!”

After this, you and Dean get closer. John starts taking more hunts alone meaning that you and Dean spend a lot of time just driving around.

You would probably class this as the first time in your life you felt truly happy. Hunting with Dean was easier and there were fewer arguments.

Sam would call u often to update you. When he told you that he’d met a girl you were so happy for him. (it really seemed he got out)

But then your dad went missing and Dean insisted on getting Sam to help.

You were glad to have both your brothers back but at the same time felt insanely guilty as you watched Sam fall back into hunting.

[yourmomxx]

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

[book-place]

Arts and Crafts Disaster

Warnings: blood, papers cuts, slight cursing, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Castiel x reader platonic, Dean Winchester x sister reader, Sam Winchester x sister reader

Request: hello :))) I have a request!! Can you do a castiel x child reader where castiel has to babysit child reader again, but child reader somehow injured themself and dean and sam come back from a hunt to a crying child reader and a panicky cas? thanks!! love your stories btw<33

Request by: @homowholikespace

*not my gif*

Summary: Cas is back to babysit again

A/N: There’s some references to a past work of mine —> Of Cats and Angels; Also, yes paper cuts do hurt that much. No, it’s not dramatic

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Cassie!” You cheered as soon as the angel landed in the bunker's library, hurrying over and wrapping your arms tightly around his leg in a hug.

“Hello, Y/n.” He greeted, patting the top of your head fondly.

“Thanks again for watching her, Cas.” Dean spoke up, striding into the room as he slung a duffel bag containing all he would need for the upcoming hunt over his shoulder.

“It is no problem.” He answered the eldest Winchester honestly, nodding along as you already began babbling to him about one thing or another.

Dean gave him a smile, clapping him on the back before trailing after Sam, who had walked up the stairs and out into the garage moments ago.

The two of them were going out on a hunt a couple miles away, so they called up their angel friend to babysit you once more. Considering the last time had been a success, save for the newfound kitten that now roamed the halls of the bunker.

“Say ‘hi’ to Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens, Cassie!” You demanded, presenting the cat up to him as soon as your brother disappeared.

“Hello, Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens.” He echoed, reaching out a finger and gently scratching the small thing behind its ear.

You grinned up at him, satisfied, and set the cat free on the ground, “What are we gonna do today?” You asked eagerly.

From the look on your face, he could tell you were hoping that today would end with you gaining a new pet again. But he couldn’t let that happen, he doubted your brothers would let it slide again. It was pure luck he got away unscathed after they found out about Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens last time.

“How about some arts and crafts?” Castiel suggested.

After the last time, he had done some research on what children liked to do, and this was one of the top results he had found.

You squealed, nodding up and down happily before skipping off to go get some art supplies Sam had left in a nearby closet for you and returned with a box filled to the brim with different papers, colored pencils, markers, and crayons.

You happily dumped them on a table and you and Cas set to work, a determined silence falling over the two of you like a blanket.

Working side by side, you each were laser focused on your own projects at hand, Castiel trying to draw a rainbow with the perfect mix of colors, and you working hard to draw a family picture of you and your brothers- featuring Castiel and Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens, of course.

This went on for hours. Every time one of you finished your drawings, you wouldn’t find it satisfying enough, and would crumble it into a ball, toss it into a nearby wastebasket, and start over. There was definitely something admirable about both of your determination to get your pieces of art just right.

Finally, a wide grin broke out onto your face as you stared down at your paper, “Cassie! Cassie, look! I did it-“ You whipped your paper into your hands all too quickly to try and show the angel your finished product. The material sliced across your finger in such a way that it began to bleed immediately. Paper cut.

Both of you stilled for all of a minute, until the pain stung harsh and fast and tears began to fill your eyes.

You began wailing right away, sticking out your wounded hand as if it was infected, and Cas’s panic quickly filled his silent void.

“Are you alright?” He asked hurriedly, “What can I-“

You just kept bawling though, the sting of the paper cut that dug deep fresh in your pain.

Poor Castiel had no idea what to do. He had never been in this situation before. Sure, he could reach over and easily heal you with a touch, but all logic seemed to fly out of his mind the second you began sobbing.

“Hey! We’re home!” As always, Dean and Sam burst in at just the wrong moment.

The second your cries reached their ears, they flew down the stairs in a blur of movement and panic, very similar to Castiels, not stopping until they were right in front of the two of you.

“What is it?” Dean panted instantly, “What’s wrong?”

With a wobbling lip, you held out your scarred finger to them, and they both let out simultaneous breaths of relief.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Sam cooed, shoulders relaxing as he scooped you up into his arms, letting you burrow your face into the crook of his neck, “It’s okay, you’re alright.”

He lead you off to get a bandaid and Dean whirled around to face Cas as soon as he was out of sight, “What the hell, man?” He demanded.

The angel shrugged helplessly, “Just a moment ago she started crying very loudly and I didn’t know-“

You and Sam entered back in the room, hand in hand, as you wiped your eyes and nose with the back of your sleeve, calming down significantly.

“Are you alright?” Cas immediately asked in concern.

You nodded shyly, focusing your eyes on the ground as you shuffled your feet up and down.

Sam smiled down at you softly, squeezing your hand gently in reassurance, “She’s alright, just got a bit freaked out, that’s all.”

You sniffled slightly, gently letting go of Sam’s hand and walking back over to the table, lifting up your drawing- very carefully this time- to show the three men your hard work.

“Wow, great job, kiddo.” Dean praised instantly, reaching over and ruffling your hair, emitting giggles from you.

Sam grinned, studying the drawing of himself, “The hair is spot on.” He remarked.

“It looks wonderful, Y/n.” Castiel told you honestly.

All four of you were standing in a line in the picture, holding hands and wearing bright smiles, Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens of course hanging a couple inches above all of you in the air, doing so with the powers you were convinced he had and just never used when you were all around.

