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laurel-finch · 2 months

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'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch10: Winds of Change

Summary: Returning to the Winchesters does not meet expectations... Referenced Episodes: S1 E16 "Shadow" CW: Alcohol. Arguing. Normal Supernatural things. Another ridiculously long chapter, my b. Word Count: 8209 Recommended Song: Winds of Change -- Scorpions Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

I gnawed on my lower lip as I jammed another number into my phone, praying that this time one of the brother’s would pick up. I had a handful of Dean’s phone numbers and only two of Sam’s, but I knew they had more that they hadn’t felt the need to share with me. It all came down to which phone they were actively using for the case they were on. There was no consistency with them.

I glared down at the number I knew to be linked to Dean’s ATF persona. There was a chance he would answer, but it was slim. I really needed a better way to get ahold of the brothers. I sighed and hoped I would have better luck with Sam as I dialed one of his numbers next.

After six long rings, the call dropped. No answer. I pinched the bridge of my nose and kicked at a pebble in the middle of the deserted motel parking lot. Apparently, I'd need to call all of their numbers.

Three numbers in I finally heard a receiving click on the other end and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hello?" came Sam's gruff voice on the other end. I was surprised to hear his voice instead of his older brother's.

"Sam? Hey, it’s me," I heard a lot of shuffling from the other end, like he had bolted upright from shock. “Where, um… where are you guys?”

Sam was silent for a beat before speaking again. "Is everything alright?" I flinched at the wariness in his tone.

"I'm fine, Sam. Better than fine actually," I answered quietly. I placed my other hand over the speaker of the phone and turned my back to the motel parking lot conspiratorially. My voice dropped to a soft tone. "Look, I… I know it’s been a while and you probably don’t want to see me, but-"

"I do," he interjected quickly and I clamped my mouth shut. "Believe me, I do- we do. But what about your pack? And, well… I mean, Dean’s pretty pissed. He’s been pissed. He’s been throwing himself into this hunt for dad."

I frowned at the worn pavement beneath my feet. I figured he would be mad at me, but facing the reality of the situation hurt regardless. Maybe I could just… ignore it all. Go back to my pack, forget it ever happened. Like I never met them. Would that be easier?

No. No, that would hurt more. I mentally cursed myself for getting so attached. "Did you tell him why?”

"Yeah, yeah I tried to explain it to him. But… well, look at it from his perspective. Dean’s spent his whole life killing, and the one time he decides not to…" he sounded distraught and I heard more shuffling from the other end.

He didn’t need to finish his thought for me to know what he meant. Dean had done me a favor by not killing me when we first met. At the time it hadn’t felt like much of a favor – maybe death would have been safer. But now, with how much our lives had changed… it was understandable that he was frustrated. The one different choice he made led to a human being killed and me running off without a word.

I fell silent, pondering what to say next. How was I supposed to explain to them why I left? I think Sam understood better than he was letting on. It wasn’t too dissimilar to why he left for college, although his reasoning wasn’t nearly as bloody. But Dean… it made sense that he would be hurt…

"I want to see you, Sam – both of you. I want to apologize to Dean, but I can't do that unless I see him."

Sam sighed from the other end. "OK. I'll… keep you updated on where we are.”

After a flood of profuse thank-yous and Sam's chuckles, the line finally went dead. He had given me a location amongst my gratitude and I was already slinging my backpack over my shoulder.

—

After half a day of travel, the sun was setting and I was thoroughly exhausted. Upon seeing the welcome sign that coaxed me into the small city I stretched my arms high above my head and allowed myself to slow to a steady walking pace.

Oddly enough, my heart felt heavy, like something severe was weighing on me. It was... an odd sensation that I hadn't felt in a very long time - not since my parents were still with me. Oddly enough, it was less of a weighing feeling and more of a tug. The tug itself was heavy, and it felt like it was pulling on a part of me that I didn't want to be released.

Something didn’t feel right.

I hummed and frowned slightly, my eyebrows creasing with worry. Maybe it was a mistake to come looking for the Winchesters before the pack? I had half a mind to turn back, but... I still didn't feel ready. If Sam and Dean were afraid of what I had done, how would my pack feel? They depended on the stability and different lifestyle my home provided. I kicked the occasional large stone out of my way as I traipsed down the road, headed toward whatever lay at the end of it. Hopefully a warm bed.

After another thirty minutes of walking, something I grumbled about to myself, I finally spotted dim lights behind a row of thick pine trees. My ears pricked at the sound of the engines roaring to life in the early night, something that oddly warmed my heart and made me want to prance. It wasn't long after that the stench of alcohol hit my nose.

The bar was a brick building on the edge of town, a neon sign glowing above the door and the building itself set into the corner of the block. The occasional car or motorcycle was parked out front. I smiled and brushed my hand affectionately over the front of an older motorcycle – I had always wanted to learn how to ride them. I wondered what it felt like to be on something so small, barrelling down a highway faster than I could run.

My eyes rose, scanning the line of cars until they settled on a sleek older model across the street. My eyes widened and a grin tore across my face. It was the Impala.

I whirled toward the door so fast that I nearly fell over, tripping over my own feet like a stumbling drunk. My senses dulled as the stench of alcohol hit my nose once again. The harsh smell practically threw me off my feet and made my eyes water. I couldn't place any other scent amongst the heavy, bourbon-filled air and that alone sunk anxious claws into my lungs, oxygen being stolen from them.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, grounding myself. The overwhelming scents and smells were driving my wolfish senses crazy, as they still hadn't calmed from my last escapade with the brothers. It had been weeks since I was in a room with this many people. I felt small and large at the same time. Small with worry and nerves. Large with fearsome hunger.

