#me to my platonic work partner in my death journal: i need to know you’re out there if i am ever to see through this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theotherackerman · 3 years

Text

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

NOTES:

Tuesday, January 19th

song: epiphany-taylor swift

chapter twenty-two: epiphany

Zeke was working at his desk when he heard his brother’s voice down the hall. It must have been time for Eren’s appointment. Zeke had been too involved in the paperwork he was doing to even realize the time.

His last patient had been a wreck.

More so than normal. Everything was in order now.

At least Zeke had hoped.

Zeke remembered the words Pieck had said to him. Maybe Zeke already had the family he had longed for.

But he still had unfinished business with one part of his family.

He looked over at the picture of his mother on his desk.

Dina had got the short end of every stick. Her family had mostly passed away by the time she had married Grisha and the living family…

Well, they wanted nothing to do with her.

Zeke thought of Levi.

His mother had been cast out due to being pregnant while Zeke’s mother had been cast out for marrying a man she loved.

Zeke made peace with Grisha, at least in his head.

But his mother’s family?

The ones who abandoned her?

Those he wanted revenge on.

Now he had the perfect opportunity.

Well, at least he thought he did.

He still had a lot of things to get in order before he could.

“Have you read the file yet?” he heard Levi’s voice behind him. It caused Zeke to jump.

“How did you get back here?” Zeke asked as he turned around. “Also I thought Mikasa was bringing Eren.”

“I walked through the door. How else would I get back here? It’s snowing. She doesn’t like to drive in the snow.”

“Right. Parents’ car accident. You mentioned that.”

“So did you read the file?”

“No,” Zeke sighed before standing up and closing the door.

“Why not? You’ve been bugging me about it long enough,” Levi said before taking his usual spot and sitting down.

“Because I know there’s going to be a lot of shit in there from the Reiss family about my mom,” Zeke said before sitting back down at his desk.

“It’s not an opinion. It’s only only facts in there. What would Kenny do with an opinion?” Levi huffed.

“I do not know!” Zeke yelled. He sighed and then took off his glasses. He ran both of his hands down his face before putting his glasses back on.

“Are you doing okay over there?” Levi asked after a moment.

“Yes...no….maybe. I do not know right now. I am worried about Eren. I am worried about my friends. I am worried about that damn file. It may have more information that I am not ready to know about the shitty Reiss family. My mother was the only surviving Fritz. Now she’s gone and the Reiss family couldn’t even be bothered to care about her passing. Just because she married Grisha. Her entire life was ruined by that man.”

“But she did love him.”

“Unfortunately for everyone involved, she went to her death loving him. Have you read the file?” Zeke asked as he looked at Levi.

“Yeah, there’s some very interesting things in there. You should give it a read,” Levi said before he stood up. “And Eren’s fine. He’s better than the last time I saw him. I’d say something if he wasn’t.”

“Yes, I suppose you would.”

“Read the damn file.”

“I will. I will read it this week.”

“Good,” Levi said before he walked out of the door, closing it behind him.

----------

The snow was picking up as Mikasa watched it fall. She still hated the snow. She hated driving in it more than anything. She had been surprised when Levi had told her he was taking Eren to therapy and not to worry about it. After feeding the dogs and taking them on a walk, she had begun her daily chores. They hadn’t taken as long as Mikasa would have liked.

So she sat in the sun room watching the snow. She was worried about Levi and Eren’s return. She was worried if Sasha and Historia had made it to the indoor farmer’s market safely.

“Stop staring at it,” Ymir said before poking Mikasa in the shoulder. “Historia and Sasha are fine. I’m sure Levi and Eren will be back soon.”

Mikasa simply nodded.

“Still having writer’s block?” Ymir asked as she sat down in a chair.

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“Maybe you just need a break. You don’t have to write a song everyday, you know.”

“I know it’s just...it’s the way I can get my feelings out, you know? Better than a real journal. I can make allegories and no one will know what I’m talking about.”

“I disagree. Some of us know who your songs are about.”

“Really? Then how many songs have I written about you and Historia?”

“I dunno. Like six.”

Mikasa smirked.

“Wait, is it more?”

“But I thought you knew who my songs are about.”

“Did you write a song about all of us?”

Mikasa nodded.

“How many?”

“A lot.”

“Okay, what song is about Levi and Hange? Because there’s got to be at least one I’m guessing.”

“There’s a few,” Mikasa said before she moved over to her keyboard. “There’s a few just about Levi though.”

"Really? You should play one of them,” Ymir said before she moved over and sat down on the piano bench in front of the keyboard.

Mikasa sat down next to her and began to play.

The song sounded melancholy.

“ {lyrics redacted due to copyright}. ”

Ymir’s father had been a soldier like Levi. It wasn’t something she spoke on very much. She wondered if her father had felt like that. She couldn’t remember much about him. Had what he saw been too much for him in the end?

Mikasa and Ymir hadn’t realized that Levi and Eren had returned. They didn’t know that they were in the living room, hearing every word.

“ {lyrics redacted due to copyright}.”

Eren made his way over to the sun room.

It was a good thing as Levi had started to tear up. He looked at Sawney and Bean. Both were sitting there, wiggling.

Sometimes Levi wondered if he had done right by Mikasa, as every parent did. But to have seen her grow, to see her music grow with her. He was proud of her.

He had ideas of who all the songs were about. It wasn’t rocket science for him to figure out. He and Hange had even made a guessing game out of her music.

“Eren! How long have you been here?” Mikasa said as she stopped playing the piano.

“Just got in with Levi.”

Levi wiped the tears away before making his way over to the sun room with the dogs in tow.

“What are we doing for lunch, brats?” Levi asked as he leaned in the doorway.

“It’s your turn to cook, Ymir,” Mikasa reminded her.

“Alright, so what are we ordering?”

“Hey!” Ymir countered.

“Go see what Annie wants,” Levi said as he walked out of the sun room.

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

The Blouse family farm stall at the indoor farmer’s market was doing very well. In fact, due to Historia’s personality, they were doing much better than they had in previous years.

Sasha didn’t speak much about the year with the drought where they almost lost the farm. Connie’s family had helped so much. She would never be able to repay his family for all the help they had given her family.

This year, the winter crops were doing great, they were preparing for spring corps.

Things were looking up for Sasha.

In fact, Niccolo had finally got the guts to actually call Sasha for once.

And it didn't go well.

In fact, it went in a completely bad direction.

They had been chatting about how Connie was searching for something to take on his date with Ruth Kline. Somehow, Sasha had let it slip that Connie had put a lot of effort into their dates especially after he had taken her virginity.

"Wait, Connie was your first?"

"Uh, yeah. Why does that matter?" Sasha asked.

“But you’re still friends…”

“Yeah? Is that a problem?”

“Is that a problem? Yeah, it’s a big fucking problem.”

“Wait, why? I thought you liked Connie! I thought you guys gamed together.”

“Yeah, we do but that’s besides the point.”

“Please inform me of what the point is then.”

“He’s your first. That’s special, right? That means something. He means something to you.”

“Well, yeah, he’s my best friend. Look, I really don’t like what you’re saying right now.”

“I’m just saying that there’s something there. And you could be tempted.”

“Tempted? What because I can’t control myself? Because I’m not loyal to a relationship that has been nothing but sexting and far too little conversation? Let's not forget that you forgot to tell the name of your band and that Eren was in it.”

“How was I supposed to know that you knew Eren?”

“Gee, I don’t know. The photos on my Instagram? The photos on Facebook? Oh, wait. That would require you to take an active interest in what I actually do.”

“I take an interest in what you do!”

“Then why do our conversations only revolve around sex, band stuff, and your culinary career?”

“Well, that’s because...you don’t really do much.”

“Excuse me?”

“Wait, that came out wrong.”

“This conversation is over.”

“Sasha, wait.”

“No. Fuck off, Niccolo. Don’t call me.”

“Sasha…”

Sasha hung up on him, not wishing to hear anything else. She sat down on her bed, frustrated by the whole situation.

Sure, there was a part of her that understood that Niccolo was just jealous.

But there was literally nothing for him to be jealous of!

Her relationship with Connie was nothing more than platonic now. She loved Connie. She truly did and no one would ever come between them.

They had fallen out of love after high school. It hadn’t been a bad break up or even slightly messy.

Some relationships just run their course and they’re over.

That had been Connie and Sasha but despite that, they had stayed the best of friends. Something that would never change. No matter who they dated.

Niccolo though….

Sasha had hoped that he would step up.

Take her on a real date.

Spend time with her.

But he hadn’t.

Then his jealousy right now?

That wasn’t something Sasha was willing to put up. Her friends came first before whatever romantic partner came along.

If Niccolo didn’t like that, then he was free to leave.

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

At band practice, everyone noticed the change in Sasha’s mood.

She didn’t have to say anything. She just wasn’t her normal perky self.

“Alright, spit it out,” Ymir said after they finished playing an older song.

“What?” Sasha asked as four girls stared at her.

“Something is bothering you,” Mikasa spoke up next.

““Yes, no. I don’t know. Things aren’t going with Niccolo,” Sasha said.

“Why?” Annie asked.

“Well, there’s the whole we can barely talk to one another in person factor. Oh and he doesn’t like that I’m very good friends with my ex,” Sasha sighed as she leaned up against the wall.

“Does he not realize how small of a town this is? I mean Annie’s ex is building our studio and Armin doesn’t care,” Historia said as she crossed her arms across her chest.

“I guess not. I’m just not going to talk to Niccolo for a few days. Connie and I were years ago! He just happens to be one of my best friends. He’s been seeing Ruth Kline, you remember her? She was in our geometry class. She doesn’t care that Connie and I are still friends. Niccolo should trust me, right?” Sasha crossed her arms across her chest.

“He should. Maybe you’re right about not talking to him for a bit,” Mikasa said.

“I am. I’m not going to let him bring me down. The farm is doing well. We’re getting a studio.”

“There’s my Sasha!” Ymir yelled as she moved behind the drum set and wrapped her arm around Sasha’s shoulders. “But seriously, say the word. He’ll be dead.”

“Ymir, you can’t solve everything with violence,” Historia said as she rolled her eyes.

“Says the girl who saw me at the supermarket and punched me in the face,” Eren said as he leaned in the doorway of the sun room.

“Okay but you kind of deserved that,” Historia defended.

“Yeah, no. You’re right. So who are you killing?” he asked.

“Considering your friends with the enemy, we cannot reveal our plan to you,” Ymir replied.

Annie rolled her eyes, “it’s Niccolo. He freaked out because Connie and Sasha are friends.”

Eren frowned. “Weird. I thought he knew that. Either way, I’m not getting involved but if you want me to talk to him, Sasha….”

Sasha shook her head. “I’m just going to give him some space and then we’ll go from there.”

“I thought you’d be more of a wreck after therapy,” Annie said as she looked at Eren.

“Huh? Oh. No. I’m good. Magath seems to know what he’s doing sometimes.”

“He was even okay directly afterwards,” Mikasa chimed in.

“Thanks for your confidence.”

“No, it’s just...when I went to therapy, I used to feel emotionally drained afterwards,” Annie explained.

“You went to therapy?”

“I did too. It’s a shitty little thing they force you into when you’re in foster care. So they can say they’re taking care of your mental health. It’s mostly just a therapist who doesn’t want to be there and asking you a shit ton of questions without actually listening to your answers,” Ymir said before she began just playing random chords on her base.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Annie said with a shrug.

“I had to go for a while after my parents died. It wasn’t too bad,” Mikasa shrugged.

“If you get a therapist that actually cares, you’re lucky. The ones assigned by the government...it’s clear they hate it there,” Ymir said before she stopped playing.

“Try being in the military,” Levi called from the living room.

“Does Zeke get paid by the military?” Ymir asked.

“No. He just specializes in PTSD,” Eren explained.

“Why that of all things?” Sasha asked.

“I don’t know. His mentor did too. He’s really proud of Zeke. His name is Tom Ksaver and he had a pretty messed up past from what Zeke told me.”

“Alright, Jaeger. Get out. We’ve got to practice,” Ymir said before playing her bass again.

#mmtylif #my writing

2 notes · View notes

waywardaardvark79 · 5 years

Text

Supernatural Rewrite: Season 1, Episode 10: Asylum

Summary: Y/N Singer joins Sam and Dean on the road. A rewrite starring you.

Pairing: eventual Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: language, show level violence

Word Count: 10,442

A/N: I’ll try to do at least one episode a week. No set schedule. Tags open.

You blinked open your eyes, trying to focus on the blurry red numbers on the clock, 2:37 AM. You tried to move around in bed, but Dean had wrapped himself around you and you couldn't move.