Idjits 👟- @ineedmorefanfics2 @roseblue373 @popfishjr

[the-night-moves-writing]

Sisterhood

Winchesters x Sibling reader (sibling bond ONLY)

Castiel x Winchester Reader (Platonic)

Summary: When Castiel goes off the deep end and becomes god, he finds he still has a soft spot for the smallest winchester

Warnings: angst, reader is mute for a lot of the fic, Descriptions of a panic attack, mentions of John Winchester being a bad father

Characters: John, Castiel x Reader (platonic), Dean x Reader (siblings), and Sam x reader (siblings), very small amount of destiel (you can see it if you squint)

Word count: 1746

A/N: Hi guys! I feel like i might post a little bit more now that i'm back, also there is a part two (and maybe three) in the works for this! i will create a list for you to be able to find all the parts and link it to my masterlist once i get it all set up. Also now i am on A03 and i will link that to my masterlist here in a little bit too. Anyway sorry for the long authors note, heres the fic. <3

I think of ways to turn the tables and fear what happens when they turn, the anger he fills in turn fills me with uncertainty and anxiety. His father passed the hate down the table, passed through graves and passed through cradles. He said he could never turn out like him, he was different. He kept those he wanted to protect at arms length, never fully giving himself the right to feel and to be loved. The one exception to the rule was Sam. Little brother Sammy, his whole reason for continuing on was to take care of Sam and protect him. Then here I came into the picture like a wrecking ball through the perfectly built motel room. 

Left on the doorstep with nothing but a note that read: John i could no longer take care of our child so i give them to you. May they grow to be strong and better than the both of us. There was no name left on the note but my father John Winchester knew who it was from, some random lady in a bar. He never wanted to deal with me so he placed me into Dean's caring arms. Dean was not only my brother and caregiver but also my dad in my eyes. So Dean and Sam became my whole world my entire life, until Sam left us for college. Being only 6 at the time I had a very little understanding of why he left but Dean always just said he left us. So I hunted with Dean and John, well less hunting and more researching for them and learning everything I could about the lore so that I could be helpful to Dean and John and take Sam's place in hunting. 

 Then it was just me and Dean hunting and I learned the basics.  When Dean went to get Sam from college because John had been gone for a few days on a hunting trip i was so angry, how could he leave us and how could Dean still want him back especially when i was 10 and more than capable of helping dean. Then he came back and we were together again and things were good, until Dean died and Sam dropped me off at Bobbys. I was 13 years old and I could hunt with him, I didn't want to be away from both of my brothers. Bobby thought that I needed a car though so he let me rebuild one with him so I rebuilt my sweetheart, I couldn’t call her baby despite me loving the car, a 1965 mustang. A nice little two seater that I had painted green. I used the car to visit where Sam had Dean buried, all the time. Bobby was concerned at how much time I spent at his grave but I couldn't help it. 

I had lost both of my brothers and the only family I had ever had and I was grasping at straws, I lived but it was my spirit that was haunting Bobby's house. I had become basically mute within these past months and Bobby was trying everything to get me to speak again. So when Dean returned out of nowhere I stayed by his side, though it worried Dean how quiet I was. I never left his side though which helped to ease his anxieties and when the entity was following Dean we had bigger things to deal with. I stayed far away from Sam not being able to look in his eyes after being left again. Then we met Castiel. I was very worried and very scared. Somehow Cas picked up on it though and constantly eased my fears, he could tell why i didn't trust Sam and unlike Dean accepted and understood it. Cas easily became a good friend to me because I didn't have to speak with him and he didn't have to try to understand human norms with me. 

Dean and Sam were both worried about this new found friendship between me and the angel but they saw the way that I was opening up. Saw the way I was becoming happy again and they just couldn't interfere. Everything changed when I turned 15 Castiel died and Sam went to hell. Cas came back though like always and when Sam didn't have a soul and Dean was searching for a way to return his, Cas stuck by me cared for me and kept me safe. He answered when I called and he took care of me. He takes care of me and is the only person I can trust. Then I hit 16 and the worst period of my life began, Cas declared himself the new god. The sadness I felt in my chest, crushing my heart.

For the first time in almost 4 years I had something to say 

“Cas STOP!” I said

Everyone turned to stare at me, and Cas turned to walk towards me. He took my hand

 in his and said,

“I am extremely proud of you my very devoted little one” 

His tone borders on threatening and dipping into enjoyment and pride.

He looked between Dean and Sam and myself before he spoke once more

“I expect complete devotion from you all…” he paused for a second, taking a breath before turning to me. The look in his eyes was no longer the soft and comforting look I had grown accustomed to. 

“…you have proven that you will speak for me in what you consider dire situations, so I command you to continue to do so” his gaze softened “ You have always been my favorite, my little one. Please do not give me any reason to punish you.”  

I, not being able to meet his gaze any longer, turned to look at the ground. My favorite person was now gone and there was nothing I could do to bring him back. I could follow him and leave my brothers again, leave my family. Or I could stay and lose the person I'm closest to in the whole world.

I could hear Dean and Sam shouting but I felt like my head was being pushed underwater, I couldn't breathe and I could feel the tears begin to run down my face and splatter on to the floor below. My vision was blurry and it was so loud everything was so loud, my entire life was falling apart and there was nothing I could do about it. I was completely hopeless and useless, I wasn't good enough. Good enough to help Sam and Dean with hunts, or protect them from going to hell, I couldn't do anything. I could feel my breathing quicken and my chest tightening. 

“STOP” Cas’s voice cut clear though the air, he turned from the boys walking towards me. My thoughts, eyes, and breathing were still shaky and unfocused. At some point I had ended up on my knees sobbing.

“Obviously I cannot leave the care of you to these two, my little one, I better take you with me.” He stated, me not hearing him, though it was more a threat to the boys. Dean finally noticed me and ran over and moved to be on his knees, Sam hot on his trail following suit to kneel in front of me.

“Hey hey hey your ok sweetheart, I promise. I got you, deanies here, don't worry.” Dean said, bringing up the nickname I used to call him trying to calm me down. Dean and Sam continued their calming words till my breath returned to normal. Cas was still staring at us from afar. He looked at us for a minute before speaking 

“If you wish for me to let you keep your sister I expect obedience Dean, I do not want to fret over her as i try to rebuild heaven. I could always just take her with me if that would make you more compliant.” His voice booming and loud

“P…. please let me stay” my voice is still shaky and rough not only from the panic attack but from years of not using it.

“This is not a decision for you to make, if i dont think Dean is capable of caring for you then I won't hesitate to bring you with me.” He said to me 

“Remember for almost 4 years I was the only person you spoke to. I know everything about you, and Dean cannot care for you as much as I could, little one.” Castiel’s voice seemed to soften when speaking to me. Dean could no longer take the former angel speaking as if he could not care for HIS siblings any longer.

“I’ve taken care of her my entire life Cas I think I know what I am doing.” He said a little bit pissed and it showed through his voice.

“I am no longer Cas to you Dean, you may refer to me as lord or god but never speak as if you are close to me again.” The statement was heartbreaking for the hunter, who always had a ‘profound bond’ with the angel.