I rolled my shoulders and took a few more deep breaths, sifting through the heavily masked scents. My eyes flew open as a familiar scent hit my nose and I struggled to keep the rising gold color down.

Cherries.

I pushed my way through the crowd of drunkards and bikers. It was exactly the kind of scene Dean liked. Loud enough to quiet his own raging thoughts. Dark enough to dull the headache behind his eyes. Music he could get lost in, and a drink that burned just right.

"Hey," I spoke cautiously as I sat beside him and rested my forearms on the bar counter. Dean spared me a glance from the corner of his green eye and suddenly jumped. He did a double take out of shock and turned to me with wide eyes and parted lips. As suddenly as his surprise had come, it was gone and darkened with spite.

"What do you want?" he growled and took a long sip from his whiskey glass, failing to hide his frown.

I frowned, my brows knitted with frustration. I could already tell this wasn't going to be a good conversation. "I came to apologize."

Dean scoffed and tightened his grip on his glass. "Apologize for what? Abandoning us without a word?" he exhaled and glared at me. "That's not something I'll accept an apology for, sweetheart." I bristled. Although most of his nicknames were endearing, this one was spat out like it burned him.

"I had my reasons, Dean. You know I wouldn't leave without a good one-"

"Do I know that?" he snarled, spinning his stool to face me. "Cause it seems like you don't give a damn about Sam or me, or how we felt." I winced and opened my mouth to speak. He shushed me with a raised finger. "So what's your excuse? You got tired of us holding you back from going apeshit?"

Ow. I glowered at him. "You know I would never do that."

"Yeah? You seemed pretty content when you had your teeth sunk into Jared Bender's heart." I winced again, my glare cracking. "You didn't even know his name, did you?"

"He was trying to kill Sam," I growled, trying to justify my actions. "You would have done the same."

"Damn right I would have killed him. I would have shot his ass dead, would’ve been dead before he hit the dirt. But I certainly wouldn't have torn him apart and strung his organs around the room!" he growled between his teeth. He tried to keep his voice low, despite the uninterested roar of the bar occupants.

I balled my fists in my lap and glared at him as he twisted to face me. His jaw was set sternly, lips pressed into a thin line. It was the same look he gave Sam when the two argued. “You’re a hypocrite.” My tone caused my words to lose their bite.

"I'm a hypocrite? You fucking killed and nearly ate a man, and now you're trying to justify it to me!" he snapped, one corner of his mouth drawn up in a sneer. "You left Sam and me without a word! And now you're crawling back here to apologize and call me a hypocrite?"

My blood was boiling and once more my senses were raging. I couldn't quite grasp it, but it almost felt like a separation inside me, one side longing to beg for forgiveness and the other itching to sink its fangs into Dean's neck. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, struggling to ground myself again.

Maybe a few months as friends wasn’t enough to convince him I wasn’t worth the trouble. Maybe he should’ve aimed for the head when we first met.

Without missing a beat I snapped back at him. "Quit acting like a girl whose prom date stood her up. I had my reasons and if you'll shut up for a few minutes, I'll tell you what was going through my head," I exhaled shakily and glared, steeling myself for his own reproachful response. "I left to protect you, to protect Sam, and to protect everyone around you. I wasn't stable – you know that, you saw it. So stop talking like a self-righteous prick."

Despite the quick tongue-lashing, I still didn't feel better. I hadn't said half of what I wanted to. If I could have given Dean a glimpse inside my thoughts, I would have in a heartbeat.

His frown remained stalwart on his features, furrowed brows unyielding. His viridescent eyes surveyed my own with contempt and barely contained anger, an emotion I mirrored. Eventually, his gaze reluctantly dropped back to the beer I had passed him, which he took a swig of. I felt a small victory until he spoke up.

"Get out," he grumbled.

"What?" I demanded with equal, if not more, frustration.

"Get out," he ordered more firmly this time with rage coating his words. I blinked in confusion – not just at his harsh words, but at the gripping pain in my chest and the harsh scratching, I felt in the back of my mind, like something fighting to escape. It struck me that Dean was really, truly angry with me for leaving, despite my reasoning – and from what I knew of him, he wasn't just going to forgive and forget.

He swore under his breath and whipped his head toward me, eyes raging with rage and, to my amazement, pain. "Are you deaf?" he snarled lowly, "I don't want to hear your excuses. Fuck off." He gripped his beer tightly and guzzled it then slammed it onto the counter.

Wrath hit me like a semi-truck, and that familiar clawing sensation I kept hidden in the back of my thoughts lunged forward. Those nagging thoughts took the form of my wolf, black fur ruffled and fangs bared in anger.

Whatever wolfish instincts I had let escape were now clawing to take control. For the first time in a long time, I felt like two beings at once. As I had surmised earlier, I had the very human side that wanted nothing more than to avoid conflict, that just wanted to apologize to Dean and work things out. But my monster side...

I gulped and glared viciously at Dean.

I felt a rumble low in my chest, a familiar rumble that I had last felt with my father. My wolf wanted me to tear into Dean, a human that we had somehow bound to our pack. Now this pup was blatantly challenging me, as she put it. She snarled at him and I resisted the urge to follow suit.