"De." you said, trying to move his arm, only causing him to hold on to you tighter. "Dean, come on. You gotta let me up. I gotta pee."

"Mmm...no." he sleepily mumbled, throwing one of his legs over you, further preventing your escape.

You sighed heavily, "I gotta pee." you said, Dean burying his face in the back of your neck.

"Five more minutes." he said, his lips practically touching your skin, sending a shiver down you spine.

"Let. Go." you said, your hand sliding under the covers until you found his thigh, your fingers giving it a hard pinch.

Dean shot up in bed, "What the fuck, Y/N?" he asked, glaring at you.

"I gotta pee." you said, climbing out of bed, Dean settling back down, rolling to face away from you.

"You coulda just said so." he mumbled, you shaking your head as you walked to the bathroom.

You walked into the bathroom and closed the door before flipping on the light, trying not to wake the boys. You pulled off your gloves and tossed them on the sink before using the bathroom, standing back up a few moments later to wash your hands.

You dried your hands on one of the small motel towels and flipped off the light before opening the door, forgetting your gloves on the bathroom sink.

You shuffled back to bed, half asleep, and crawled inside, Dean's back to you. You snuggled up to him, tucking your legs under his, one arm thrown over his side, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, your face buried between his shoulder blades as you breathed him in.

"Bein' the little spoon is kinda nice." you head Dean say, your mouth turning up at the corner as you chuckled under your breath, not realizing at the time that he didn't actually say that out loud.

You were still half asleep, a low murmur pulling you closer to consciousness, but your eyes remained closed as you shifted in bed, listening.

"Oh, please don't wake up. I'm not ready for you to wake up yet." you heard Dean think, stilling yourself, wondering if he would continue. "I wonder if you ever notice just how much I look at you. I would think it would be a hard thing to miss. Sam sure says it is." Dean thought before he lifted your hand from his chest, "Hmm...maybe it doesn't work when you're sleepin'. Hey, maybe you could stop sleeping in those gloves all the time. I kinda miss the way your hands feel." Dean thought, pausing for a moment, his hand wrapping around yours, "You know, there are so many things I want to tell you, but I just never can find the words or the right time." he thought, and as much as you wanted to know what he was going to say next, you moved, Dean quickly letting go of your hand as you opened your eyes.

It wasn't right to listen in on him when he didn't know you were, when he didn't think you could hear him, and part of you didn't know if you were ready to hear what he had to say.

There had been enough change in your life. You didn't know if you could handle anymore, even though you were pretty sure you were feeling the same as him.

"Hey, I didn't think you were ever gonna wake up. It's about time though, Singer. I can't feel my arm anymore." Dean said, your hand on his chest as you raised up, allowing him the room to pull his arm from under you. "Shit, Dean. Why the fuck did you have to go and say something like that?" he thought, a slight smile on your face as you sat up and pulled your hand away from him, breaking the connection.

"You'll live." you said, getting out of bed, grabbing some clothes out of your bag before walking into the bathroom to get dressed.

"Real fuckin' smooth." Dean breathed out, rubbing his hands over his face.

"What'd you do now?" Sam asked, rolling over in bed.

"What?" Dean asked, looking over at him.

"What did you do now?" Sam asked, again, the bathroom door opening before Dean could answer.

"I don't know about you guys, but I need some fuckin' coffee." you said, slipping on your gloves as you looked between them. "You guys want anything?" you asked, grabbing the keys from the table.

"Yeah, grab us some, too." Dean said, throwing the covers back.

"Alright, I'll be right back." you said, turning to head to the door.

Sam watched you go, an amused look on his face, "So, you're letting her drive now?" he asked, once you walked out.

"It's just coffee. It's no big deal." Dean said, getting up to get dressed.

Sam chuckled, "Sure it's not." he said, a smile on his face.

"Drop it, Sam. I said, it's not a big deal, so it isn't." Dean said.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say." Sam said, Dean giving him a look before walking into the bathroom.

You pushed through the motel door about twenty minutes later with a tray of coffee in your hands, Sam busy on the phone.

"No, Dad was in California last we heard from him. We just thought...he comes to you for 'munitions...maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks. Just, call us if you hear anything." Sam said.

You walked into the room and handed Dean his coffee, "Lookin' for John?" you asked, Dean nodding his head.

"Thanks." Sam said to the person on the end before hanging up.

"Caleb hasn't heard from him?" Dean asked as you handed Sam his coffee.

"Nope, and neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim. What about the journal? Any leads in there?" Sam asked.

"No, same the last time I looked. Nothing I can make out...I love the guy, but I swear he writes like friggin' Yoda." Dean said.

"Well, what about Bobby?" Sam asked, turning to you. "Maybe he's heard from him."

"Sam, they...they don't really talk anymore. Besides, I talked to Dad yesterday and he didn't say anything about it. Believe me, if he heard from him, he would mention it." you said, Sam's face falling.

Sam thought for a moment, "You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person's." Sam said.

"We've talked about this. Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail." Dean said.

"He's right, Sam. That'd just be bad fuckin' news." you said.

"I don't care anymore." Sam said, a cellphone ringing, Dean crossing the room to go get it. "After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean...he should've been there, guys. You both said so yourselves, and I know that both of you tried calling him and...nothing."

"I know!" Dean snapped, rummaging through his duffel, "Where the hell is my cell phone?"

"Move. I'll find it." you said, knowing an argument was about to start, and you hadn't had enough coffee to deal with it yet.

"You know, he could be dead for all we know." Sam said.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Sam. Really?" you asked, still digging through the bag.

"Don't say that! He's not dead! He's...he's..." Dean trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"He's what? He's hiding? He's busy?" Sam asked.

"Don't fuckin' start, Sam. It's too God damn early for this shit." you said, finally grabbing the phone and flipping it open, a text message from an unavailable number staring back at you, the message short and sweet, coordinates, "Well, fuck me." you said, passing the phone to Dean.

"Huh. I don't believe it." he said, his eyes on the phone.

"What?" Sam asked.

"It's, uh...it's a text message. It's coordinates." Dean said, going over to the laptop.

"You think Dad was texting us?" Sam asked Dean.

"Who else would it be?" you asked, Dean nodding his head in agreement with you.

"He's given us coordinates before." Dean said.

"Guys, the man can barely work a toaster." Sam said, looking between you and Dean.

"Sam, it's good news! It means he's okay, or alive at least." Dean said.

"Well, was there a number on the caller ID?" Sam asked.

"No, it said unknown." you answered.

"Well, where do the coordinates point?" Sam asked.

"That's the interesting part. Rockford, Illinois." Dean said.

"Ok, and that's interesting how?" Sam asked.

"Rockford, Illinois." you said, shaking your head, "Why does that sound so familiar?" you asked, Dean holding up a finger at you.

"I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this. This cop, Walter Kelly, comes homes from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum." Dean said.

"Roosevelt Asylum?" you asked, Dean nodding his head.

"Okay, I'm not following. What does this have to do with us?" Sam asked.

"Dad ear marked the same asylum in the journal. Let's see." Dean said, reaching for the journal.

"I fuckin' knew that place sounded familiar." you said.

"Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths...till last week at least. I think this is where he wants us to go." Dean said.

Sam scoffed, "This is a job...Dad wants us to work a job." he said.

"So, what if he does?" you asked, shrugging your shoulders.

"Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there?" Dean said.

"Maybe he's not? I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing." Sam said.

"What are you getting at, Sam? It is kinda our job, so I don't see what the big deal is." you said, Dean speaking before Sam could say anything.

"Who cares! If he wants us there, it's good enough for me!" Dean said.

"This doesn't strike you guys as weird? The texting? The coordinates?" Sam asked, looking between you and Dean.

"Sam." you sighed, at a loss for words, knowing nothing that you could say to him would change his mind.

"Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'." Dean said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The three of you were standing in a bar, each of you looking for Daniel Gunderson, the partner of the cop that killed himself.

"Right there." you said, subtly pointing out the man who just sat down at the bar.

"Ready?" Dean asked, nudging you.

"Yeah, reporters, right?" you asked, Dean nodding his head before the two of you walked over to him.

"You're Daniel Gunderson. You're a cop, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Gunderson said.

"Huh. I'm, uh, Nigel Tufnel and this is Lyla St. James, The Chicago Tribune. Mind if we ask you a couple questions about your partner?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I do. I'm just tryin' to have a beer here." Gunderson said, obviously annoyed with the two of you.

"That's okay, I swear it won't take that long. We just want to get the story in your words." Dean said.

"We would really appreciate it." you added.

"A week ago, my partner was sitting in that chair. Now he's dead. You two gonna ambush me here?" Gunderson asked.

"We really are sorry for your loss." you said.

"But, we need to know what happened." Dean added, Sam walking up and shoving him aside, roughly.

"Hey, buddy, why don't you leave the poor guy alone! The man's an officer! Why don'tcha show a little respect!" Sam said to Dean before turning to you, "Same goes for you. You two should get outta here."

"Come on." you said, grabbing Dean's arm.

"You didn't have to do that." Gunderson said.

"Yeah, course I did. Those two were serious jerks. Let me buy you a beer, huh?" Sam said before looking at the bartender, "Two."

"Thanks." Gunderson said.

You and Dean were sitting on the Impala when Sam walked out of the bar.

"Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy." Dean said, you rolling your eyes.

"I told you not to start anything." you said, shaking your head.

"I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting." Sam said.

"Huh?" Dean asked.

"Never mind." Sam said.

"What'd you find out from Gunderson?" Dean asked.

"So, Walter Kelly was a good cop, head of his class, even-keeled, he had a bright future ahead of him." Sam said.

"That's all well and good, but what about at home? Maybe the guy had a shitty home life." you said.

"He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but it was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids." Sam said.

"Alright, so either Kelly had some deep seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him." Dean said.

"Right." Sam said.

"What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?" Dean asked.

"A lot." Sam replied.

The three of you pulled up outside of the asylum, all three of you getting out of the car.

"You gonna be able to make it, Singer?" Dean asked, looking at the tall chain linked fence.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I can make that, and I'm a little fuckin' insulted that you even asked." you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Well...it's just last time you had to scale a fence like this...you had some trouble." Dean said.

"Last time I had on a skirt." you said, looking up the length of the fence.

"Yeah, but if you need my help just let me know." Dean said, looking you up and down.

"Newsflash, I'm not wearing a skirt. I'll make it just fine on my own." you said.

"Hmm...see, I was just thinkin' that those jeans look a little tight. I'd be all for you takin' 'em off if you need to. You know, to make it over the fence." Dean said, smirking at you. "Hell, I can even help you take 'em off. You know, if you need me to. I'm always willing to help."

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head, "Be thankful you're fuckin' hot, De. I mean, do those lame ass attempts actually work on anyone?" you asked, as you started to climb the fence.

"You think I'm hot?" Dean asked, a smile on his face as he followed you up the fence, quickly passing you.

"Show off." you breathed out. "You know, I should have known that was all you would get outta that." you said, working your way down the other side of the fence, Dean already on the ground.

"Hey, you can't take it back now." Dean said, his hands coming to rest on your hips, "Go ahead and jump. I got ya." he said, easing you to the ground before the two of you took off running to catch up with Sam.

"So, apparently the cops chased the kids here...into the south wing." Sam said, pointing up at a sign over one of the doors, the three of you now inside the asylum.

"South wing, huh? Wait a second." Dean said before flipping through John's journal. "1972. Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived. Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts, and started lighting up the place." Dean said.

"So, whatever's going on, the south wing is the heart of it." Sam said.

"That's what itt sounds like to me." you said, walking ahead of Sam and Dean.

"But if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?" Dean asked.

"This could have something to do with it." you said, holding up a broken chain. "Looks like the doors are usually chained."

"Could've been chained up for years." Sam said.

"Yeah, to keep people out, or to keep something in." Dean said.

"Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel." Dean said to Sam, as the three of you walked down a hallway, "You too, Miss Cleo."

"How long have you been sittin' on that one?" you asked, a half smile on your face.

"Dude, enough." Sam said.

"I'm serious. You guys gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you two got going on." Dean said.

"I told you, it's not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes, weird dreams." Sam said.

"Yeah, whatever. Don't ask, don't tell." Dean said before looking to you.

"Listen, I'm not even gonna fuckin' pretend to know what's going on with me. So, if you wanna go with ESP then go ahead. I kinda thought we settled on magic fingers, though." you teased, Dean smiling.

"You get any readings on that thing or not?" Sam asked, looking over to Dean, trying to get the focus back on the case.