“Another thing you say you have cared for them yet they were mute for four years, and you have caused so much damage to them. Do you really think you can care for them better than I?” Cas asked him completely serious

“I tried Cas you know better than anyone that i tried for almost two years, but i can't MAKE them talk” Dean was full blown angry now. Making me more frightened

“I TOLD YOU TO NOT CALL ME CAS.” Cas said his voice booming off the walls, he brought his hand up to slam Dean into the wall

“Stop, stop, stop please, I’m sorry, I'm so sorry, please just let me stay.” you cried out

“You have no control over my actions, little one. Dean had been given too many warnings, but seeing as you want to stay I will allow it, but believe me I will be doing check ups, and if I believe that you are not being cared for I will not hesitate to take you. You are still only a child who needs to be protected.” Cas said putting Dean down, Sam running to help him, Cas then turned from me to the brothers before speaking one last time.

“Heed my warnings. I am not going to repeat myself.” he said before disappearing, leaving the siblings alone in the warehouse.

[bingbongsupremacy]

New Kid

Pairing: Father!Castiel x family!child reader, Father! Dean x family!child reader, Father!Sam x family!child reader, Father!Crowley x family!child reader

Warnings: Very cringe and short. I wrote this when I was in middle school. Originally from Wattpad.

Summary: Short oneshots about when your father finds out you're his kid.

*Not Proof Read* Supernatural

******

Third P.O.V.

Castiel: 

Age: One Hour Old

" I told you, Josephine, I don't want it! " A man yells.

" What do you expect me to do with it then? Huh? This is both of our problems, okay? Both of our problems! " 

The voices grow louder as Castiel nears the end of the block. The dim streetlights and light glow from the houses' porch lights send a nightmarish gleam and vibe through the street. 

" Can't you just leave it with someone? Leave it at a fire station! I don't care. Just get it out of here! " The man orders. 

" Ryan, I can't keep...it! I can't do this thing! Do you know what my parents will do to me? Huh? I've kept it in me for nine months! I can't take care of it anymore! Look, Ryan, I spent three hours in a rest-stop bathroom, pushing this thing out! I don't want it. You take it. " The woman, Josephine hisses while shoving a bundle at a dark man in the doorway of a house. 

" I have a life, Josephine. I can't just drop everything to raise this, this abomination! I am not giving up my life for it. No, you take it somewhere and dump it. I don't care. Goodbye. " With that, the man slams the door shut on the girl. 

The girl growls loudly in frustration. " Ugh!! " She looks at the bundle in her arms in frustration and looks around.

Castiel watches the girl wander down the street, hiding in the shadows. He can't just let this girl take whatever's in her arms and dump it. He needs to make sure that the thing in her arms remains safe. 

" I'll just leave you...here. " The girl says unemotionally before dropping the bundle into a garbage can behind a Chinese restaurant. The entire time the girl had been holding the bundle, she'd been holding the bundle as if it were poison. 

The girl looks around before running across the street in the dark. 

Castiel makes his way over to the garbage can which releases a whine. A soft whine. " What is that..? " Castiel peers down into the garbage can. The bundle wiggles around. It starts crying loudly. " A child? " Castiel picks up the bundle. The baby, wrapped in a dirty t-shirt, wiggles around. The baby's teary Brown eyes look up at Castiel. " Shh, shh, child. It's alright. " Castiel looks around for a moment, not sure what to do with the crying baby. " Okay, okay, uh, you're okay. " Castiel gently brushes his fingers on the baby's forehead. The baby's cries die down and turn into sniffles. The baby snuffles into Castiel and slowly falls asleep. " What do I do with you? " Castiel asks softly to not disturb the baby's peaceful sleep.

 " I think I will keep you. Yes. I will. I will name you...Y/N. " Castiel smiles slightly as the baby lets out a content grunt. I shall protect Y/N with everything I have.  

Dean:

Three Weeks Old

Dean takes a sip of the cold beer in his hand. He boredly flips through the pages of a lore book. Sam walks into the bunker with grocery bags. 

" Hey, Dean. I'm back. " Sam announces. 

" Okay. " Dean pushes the book in his hands aside and looks down at his phone as it dings. 

Ex. Mariah

 -We need to talk.

Dean's eyebrows furrow. He hasn't seen Mariah for...months. Ever since their nasty breakup. 

Dean

Why? So now you text me? After months of ignoring me? 

Ex. Mariah

This is...important. Are you in town? 

Dean

Yeah. 

Ex. Mariah 

Good. Meet me at the park we first met at, okay? Do you remember which park that is? Do you remember the spot?

Dean 

Yes. I remember. 

Ex. Mariah

Okay. See you in twenty. 

Dean sighs. Mariah was too much drama to handle. The last time they saw each other, she accused him of cheating with almost every girl he's ever met. She could never leave anything alone. She was also weirdly possessive. 

Dean pulls on his jacket and finishes off his beer before standing up. " Sammy, I'm going out. I'll be back in a little while. " Dean yells into the hallway connecting to the kitchen. 

" 'Kay! " Sam calls back. 

Dean hops in his car and drives down the street to the park where he meets Mariah. He pauses before turning his car off. Should he do this?

What does Mariah want? 

Dean sighs and prepares himself for what's to come while dealing with Mariah. He slowly gets out of the Impala and walks towards the bench he met Mariah on. Dean shoves his hands into his jacket pocket when a cold gush of wind blows through the air. 

A small cry fills Dean's heart. Dean furrows his eyebrows. Who would keep their baby out at this hour, especially in this weather? This kid doesn't sound very old. 

Dean continues walking towards the bench, only to discover the crying getting louder. Dean pulls out a gun he brought with him just in case and points it to the ground while cautiously walking towards the cries. Dean quickly puts away his gun when he sees a tiny baby in a basket that's covered by a thin F/C blanket. " What the...? " Dean looks around confusedly. 

Why is there a baby here? Where are its parents?

A vibration from Dean's phone distracts him from the baby. Dean looks down at the long text. 

Ex. Mariah. 

I'm sorry you had to find out this way. By now, you have probably reached the bench and discovered the baby. It's yours. I don't want to look after it. I have a life, and I'm sure you do too. Feel free to do whatever you want with it. Take it to a church, sell it to someone, I don't care I just can't spend my time watching it. The baby's one month old, you'll find the birth certificate and all the other important forms you'll need in the basket. It's yours to do whatever you please with. That's all I needed to tell you. 