She was pacing in my mind, stalking back and forth, her molten eyes fixated on Dean. My own eyes faded to match the warm gold of hers, whiskey-colored in the faded glow of the bar lights.

I hadn't even realized just how much I was shaking. My wolf wanted out, wanted to shred him for his disloyalty. It was an odd feeling to be separated from a piece of myself, although the more I focused on her, the more I realized that we had been separated for a long time. For years, I lacked the fluid mobility between myself and my instinct, not the mobility that I once had. I hadn't had it since I was fifteen. It felt like I was holding back a tidal wave of torrential emotions, a painful instinct that wanted me to embrace the monster I was and chow on some hearts. Not Dean though. She wanted him back in his place as my... pack member? Was that what she- I viewed him as?

Dean swore again, finally breaking eye contact. He reached for his beer with a shaky hand and took another final swig before wiping his mouth and standing. "Fuck this," he grumbled, "I'm out."

He hadn't even made it three steps before something in me snapped and I snarled. "Sit your ass down before I sink my teeth into you and drag you back."

Dean whirled on me, chest heaving with fury. I turned my blazing golden eyes on him, slowly, with my mouth set into a firm line and eyebrows slightly drawn together. It struck me that this was the same look my mother had given my father when she was pissed as all hell, a look that clearly said he needed to shut up if he wanted to keep his testicles intact.

Like my father, Dean responded with a slack jaw, opening and closing his mouth in surprise and confusion. His resolve, although still strong, was withering.

I nodded toward his vacated stool. He sat and shot me an angry glance, trying (and failing) to mask his nerves.

I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves. I stretched my fingers, feeling my joints pop after being balled into tight fists for god know how long. With a sigh, I locked eyes with Dean once more, his narrowed and wary.

"You know full well I had to leave, Dean." I snapped. "If I hadn't left, I guarantee you would have eventually sent me home, thinking my pack could help. Don't act pissy with me for doing what I felt was right."

Dean glowered and his nostrils flared. "Having a reason doesn't change that fact that you left without a word-"

"- If I had told you I was leaving, would you have asked me to stay?"

"Of course, I would have!" he hissed and leaned forward. "Whether you like it or not, you're part of this family now. I'm not going to just let my family walk out on me like that."

"That's the problem, Dean!" I argued. "I know that, if you had asked, I would have stayed! Sam wouldn't have asked, he would accept my decision and move past it, because he’s made that decision before for himself! You though, you would have gotten so caught up in your familial ideas that I wouldn't have been able to leave!"

"What's so wrong about staying with us!? About staying with me!?" he shouted back, a snarl set on his features. My eyes widened and he followed suit, realizing just what he had said.

"Dean, I had to leave," I uttered quietly. "For the second time in my life, I royally fucked up. I needed- need to get back on the same page. You know that feeling better than most."

"Why are you risking it?" he grumbled. I smiled weakly.

"Because you're my family too, Dean. Whether you like it or not, you're part of my pack now. You're family," I answered quietly. His own eyes softened. "Are you still mad at me?" I inquired with a nervous smile.

"Hell yeah, I'm still mad," he grunted. "But yeah... I get it. Wish I didn't, it would make staying mad at you a hell of a lot easier."

My nervous smile grew to a true grin, the gold fading from my eyes. My wolf scoffed and sat back on her haunches, melting into the background of my thoughts.

My human side had won yet again.

"Don't think you're off the hook," Dean huffed and stood from his stool. "You've got a lot of work to do to make it up to me, Scooby."

"Would pie be a good first step?" I teased, standing up with him.

His expression softened slightly. The harsh lines of his scowl faded and the corners of his mouth dipped down in a frown. His brows pinched inward, hiding slight surprise. “It’s a start.”

—

Unlike his brother, Sam was happy to see me. I practically threw myself at him when I saw him in the motel room. Dean sulked and ate his pie while Sam and I caught up, discussing hunts and my own journey.

"Wait, so what do you mean you can't change shape?" Sam said, raising a forkful of pie to his mouth. "Isn't that, like, literally part of being... you?"

"Kind of," I uttered through my own forkful. "It's a mental barrier. Sometimes I can get it… close, sometimes I can't. The times that I can take multiple tries and usually it's kind of painful. Hurts my joints."

"What kind of mental barrier? Like a trauma barrier or you just don't want to?"

I huffed and reached for another bite of my slice. "I don't know. It's... it's like my mind knows I won't always be able to control what I do in that form. It's like a piece of me is trying to keep that instinctive part of me tied down."

I heard a snort from behind me and spun to face Dean, who was sitting at a little table under the window next to the door. "Why're you talking like it's two separate people? It's still you, right?"

I exhaled softly, choosing my words carefully when I spoke up. "Yeah, it's still me, but it's a side of me that I'm not very... in touch with. I haven't been in a long time."

"So your wolf is that instinctive part of you that you're keeping 'tied down'?" Sam inquired. I nodded.

"I think so. And she's been a lot rowdier since Minnesota. Over the years I've just... made a habit of keeping her chained down so that I don't have any screw-ups."

"And yet," snapped Dean, "you still didn't have a strong enough grip on her." He shoved a large bite of pie into his mouth and chewed, his jaw tensing. I practically wilted and stared down at my feet that were stretched out in front of me. His opinion on the matter had changed so drastically since before I left.