"Nope. Of course, it doesn't mean no one's home." Dean said, looking down at his EMF before nudging you, "You, uh, feel anything, or you know, however it, uh, works?" Dean asked, nodding his head towards your hands.

"I'd have to take the gloves off, but I can tell you that there is definitely something going on here. I can tell that with these on." you said.

"Spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day. Maybe that's why." Sam said.

"Yeah, the freaks come out at night." Dean said.

"Yeah." Sam said, you nodding your head.

"Hey, Sam, Y/N? Who do you guys think is the hotter psychic, Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Y/N, or Sam?" Dean asked, Sam pushing him causing Dean to laugh, "I'm pretty sure me and Y/N have the same pick." he said.

"So, you think Sam is the hottest, too?" you asked, Sam laughing loudly.

"What?! No! You were supposed to say you!" Dean yelled, you and Sam both walking into another room before he could say anything else.

Dean whistled when he walked in, "Man, electro-shock, lobotomies. They did some twisted stuff to these people. Kinda like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest." Dean said, grinning at you and Sam, Sam ignoring him.

You chuckled, smiling back at him, "I haven't seen that in years." you said, shaking your head, "Well, as near as I can figure out, It's 'cause I, uh, fight and fuck too much." you said, quoting the movie under your breath as you looked around, Dean smiling at you.

"So, whaddaya guys think? Ghosts possessing people?" Dean asked, forcing himself to focus on the case instead of you.

"Maybe." Sam said.

"Or maybe it's more like Amityville." you suggested, Sam nodding his head.

"Or the Smurl hauntings." Sam added.

"Spirits driving them insane. Kinda like my man Jack in The Shining." Dean said, grinning, you turning to face him.

"I said, I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm just going to bash your brains in! Gonna bash 'em right the fuck in." you said, quoting The Shining, doing your best Nicholson impersonation, Dean laughing loudly.

"See, that's why I love you." Dean blurted out, both you and him freezing the moment the words left his lips, each of you looking at each other in panic. "I...didn't...I mean, as a, uh, friend. Yeah, a friend, that's it." Dean said, playfully punching your arm.

Sam cleared his throat, "Dean." he said, Dean looking over at him, "When are we going to talk about it?" Sam asked.

"Talk about what?" Dean asked, your heart racing, afraid that Sam was going to push the two of you to talk about your feelings.

"Sam, we don't need to talk about anything. He already explained himself, okay? Lots of friends love each other. So, there's no need for a therapy session or intervention, or whatever you have planned. Let's just fuckin' drop it." you said, Sam looking at you strangely.

"I was talking about the fact that Dad's not here." Sam said.

"Oh, of course." you said, slowly nodding your head, Dean speaking up before you could embarrass yourself any further.

"Oh, I see...how 'bout...never." Dean said.

"I'm being serious, guys. He sent us here..." Sam said, trailing off.

"So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll pick up the search later." Dean said.

"It doesn't matter what he wants." Sam said.

"Sam." you sighed, "Can we just do the fuckin' job, and fight later?" you asked.

"See. That attitude? Right there? That is why I always got the extra cookie." Dean said.

"Guys, please. We've had this fight a hundred times by now. It's not going to fuckin' solve anything. Let's just do the job. John clearly wanted us to, and even if he didn't, it's still a job. If we leave now more people are gonna die just because we couldn't suck it up and move past shit." you said.

"Dad could be in trouble. We should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean. I mean, this is our family we're talking about." Sam said.

"I understand that, Sam, but he's given us an order." Dean said.

"So, what, we gotta always follow Dad's orders?" Sam asked.

"Of course, we do." Dean said, both of them more than frustrated.

"Alright! You two are gonna knock this shit off right fucking now. We have a job to do. We can pick this bullshit up later. You two can fight all you want then, but right now both of you are gonna lock it the fuck up." you said, looking between them, Dean turning away, ending the conversation.

The three of you were poking around, looking for any information you could find, all three of you remaining silent, the tension palpable.

Dean picked up a sign, "Sanford Ellicott...you guys know what we gotta do. We gotta find out more about the south wing. See if something happened here." Dean said before walking away, leaving the sign with Sam.

"Come on, Sam." you said, turning to follow after Dean. "Let's go find out everything we can about this asshole."

"How do you know he was an asshole?" Sam asked, the corner of his mouth turning up.

"Well, he was a doctor in this fuckin' place. That can't be anything good, so I'm pretty sure that makes him an asshole." you said, Sam shaking his head at you, a smile on his face, "But, what do I know? I think everyone's an asshole." you said, Sam chuckling as he stepped to your side.

You and Dean were waiting outside of Dr. James Ellicott's office, the three of you deciding that Sam was the best one to go inside and talk to him.

"Do you think Sam's right?" Dean asked, leaning against the glass windows by the door.

"About what?" you asked, looking up at him from your spot on the ground, your knees drawn up to your chest, your arms wrapped around them.

"About Dad. Do you think he's...he's dead?" Dean asked.

"I don't." you said, Dean sliding down to sit next to you.

"Do you really think that, or are you just tryin' to make me feel better?" he asked.

"I wouldn't like to you about that. I'm not gonna sugar coat things just to make you feel better. I mean, I wouldn't want you to do that to me, so." you said, Dean nodding his head.

"So, you think he's alive?" Dean asked, again.

"I do. I don't think we're gonna find him though." you said, Dean's face falling, "At least not any time soon."

"Why not?" he asked.

"If John doesn't want to be found, we won't find him, and I honestly think...that he doesn't want us to find him." you said.

"Then what's with the text messages? The coordinates?" Dean asked.

"I think you were right when you said he wanted us to take over. I think that's why he's sending us jobs." you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

"We...I...need to find him." Dean said. "I have to."

"I know you do, and trust me, I'll be there every step of the way to help you, but I think we'll find him when he's ready for us to. John's smart, Dean. He knows what he's doing, and he can take care of himself. He'll be okay, De." you said.

"I hope you're right." he said.

"I always am." you said, trying to lighten the mood, stretching your legs out in front of you, "So, you have nothing to worry about, okay?"

You felt Dean kiss the top of your head, "Thanks for, uh, just thanks." Dean said before standing back up, scared that he crossed a line. "What in the world could they be talkin' about in there? He's been in there forever." Dean added, changing the subject.

"Maybe he's talkin' about us." you teased, getting to your feet.

"Us?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, what did he call us the other day? Emotionally constipated? Said therapy would do both of us some good. Maybe he's gettin' some tips." you said, Dean laughing.

"Yeah, I can see him doing somethin' like that." Dean said, shaking his head, the two of you slipping into silence, both of you fearing what could slip out if the conversation continued.

Dean was leaning against the windows again, looking bored when Sam walked out.

"Dude! You were in there forever. What the hell were you talking about?" Dean asked, catching up to him.

"Just the hospital, you know." Sam said.

"Well, with how long you were in there, you should know the entire fuckin' history of the place." you said, Sam giving you a completely done look.

"And...?" Dean asked when Sam didn't say anything.

"And the south wing? It's where they housed the really hard cases. The psychotics, the criminally insane." Sam said.

"Sounds cozy." Dean said.

"I was thinkin' the same thing." you added.

"Yeah, and one night in '64, they rioted. Attacked staff, attacked each other." Sam said.

"So, the patients took over the asylum?" Dean asked.

"Apparently." Sam said.

"Any deaths?" Dean asked.

"De, a bunch of psychotic people rioted...of course people fuckin' died." you sassed, Dean rolling his eyes at you before playfully shoving you.

"Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our Chief of Staff, Ellicott." Sam said.

"Whaddaya mean, never recovered?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I mean, what the fuck could they have done with them?" you asked.

"Cops scoured every inch of the place, but I guess the patients must've...stuffed the bodies somewhere." Sam said.

"That's grim." Dean said.

"Yeah, so, they transferred all the remaining patients and closed the hospital down." Sam said.

"So, to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies." Dean said.

"Not to mention, a fuck load of homicidal spirits." you added.

"Good times, huh, Singer? Let's check out the hospital tonight." Dean said, you and Sam nodding in agreement.

The three of you were back at the asylum, Sam pushing open the door, you and Dean beside him.

"Getting readings?" Sam asked, holding a video camera and a flashlight.

"Yeah, big time." Dean said, looking down at his EMF.

"This place is orbing like crazy." Sam said.

"Probably multiple spirits out and about." Dean said, glancing over at you, stopping when he noticed you taking off your gloves, "What are you doin?" he asked.

"What good are magic fingers if I don't use them?" you asked, shrugging your shoulders.

Dean looked at you, concern etched on his face, "I don't know, Singer. You remember what happened last time. you should put 'em back on." Dean said.

"I'll be fine." you said, Dean shaking his head at you, knowing that he couldn't change your mind.

"If these unrecovered bodies are causing the haunting." Sam said, trailing off.

"We gotta find 'em and burn 'em. Just be careful, though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit...is the pissed of spirit of a psycho killer." Dean said.

Sam had separated from you and Dean, walking into another room alone. After a minutes on his own Sam saw an old woman through the lens of the camera he was holding, her hair white, one eye bloody and hanging out as she moved towards him.

"Dean. Y/N! Dean!" Sam yelled, you and Dean running into the rom, Dean rummaging through his bag. "Shotgun!" Sam yelled.

"Sam, get down!!" you yelled, raising your gun, Sam throwing himself to the ground before you pulled the trigger, the old woman disintegrating once she was hit.

"That was weird." Sam said, the three of you still on edge.

"Yeah. You're tellin' me." Dean said, walking out of the room, you and Sam following after him.

"No, Dean, I mean, it was weird that she didn't attack me." Sam said.

"Maybe she just hadn't had time yet." you said, Dean nodding.

"Yeah, looked pretty aggro from where I was standing." Dean said.

"She didn't hurt me. She didn't even try! So, if she didn't wanna hurt me then what did she want?" Sam asked, a noise coming from one of the rooms the three of you were passing, stopping all of you in your tracks.

Dean immediately raised his shotgun, Sam flicking on the flashlight as the three of you walked into the room the noise came from.

You looked around the room, spotting the top of a blonde head sticking up from behind an overturned bed, grabbing the boys to point it out to them.

The three of you braced yourselves, Sam reaching out to tip the bed over, a terrified girl spinning around to face the three of you.

"Fuck. What the hell are you doin' in here?" you asked, definitely not expecting to see another living person.

"It's alright, we're not going to hurt you. It's okay. What's your name?" Dean asked.

"Katherine. Kat." she answered.

"Okay, I'm Dean, this is Sam, and that's Y/N." Dean said, introducing the three of you.

"Okay, great...we all know each other now. So, how about you tell us what the fuck you're doing here?" you asked.

"Don't mind her." Sam said, stepping forward. "She means well...really. What are you doing here, though?" Sam asked.

"Um, my boyfriend, Gavin." she said.

"Of course." you said, shaking your head. "Of course, there's two of you."

"Is he here?" Dean asked.

"Somewhere. He thought it would be fun, try and see some ghosts. I thought it was all just...pretend. I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream and..." Kat trailed off, completely terrified.

"Alright, Kat? Come on. Sam's gonna get you out of here and then we're gonna find your boyfriend." Dean said, gesturing between you and him.

"No! No, I'm not going to leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you." she said.

"Yeah, that's a really bad fuckin' idea. Almost as bad as the one to come in here in the first place." you said, Kat shrinking back .

"She's right. It's no joke around here, okay. It's dangerous." Dean said.

"That's why I gotta find him." Kat said.

"Alright, I guess we're gonna split up then. Let's go." Dean said, stopping you when you tried to follow after Sam, "Uh-uh, you're with me. I can't make you wear the gloves, but I can keep you with me, so I can make sure nothing happens." Dean said.

"Jesus Christ, Dean." you said, walking away from him. "You know, you gotta trust me when I tell you that I'm fine. You've already got one damsel in distress to look after. You don't need another one." you said, Dean biting his tongue to keep from arguing with you.

You, Dean, and Kat were wandering around the halls, looking for her boyfriend, Gavin.

"I got a question for ya. You've seen a lot of horror movies, yeah?" Dean asked her.

"I guess so." Kat said, Dean turning to face her.

"Do me a favor. Next time you see one? Pay attention. When someone says a place is haunted...don't go in." Dean said.

"He's right, you know. All this shit's real, and you're gonna mess around and get yourself killed." you said, Kat nodding her head.

You, Dean and Kat were walking down yet another hallway, Dean leading the way, his flashlight fading.

"You son of a bitch." Dean said, shaking the flashlight.

"You want mine?" you asked, grabbing your flashlight, trying to turn in on, "Fuck, mines out, too."