Ex. Mariah blocked you

Dean stares at his phone with his mouth dropped wide open. He re-reads the message over and over again. Dean glances down at the basket and hesitantly pulls a corner of the blanket off the basket. A tiny baby peers up at him with watery Brown eyes. The baby cries and reaches for Dean. Dean stares at the baby. " D-do I pick you up? " Dean asks cluelessly. 

This earns a whine as a response from the baby. Dean gently picks up the baby. He holds the baby awkwardly while picking up a stack of pages that Mariah mentioned. There's a birth certificate, as Mariah had said there'd be, and other papers. 

Dean gently rocks the baby in his arms, not sure what else to do. Dean sits down, very overwhelmed. He sets the papers back in the basket and turns his attention to the tiny human in his arms. The baby wraps Y/G's tiny finger around Dean's thumb. 

At that moment, Dean's heart melted. He didn't care about another other than the adorable child in his arms. " H-hi, kiddo. " Dean says nervously, which is something very strange for Dean. He's rarely ever shy or nervous. Dean's heart fills with a strange love and feeling. " I guess I'm your dad...it's nice to meet you. " 

The baby replies with a sniffle and tired whine. 

Dean laughs slightly and leans back against the park bench with the baby in his arms, already sure that this baby is going to be in his life. 

Sam:

Newborn

" Here's your baby, sir. Y/G's gorgeous. Looks just like you, Mr. " The nurse gently hands over a tiny bundle to its father, Sam Winchester.

Sam stares down at the baby in his arms in awe. " Hi there, sweetie. Hi. " Sam brushes his finger over the cheek of the baby. " I'm your daddy. " Sam says softly. 

" There. You have your daughter. " Seraphine, the ex-girlfriend, and mother of Sam's child state annoyed. " Can you get out of my room now? I have to get rest. I plan on getting back into shape as soon as I can. " 

Sam ignores the anger bubbling in his chest and glances back at Seraphine. " What is wrong with you? How can you be this way? To your child? " 

Seraphine made it clear that she didn't want the kid when Y/G was born. Heck, she hadn't even wanted to carry it full term. As soon as she found out, she planned on having an abortion. Sam found out and was crushed. He'd wanted this baby. Sure, he'd never really been around children before, nor did he really like kids, but the thought of having one of his own brought a joy he wasn't very familiar with to his heart. Sam had managed to convince Seraphine to carry the baby full term and give it to him to take care of. It didn't come easy though. He had to promise to leave her alone after the baby was born and pay her a large sum of money. 

" I don't care, Sam. I never wanted it. So get it and yourself out of my room, please. " Seraphine pulls out her phone and starts typing away. 

" Y/G is not an ' it '. Sam seethes protectively. 

A nurse walks towards him. " I'm going to take this cutie to the infant nursery. You'll be able to see Y/G in a little while after I get Y/G all cleaned up and ready. " The nurse softly takes the small baby from Sam's arms and slowly walks out of the room, towards the door. 

" Yeah...whatever. I don't care. Just get out now. I will call hospital security if you don't get out. " Seraphine says stiffly as points to the hospital room door. 

" Sir, I am going to have to ask you to leave. " Another nurse says to Sam as she walks towards Seraphine. 

" You're rotten, I hope you know that, Seraphine. I'll have someone come in here with the papers for you to sign. " Sam walks out of the room with rage burning through his body. How could anyone refuse their child? 

It doesn't matter. I'll always be there for Y/G.

" Where's the nursery? " Sam asks a passing nurse. 

" Down the hall, sir. " The nurse smiles while pointing towards the nursery section.

Sam nods and thanks the woman before walking towards the nursery. Sam shoves his hands in his pockets and scans his eyes over the small babies before his eyes land on one. The baby is wrapped in an F/C blanket. The baby's E/C eyes are closed as Y/G quietly sleeps. Sam's rage slowly calms as he looks at his child in adoration. 

" Which one's yours? " A man asks as he glances up at Sam. 

Sam's eyes widen in surprise. He was so busy thinking, he didn't know that anyone was standing next to him. " Oh, Winchester. Right...there. " Sam points to the tiny child. 

The man smiles. " Cute. Mine's over there. Williams. " The man points to a little newborn boy wrapped in a green blanket. 

" Oh. He's adorable. " Sam compliments. 

" Thanks. Is Y/G your first? " The man asks. 

" Yup. And yours? " 

" Yeah. My wife and I've been trying for a little over a year. " The guy holds out his hand to Sam. " Jake. " 

" Sam. " Sam nods. 

" Sammy!! " Sam turns when he hears his name being called. Sam smiles at his brother and the group of people around him. 

The guy, Jake, waves his goodbye before he walks off with a nurse. 

" Hey, Dean. " Sam greets. 

" Where's my Niece/Nephew? " Dean asks. " I brought a few things. " Dean nods to a large number of objects in his arms. Toys, stuffed animals, and of course, a pie. And a tiny baby pie. 

" A little? Dean, it looks like you bought the entire aisle at a store. " Sam jokes. 

Dean shrugs. " It doesn't matter how much I got. Now, where's my Niece/Nephew? " 

Sam rolls his eyes but smiles and points to the newest edition of the Winchester family. 

" Dang. Y/G's so adorable! " Dean says happily while looking down at his new Niece/Nephew. This is very strange. Dean normally isn't so...this way. " Tell me again, are you sure this is your kid? " Dean asks Sam. 

" Oh, stop it, ya idjit. " Bobby slaps the back of Dean's head. 

Dean mutters an ' ow ' but remains looking at the baby. 

" Oh, Sam, Y/G's so cute! " Jo smiles as touches the glass. She chats cheerfully along with Dean. 

" Good job, Sam. " Ellen compliments. " Y/G's a beautiful child. " 

" Thanks, Ellen. " Sam smiles. 

" Did you talk to Seraphine? Did she change her mind? " Bobby asks. 

Sam sighs. " No. She's still the same selfish woman she was when I met her. " 

" That bit-" Dean begins but Ellen cuts him off. 

" Dean Winchester! " Ellen scolds. 

" Dean, don't swear. I thought that we were working on this. You can't keep swearing anymore, especially now that Y/N's here. " Sam says sternly. 

" Y/N? That's a nice name. " Castiel says, finally speaking up. He seemed to have been in deep thought the past few minutes. 