"Dean!" Sam hissed. "I know you're pissed, but you don't need to be an ass-"

"It's fine, Sam," I uttered. "He's not wrong." I huffed and brushed a hair out of my face. "I know it's not an excuse but... when my pack is involved, I just lose control. I'm going to keep working on it," I sighed. "I've never had a pack before – never wanted one – so, it's all so new to me. And now I have to worry about six skinwalkers and two humans that have somehow wormed their way into my family-" Dean winced. "- I've got to worry about my self-control and make sure I don't kill anyone, I have to figure out these damn whispers, and-"

"Hold up," said Sam, throwing up a halting hand. "What whispers?"

I paled. I hadn't meant to let that slip out. I didn't want the brothers to worry about whatever weird-ass whispers I had been hearing - I knew that they'd get fixated on figuring it out and potentially killing whatever it was. They didn't have the time or resources to help me with that -- hell, I didn't even know if it was actually a living thing talking to me. For all I knew, some celestial entity was trying to give me advice. At worst, I was going nuts.

"I- uh," I stuttered over my words. I jumped as Dean stood, tossing his paper plate in a trash can and sitting on the bed beside Sam. I refused to turn to him and continued staring at my feet and my place on the floor. "I've just been hearing these weird whispers. It's nothing too crazy-"

"Whispers are pretty frickin’ crazy,” Dean remarked firmly. I frowned. "Keep talking."

"There's not much to tell, Dean," I snapped, twisting to face him with a scowl. "I just hear this whisper. When I try to follow it, it... it shows me things."

"It shows you things?" Sam asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Like, I was chasing it when I met Marcus and Caeden. I just... followed the whisper and it led me to them. And with Calliope, it was... it wasn't whispering. It was screaming, frantic. It made me frantic. It knew she was in danger and it took me to her."

Dean swore under his breath. "How long have you been hearing these things? What are they saying to you?"

I scrunched my brows in thought. "It's been about three months I think? Maybe a little more?" Dean scoffed.

"And you're only telling us about this now?"

"Well, what was I supposed to say!?" I snarled back. "'Oh hey Dean, just wanted to let you know that I might be going a bit crazy, cause this voice I know literally nothing about it talking to me'!?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. "That is exactly what you tell us! And then we help you figure out whatever the hell it is and maybe kill it!"

I huffed and turned away from him, crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't think it needs to be killed."

"What?" Dean growled and leaned forward, "What if it leads you into danger huh? What if it drags you into something you can't handle!?"

I whipped around to glare at him. "Would you even care, Dean? Last I checked, you didn't want me around anyway."

"Guys," Sam silenced us with a warning tone, snapping out of his deep thoughts. "Quit going at each other's throats, it's pointless."

"She wouldn't go for the throat, Sammy," Dean growled, balling his hands into fists, "She'd go for the heart."

"If you don't shut the hell up I will beat the shit out of you," I hissed back.

"I'd like to see you try," he snapped back.

"Would you two just shut up!" Sam snapped and glared at the both of us like he was ready to maim. "We've got bigger problems than you dumbasses not getting along." Dean and I fell silent, dropping our harsh gazes from one another and onto the floor. I could practically feel Dean's blood boiling - he was seething. I was too. I hated the way he was talking to me, treating me. Sam placed his hands on his face, dragging them down languorously, and sighed out of frustration. I perked up as he said my name. "What are the whispers saying to you?"

I hummed in thought. "Things like 'come', mostly," Dean snorted and I glared at him. "Last time it said 'see' and 'go'. Pretty much as soon as I realized something was wrong it changed what it was saying."

"Is it always only one word?"

"Yeah, one word at a time. Usually, there's a long pause and then it says something else. Last time... last time it was screaming so loud that it felt like it was clawing inside my skull," I mused for a second, mulling it over. "Pretty much every other time it's been like an existential thing like I was chasing someone just ahead of me. That time it felt like it was... pushing me, almost. Like it was urging me forward instead of urging me to chase."

Sam ruminated for a few moments, looking puzzled. Finally, he turned to Dean and muttered, "What do you think? Have you seen anything like that in dad's journal?"

Dean shook his head and fiddled with the odd-looking charm hanging around his neck. "No, I haven't. Honestly, sounds like a possession of some sort," his words faded into deep thought. His eyes rose to meet mine. "Can skinwalkers even get possessed?"

"Not that I know of. To my knowledge, you have to have a soul to get possessed."

Sam's eyes widened and he leaned forward with interest. "You don't have a soul?"

I shook my head. "Don’t think so. My dad told me it's why we don't go to heaven or hell when we die."

Dean quirked a brow. "Then where do you go? And how did he know?"

I shrugged. "For all I know there's nothing after death for monsters. It's just... over..." my shoulders slumped. I had always hoped that my father was wrong, that maybe there was something, anything after death. I didn't want it to just be over.

"Well, if it's not possession," Dean grumbled and leaned back on his hands, "maybe it's a demon?"

"Dean, why would a demon be talking to her?" Sam countered. "It's not like she can sell her soul."

I frowned. "What if it's not anything bad? What if it's, like, her? Instinct? Maybe I just subconsciously know when something is wrong with the pack?"

"No," Sam stated. "It can't be that. You said it led you to Marcus and Caeden? They weren't part of your pack at the time. Unless your instinct latches on to potential pack members nearby, I don't think that's it."

“Well if it were that, it would have led me to Sasha, Booth, and Andrew long before you guys rolled into town.”