"It's alright. I got a lighter." Dean said, reaching into his pocket.

"Ow. You're hurting my arm." Kat said causing you to turn and face her.

"What are you talking about?" you asked. "I'm not touching you." you said, looking down to see a disembodied hand clutching onto Kat's arm. "Oh fuck." you said, quickly grabbing onto her, both of you ripped backwards into a room, the metal door slamming behind you.

Dean rushed over to the door, and struggled to pull it open, Kat banging on it from the inside, the door not budging.

"Lemme out! Please!" Kat screamed, Dean continuing to struggle with the door.

"Kat! Hang on!" he yelled, pausing a moment. "Hey, Singer, try to calm her down." he said, smashing at the door with a metal pipe.

"Singer, what's going on in there?" Dean asked, worried that he hadn't heard you yet. "Y/N!!" he yelled again, getting no response from you.

Sam and Gavin were running down the hall towards Dean, "What's going on?" Sam asked.

"They're inside with one of them, and Y/N ain't answering." Dean said, Kat's scream causing him to whip back towards the door.

"Kat?! Kat, what's going on in there?" Dean asked, completely panicked that he still hadn't heard you.

"Help me!!" Kat screamed.

"Kat!" Gavin yelled.

"Get me outta here!" Kat yelled, sliding down against the door.

"Kat, I need you to listen to me, I need you to tell me what Y/N's doing. Is she okay?" Dean asked.

"I...I don't know. It...I think it did something to her. She's...she's just sitting there." Kat said, Dean trying even harder to open the door.

"Y/N! Y/N! Come on, Singer! Talk to me!!" Dean yelled.

"Kat, it's not going to hurt you." Sam said, stepping up to the door.

"Bullshit! It hurt her!" Kat yelled, Dean's heart pounding in his chest, needing more than anything to get to you.

"Listen to me. You've got to face it. You've got to calm down." Sam calmly said.

"She's gotta what?!" Dean asked, turning to Sam. "It's already done something to Y/N, and now you want her to face it?"

"I have to what?!" Kat yelled.

"These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us. They're trying to communicate. You gotta face it. You gotta listen to it." Sam explained.

"Tell that to the comatose girl in here. You face it!!" Kat yelled.

"No! It's the only way to get out of there." Sam said.

"NO!" Kat yelled.

"Do you really think the door will open if she does it?" Dean asked Sam, Sam nodding.

"Listen to me, Kat." Dean said "I need you to turn around and look at the son of a bitch, okay? Find out what he wants. That's the only way this door is openin'. So, just do it. Dean said, aching to get inside.

"Kat?" Gavin asked, when he didn't hear anything.

"Man, I hope you're right about this. I gotta get in that fuckin' room." Dean said before waiting in tense silence, the lock clicking before the door slowly opened.

"Oh, Kat." Gavin said, Kat standing in the doorway.

Dean pushed by her, rushing into the room and kneeling down by your side. You were just sitting there, your back against the wall, a blank expression on your face.

"Y/N. Y/N." Dean said, grabbing your shoulders. "Come on, Singer." he said, his hands coming up to your face, one on each cheek.

Your eyes were open, but you weren't looking at him. You were staring straight through him, somewhere far, far away from there.

Sam walked into the room to see Dean taking you into his arms, his back against the wall as he clutched you to his chest.

Sam crouched down next to Dean, thinking to himself that he couldn't remember a time when he had see Dean look so scared.

"What do I do, Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice breaking. "I...I don't know what to do."

"It's okay. We're gonna figure this out. She's going to be fine." Sam said before turning back towards the door, "Kat, what did you see? What did it do to her?" Sam asked.

"I...I don't know." she stammered out, still terrified.

"Well, think God damn it!!!" Dean roared, Kat jumping back.

"Dean!" Sam barked. "That's not gonna help." he said before turning back to Kat. "Just try to think, okay. Anything you can remember could help." Sam said.

"He...he...just touched her. She was trying to get something out of her pocket, I think, but it was too late. He touched her, and she...she just stopped. I...I don't know she was just standing there looking at him, and then she just slid down the wall." Kat said, Dean looking down to see your gloves halfway out of your pocket.

"Okay, so he probably didn't possess her. He just touched her." Sam said, looking down at you, waving his hand in front of your face. "Kat, did you see where he touched her?" Sam asked.

"He just grabbed her hand, I think." Kat replied.

"Okay, maybe he was trying to show her something." Sam said, more to himself than to Dean.

"No, somethin's wrong. She...she shouldn't still be like this. She said it stops when she isn't touching something, and she's not fuckin' touching anything." Dean said, panic in his voice.

"Dean, I need you to calm down." Sam said, his own worry and fear for you pushed to the back burner. "Ok, she did something like this when we were in Kansas, remember? She, uh, touched something in the closet and then kind of just zoned out." Sam said, Dean nodding his head. "So, what did you do then? You got her to snap out of it."

"I didn't do anything. I just talked to her, said her name a couple times." Dean said.

"Try it again." Sam said.

"I tried that, Sam! It didn't fuckin' work!" Dean yelled.

Sam took your hand in his, "Hey, Y/N, we need you to wake up." he said, your eyes still wide open, not blinking. "Come on, Y/N. You can do it, just wake up."

Dean took hold of your other hand the best he could while still trying to hold you, "Hey, come on, Singer. You can't do this. We need you. You know that. We'd both be lost without you. I mean, who'd save our asses? So, just snap out of it." Dean said, both him and Sam slipping into silence when you didn't respond.

"He's right Y/N. We need you. I...I need you. I know we aren't as close as we used to be, and that's my fault, but I want to get back there. So, just make your way back here. If anyone can do it, it's you. We're waiting for you." Sam thought to himself, still holding onto your hand.

"Singer, I know you're in there somewhere, and I got to believe that you can hear me. Come on, Y/N, just do something...give me some sort of sign here." Dean thought, looking down at you to see you in the same state. "Come on, Baby, don't do this to me. You...you can't do this to me. You said you weren't going anywhere. You promised. So , I need you to snap the fuck out of it, and get your ass back here. I need...I need you. Please, just please, wake up." Dean thought, your eyes starting to flutter.

"Dean! Look!" Sam yelled, both of them looking down at you. "Y/N?" Sam asked, Dean holding his breath.

"Stop thinking." you finally said. "I...can't hear you when you both think at the same fuckin' time." you said, Sam smiling a relieved smile as Dean pulled you into a hug, crushing you against his chest, as he released the breath he had been holding.

"You scared the shit outta us, Singer." Dean said, refusing to let you go.

"Is...is somethin' wrong with the car?" you asked, your eyes closed as you tried to center yourself.

"No, no. The car's fine." Dean said, giving Sam a confused look.

"Did you see something about the car?" Sam asked, just as confused as Dean.

"No, but I heard Dean say something about Baby not doing something, so I just thought..." you said, trailing off, Dean not even bothering to look embarrassed.

"Y/N, what happened?" Sam asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Give her a minute, Sam." Dean snapped, still holding onto you.

You opened your eyes, "I was there...at the riot. I saw it. I...I felt it. 137. We got to go to room 137." you said, your thoughts still a little jumbled.

"137?" Kat asked from the doorway. "That's what it whispered in my ear before the door opened. 137." she said.

"That's what he wanted me to see, but I...I don't know. It was...I think he was taking me there, but then he let go of my hand and I couldn't see anything anymore. I could...I could just feel. I could feel all of their emotions, but it was just black. It's like I was trapped inside my own fuckin' head, and I couldn't find my way out. I could only focus on what they were feeling and I couldn't get back." you said, Dean holding onto you tighter.

"It's okay. You're back now. I've got ya. I'll always get you back." Dean said, rocking you side to side.

"I know you will. I know." you said, pulling back from him, "We have to go to room 137. I have to see this through." you said, pulling your gloves from your pocket and slipping them on.

"Nothing I say is gonna change your mind, is it?" Dean asked, already knowing the answer.

"No. I...I have to do this, Dean. I can't just go hide in a corner, scared, somewhere. I just...I need to do this." you said.

"Fine." Dean said, even though it was the last thing he wanted to say. "Room 137, it is. But, you're putting those gloves on, and you're not taking them off no matter what. And, you're gonna stay right by my side like we're fuckin' glued together. Are we clear? I need to know that you're gonna actually listen to me for once." Dean said.

"Ok. We're clear. The gloves stay on, and I stay with you." you said before wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "Take a breath, De. I'm fine. I'm just fine." you whispered in his ear, feeling him take a deep breath seconds later.

You, Sam, and Dean were crouched against the wall where Gavin and Kat couldn't over hear.

"Alright. So, if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone..."Sam trailed off.

"Then, what are they trying to do?" Dean asked.

"There's something that they want us to know, that they want us to see." you said.

"Well, I guess, we'll find out." Dean said before looking over to you. "Gloves?"

"Gloves." you said, holding your hands up so he could see.

"Alright." Sam said, nodding his head.

The three of you walked back over to Kat and Gavin, "So, now, are you guys ready to leave this place?" Dean asked.

"That's an understatement." Kat said.

"Okay." Dean said, turning to Sam. "You get them outta here. We're going to go find room 137." Dean said, Sam nodding his head, knowing that Dean needed to keep you with him.

Sam was leading Kat and Gavin down a hallway, "So, how do you guys know about all this ghost stuff?" she asked.

"It's kinda our job." Sam replied.

"Why would anyone want a job like that?" she asked.

Sam huffed a laugh, "I had a crappy guidance counselor." he said.

"And Y/N and Dean? Are they..." Kat trailed off.

Sam sighed, "It's complicated." he said. "They don't know what they are, but I like to call it denial."

"And are they your bosses?" Kat asked.

"No." Sam said, looking down at her, a little bothered by the question.

You and Dean were walking down a hallway, both of you shining your flashlights on the doors, looking for room 137, Dean glancing over at you every few seconds.

"De, I'm fine. you don't have to keep looking." you said, your flashlight landing on room 137. "There we go."

Dean pushed against the door, using his weight to push aside the broken furniture blocking it, finally getting it open.

The two of you walked inside noticing that the room was a complete mess, filing cabinets pushed over, papers everywhere, the walls stained.

"Well, guess we should start lookin'." you said, flipping through some folders lying in a cabinet.

The two of you were still searching and you were starting to get discouraged that neither of you had found anything yet. You looked over in Dean's direction to seem him running his hands along the wall.

Dean happened upon a loose panel and pried it off, finding a satchel full of papers behind it, "This is why I get paid the big bucks." he said, waving the satchel at you.

"I'll stroke your ego later. Let's open it." you said, pulling up a chair.

"I got somethin' else you could stroke." Dean said, wiggling his eyebrows at you, trying to make you laugh.

You threw your head back, laughing loudly before looking up at him, "Pretty sure that would chafe like a bitch." you said, wiggling your gloved fingers at him, Dean laughing as he pulled up a chair next to you.

You opened the satchel, a journal with many notes and hand drawn pictures of medical instruments inside. "Well, that's just fuckin' creepy." you said before you started to read over the notes, "It's like a fuckin' how to manual."

"Yeah, well, all work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy." Dean said, a noise making both of you look up quickly.

Sam was moving back down a hallway towards Gavin and Kat, "Alright, I've looked everywhere. There's no other way out." he said.

"So, what the hell are we gonna do?" Gavin asked, panicked.

"Well, for starters. We're not gonna panic." Sam said.

"Why the hell not?" Gavin asked, Sam's phone ringing before he could reply.

"Hey." Sam said.

"Sam, it's me. I see it. It's coming for us." Dean said, the connection bad.

"Where are you?" Sam asked.

"We're in the basement. Hurry up!" Dean said, Sam hanging up the phone before looking over at Kat and Gavin.

Sam quickly instructed Kat on how to use the shotgun, telling her to be ready to shoot before making his way to the basement.

"Dean! Y/N!" Sam called out, searching through hallways and rooms, his flashlight flickering and fading, a door behind him swinging open.

Sam raised his gun and approached carefully, "Dean? Y/N?" he asked.

A shadow moved behind a ragged curtain, catching his attention. Sam pulled the curtain back expecting to see someone, but finding nothing.

He turned back around, an old, beaten up man with ragged hair and clothes was standing before him. The man grabbed Sam's face, his hand starting to glow.

"Don't be afraid. I'm going to make you all better." the man said.

You and Dean were coming around the corner, Dean seeing Kat just as she pulled the trigger. Dean grabbed you and threw the both of you back around the corner just in time.

"What the fuck?!" you yelled.

"Damn it. Damn it, don't shoot. It's us." Dean said, both of you still against the wall.