Sam smiles. " Thanks. Y/N Y/M/N Winchester. "

" Beautiful. " Ellen smiles. " That's a beautiful name. "

Sam nods. 

I'll stay with you, little N/N. Even if your mother doesn't. 

Crowley

Half a Year Old

" Send the hounds. " Crowley says dismissively as he boredly flips through a magazine on his throne. 

" Yes, sir. " Crowley's demon servant, Marvin, nods before hurrying off. 

Crowley spends the next hour on his throne, trying to amuse himself. He throws darts at his servants, prank-calls random demons in different tones, and even spies on the Winchesters. 

" S-sir? " A demon says shakily. 

" What is it, Marvin? Can't you see I'm busy? " Crowley asked rudely while pointing to the empty air around him. 

" S-sorry sir. " Marvin stutters. 

After a few moments of silence, Crowley rolls his eyes. " Did you just come in here to stare at the ground? My ground? I don't have time to waste just watching you stare at my ground. " 

" I am so sorry. There, um, there was a problem with the hellhounds. " Marvin mutters. 

Crowley leans forward. " What? I can't hear you, Marvin. No one can hear you. Who are you talking to? Me or the ground? " 

" There was a problem. " Marvin says louder. 

Crowley waits for the demon to elaborate. Nothing happens. " What was the problem? " Crowley asks. He's getting more and more annoyed by the second. 

" The hellhounds killed Margot Lylard as you ordered, but, " Marvin sighs. " There was a complication. " 

Crowley gestures to Marvin to continue talking.

" There was a child there. " Marvin spits out. 

" So..." Crowley asks. " You came to me why? There have been people with children in the past. " 

" That's the thing...the hellhounds wouldn't...attack it. They just...left. Left the child alone. And...no one here wants to...take it out since..well, the hellhounds didn't kill it. " Marvin gestures for a woman to walk in. She holds a child away from her body as she walks into the throne room. The woman places the baby in the middle of the room on the rug leading to the throne and quickly leaves. 

" Bubdahmha. " The baby gurgles while patting the ground under Y/G. The baby giggles while looking around the room. The baby starts crawling towards Crowley, babbling to Y/Gself with small squeals and giggles along the way. 

Crowley looks down at the small child with a blank face and cold eyes as it nears him. " Stop. " Crowley commands at the baby. 

The baby makes a face and ignores Crowley, still crawling towards the King of Hell. The baby grabs at Crowley's pant legs and pulls. " Dapuhama. " The baby frowns when Crowley does nothing but stare. " Dapuhama!! " The baby frowns and dismisses the king. 

" Just so you know, you filthy little human, I am the King of Hell. You cannot just simply walk..well, crawl I suppose, in here, and touch me with your filthy hands. " Crowley growls. 

The baby looks up at Crowley with a small grin. " Gaga goo. " 

" Humans these days. They think they're free to do as they please. " Crowley rolls his eyes. He looks up at Marvin. " Go make yourself useful and find something to do. I'll find something to do with this...human. "

" Yes, sire. " Marvin runs out of the room without a second thought. 

Crowley looks down at the baby. " What's your name, little one? Huh? You're very sassy, and I do not like the way you look at me. As if you're greater or something. " 

The baby doesn't respond but leans back against Crowley's legs. The baby shoves Y/G's tiny fist in their mouth. 

" In a strange way...you're kind of adorable. " Crowley lifts the child who looks at him with a cute little grin. Y/G's sparkling E/C eyes crinkle slightly when they smile. " I think I'll keep you. You seem like an interesting child. If I don't know your name, I shall name you something. How about...Dylan? No. Too...not my type of name. Marley? I don't like that for a first name. Y/N. Perfect. You are now Y/N Y/M/N Crowley. Wonderful. We shall conspire together once you grow up to an appropriate age. Yes, we will. " 

We will have so much fun planning together. 

[kining-the-evil]

Hi omg I love your writing so much!!!!!!

I was wondering if you could please write a Jason Dean x little sister where she gets sick and he is the only one there to help her (cuz their dad is crazy).

Thank you and it is 200% your choice

Cough Syrup

/Summary/: you get sick at school, and Jd is the only one who can come an pick you up

•

/An/: thank you so much! I’m glad you like my writing! This is more of a Drabble but I hope you like!

•

/warnings/: vomiting, fever, fem!sister!reader, mentions of a shity dad, mentions of Jd and Veronica’s toxic relationship, soft!jd that may seem slightly out of character but i dong care, I like him being soft for reader

/heathers taglist/: Let me know if you want added!

Heathers masterlist All masterlists

Jason Dean really was having a shity day. For starters, you had been late waking up, throwing off his whole schedule and making you both late to school. And now Veronica was ignoring him. Again. Some bullshit he couldn’t even remember had made her mad, so now he had to think of a way to apologize without really apologizing.

He was staring off into space during 4th period when the school intercom called him to the office. While Jason was always happy to miss his language arts class, he worried slightly about what they wanted. As far as he knew, he hadn’t done anything recently that would warnt being called to the office.

“Jason Dean?” The main secretary questioned when he walked in. Jason had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes and nodded. “Phone call for you.” She held out the phone for him to take.

“Hello?”

“Is This Jason Dean?” A shrill voice asked.

“Yes, who is this?”

“I’m Mss. Daniels, I’m the nurse at Sherwood elementary. I have y/n here in the office, she threw up in class. I wasn’t able to get a hold of your father-“

“Does she needs picked up?” Jd was leaning against the wall in the office, glancing at the few people coming in and out of the office.

“She does. We were hoping you could get a hold of-“

“I’ll be there soon.” And he hung up the phone before passing it to the secretary. He quickly went to his locker before leaving the building to get to your school. Mentally, he wondered if you were actually sick, it wouldn’t be the first time you faked to get out of class. If you had he may tell you off for a bit, but ultimately he didn’t care much. School was a waist of time at your age anyways now that you could do math, read, and write.

All thoughts of you faking, however, were quickly gone when he got to the school and saw you. You were curled up on one of the chairs in the office, shivering slightly. You looked pale, and had a good layer of sweat covering you. He immediately felt like shit for yelling at you this morning. You must of felt like shit, and him yelling couldn’t have helped.

“I’m head to pick y/n up.”

“Are you her father?”

“Yep.” Jd easily lied to the women, knowing it would be easier if she thought that. He just prayed she thought he’d had you when he was really young. He had to sign a few papers before getting the ok to take you, in which he took your backpack and led you outside. Jd froze however when he realized he only had his bike.