“Unless they were the catalyst that sent your… pack honing abilities into overdrive?” Dean offered.

"Whatever the reason is for it talking to me-" I started, referring back to Sam's previous statement, "- as long as the thing stays out of my way, I don't care what it says or leads me to."

Sam chuckled. "Fair enough. We can figure out our game plan for dealing with this thing later." The younger brother yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.

"We?" I questioned teasingly. "I don't remember agreeing to that."

Dean huffed and stood from Sam's bed and marched toward his own. He flopped onto the bed, landing on his back and locking his eyes with the ceiling. "Damn right this is a 'we' operation. No way in hell are we letting you figure this out on your own."

I chuckled dryly. “Doesn’t sound like you’re mad at me anymore.”

He scoffed. "Sure, soon we'll be frolicking in a meadow full of flowers together."

Sam chuckled with me as he rummaged through his bag, hunting for a toothbrush within it and setting out a set of clothes for the following day. "Alright, you two," he said, "we've got a hunt tomorrow, so enough talking."

I quirked a brow, my grin falling away. "We've got a hunt?"

Sam nodded and hummed in response. "Murder in Chicago."

I barked out a laugh. "Yeah, like that's uncommon for Chicago." A rustling caught my attention and I turned to see Dean rummaging through his own luggage.

Sam smirked down at his bag and turned to face me, toothbrush in hand. "This is the second one in two months. Two people found dead in their apartments, no sign of forced entry."

My brows rose in surprise. "Spirit maybe?"

Dean huffed. "We were thinking a cursed object. No way a spirit could move between houses like that." I nodded in agreement. I wasn't exactly knowledgeable on all the spiritual aspects of the supernatural world – ask me anything about certain monsters, and I could answer more than most hunters. But ghosts, psychics, witches... those were all foreign. Hell, I had only heard stories about psychics before meeting Missouri Moseley.

"We'll find out what it is soon," interjected Sam, always the mother of the group. "Just get to sleep - especially you, Dean, since you'll be driving tomorrow."

Dean grumbled something under his breath and flopped back onto his bed, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. I grinned and made my way toward a rather large armchair in the corner of the room. I dragged a cushion off the chair and motioned for Sam to toss me a pillow. To my delight, he tossed two and a heavy blanket that had been folded and lain across the end of the bed.

After putting together my relatively comfortable nest, Sam turned out the light and the sound of peaceful snores filled the room.

—

The Impala rolled to a halt on the side of the packed road and Dean expertly parked against the curb. Sam sighed and ruffled his hair, scanning the newspaper seated in his lap.

I leaned forward and gazed out the front window at the apartment building before us. The room was somewhere on the third floor. I fiddled with the hem of my costume and followed the brothers out of the car, my eyes following Dean as he moved toward the trunk and withdrew a toolbox. He had hardly said anything to me since the night I got back. The most he would do is give me the necessary information for the case or give me a clipped answer to a question.

I missed bantering with him. I didn't like this odd silent treatment I was receiving from him. It put me in a bad mood every time he gave me a brief answer or even none at all. I wanted nothing more than to scream at him to get over himself and just forgive me already.

"You know," Dean started as he paced down the sidewalk toward where Sam and I were standing, "I've gotta say, dad and me did just fine without these stupid costumes. I feel like a high school drama dork." He grinned and swung his toolbox lazily at his side. "What was that play you did?" he asked Sam, a smirk dawning on his features. He stumbled for a moment, struggling to remember the name. "What was it - ‘Our Town’? Yeah, you were good, it was cute."

Sam scoffed and a blush tinged his ears and cheeks. I chuckled, punching him teasingly in the shoulder. "You never told me you were in a play, Sam."

He chuckled nervously and turned his head to me. "It was a long time ago, and I really didn't have a big part. I was a background character."

"Main character in my heart," Dean teased. Sam rolled his eyes.

"But honestly, Dean. This getup helps us look the part. Do you want to pull this off or not?" Sam quickly changed the subject.

"I'm just saying, these outfits cost hard-earned money."

"Whose?" I countered and glared teasingly.

"Ours. You think credit card fraud is easy?"

It didn't take us long to reach the third floor and the door of the victim. The landlady grumbled and fumbled with the keys before pushing the white door open to let us in.

"Thanks for letting us look around," Sam said to her politely. Dean and I paced around the hallway, him fumbling with the alarm system while I checked for any signs of forced entry on the door.

"Well, the police said they were done with the place, so..." she trailed off and sauntered into the room with Sam close behind. I shut the door and quirked an eyebrow at the severed chain lock. I caught Dean's attention and nodded toward it, holding the two ends of the golden chain delicately. Dean frowned and turned to follow the landlady and his brother. "You said you're with the alarm company, right?" the older woman asked and spun to face the brothers.

"That's right," answered Dean, flashing his most sincere smile. It looked more like a grimace, in all honesty. He really wasn't that good at the acting part of this job.

The woman huffed wearily in response. "Well, no offense, but your alarm's about as useful as boobs on a man." I choked down laughter and covered my mouth with a hand. She leaned around the boys to cast me a sly grin.

Dean cleared his throat and flashed his own tentative grin. "Well, that's why we're here. To make sure it never happens again." The woman nodded and stepped aside to allow us to peruse the apartment.

"You found the body, right?" I asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She nodded and swallowed dryly. "Were there any signs of a forced entry?"

"Any windows open?" Sam asked. "Was the alarm still active?"