"Sorry. Sorry." Kat said.

"Son of a..." Dean said, coming around the corner, looking at the marks on the wall.

"What the hell are you two still doing here?" you asked, looking at Kat and Gavin.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked when he noticed he wasn't there.

"He went to the basement. You called him." Gavin said.

"I didn't call anybody." Dean said.

"Oh, fuck." you breathed out, knowing that this couldn't be good.

"His cell phone rang. He said it was you." Kat said.

"Basement, huh?" Dean asked, looking over to you.

"Basement." you said.

"Alright." Dean said, grabbing some extra weapons. "Watch yourselves...and watch out for us." he said before the two of you headed to the basement.

"Sammy? Sam, you down here? Sam? Sam!" Dean called out.

"Come on, Sam!!" you yelled, Dean turning to see Sam standing right in front of him.

Dean jumped back, automatically raising his gun, "Man, answer us when we're calling you! You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam answered.

"You sure?" you asked, looking him over, something seeming off about him.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Sam said.

"You know it wasn't me who called your cell, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here." Sam said.

"Well, you're right about that." you said.

"I think we know who, Dr. Ellicott." Dean said.

"That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us. I think that's what that one wanted me to see." you said.

"You haven't seen him, have you?" Dean asked Sam.

"No. How do you guys know it was him?" Sam asked.

"Dean found his log book." you said.

"Apparently he was experimenting on his patients, awful stuff, makes lobotomies look like a couple of aspirin." Dean said.

"Yeah, real fucked up shit." you said, shaking your head.

"But it was the patients who rioted." Sam said.

"Well, can you blame them, Sam?" you asked.

"Yeah, they were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of, like, extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger then they would be cured of it." Dean said.

"Instead, it fuckin' backfired and only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. So, we're thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing? You know, being a dick even in the after life." you said.

"Think about it, the cop, the kids in the seventies. He was making them so angry that they became homicidal. Come on, we gotta find his bones and torch 'em." Dean said.

"How? The police never found his body." Sam said.

"The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere, where he'd work on his patients." Dean said.

"I know if I was a patient I'd drag his ass down here, do a little work on him myself, give him a taste of his own fuckin' medicine." you said.

"I don't know. It sounds kinda..." Sam trailed off.

"Crazy?" Dean filled in.

"Yeah." Sam said.

"Yeah. Exactly." Dean said.

Dean opened another door, and looked inside before gesturing with his head for you and Sam to follow.

"I told you guys. I didn't find a hidden room." Sam said, you and Dean checking the walls.

"Well, that's why they call it hidden." Dean said.

"You hear that?" you asked, what sounded like wind catching your attention, Dean nodding his head.

"What?" Sam nervously asked, as you and Dean looked around.

"There's a door here." Dean said, crouching down and holding his hand out, you quickly joining his side.

"Dean. Y/N." Sam said, pointing his gun at the two of you, a trickle of blood running from his nose. "Step back from the door."

"What the fuck are you doin', Sam?" you asked, your eyes on the gun as you stood up.

"Sam, put the gun down." Dean said, rising to his feet.

"Is that an order?" Sam asked.

"Nah, it's more of a friendly request." Dean said.

"Listen to him, Sam, put the fuckin' gun down." you said.

"'Cause I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders." Sam said to Dean before turning to you, "Both of your orders."

"I knew it. Ellicott did something to you." Dean said.

"For once in your life just shut your mouth." Sam said, "That's all both of you do....talk."

"What are you gonna do, Sam? Guns filled with rock salt. It's not gonna kill us." Dean said.

Sam pulled the trigger, shooting Dean in the chest, the shot blasting him backwards through the hidden door.

"God damn it, Sam!" you yelled, looking behind you, trying to see Dean, Sam now aiming the gun at you.

"It may not kill you, but it will hurt like hell." he said, you turning just in time to see him pull the trigger.

You and Dean were both lying on the floor, both gasping for air after coming to.

"I...can't wait...to roast that motherfucker." you panted out, Dean looking over at you, making sure you were okay.

"Sam!" he said, Sam standing over the two of you. "We gotta burn Ellicott's bones and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal." Dean said.

"I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? Cause you're following Dad's orders, and she's too scared to disappoint you and say anything. That's why she never goes against you. You always do what Dad says without question, and then she does what you say, like a trained dog. Are you that desperate for Dad's approval, Dean? Are you that desperate for Dean's, Y/N?" Sam asked.

"Fuck you." you spat out, looking up at him.

Sam chuckled, "Oh, here we go, the whole I'm so tough act. The I'm not scared of anything bullshit you always pull. Yeah, we can see right through that, Y/N. You aren't fooling anyone, just yourself. We both know that you're scared, scared that Dean's gonna realize what a freak you really are and toss you aside." Sam said, looking down at you.

"Like I said, fuck you." you seethed.

"This isn't you talking, Sam." Dean said.

"That's the difference between you guys and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic like you two." Sam said.

"So, what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill us?" Dean asked.

"You know what, I am sick of doing what you guys tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago." Sam said.

"Well, then here. Let me make it easy for you." Dean said, holding out his gun to Sam. "Come on. Take it." Dean said.

"Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt." you said, going along with Dean, knowing that he had something up his sleeve.

"Take it!!" Dean yelled, Sam taking the gun and pointing it at Dean. "You hate us that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Your best friend? Then go ahead, pull the trigger. Do it!!" Dean yelled.

Sam pulled the trigger, but the chamber was empty. He tried again, and then once more, the result the same every time, giving Dean enough time to hit Sam, knocking him to the ground.

Both you and Dean got to your feet, Dean moving to stand over Sam, "Man, I'm not going to give you a loaded pistol." Dean said, Sam glaring up at him.

Dean delivered a vicious right cross to knock Sam out, almost falling over as he did so. "Sorry, Sammy." he said, patting Sam.

"Alright, let's go find those fuckin' bones and get this shit over with." you said, the two of you starting to look around the room.

"You know, you didn't seemed too freaked back there when I handed Sam my gun. You kinda just went with it." Dean said.

You shrugged your shoulders, "What can I say? I trust you." you said, noticing a bit of something sticking out of a closed cupboard, "I figured you had a plan." you added, nudging Dean to get his attention.

Dean moved closer to the cupboard and opened the door to find a mummified corpse, both of you flinching back and gagging.

"Jesus fucking Christ." you said.

"Oh, that's just gross." Dean said before salting the body. "Soak it up."

Dean dropped the salt container, and you passed him a small tin of kerosene. He squirted the body, both of you completely oblivious to the presence behind you until a gurney came flying across the room, knocking both of you to the ground.

Dr. Ellicott appeared in front of both of you, and reached down to grab Dean's face, his hand lighting up, "Don't be afraid. I'm going to help you. I'm going to make you feel all better." Ellicott said.

You crawled over to Dean's bag, quickly finding his lighter. You flicked it open and struck it before tossing it onto the mummified body.

Dr. Ellicott let go of Dean as his remains started to burn, Dean crawling out of the way, both of you watching as Ellicott's ghost turned black before falling to the ground and crumbling on impact.

"Take that...you crazy fuck." you said, Dean collapsing on the floor next to you.

"Thanks, Singer." he said.

"Anytime, De." you said, patting his arm, Sam starting to wake up.

You and Dean looked over at him as he flexed his jaw painfully.

"You're not going to try to kill us, are ya?" Dean asked.

Sam raised his hand to push at his jaw, "No." he said.

"Good...because that would be fuckin' awkward." you said.

The three of you were standing outside the asylum with Kat and Gavin, the sun shining brightly overhead.

"Thanks, guys." Kat said.

"Yeah, thanks." Gavin quickly added.

"No more haunted asylums, okay?" Dean said.

"Yeah, the next time you're looking for a date idea go with pizza, beer, and Zeppelin IV." you said, missing the way Dean's mouth turned up at the corner.

The three of you stood back and watched Kat and Gavin walk away, giving them one final wave goodbye before turning to the Impala.

"Hey, guys?" Sam said, you and Dean turning to look at him.

"I'm sorry. I said some awful things back there." Sam said, looking at the two of you apologetically.

"You remember all that?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. It's like I couldn't control it, but I didn't mean any of it." Sam said.

"You didn't, huh?" you asked, eyeing Sam, still feeling a little salty.

"No, of course not! Do we need to talk about this?" Sam asked.

"No, I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep." Dean said.

"Yeah, me too." you said, climbing into the car.

The three of you checked into a motel, the boys letting you grab the first shower this time.

You walked out about fifteen minutes later, "Next." you said, pulling on your gloves as you sat down on the end of the bed.

"Go ahead, Sam." Dean said, Sam getting up to walk to the bathroom.

Dean turned to you once Sam closed the bathroom door, "How bad did he get ya?" he asked.

"I'm fine. I've had worse." you said, Dean coming to sit next to you.

"Let me see." he said.

"I told you...I'm fine." you said, not wanting to worry him.

"Please?" he asked, needing to see for himself that you were okay.

You flopped back on the bed, sighing dramatically as you lifted your shirt, pulling it up just enough for him to see where you got hit, the shot hitting you right at the apex of your ribcage.

"See, just fine." you said, Dean ghosting his fingers over the already forming bruise.

Dean let out a slow breath, leaning down until his forehead rested on your stomach, his hands on either side of your waist, "Hey, I'm fine, okay? Just fine." you said, again, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders.

"I...you just really scared me." he said, turning his head to the side, still laying it on your stomach.

"I'm sorry." you said, your fingers moving to card through the hair on the back of his head, Dean raising his head to look up at you.

"I thought...I thought..." Dean said, trailing off, unable to say the words, his hands gripping your harder.

"Hey, I told you before that I wasn't going anywhere and I meant it." you said, the bathroom door opening, Dean quickly sitting up.

"I, uh, saved you some hot water." Sam said to Dean, trying not to look at you or his brother as you pulled your shirt down.

Dean looked over to you, as if he was asking your permission, "Go." you mouthed, Dean standing up and walking to the bathroom.

You moved up in the bed once the bathroom door closed, pulling back the covers before laying down on your side of the bed.

"Y/N, I really didn't mean that stuff." Sam quietly said.

"I know. Don't worry about it, Sammy. Everything's fine. Let's just get some sleep." you said before turning away from him.

You felt Dean's side of the bed dip a few minutes later, the lights in the room already out. He crawled into bed beside you and pulled you back into him, his arm coming to wrap around your waist, almost as if he was scared to not be touching you.

You could feel how tense he was, "Hey." you said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze, "Relax, okay? Everything's fine. Get some sleep, De. I'll still be here in the morning." you said, Dean still holding you tightly to him, but you could feel his body start to relax.

The three of you were sleeping, you and Dean tangled up in each other as a phone started to ring.

"Dean." Sam said, Dean not moving.

Sam frowned and grabbed Dean's phone from the night stand before checking the number and flipping it open.

"Hello." Sam said, listening a moment before sitting up straight in bed, "Dad?"

A/N: I just want to say a big thank you to everyone that takes the time to read this. I really appreciate it. I love hearing what you guys have to say. I'm a socially awkward train wreck, so I may not always reply, but I want you all to know that I truly appreciate each and every one of you. <3 <3

Tags: @miraclesoflove @22sarah08 @deans-baby-momma @spnae @karikatz12481 @spngirl05 @winchester-fantasies @freddiemermaytaydeac @rainbowkisses31 @in-deans-arms @scentedhoundshepherdmoney @teamfreewillisbae @it-could-go-off @moonlight-on-her-skin

#supernatural #series rewrite #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fic #dean x you #dean winchester #reader insert #dean #sam winchester #spn fic #spn

169 notes · View notes

sosa-sketch · 5 years

Text

Fright or Flight: Chapter 2

Parings: Prinxiety // Logicality // Platonic LAMP

Story Summary: Virgil and Patton investigate the New Prince Castle, when a brutal accident kills Patton. Patton wakes as a ghost and meets friendly ghoul Roman, who has been haunting the castle for 20 years. Virgil is determined to bring Patton back to life and brings Logan, the ghost expert, to help him out. Time is quickly running out, and the four must work together to undo death. If only it was as simple as Logan made it sound.

Unknown to them, a secret entity in the castle does not plan on letting them succeed.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

When Patton first met Virgil, his last intention was to become friends with him. Virgil had built up a notorious reputation over the first few months of school, and his grades did nothing to disprove his status. Patton wasn’t the type to judge a person’s character based on rumors nor looks. No one was a higher believer in the benefit of doubt than Patton! However, Virgil’s first impression did not help his case.