“Do- do you think you can handle riding?” You were already leaning your body on his, eyes half closed, but you nodded.

“Ya…”

Your brother sighed loudly, he probably shouldn’t let you ride with him but your house was to far away to walk and he sure as hell didn’t want to leave his bike here. Maybe, if he’d thought ahead he could have asked Veronica…

“Can we Go?” You whined slightly, pulling Jd back to the present.

“Ya, Just keep a tight hold, ok?” When you nodded he climbed on, helping you on as well before taking off. Luckily, the ride seemed to go quickly and before you knew it he was pulling up to the large house you called home.

“Ok, why don’t-“ Jd was cut off when you practically jumped off of the bike and threw up in the flower bed. He cringed slightly at the idea of what the flowers would look- and smell, like after words, but didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he rubbed up and down your back, trying to comfort you until you were done.

“Finished?” He asked, earning him a nod. “Ok, let’s get you inside then. Go change and then come back down to the living room.”

“Ok.” And you disappeared upstairs while jd went on a hunt for everything he’d need. Some cough syrup, which would hopefully help since it was the only medication they had in the house, some extra blankets, a cool compression, and he even started some tea to bring out to you.

This wasn’t the first time Jd had to take care of you while you were sick. Hell, he’d practically been raising you since your mom died. He wasn’t even surprised that your dad hadn’t answered when the school called, he probably wouldn’t even notice you were sick. Asshole.

“Ok, I know it’s going to taste like shit but you’ve got it take it-“ Jd stoped when he didn’t see you laying on the couch like he’d expected. It had been a good 20 minutes, you should already be down here, maybe playing a tape you liked or listening to the radio.

“Y/n?” He called out, carrying the stuff up the stairs and checking your room. Nothing. Bathroom? Nope. Guest room? No. Finally he checked his own bedroom, which is where he found you.

You were curled up in his bed, eyes shut as you slept. His blanket was pulled tightly to your body, and when he got closer he recognized one of his shirts on you. He sighed slightly before shaking you gently. He didn’t want to wake you up, but he needed to see if this medicine would help or if he’s have to go to the story later.

“Come on, wake up.” He tried to be gentle, watching your eyes flutter open.

“What…?”

“Sorry kid, but you need to take this.” He held up the small cup of cough syrup. You reached for it, sleep making your brain foggy as you swallowed it. It wasn’t until after that you reacted to the taste.

“Gross.” You mumbled, handing the cup to him and hearing him chuckle.

“I know. But you can go back to sleep now-“ you grabbed his arm when he tried to stand up.

“Stay, please,” you whined.

“You’re going to make me lay in bed with you?” Jd tried to joke, but your eyes quickly filled with tears. “Hey! No, I was just joking. If you want me to lay with you I will.”

He quickly pulled back the covers to slid into bed with you. “See?” You seemed to calm down, cuddling into your brothers body with your arms wrapped around him as you drifted back to sleep.

[zepskies]

Hello!! I just wanted to say that the new Headcanon is so cute!! When I read Beau’s version, i immediately thought about your Take Me Home series! I can see those two having a kid and Emily being the best big sister ever! 😍 I also really loved seeing Ben so soft with a little girl, he is just so gentle and cute 🥹❤️

thank you for sharing! 💜💜💜

Hey there, lovely!

Aw thank you so much!! I had a lot of fun with that headcanon (How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would act while you're in labor.).

Honestly I kind of did have the Take Me Home-verse in my head when writing the vignette for Beau! I could so see that too with Emily. 🥹

Oh yeah, Ben being given a girl by the universe instead of a son to soften him up a bit gives me ALL the feels lol. That idea came straight from the Break Me Down-verse, for sure. 💕

Thank you so much for reading and letting me know what you thought of that little HC! 😘

[ghoastixx]

What about Dad!Dean or Dad!Sam with a kid who regularly sneaks out to spray paint things but one night they get caught?

Dad! Dean & Sam (Separate) w/ rebel kid

synopsis above

Notes: What's better than one person request...Two! Thank you for the request...also, damn, you Winchester kids are BRATS. Sneaking in beers..sneaking out..vandalism.. I'm living for it you bastards.

Author's note: Gender neutral reader above the age of 14. I hope you don't mind that I mostly made this head cannons. It was easier since I wrote both.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean Winchester

He's upset when he finds out.

Not as upset about the vandalism, more about you sneaking out.

how can he protect you if he doesn't know where you are??

He never really had to "Sneak out" as a kid since John was basically never there so he doesn't totally understand why you did it.

He's mad, yes, but he at least wants to know if it was worth it.

When he finds out this is a regular thing, he doesn't get angrier, it just stays the same.

he's pissed and doesn't want you sneaking out anymore.

If you want to leave after dark, make sure you let him know where you are going.

You're grounded, but as long as you're home before 12 and now check in regularly, it's whatever to him.

Sam Winchester

Oh my god, he's livid. Bless your soul.

If he had to come pick you up, you're not talking the entire ride home. Heaven forbid you were with a group of people. "Y/N Winchester, in the car. Now."

If he was waiting up for you? He's definitely sitting in your dark room as he watches you sneak back in. When you turn the light on he's just there. Exhausted and Seething. "I will deal with you in the morning."

When he finds out you're sneaking out to spray paint things?? You best pray its not something offensive, because if he finds out, he will be taking your ass to paint over it.

You're so grounded for a long while.

He doesn't understand, to him this is just stupid teenage rebellious stuff he never took part in and doesn't get for the life of him.

He will occasionally pop into your room every once and a while to make sure you haven't snuck out.

he really is worried, but mostly just disappointed. Like that one episode where he scolds castiel for saying hell. (I haven't seen the episode yet, just clips, or else I would've titled it.)

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Guardian Angel

Castiel x Winchester child!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: Castiel gets to know the Winchester’s little sister

Sam and Dean had a tendency to be cautious around new people. A tendency, they were noticing, that was not passed on to their little sister.

At least not where a certain angel was concerned.

“Why is the sky blue?”

“Because blue light travels in shorter waves than other light, so it’s scattered more than other colors, and therefore blue is the color you see most often in the sky,” Dean looked up to see you, the edge of Cas’s trench coat gripped in your small fist as you followed him around.

“Ok. Why is grass green?”

“Because of the pigment chlorophyll in the leaves and stems.”

“Ok. Why is-“

“Baby, how about we leave Castiel alone,” Sam scooped you into his arms, carrying you to his bed in the dingy motel room.