"Windows were locked, front door was bolted. We had to cut the chain to get in here," she grouched in response. Dean frowned – that chain was the only lead we had. We were back to square one.

"Did you find her right after it happened?" Dean asked, referencing the girl who had been killed. The landlady shook her head.

"No, a few days later. Her work called and said they hadn't seen her in a while. I knocked on her door. That's when I noticed... the smell," she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the memory.

"And what condition was she in?" Dean pressed. The landlady huffed and glared at him.

"Meredith was all over the place, in pieces. I tell you, the guy who did it must have been a whack job. If I didn't know any better, I would have said it was an animal attack." The brothers looked first at each other and then Sam's eyes met mine. My brows furrowed. What could possibly have shredded her like that?

Sam's eyes flitted toward the woman. "Ma'am, do you mind if we take some time and give this place a once over?"

The landlady shrugged in response. "Go right ahead, knock yourself out." My eyes followed her as she walked out of the apartment, waiting for the door to latch before giving the go-ahead to speak.

"So a killer walks in and out of the apartment, no weapons, no prints, nothing..." Dean grumbled, trailing off as he rifled through his toolbox. I hummed quietly in response.

"There's got to be a trace of something here, some sort of clue. There's no way something could have killed her and not left a trail," I said, tracing a few fingers lazily over the large spots of blood.

"I'm telling you, the minute I saw the article I knew this was our kind of gig," Sam said, inspecting the windows. He jumped when Dean's EMF meter went off.

"I think I agree with you," Dean answered as he held up the box to show off the number of lights indicating supernatural presence.

"Did you ever talk to the cops yesterday?" I asked him.

Dean nodded and stood from his crouch position on the once white carpet. "Oh, yeah," he said, smirking. "I talked to Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law." I rolled my eyes.

"What'd you find out?" Sam pressed. I flashed him a quick glare which he looked rather confused by.

"Well, she's a Sagittarius, loves tequila - I mean, wow," Dean sighed almost wistfully, "Oh! And she's got this little tattoo-"

"Jesus, Dean!" I snapped. "Not about your hook-up, about the case!"

Dean grumbled something I didn't catch. I glared at the back of his head, almost wishing I could bore holes into it. "Nothing we don't already know," he carped. "Except for one thing they're keeping out of the papers."

"Enough with the suspense, Dean," I said. At this point, I just wanted this case to be over. I already was not a fan of Chicago.

"You're no fun," he sighed. "Meredith's heart was missing."

Sam and I both jumped to attention, whirling on Dean with twin, wide-eyed stares.

"Her heart? What do you think did it to her?" Sam inquired.

"Landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe a werewolf?"

I barked out a laugh. "No way it was a werewolf. Moon cycle isn't right, and even if it was, I'd smell it. They reek, like the worst combination of rotten meat and cigarettes." I scrunched my nose at the thought. "My money's on a spirit. If it was a monster, I guarantee they would have left some trace other than blood."

"Yeah..." Dean mused thoughtfully. His eyes scanned the patches of blood, drawing a pattern in his mind. "Sammy, see if you can find a roll of tape."

Sam dug through his brother's toolbox as I went to stand beside Dean. "Notice something?"

"Maybe," he offered, holding his hands up to catch the roll of tape Sam had tossed his way. "We'll see in just a minute."

Dean got to work, connecting the patches of blood in a pattern I had never seen before. Hell, I wouldn't have even thought it would make a pattern like that. I chuckled morbidly, thinking that whatever killed Meredith must have been some sort of abstract artist - first the body, now the blood.

Dean stood and surveyed his work, crossing his arms. Sam moved to stand beside him, a puzzled look on his features.

"You ever seen a symbol like that?" Sam inquired, eyes following the sharp corners of the z-like symbol.

"Never," Dean responded curtly.

"Me neither."

—

"He could at least be helping us, Sam," I grumbled, flipping through the worn pages of their father's journal. "Instead of off doing- whatever it is with that poor bartender."

Sam snickered. "He is helping. Meredith worked here, so the bartenders are bound to know her."

"There's a distinct difference between helping us with the case and flirting with some painted bimbo, who we all know he is never going to call," I muttered, resting my chin in the palm of my hand as my eyes lazily scanned the page.

Sam opened his mouth to retort and quickly shut it, seeing Dean make his way back over. My gaze moved quickly toward him and fell right back to the paper. Honestly, the journal was a hell of a lot more interesting than anything Dean had to say.

John was incredibly thorough – he rivaled my uncle, who had always been compulsive and meticulous about his case notes. The journal might look like a mess of pages and hastily scrawled notations, but to me, it showed his dedication.

I flipped another page slowly, tuning out the brothers' conversation. My finger dragged along each line of writing with my eye following closely behind. My eyes fell on a string of numbers and my finger stopped its movement. I exhaled shakily.

I knew those numbers.

"Hey, Sam!" Dean called out, a tight grip on his beer. "Where are you going?"

I lifted my head, staring with a glazed look after Sam as he marched away from the table. Dean turned his confused eyes on me before standing and following his brother.

I looked back at the page, my finger running haphazardly over the string of digits. Why would John have his number..? I tightened my jaw and marked the page so I could find it later and shut the little book, tucking it under my arm and following the brothers. My eyes widened as I noticed Sam talking to a blonde girl, giving her a tense hug. My ears tuned in to their conversation as I stalked up behind Dean.

"Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while," the girl said, fluttering her lashes at Sam. I took a deep breath, ready to interject, and coughed, gagging on air. God, this girl was drenched in perfume, it was blocking all of my other senses.

Dean cleared his throat and patted me lightly on the back. I brushed his hand away and took shallow breaths.

"You're from Chicago?" Sam asked.

"No, Massachusetts – Andover," the girl said with a giggle. "Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we'd run into each other?"

"Yeah, I know, I thought I'd never see you again." Although his back was turned to me, I could tell he was puzzled. It must have been written all over his features.

"Well, I'm glad you were wrong..." she trailed off and gazed up at Sam from under her lashes. I rolled my eyes. Dean cleared his throat and the girl's eyes snapped to his, a disgusted glare rising on her features. "Dude, cover your mouth."

Dean looked shocked and I suppressed a laugh, for fear of inhaling more of her sharp perfume. God, the girl must have bathed in the stuff. Did the boys really not smell it?

"Yeah, um, I'm sorry, Meg. This is, uh—this is my brother, Dean," Sam said, scratching the back of his head. The girl, Meg, looked surprised.

"Oh! This is Dean?" she confirmed. Sam nodded and Dean smirked at her.

"So you've heard of me," Dean mused, attempting to be smooth. Now it was Meg's turn to roll her eyes.

"Yeah, I've heard of you," she snapped. "Real nice, how you treat your brother like luggage." Dean’s eyes widened and I stared at Meg in shock. When did Sam even have time to meet this girl without Dean knowing? "Why don't you let him do what he wants?" she continued, spite lacing her words. "Quit dragging him all over God's green earth-"

Sam held up his hands in a silent plea to make her stop. "Meg, it's fine, really, we're fine." The three of them stood there awkwardly, Meg surveying the two, glaring at Dean with contempt and at Sam with an almost overprotective gaze. Her eyes skirted over me, likely because I hadn't been introduced.

I cleared my throat. "I'm, uh- I'm going to get a drink. You want to come with me, Dean?"

"Yeah- yeah," he said, already moving toward the bar. I flashed a sheepish grin toward Sam and Meg, waving goodbye and running to catch up with the elder Winchester. "Damn, that was awkward."

I sat on one of the bar stools, placing John's journal on the counter and running a finger over the spine. "So... when did she and Sam first meet."

Dean scoffed. "Probably after our first real hunt with you, in Kansas. He and I got into a spat and he left for a few days."

I glared at him, clenching my fist and resting it on the counter. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Well, we weren't exactly super close then. It was kind of a family matter, not something for you to stick your snout into."

"You are family, Dean," I hissed. "I have a right to know when these things happen."

He frowned and rested his hands on his lap. We sat in silence for a few minutes, long enough for Dean to get another beer from the bartender and have about a third of it.

"Listen, I-" he started. I cut him off, flipping open his father's journal to my marked page.

"Dean, I found something in the journal earlier, when you first came back to the table." He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something and shut it when I cast him a warning glare. Whatever he wanted to say, I really wasn't in the mood for it. He looked toward his lap bashfully and then his eyes rose to face mine, his jaw tightening.

"Anything relevant to the case?" he asked.

"No," I answered quickly. "But look at this," I slid the journal toward him, highlighting the phone number at the bottom of the page. His eyes flickered toward mine and he raised a brow in confusion. "I recognize this number, Dean. It's-"

"Hey!" called Sam, sauntering back toward us with his cell phone in hand. "You guys ready to head out."

Dean turned to face me, a promise being held in his green eyes. "We'll get back to this later." He stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and following Sam toward the door.

I groaned and dropped my head dramatically on the open journal. "Sure we will..." I muttered to myself. I stood, slamming the journal shut a little more roughly than I intended, and followed the brothers out the door.

"No, man, I mean like our kind of strange," I heard Sam say as I rushed to catch up with the brothers. "Like, maybe even a lead."

"What makes you say that?" Dean probed, sparing me a glance as I jogged up to him.

"I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don't think that's a little weird?"

Oh. They were still talking about her.

"I don't know," Dean said with a dramatic sigh. "Random coincidence? It happens."

"Yeah, it happens, but not to us. Look, I could be wrong-"

"Dean," I interrupted Sam. "I think maybe Sam's right. There's something off about her. I mean, did you not smell the buckets of perfume on her? Had me gagging within ten feet of her."

"Perfume doesn't make someone a murder suspect," Dean countered.

"It does if it causes me to choke and die."

"Well, then it's a good thing you're not dead, right?"

"-I'm just saying that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on," Sam added to his unfinished sentence.

"I bet you'd like to. I mean, maybe she's not a suspect, maybe you've got a thing for her, huh?" he chuckled and nudged Sam with his shoulder. "Maybe you're thinkin' a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?"

Sam rolled his eyes as we stopped on the side of the road, waiting for the go-ahead to walk. "Do me a favor. Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor." Sam marched away from Dean and I before his brother could protest.

"What are you going to do?" Dean asked as he ran to catch up.

"I'm going to watch Meg."

Dean laughed and clapped Sam on the back. "Yeah, you are!"

Sam grimaced and shrugged Dean's hand off his shoulder. "I just want to see what's what. Better safe than sorry."

The two bickered, Dean teasing Sam, and Sam arguing. I stopped on the sidewalk, watching the brothers make their way toward the Impala, Sam fishing the keys out of his pocket.

I glanced down at the heavy, leather-bound journal in my hands. Something about this case didn't add up. First the weird symbol, and now Meg showing up? Something was wrong, I could feel it. She was hiding something.