Virgil transferred into Patton’s English class the second semester due to a schedule change. When the teacher stated a new team project was to be completed, Patton did not shy away from offering to be Virgil’s partner. He understood how difficult it could be being the new kid in a class full of friends and cliques.

The project was hefty, an collection of novel analyzing, essays, vocabulary, and journal entries. Patton was not looking forward to the Shakespearean project-Shakespeare’s language was alien to him. It occurred to Patton that pairing up with the soon-to-be-dropout may not have been his best idea. Nonetheless, Patton refused to be jaded.

The first day of the project, Virgil refused to touch the work.

“There’s no way I’m touching this project.” Virgil sneered. “Especially about Shakespeare.”

“Huh?” Patton had not fully processed Virgil’s words. “Is it because you don’t understand it?”

“Sure.”

“Neither can I! I guess Shakespeare really has our brains shaken up! Maybe we can ask the teacher to go over it for us?”

The teen huffed and shook his head. Virgil laid his head on the wooden desk and his eyes slipped closed. He napped for the rest of the period.

His behavior continued for weeks. Patton had tried everything in his power to get Virgil to help him out. Patton’s seemingly endless supply of compliments and encouraging gestures served no help.

Patton’s mind had conjured countless excuses for Virgil since Virgil himself refused to give one. At the beginning the excuses had seemed feasible. Lack of sleep? Family issues? However, by week three, Patton was already scraping the bottom of the barrel, trying to justify Virgil’s dismissive attitude with clones and possible mind control. Virgil was no closer to lifting up a pencil, there were ten days left of the project, and Patton still understood little to nothing about Shakespeare. Patton was flying solo and time was ticking.

The final week before the project was due, Patton caught the flu.

Patton would chalk up the flu to the top three sucky sicknesses of his lifetime. His fever was raging, his skin drowning in sweat while the insides of him iced over. Patton couldn’t tell when being awake ended and when sleep began. The only alarm in Patton’s body was the churning in his gut that rushed him to the toilet.

Understandably, the project was the last thing on his mind.

Patton would not remember his Shakespeare mission until the Sunday before it was due, when he was shaking off the final remnants of the flu. The realization hit him like a train, but by the time he went flying off his bed and hurriedly logging on to his computer to check the time, Patton knew it was hopeless. There was no way he could get the project done in a few hours and counting. Not when all his energy was going into fighting of sneezes and headaches.

Patton was dejectedly scrolling through his email filled with newsletters from adoption sites and animal protection agencies when a subject line caught his eye: “English Project.” Linked to the email were word documents and an audio file. Perplexedly, Patton opened the email.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: English Project

Patton,

so apparently you’ve been sick. class is way more quiet without you their, which is wierd.

i think i did everything you hadn’t done. it’s gonna be really mispelled and confusing and shit. sorry. i’m not the best with righting. feel free to fix anything.

get well soon.

-V

p.s. sorry for acting like a jerk. i owe you a explanation monday.

Patton hugged his computer screen and laugh with relief. He had no idea why Virgil was so nervous. His ideas were brilliant. A week later, Patton would see an A in his gradebook for the Shakespeare project.

There was a reason why Patton never lost faith in people.

True to his word, the next week Virgil explained his mistreatment to Patton. Virgil struggled with dyslexia. While he was getting tutoring in overcoming his learning disability, Virgil’s writing made him incredibly insecure. His old teacher always let him work individually, but the new teacher wasn’t having it. Before class, the teacher pulled him aside and told Virgil he was no different from any other student and would have to work with a partner. Virgil, determined to spite the teacher and anxious to seem like an “idiot” in front of Patton, would pretend to sleep the whole period.

“All your writing took was a quick grammar fix. The ideas were so good! I’m not just saying that to say that, they actually were! I could never think of something like that.” Patton reassured enthusiastically.

Virgil flushed a bright red. “I didn’t do much. Shakespeare is a lot easier to understand with audio.”

Patton listened to the audiobook of Macbeth that night. Virgil clearly wasn’t giving himself enough credit.

Virgil and Patton quickly grew close once the project was done. Virgil was still quiet, snappy, moody, and detrimentally insecure, but he began to open up more as the months went on. By senior year, Patton and Virgil was joined at the hip. Two peas in a pod.

Virgil had grown a lot since freshman year.

Being joined at the hip with Virgil meant that Patton got to understand Virgil by the simplest change in body language or expression. It also meant that Patton became aquatinted with anyone close to Virgil.

Patton already had a bad feeling while Virgil’s tone had shifted on the phone the night they were chatting about yearbook quotes. Remy sending Patton a text only confirmed the ball of dread in his stomach.

Rem: pat can we talk ?

Patton: You don’t even have to ask! Everything ok?

Rem: it’s about v

Rem: have you guys talked recently ? out of school

Patton: We talked last weekend. Over the phone. Why? Is Virgil fine??

Rem: idk. he came over to my house a couple nights ago at like 5 am. talked about some ghost shit.

Patton: He woke you up to talk about ghosts??(language!)

Rem: looking for affirmation that he wasn’t some obsessed ghost freak. i told him nah

Rem: but tbh he kinda is obsessed

Patton: He is passionate about his ghosts! But that’s not a bad thing.

Rem: v strongly disagrees. the whole thing about the yearbook and ghost quotes really messed with his head

Patton: I didn’t mean anything bad by it! It was just an idea! I promise! I’ll apologize to him!!!

Rem: wait no thats not what im saying. no one blames u

Rem: is he doing any ghost stuff anytime soon

Patton: Yep. He’s going to visit a castle!

Patton: Is that bad?

Rem: don’t you remember last time v became paranoid abt something? he pulled some real stupid stuff just to prove ppl wrong

Patton: Yeah. I know.

Patton: Gosh now I’m worried :(

Rem: i just dont want him doing anything he’ll regret on the trip. can u just…idk watch out for him pls ? ik v can take care of himself. but sometimes he gets into this headspace that’s self-destructive

Rem: tbh i dont like his ghost stuff as it is. i dont need him doing something dumb either

Patton: I understand Rem. That’s really sweet of you <3 <3

Patton: I’ll look out for him! I promise!!!! :-) :-)

Rem: ty. dont tell v abt this convo tho

Despite feeling uneasy about it, Patton understood Remy’s request to keep silent. Telling Virgil about their conversation would only push Virgil away and make him defensive. It’d be impossible to look out for him.

Virgil had already given Patton a way in. Patton had to talk to Logan for Virgil and get any supplies he might need. Patton loved visiting Logan in and of itself. Maybe Logan could help him out.

Logan’s business was located near small shops clustered along the beach. It was a hotspot for tourists, where knickknacks and souvenirs were sold and expensive attractions were advertised. Patton walked along here with Virgil sometimes, stopping at the arcade or mirror maze. Patton had met some of the most interesting people in the small touristy town.

Among the attractions was a dark blue shingled building with a pointy-roofed top. Painted letters on a wooden board spelt out “Afterlife Exposed.” Patton stepped through the door and a bell gently ringed, signaling his arrival.

At the sound of the bell, a tall, dark-haired man turned around. His navy suit blended in with the darkness of the shop. The man’s lean body was captivated beautifully in the suit. Patton quickly averted his eyes, blushing furiously.

“I have been expecting you-oh. Greetings, Patton. What a surprise.”

“Hi Logan!” Patton waved enthusiastically. “Who were you expecting?”

“No one. It’s a new rule Father has implemented. I must say it to every customer to ‘set the mood,’ as he calls it.” Logan dragged his hand over his face exasperatedly. “I find it quite ridiculous. But business shall be business.”

Logan’s father technically owned Afterlife Exposed. But he was always hidden in the back, gathering supplies or experimenting. Logan was currently studying entrepreneurship in college in order to take over the family business someday.

“How may I help you today, Patton?” Logan inquired, stepping around the counter to stand in front of him. He was even taller up close.

Patton filled Logan in about the New Prince Castle family murder and Virgil’s plan to investigate the castle for one of his ghost routines. Logan nodded politely the whole way through.

“I see. What an intriguing case. What exactly does he need from me?”

Patton shrugged cluelessly. “Anything you think might help, I guess.”

“What’s his budget?”

“A coffee and cake pop from Starbucks, if he uses his gift card.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “And he sent you to purchase something from here? Why, he couldn’t even afford a keychain.”

“Come on, Logan! He’s one of your most loyal customers and between us, he’s going through a rough patch. Can’t you help him out? Please?”

Logan massaged his temples and sighed. “Patton, it’s just not something the business can afford to do right now. My Father and I have been dealing with a sort of rough patch as well. You and Virgil have my sincerest apologies-truly, you do.”

Patton nodded dejectedly, “I understand.” Spotting Logan’s hesitant expression and tense form, he rested a hand on Logan’s shoulder and grinned. “Really, I do. I don’t blame you.”

Logan gave a small, tight-lipped smile in return. Gently shaking Patton’s hand off his shoulder, he clasped his hands together tightly. “Well, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“I’m not too sure.” Patton pursed his lips in thought. “Well, actually. I was wondering if you could tell me the dos and don’ts of ghost hunting. The yays and nays. The cats and dogs-actually no scratch that, both of those would be a yay.”

“With all due respect, Patton, I think Virgil has got that covered.” Logan reassured. “He must have asked me a dozen times prior to his first investigation.”

“Oh yeah, I know. It’s for me.” Patton corrected.

Logan raised an eyebrow in perplexion. Patton had never shown an interest in ghost hunting when Virgil wasn’t to be found.

Patton thought quickly. “I just want to understand more. For when I talk to Virgil. Sometimes I really don’t get half the explanations coming from the kiddo’s mouth.” It wasn’t a lie. “Just…how do you deal with ghosts?

“I see.” Logan clicked his tongue. “I’m sure Virgil could explain it to you more in depth. But, if you’re ever in doubt, chalk it up to one thing: respect. Is what you’re doing respecting the afterlife and their home? Are you portraying common courtesy? Treat them with the same respect as the living, if not more. There are exceptions, as with anything, but for the most part, that should keep you out of trouble with spirits.”

“Respect.” Patton repeated.

“You have strong morals, Patton. If you’re concerned about involvement with the afterlife due to your closeness with Virgil, I would not worry. Lack of respect is the last of your weaknesses.”

Logan pulled out his phone from the back of his pocket. “I apologize, I must return to my work. However, if you or Virgil have any more questions, feel free to give me a call.”

Patton gushed and thanked Logan, jotting down his number. Logan flushed a gentle red and held out his hand for a handshake.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Patton.”

Patton swatted Logan’s hand away and brought him in for a hug. “Thank you, Logan.”

Logan awkwardly pat Patton on the back before ungracefully untangling himself from the embrace. “I was only doing my job. Now, I understand it’s none of my business, but I recommend getting some rest. You look exhausted.”

“High school has permanently carved bags under my eyes.” Patton shook his head defeatedly.

Logan gave an amused smirk. “You sounded like Virgil.”

Patton beamed. “Like father, like son!”

Just as Patton was about to turn around to leave the store, something in the corner of the room glistened, catching his eye. “Hey Logan? Just one more thing?”

Logan hummed at him, encouraging Patton to continue.

He pointed to the object at the corner of the room. “How much can I get that for?”

“Walkie-talkies. I sent you to Logan Berry, one of the smartest, most knowledgeable people about the afterlife in this town, and you come back with a Ghost Buster walkie-talkie.” Virgil grunted, dangling the toy by its antennae.

“You can have the Casper the Ghost one instead.”

“What? No! Ghost Busters is better, anyway.” Virgil groaned. “That’s not the point. How about advice? Did Logan say anything?”

“Just to respect the ghosts. Have common courtesy. Which you better be doing anyway, even without Logan telling you to do so.”

Virgil threw his hands up in exasperation and fell down into his sofa as the cushions engulfed the skinny man. “Obviously I respect them! The last thing I need is coming home possessed and cursed! He knows I know that. That’s really all he said?”

“Besides giving us his number.” Patton confirmed. “Which I already gave you.”

Virgil grumbled. “Whatever. One day I’ll get enough money to- wait. The walkie-talkies. There’s no way you could have bought them with my money, I would not have had enough. Please don’t tell me…”

Virgil got a glance of Patton’s sheepish look and groaned. “Patton, we have a rule! No buying each other anything!” He buried his head in his hands. “I can’t pay you back. You know that.”

“Hey…” Patton took a seat next to Virgil and laid a comforting hand on his knee. “It’s okay. They weren’t expensive. You don’t have to pay me back.”

Virgil looked at Patton in between his fingers. His voice was muffled against his palms. “You know how I feel about that, Pat.”

“Virgil, come on.” Patton pleaded.