“I wanted to ask him more questions!” You protested.

“Yeah well, you’ve asked him enough for now, it’s bed time.”

After Sam put you to bed, he stepped over to his angel friend.

“Thanks Cas,” he sighed. “You kept her occupied for quite a while.”

“It was my pleasure,” Sam was surprised at the sincerity in Cas’s voice. “She has some very good questions.”

“Cas?” Sam sighed at the sound of your voice, but Castiel stopped him as he stepped towards you.

“I’ve got her, you had some research to do, right?”

Sam glanced at you, before looking back at the angel. There weren’t many people he trusted with you, and just because you liked Cas didn’t mean that Cas was safe; the angel thing was all relatively new to Sam.

“Cas?” Your voice came again.

“Yeah, alright,” he finally decided. “But I’m right over here if you need anything.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Cas made his way over to your bedside. “Hello, little one. Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?”

“Can you sing?”

Cas glanced self consciously over at the Winchester brothers, but they were engrossed in research.

“I…have the ability, yes.”

“No, I meant like now. Can you sing me a song?”

“I…I suppose. If it would help you sleep.”

You grinned and settled back against your pillow as Cas began to sing softly.

You were asleep in minutes.

…

“Castiel? Cas, I have a question.”

“He’s probably busy, why don’t you-“

“What was your question?”

Dean jumped in surprise when Castiel appeared suddenly next to him.

“Why can’t we see your wings?”

“I don’t often show them, as it would be counterproductive to my attempts to appear human.”

“Oh.”

“Was that all?” Dean could tell Castiel was eager to return to wherever he’d come from, but he hid it well from you.

“Yeah,” Castiel stiffened in surprise when you ran up to him and hugged his leg. “Thanks, Cas.”

“I…you’re very welcome.”

And just like that, he was gone.

…

“Castiel?” You curled your legs into your chest. “Cas, I-“ your voice broke, struggling to escape past the lump in your throat. “Cas please come. Please.”

“I really don’t have time for questions now, I’m sorry, I-“ Castiel stopped when he got a good look at you. “Little one, what is it?”

“S-Sam and Dean were supposed to be back by now,” you couldn’t hold back your tears, but you were managing to hold back your sobs. “And-and they won’t answer their phones, and-“

“Hey, hey,” Castiel placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, worried when your tears increased and your breathing labored. “I’m sure they’re just in the middle of a hunt. They’ll call when they’re on their way home, I’m sure.”

“I’m scared,” the fragility in your voice broke Castiel’s heart.

“You don’t have to be scared,” Castiel knelt by your bed and looked you in the eye. “Your brothers are very strong, and they’ll do anything to make it back home to you.”

“W-will you stay until they come back?”

“Of course I will,” Castiel promised. He was surprised when you launched yourself forwards and into his arms, but it only took him a moment before he reciprocated, holding you as though you might break.

“Thank you, Cas.”

“Any time, little one.”

Sam and Dean returned home a few hours later to find you fast asleep in the arms of your favorite angel.

[castiwls]

stanford - s.w

Pairing; Sam & Sister!reader

Synopsis; Your younger brother has a big question

Warnings; None

Notes; A few ppl asked for this so here it is :) I guess this is part of a Middle!child au which I'm debating on making I lowkey really love writing this dynamic! Also requests for platonic and romantic are open just check my request page on my account

Masterlist | Middle!child headcanons

It wasn’t abnormal for your little brother to ask if you would come to eat with him after school. It was almost like a small tradition between you, Sam, and Dean that you would both meet him at whatever high school he was currently in every Friday and walk to the nearest diner. Doing this was the only sense of routine that you had ever found in your life.

This time was different though. Firstly Sam had asked you to come alone, something which struck you as strange but nevertheless, you showed up alone at his school, much to his relief. You’d also noticed Sam was more shifty than normal. On the walk to the diner, you’d both chatted as normal, but you’d noticed how your brother seemed to be fiddling with something in his pocket. Even now as you both sat waiting for your food you could still see him fiddling with his pocket.

“Sam, what's wrong?” You asked breaking the silence between the two of you. Sam looked up, his eyes slightly wide as he looked at you. He opened his mouth a few times before shaking his head. “If I tell you this promise you won’t tell Dad…or Dean.”

You frowned slightly at his words. Not telling your dad you could understand but Dean? That was new. “That depends…no ones in danger are they?” You tilted your head slightly. Sam quickly shook his head. “No. No one’s in danger.” He laughed slightly. “Nothing dangerous I promise.” 

You nodded smiling at him. “So what is it?” You leaned forward slightly on the table. Sam seemed to mull over something for a moment before hesitantly reaching for something out of his pocket. Slowly he pushed a small pamphlet towards you.

You looked at the pamphlet and then back to him. Sam looked away fiddling with his jacket as he seemingly waited for you to read the pamphlet. Sucking in a breath you pulled the pamphlet towards you opening it.

As you read your eyes widened slightly in shock. You briefly looked to Sam who was still occupied with his jacket before looking back down to the paper. “Stanford? Really?” You placed the small pamphlet down. “Sam, this is amazing.” You grinned reaching over to grab his hand.

A look of relief crossed his face as he visibly relaxed. He laughed slightly looking down at the pamphlet. “My teacher thinks it’s possible.” He spoke. “She thinks I have the grades to apply through the college to get a full ride.” You nodded. You couldn’t help but widen the grin on your face at the thought of your brother being smart enough for Stanford. This was huge.

Sam had mentioned his interest in Law and you’d happily listened and encouraged him to read more into it but you’d never expected this. Sam nodded to the pamphlet. “I just need a signature from an adult and I know Dad won’t sign it.” 

You inspected the pamphlet again for a moment. “If I sign this you have a shot at Stanford?”

Your younger brother nodded a look of hope in his eyes.

You were quiet for a moment as you considered the information. You knew your Dad would flip if he ever found out about Sam’s hopes for the future, but he would flip even more if he found out that his own daughter and gone behind his back and signed off on something this large.

But at the same time sitting here now seeing your brother's eyes full of hope pulled at your heart. You wanted nothing more than for your brothers to be happy and if going to Stanford was what would make Sam happy then you were not going to stand in his way. You nodded to yourself before looking back to Sam.

This was his way out. His way of getting that normal life you so wanted him to have.

“Of course, I’ll sign it.”

[yourmomxx]

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?

No

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!