Virgil shook his head. “Thank you. But, you need to return them.”

Guilty silence settled among the two, but neither made a move to leave. Both were lost in their own worlds when an idea struck Patton.

He nudged Virgil. “I know a way for you to pay me back without money.” At Virgil’s unimpressed look, he protested, “Seriously! It would mean a lot more to me than whatever these walkie-talkies cost.”

“Yea?” Virgil lifted his head from his hands. “What is it?”

Patton stared at Virgil’s stormy eyes as his heart pounded. In all honesty, this was the last thing Patton wanted to do. He was terrified. But, he thought back to the conversation he had with Remy, and the last time Virgil did something senseless unsupervised due to paranoia. “I want to go ghost hunting with you. At the New Prince Castle.”

Virgil’s jaw dropped. His eyes darted around Patton’s face before he shook his head and gave a weak chuckle. “Sure, Pat. Whatever you say.”

“No, I’m serious!” Patton insisted. “I’ll respect the ghosts and do whatever you tell me to do!”

Virgil was dismissing Patton before he could finish his sentence. “No, no, no. You hate ghost stories, Pat! Especially ones that are spooky and gruesome. You’d hate ghost-hutning. It’s dark and there’s lots of weird noises and tons of spiders. No way. I’m not adding more guilt to my conscience.”

Virgil made a move to get up from the sofa, but Patton refused to let the conversation drop. He grabbed Virgil’s hand and pulled him back to the seat. Virgil landed with a clumsy thump.

“Kiddo, I know I hate all those things. I’m sure I’ll be scared. But, you’ll be there too! I love you more than I hate all those things combined.”

“Patton, we can do something else together. Go to the movies. Or bowling. Normal teen stuff.” Virgil reasoned.

Patton retorted, “But ghost hunting is important to you.”

“It’s not that important. It’s a simple hobby. I don’t care that much about it.” Virgil cut off.

“I know, I know!” Patton quickly backtracked. “What I meant was that ghost-hunting has been a cool way for us to bond. It intrigues you-a perfectly normal amount-and I like seeing you happy! Just like you go walking with me along the shops by the beach even though it’s super crowded and you hate it.”

“Patton, what’s your point?” Virgil grilled.

“My point is I want to try this thing that you enjoy with you. Just like you try things for me. It’s senior year, Virgil. No one hates thinking about it more than me, but we don’t know what things are going to be like after high school. I want to find a husband, start a family. Maybe study veterinary science. You could have a publisher for your writing, become a famous author, and move. I want to do this with you. I want to get over my fear.”

Patton stared at Virgil hopefully and held out his hand. “What do you say? One more big adventure for the dynamic duo?”

Virgil stared at Patton, looked down and roughly shook his head, froze, then stared at Patton once more. Virgil’s foot rapidly tapped against the floor, creating a dizzy, distracting melody. Finally, Virgil pulled his hair and glared at Patton. “You’ll be careful?”

Patton nodded eagerly.

“And you’ll stick with me no matter what? At all times? I want you in my sight.”

Virgil dramatically groaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. “I guess you can come.”

Patton shot up from his seat, whooping with joy and hopping around the sofa. “Thank you, Virgil! Thank you! We’re going to have such a great time!”

Virgil peeked one eye open and gave a soft grin. “Yeah, I guess we are. You’re sure you wanna do this?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life besides my love for you and cats! I pinkie swear it.”

Patton and Virgil intertwined pinkies before Patton winked and let go, embracing Virgil.

“Let your moms know you’re going to be gone for the weekend.” Virgil smirked. “We have a haunted castle to explore.”

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remy sanders #deceit sanders #LAMP #CALM #platonic lamp #hurt/comfort #family fluff #fluff #logicality #prinxiety

7 notes · View notes

max-is-tired · 6 years

Text

Run Boy Run (This World Is Not Made For You) 1/2

Pairing: None here, platonic Logince in the next chapter.

Word Count: 2.012

Trigger warnings: Implied character death, nothing else that I can think of??

Notes: Here is the second part of my Atlantis AU, in which Logan is nothing like the original Milo Tatch and the museum's board of directors barely avoids getting murdered by an angry researcher, probably. (Also, I hurt myself writing the first part of this chapter. You're welcome.)

Read it On AO3! Previous Part Next part

“Dad?”

Startled, William looks up from his desk, eyes rimmed red with fatigue behind his glasses. He’s been working almost nonstop since morning, analyzing and translating photos of mysterious artefacts and old manuscripts over and over again. But the only thing he seems to have gotten out of it are a sore back and a mess of papers and documents that’ll be a pain in the arse to put back in order.

William immediately spots his son, his head peeking from behind the studio’s door. Smiling, he motions him closer, stretching his arms out to try and remove some of the muscle pain. Silently, Logan enters the room and shuts the door, before padding across the thick carpet covering the floor to his father’s side.

“Hey Lo,” his father murmurs, picking him up and gently placing him on his lap, “what’re you doing still up? I thought you had gone to bed a while ago.”

Still silent, Logan quietly scoots closer to his father’s chest, holding his teddy bear –Mr Crofters, a gift from his mother before she passed away- in his arms. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles sleepily, barely biting back a yawn, “felt lonely.”

William sighs, leaning back into his chair. “Sorry kid,” he apologizes, idly combing a hand though his son’s hair, “I lost track of time. Papa’s got a lot of work to do.”

“It’s late though. Papa needs to sleep.” Logan protests, yawning. “You can do work tomorrow.”

“Just five more minutes.” Tries his father, thinking about all the material he still has to study and that old Norwegian shield with those strange inscription that might just be the final piece he needs to complete the puzzle –he’s so close, William knows it. He can’t stop now, not after all the sacrifices and closed doors he has had to endure in his life. He’ll show them, shove the proof right onto their faces if he needs to, he’ll prove that he had been right all along even if it kills him-

Logan grabs onto his arm, shaking his head. “That’s five minutes too long!” he complains, his face scrunched up into that stubborn pout that reminds William so much of Sherry- Logan’s mother, his partner, the one that had believed in him even when everybody else had decided to turn their back on him. “Sleep is important, you taught me that.”

Sighing, William throws one last, longing look at his papers, scattered messily on his desk. He knows his son and he’s aware that, at this point, the kid won’t give up until they’re both in bed, sleeping.

“Alright, alright you little rascal.” He finally concedes, shaking his head with a defeated smile on his face, “I swear you act so much like your mother it scares me sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

Picking him up, William chuckles. “She had to barge into my studio almost every night, because I never paid attention to how late it was,” he explains, ruffling his son’s hair, “and if I tried to protest, she would literally pester me or even start dragging me out by force until I caved and agreed to go to sleep.”

“Really?!” Logan giggles, sleepiness momentarily forgotten, “can you tell me more about her?” he asks, almost tentatively.

William smiles, kissing his son’s head. “Of course, kiddo.” He murmurs, closing the studio’s door behind them.

(Later, when Logan is finally asleep in his bed with Mr Crofters firmly clutched in his hold, William finds himself staring at his son with a melancholic smile on his face. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gingerly picks up an old frame from the nightstand. From the photo, his wife smiles at him, as beautiful as he remembers her to be.

“I’ll prove them all wrong, Sherry,” he promises, “just you wait.”)

“-and that is why I firmly believe it is our duty as men of science to do everything in our power to retrieve the Shepherd’s Journal and, finally, uncover the secret behind the myth of Atlantis and his mysterious power source.”

Silence falls, and Logan finally lets out a breath he hasn’t even realized he’s been holding. His stance relaxes, his shoulder slumping slightly, and he nods to himself. With a speech like this, only a fool would refuse his proposal.

Sadly, he’s very much aware of just how many fools are part of the museum’s board of directors.

Logan sighs, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it from those foolish thoughts –it doesn’t work, not completely, but he decides to ignore it. He has a presentation to give, an expedition to organize and a long lost civilisation to –hopefully- bring back to the light of day for everyone to see.

This time, Logan knows he’ll be able to convince the board. They asked for proof, for something that could really justify an expedition tasked with finding a place, until now, named only in legends and fairy tales. And he got it, the result of long nights spent researching facts, traducing old texts, and consulting his father’s notes and discoveries for new, interesting leads.

The only missing piece is the Shepherd’s Journal, buried somewhere on the southern coast of Iceland –not Ireland, as a very superficial translation had formerly stated. He often wonders how utterly stupid whoever originally deciphered it had had to be, to be able to confuse two letters so different like that.

However, that won’t be a problem for long. Once they finally manage to retrieve the Journal, it will be only a matter of time until they find Atlantis for good.

The phone suddenly rings, abruptly snapping Logan out of his thoughts. Groaning, he leans over the blackboard to grab the receiver, trying –and failing- to not get chalk on his shirt. “Cartography and Linguistics, Logan Sanders speaking. How may I be of help?”

On the other side of the line, an angry voice starts ranting –in a very crude and unnecessary manner, Logan notes while barely holding back an irritated sigh- about the absence of warm water and properly-working heating.

“Please remain in line for a few moments.” He answers, voice carefully neutral. Silently, Logan walks towards the boiler on the other side of the room and quickly turns a few valves, before hitting it with a nearby spanner.

“Is this more adequate?” he asks, grabbing the receiver once again. Logan listens quietly as whoever called yells at him some more, biting back a few choice words he would really like to share with them –he can’t get himself thrown out of the museum, not now that he’s so close to reaching his goal.

When they finally hang up, Logan puts back the receiver, barely containing his irritation. He’s a linguist, a researcher, probably one of the most intelligent and resourceful men this museum has to offer –and he’s not saying it out of vanity or narcissism. It’s a fact, a certainty, something as obvious as the colour of the sky or the presence of oxygen in the atmosphere.

He should not be stuck in a little office –if it could even be called one- in the basement of the museum, forced to spend all day answering angry calls about the absence of warm water in the rest of the building and taking care of an old and battered boiler. He deserves to do more, he wants to do more.

Hopefully, today he’ll finally be able to get out of there for good. One way or another.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Logan starts picking up all the papers and documents piled up on his desk, mentally listing off what he needs as he goes. Once he’s sure he has everything necessary for his presentation –he checks everything twice, just to be sure- he nods, takes a steadying breath and turns around, ready to climb the stairs that will take him out of the basement.

However, before he can get out his eyes land on an old frame on his desk, his parents smiling widely at him from the photo. Logan’s gaze softens, and he finds himself picking up the frame with a little, sad smile on his face.

“Mom, dad,” he murmurs, bittersweet melancholy swimming in his voice, “I’ll make it this time, just you wait.”

Suddenly, a strange “whoosh” sound attracts his attention, his gaze snapping to the pneumatic tube in the corner. Logan grabs the capsule, a little irritated at whoever thought it was a good idea to send him a communication now that he has a presentation to give. Then, he reads the notice, and his blood immediately runs cold.

Dear Mr Sanders, this is to inform you that your meeting today has been moved up form 4:30 pm to 3:30 pm.

“What?”

He has barely managed to read the first notice, that another “whoosh” echoes in the otherwise silent basement. Logan is starting to have some idea of where this whole thing is going, and he doesn’t like it one bit. Slowly, he picks up the second capsule, hoping against hope to be wrong. But apparently, he’s not so lucky.

Dear Mr Sanders, due to your absence the board has voted to reject your proposal. Have a nice weekend, Mr Harcourt’s office.

Logan stares at the notice, eyes wide in disbelief. Then, surprise is replaced by anger, boiling in his veins like liquid fire.

“This is enough!”

“Mr Harcourt!” Logan calls, marching down the halls of the museum. The few people in the area are quick to step aside and let him pass, intimidated by the downright murderous expression on the young man’s face.

On the other side of the hall, Mr Harcourt visibly startles, eyes wide in surprise –it’s obvious he and the other members of the board thought they could get out of the museum before Logan could find any of them. He quickly pulls himself out of his shock tough, and doesn’t waste any time in bolting down the corridor towards the exit.

But Logan is a man on a mission, and he quickly reaches the man at the entrance of the museum, where a carriage is waiting for him –the fact that Mr Harcourt is actually quite short, and his quick pace is nothing compared to Logan’s long and rage-driven strides, helps quite a lot.

“Mr Harcourt!” Logan repeats, grabbing the door of the carriage to stop him from closing it, “I demand an explanation!”

Mr Harcourt sighs, clearly irritated. “Look Mr Sanders, this museum funds scientific expeditions based on facts, not legends and folklore.”

“Atlantis is not a legend!” Logan bristles, barely containing himself from grabbing the collar of the other man’s coat, “There is more than enough evidence to prove it! and if you would just listen to me-”

“Enough!” Mr Harcourt suddenly exclaims, interrupting Logan’s rant, “You have a lot of potential, Logan. Don’t throw it all away chasing fairy tales like your father did.”