[book-place]

Group Costumes

Warnings: slight cursing, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x sister reader, Sam Winchester x sister reader

*not my gif*

Summary: When Sam and Dean bring you to a costume store, they wish they knew what was to come

A/N: Halloween event 🎃

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Dean let out a whoop of joy as he entered the store with you balanced- laughing- on his shoulders with Sam close behind, wearing a grin as he looked at his siblings.

“Here we are, n/n!” Dean announced proudly with the hand not holding you, on his hip, “Welcome to the wonderful world of a costume shop!”

Your mouth dropped in awe as you looked around the store with wide eyes, the amount of Halloween things in there almost broke your five year old mind.

“Remember when I used to take you here, Sammy?” Dean asked, eyes alight with memories.

The man snorted, “Yeah, you used to swipe us the best looking costumes and bolt before we could get caught.”

“Damn right I did!” He stated proudly, reaching up and tickling your stomach.

You giggled, wobbling a little bit from where you were perched, and he gently set you to the ground.

Sam bent down to your level, “Here, n/n, go pick out a costume you want to try out.”

He stood back up straight and smiled at your giddly retreating form, running down the closest aisle to find the one you wanted.

“I’m glad we brought her to do this,” He said to his brother softly, “It’ll be good for her to have some normal memories as a kid.”

Dean hummed in return, knowing he had been thinking that exact same things all those years ago when he would bring Sam.

“Sammy! Dean! Here! Here!” Your voice lured them down an aisle a couple feet away, to where you were proudly holding not one- but three costumes in your small arms.

Dean raised an eyebrow, “You know you can only wear one at a time, right?”

A grin broke out onto your face, “For all of us!” You exclaimed excitedly.

The brothers froze, slowly looking up at the sign above the shelves that read, ‘Group Costumes’.

“Us?” Dean choked out before coughing a little bit, “I don’t think we should-“ He cut himself off as he watched your eyes grow wide and full of tears at his words, and he sighed, “Fine, fine, we’ll try them on.”

You cheered in return, ushering your older siblings to the dressing rooms, handing them the costumes you had dubbed good for them, before scurrying into your own room.

“Really, n/n?” Sam asked hesitantly between the walls when he saw what you had handed him.

“Yes.” You snapped back, leaving no room for argument.

He sighed, giving in, and began putting the costume on.

Once you had confirmed that your brothers had done what you asked, you began counting down for the big reveal, having to start over a couple times because of how much you were giggling.

“Three…two…one… now!” You finally managed to get out, flinging the curtain back as your brothers did the same.

You jumped out excitedly in a dramatic fashion with a large grin upon your face, watching as your brothers hesitantly stepped out.

Both of their faces were burning red as they glanced at one another, not even having the energy to laugh at the other’s humiliation.

The three of you looked in the hallway mirror to come face to face with the sight of you standing proudly with your hands on your hips, a Batman costume on your small form.

Beside you, Sam wore a Batgirl costume, and Dean a Robin one.

“What is this, n/n?” To say Dean was horrified would be an understatement.

“Our costumes!” You stated with joy.

“But… why is mine a girl?” Sam asked hesitantly, toying with the plastic accessory belt that sat around his waist.

A dramatic sigh left your lips, “It was the only one in your size, Sammy!”

Dean scoffed, “Consider yourself lucky. At least you aren’t in a tight leotard.”

It’s true, the outfit was a bit small, but nothing else would have fit the man, and you thought he made a very good Robin.

You squealed in joy, jumping up and down, “I can’t wait to show Uncle Cas!” You cheered.

Their faces dropped even more, “You mean… you actually want us to wear these?” Dean squeaked out.

You rolled your eyes at your brother's stupidity, “How else will we go trick or treating with them, silly?”

He gulped, looking down at his outfit once more.

“N/n…” Sam started slowly, “We can’t wear these out in public. You know that, right?”

Once again, your eyes immediately widened and began to fill to the brim with tears, tugging at your brother's heartstrings against their will.

A reluctant sigh passed through Dean's lips, “Fine… fine… you win, we’ll wear these on Halloween with you.”

The smile on your face at least made them feel slightly better about this whole thing, but they knew that none of their friends would ever let them live this down once they saw them.

Idjits 👟- @ineedmorefanfics2 @roseblue373

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Coming Soon...

Summary: Childhood sweethearts, Dean and Y/N, are very much in love with each other. When she accepts a full scholarship to an out-of-state college, she finally gets to leave behind her traumatic childhood and abusive father, but it means leaving Dean behind too.

Over a decade later, Y/N returns to Lawrence, Kansas, and finally tries to heal the only wounds she has left… the psychological and emotional scars her father gave her and the heartbreak she endured by Dean Winchester, the one that got away.

A/N: This story will contain flashbacks and mentions of the physical and verbal abuse of a child. If this is a sensitive subject for you or you might be triggered by this content, please consider whether this story is right for you.

A/N 2: I’ve tagged those who’ve previously asked to be on my tag list, but please, please let me know if you want to be removed for this one. And if you want to be added, just comment, DM, or Ask!

When she told Uncle Bobby she had no intention of returning to Lawrence until her father was gone, he and Jody booked a slot at City Hall to get married and asked her and Dean to be their witnesses. Y/N was delighted to be able to share their special day with them.

Saying goodbye to them was hard, but her goodbye with Dean last night had been so much worse. As she pulled out onto the main road that led out of town, she sighed deeply as her memory flashed back to last night.

Y/N and Dean had spent the whole night together, their true feelings escaping them in the throes of passion. It wasn’t their first time together, but it was the most special, closely followed by the time they took each other’s virginity when they were both sixteen.

Her feelings for Dean ran deep. He’d always owned her heart, and after a night of raw, emotional lovemaking, she knew he always would. Who knew? Maybe one day she’d come back to Lawrence, come back to him. But it wasn’t fair for either of them to live on a maybe.

“Ask me to stay,” Y/N whispered in the darkness of her bedroom. Both of them were naked, sweating, and basking in their afterglows.

“You know I can’t do that, princess. I want to, but I can’t,” he responded, his voice cracking with emotion before he kissed her bare shoulder. Her lip trembled, but she swallowed her tears and rolled over to straddle his waist.

“Then make love to me again, Dean.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek and grinned wildly at the road sign despite her sad emotions. 

“YOU ARE NOW LEAVING LAWRENCE”

Tag list: @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @leigh70 @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27 @candy-coated-misery0731 @iprobablyshipit91 @twinkleinadiamondsky @mrsjenniferwinchester @spnwoman