At that Logan freezes, body completely still. Then, he suddenly relaxes, and when he looks at the other man once again his expression is unreadable, completely devoid of any emotion.

“If this is really what you think, then I won’t waste anymore of your time.” He says, reaching into his pocket and slapping an envelope on Mr Harcourt’s face.

“W-What is this?!” the man stammers.

“My letter of resignation.” Logan explains, voice neutral. “Since it appears none of you idiots have enough common sense to listen to a proposal sustained by facts and a meticulous research, there is no reason for me to stay here and continue to be your little slave down in the basement. If you won’t fund this expedition, I will find another way to retrieve the Journal.”

“You can’t be serious! You’ll flush your career down the toilet!” argues Mr Harcourt, clearly outraged. But Logan ignores him, slamming the carriage’s door shut.

“We’ll see who’ll have the last laugh, Mr Harcourt.” He replies, before turning around and leaving the museum once and for all.

He’ll find another way to get to Atlantis, come hell or high water.

Taglist: @keithkhoegane @ekkye @teacupfulofstarshine @tis-i-squid @i-really-dig-the-purple @shippernaturalsanderspjoandscifi @certifiedfangirlluna @rememberfateau-nowoffical @crownswriter123 @egg-achechris @noodlesforlife13

#sanders sides #atlantis au #royality #analogical #thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #the dragon witch #next chapter: Roman #our favourite Dramatic Boi #maxiswriting

33 notes · View notes

forever-more-never-again · 7 years

Text

Daughter of a Singer (Part One of Two)

IT’s a what!? Another Supernatural FIC! YAY! This was just gonna be one part, but the word count got carried away. Whoops! And so now it is a two part fic.

*I do not own Supernatural*GIF not mine*

Platonic Dean and Sam X Reader

Word Count~2300

Warnings: Supernatural gore. Swearing. Cancer. Family death.

Summary: What happens when you find out that everything you thought you knew was actually wrong? You decide to find your biological father, even if it means leaving the white picket fence life behind for good.

THIS WILL BE A TWO-PART FIC. THIS IS PART ONE.

Silence. That was the one thing you craved more than anything in this moment. Stuck in grim Eastern Washington, in the middle of nowhere in a middle of a rundown barn about to fall over, surrounded by screaming people and snarling Vampires, the noise was overwhelming. But you couldn’t focus on that, you had a job to do.

Swinging your machete around, you sliced off another head. “Hurry! Get out!” You shouted at the terrified hostages that the Vampires had been using as blood banks.

The civilians ran past you, helping each other get out of the rundown barn. you kept your focus on the enraged Vampire nest that was trying to take off your head.

“You took away our meal. Now you’re gonna have to pay Hunter.” You grinned darkly as the Vampire tried to threaten you. You were too hardened to let it get to you.

“Bring it on, Twilight.”

In a matter of minutes, the fight was over. The last of the Vampires ganked. You stood panting over the last body, covered in blood and dirt. As you walked back to your 1968 Pontiac Firebird you thought back to how you ended up embroiled in this supernatural life.

*2 years before*

“Mom..? Why are you crying?” You walked into your mother’s room, seeing her sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to dry her tears.

She gave you a watery smile before beckoning you over to sit next to her, “Honey, I love you so much. I tried my best to give you a normal life and all that you could need to survive in this world.”

You reached over and squeezed her hand, “Mom, you’re scaring me.” You knew she had been going through a rough patch. You had noticed her lack of appetite and she had been having more accidents, running into things and bruising easily.

Your mother looked down, fresh tears trailing down her face, “Honey, I have cancer.”

Cancer, Cancer, CANCER!

The world froze as the word thundered through your head. Had you heard her right? “Mom?”

“Oh Honey, come here.” She pulled you in for a hug, as you broke down sobbing. She rubbed her hand on your back, pressing kisses into your [h/c] hair, “Shhh. I know honey, I know.”

You pulled back, “Isn’t there something? Chemotherapy?”

Your mother smiled gently at you, reaching up to wipe away a few tears, “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. At this stage of Ovarian Cancer, there isn’t much they can do for me.”

You jumped off the bed, suddenly angry at your mother, at the world. “No! You can’t leave me! You can’t! You’re all I have!”

Your mother watched you pace, patiently, hands folded in her laps. Her tears were silent as she watched you battle with yourself and the world. Finally, she stood up as well and caught your arms with her hands. You couldn’t help but notice how frail her grasp was.

“Honey, I don’t want to leave you, believe me, if there was another way. But God has decided that it’s my time and this is the way I make my exit. But I did everything I could to prepare you for the world by yourself.” She wiped a tear away, her eyes the same color as yours, catching your gaze, “All those karate classes, hunting trips. Survival training sessions. You are ready to face this world.”

You were confused, “What do you mean? How did those activities prepare me?”

Your mother let go and lowered herself to pull something out from under her bed, sighing she handed you an old worn oak box. “There are several things I have kept from you through the years. Your father,”

You interrupted, giving your mother an odd look, “He died when I was little in a fire.”

“No [y/n]...he’s alive. He’s a hunter.”

You gasped, looking down at the box in your hands. Your father was alive? “A Hunter? As in deer?”

Your mother gave a heavy sigh, sitting down on the bed again. Her skin was becoming very pale and you could see the weight on her shoulders. “You don’t have to tell me right now mom, you need to rest.”

Your mother pushed your hands away as you fretted over her, setting the box on the bed. “No, [Y/n], I’m fine. I need you to know this before I leave you. Your father is a hunter of the supernatural.”

You laughed, “What? That’s not a thing.” But your laughter faded and your smile turned into a frown the longer your mother stared at you in all seriousness. “Wait...really?” You whispered.

“Yes honey, there are things out there in the dark. All those stories about things that go bump in the night...they aren’t stories, they are really out there and they are dangerous. That’s why men like your father dedicate their lives to protecting the rest of us.”

You were numb. It was so much to take in. Your mother was dying, your father was alive and there were monsters in the world. “Why wasn’t he apart of my life then?”

“That was my doing in part, his line of work is dangerous. Anyone connected to him is a target to those monsters. He and I thought it best if we separate ways once we realized that I was pregnant. It’s been years since I saw him.”

You stared at your mother with new eyes. “So all those lessons growing up, you were preparing me to protect myself from those monsters, weren’t you?”

Your mother gave a weak laugh, “Even though your father wasn’t around, I was not about to let my only child go out into the world defenseless.”

“Why. Why tell me about the monsters at all?”

Your mother dropped her gaze to the box that was next to her now. “Because once I’m gone, I want you to have some family left. And I want you to know what you will be against in finding your father.”

“Where is he? What’s his name?” You shot questions at your mother.

“Look in the box, it will give you some answers, I’m really tired Honey.”

You immediately felt sorry for pushing her, you helped her climb into her bed, “Okay mom, I love you.”

“I love you too sweetie.” And with that you took the box and walked back into your bedroom.

*Present Day*

Your mother had passed away a week later. The box had revealed an old black and white photo of a young man with a name written on the back in your mother’s handwriting. Robert Singer. Your father’s name. There were also several newspaper clippings of news from around America. You had looked over them trying to see the significance before realizing that they all were about a mysterious stranger saving people from various accidents. You deduced that the accidents were actually monster related.

Once your mother passed and you took care of her affairs. You had packed up a duffel bag and hit the road. Over the next couple years you had learned how to track and kill various supernatural creatures. Keeping a journal filled with notes about each one that you encountered.

All the while tracking down your father. Every Hunter’s bar you asked about a Robert. But no one knew anything.

All this played in your head as you drove back to the closest city, to the motel you had been staying in while tracking the Vamps.

Pulling in to the parking lot, you were surprised to see a nice looking car parked in front of your room number. You cautiously pulled up, staying in your car, you looked around. There were two guys sitting in the car, talking.

Still wary, you climbed out of your car, fingering the gun you kept tucked in a holster at your hip. You walked to your door, opening it while keeping your ears open. You heard doors open and slam and footsteps coming up. You opened the door, took a step forward, quickly spun and grabbed the closest man, that happened to be the shortest and pinned him up against the wall while pointing your gun at the giant man behind him.

“Woah, easy there.” You continued to apply pressure with your arm against the man’s throat, catching his bright green eyes.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

The giant brown haired man who you had your gun trained on him, raised his hands and answered, drawing your attention, “I’m agent Osborne, that’s my partner, Agent Zepplin. We are looking into the disappearance of the residents of this city, we were told you were a newbie, blown in a few weeks ago.”

I laughed, bitterly, keeping my gun trained on the guy, “Try again, Hunter.”

I felt the man under me tense up at that word. “Wait, are you a hunter?”

I reluctantly let go of the short green eyed man, but kept my gun at the ready. I pulled them both inside my motel room, closing the door.

“Okay, you guys want to tell me who you really are now?” I jutted out a hip, not in the mind frame to play games. Still covered in splatter of blood from the Vamps.

The green eyed one stepped forward, “My name is Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam. We came to deal with the Vampire Nest we heard was setting up camp here.”

You chuckled, finally putting away your gun. The Winchesters, you had heard about them in your travels. The brothers were a beacon for trouble and monsters. You walked past them to the small sink and mirror. Wetting a wash rag and starting to wipe away the gore from your face and arms you looked back at the brothers. “You boys can just turn back and go home now, I already dealt with the nest. Trust me,” I smirked at their confused looks, “They won’t be bothering anyone anytime soon.”

The tall one, Sam, managed to look impressed, “You took on the nest by yourself? How many Vamps were there?”

You thought back, “It was hard to keep track while fighting for my life, but I figured about fifteen. The largest nest I’ve ever come across.”

Dean whistled low, “Wow, and you took them on all by yourself. You are an impressive woman.”

You didn’t miss the gleam in the Winchester’s eyes. Rollin yours, you hopped up onto the counter, “So you boys can run back home now.”

The brothers glanced at each other and you frowned at the silent communication they seemed to share. Why weren’t they leaving?

Sam looked back over at you, “You are fairly new to the hunting gig aren’t you? We haven't heard about a lone woman hunting. Mind telling us your name?”

You sighed, of course, they didn’t think you could handle yourself. Being a weak woman. You snorted, flipping your hair over your shoulder you glared at the pair of grown men in your room, “My name is [Y/n]. And that’s all you need to know. I can handle myself. As proven.” You gestured to your bloodied shirt. “So don’t feel like you need to get protective. Bye bye boys.”

You made shooing motions with your hands. But they stayed put. Dean tilted his head, squinting at you, “Sam doesn't she..?”

“Yeah I thought so too.”

“What do you think is the reason?”

“We can ask.”

You interrupted their weird conversation, “Woah hold on, what are you guys talking about?”

Sam sighed and turned back to you, “You look a lot like a friend of ours. We’re trying to figure out why.”

You jumped down and walked over to your duffel bag, “You know you could just ask me. Instead of speaking in code right in front of me.”

Sam stared into your [e/c] eyes and said softly, “Do you know Bobby?”

You tilted your head, did I know a bobby? I heard about a hunter by the name Bobby, but never met the man. “I’ve heard of him. But I’ve never met him. Why? Is he the guy I look like?”

The thought crossed your mind that he could be your father, but you shook it off. Your father’s name was Robert and as far as you were aware, after looking for him the past two years, the man was either dead or hiding in a hole somewhere.

Dean finally spoke up, from his place near the window where he was peeking out at your car, “So that Firebird is yours?” He sounded arrogant so you decided to let him have it.

You cocked a hip, duffel bag over your shoulder, “As a matter of face its a 1968 Pontiac Firebird, all original parts. And you drove here in a 1967 Chevy Impala. By the sounds of it, the engine has been tweaked slightly, so I would say not all original parts, but rather scraps put together. Am I right?”

You glanced between the brothers, feeling pleased as Dean looked awed and Sam looked puzzled.

Dean seemed to get something in his head and he bounced towards you as you headed out the door, “Hey why don’t you come with us to meet Bobby. He runs an auto parts yard and I could show you some more classics.”

You thought it over as the brothers followed you out of the motel room. You opened your trunk, displaying your array of weapons, throwing you duffel on top. Slamming the trunk closed, You leaned against your car, eyeing the two hunters.

“I guess. I don’t have another hunt lined up anyways. I’ll follow you guys then?”

They nodded, the one called Dean looking way too excited for a road trip. Taking a deep breath you climbed into your car, starting it up, wondering what the hell you had just agreed to.

86 notes · View notes