Dean called my name from his spot beside the passenger door and I perked up immediately. "You coming or not?"

I nodded and shoved the journal under my arm and crossed the street to where the boys were waiting.

#ugh here comes john winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #x reader #female reader #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on ao3 #supernatural fanfiction #monster reader #monster #original characters #original monster characters #fluff #angst #slow burn

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samlacy · 2 months

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Masterlist & Intro

HELLO!! My name is ila (for short, ilan also works idc tbh^^)

I am a HUGE reader and part time writer :)

I highly suggest to check the tags before reading my fics because I mostly write angst with a side of smut

REQUESTS : OPEN

Im multifandom, which means I write about marvel, supernatural, csm, etc.!!

I write ships AND x readers, just request!!

Okay enough about me, here is the masterlist

MARVEL

**ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE

- Hobie Brown

• Sunsets at the beach (red dots I fell inlove with)

Angst & Hurt no comfort / x reader

• Your Only Flaw Is That You‘re Flawless

Angst & Hurt no comfort / x reader

• False pleasure (I will be good for you)

Semi-Angst & Smut/ x reader

• Hot Man

Drabble / x reader

• Apron

Fluff / x reader

**AVENGERS

- Steve Rogers

• Love Me, Touch me (be the first who ever did)

Smut / Virgin!Reader

• Tall Baby

Smut / x reader

• Thighs

Smut / x reader

- Tony Stark

• …

ORIGINAL WORK

- MLM (men love men)

• Don’t Leave Me Here (Shivering In The Disappearance Of Your Warmth)

Angst / slight smut

SUPERNATURAL

- Castiel

• Let me go, I’m starving

Sastiel (SamxCastiel) / Smut & Angst

- Sam Winchester

• Let me go, I’m starving

Sastiel (SamxCastiel) / Smut & Angst

• One Last Time

Sabriel (GabrielxSam) / Smut

- Dean Winchester

• …

- Gabriel

• One Last Time

Sabriel (GabrielxSam) / Smut

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spnhunter4life · 2 months

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Bullets and Ballgowns

Summary: In the summer of 1813, the arrival of a new family in Brighton causes much excitement for the townsfolk. Anna Foster is shocked to realize she has already met the elder of the two sons, Dean. As she gets to know the family better, she must fight her feelings for him. Though she finds herself drawn to him, it is impossible that they could ever be together.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Here it is, the first chapter of the regency era fic I promised. Set in England because it just seems wrong to write for this time period in any other location. Thanks to everyone who has shown excitement for it! I hope it doesn't disappoint!

Masterlist

(I have a header put together that will go here eventually, but I'm waiting on permission to use a picture)

Anna Foster was greatly enjoying the ball her parents were hosting. It was a beautiful evening. Despite the late hour, the sky was clear of clouds and the full moon shone bright enough to see clear to the horizon. Their country home located a few miles outside of Brighton thrummed with energy. The windows were cracked to let some of the mild summer air into the warm room. The room itself was occupied by a crowd of people. Gentlemen in suits and ladies in beautiful gowns twirled together on the dance floor, accompanied by the town’s most well-respected musicians. Even more people lingered around the edges of the room, chatting amongst themselves and admiring the dancers. It was an overall pleasant and joyful way to end the day.

There was always a great deal of excitement surrounding any ball, but this one was doubly exciting for the town, and Anna’s mother in particular. A new family had moved to town today and would make an appearance at the ball. A wealthy man with his wife and two eligible sons. Naturally, everyone was quite anxious to meet the new family – particularly mothers with eligible daughters – but none more so than Anna’s mother. She had been a ball of excitement since the announcement of the new family’s arrival several weeks ago and had been nearly literally bursting with joyful anticipation today. Anna could do nothing but shake her head and smile fondly.

She was just finishing a dance with Mr. Littleton – a sweet older gentleman who spent each ball dancing with as many ladies as he could, determined that none should be left out – when the sudden outbreak of whispers in the room alerted her to the new arrivals. She curtsied to Mr. Littleton and retreated to the edge of the room, taking up a position next to her friend Charlotte near the door to watch the unfolding excitement.

As tonight’s hosts, Anna’s parents were, of course, the first to greet the new family. They were already standing beside the newcomers, welcoming them not only to their home, but to the town. As the family of four made their way further into the room, Anna found herself staring curiously at them, much the same as everyone else. Her eyes flitted over the line they had formed, first the father, then the mother, and then the two sons.

Mr. and Mrs. Winchester were quite an attractive pair. He was tall with dark hair and had a certain ruggedness about him. Her blonde hair and slighter build complemented him well. And it appeared their good looks had been passed on to their two sons. It was hard to say which was older, but the one standing next to their mother was taller. His brown hair was on the longer side and fell attractively around his eyes. He had a friendly smile that Anna was sure would have caught the attention of girls even if he did not come from a good family with money. The second son was just as attractive, maybe more so. Though he wasn’t as tall as his brother, he was by no means short. His hair was shorter and a lighter shade of brown and he wore an equally charming and friendly smile. Anna felt the blood drain from her face at the sight of him.

Why was he here? How could this be happening? He was a stranger from London, one of thousands of people there. How could he be here of all places? Surely he must have been sent here to torment her, to remind her of that night.

“They are quite handsome,” Charlotte noted of the sons. “I suppose that means the fight for their affections will be even more fierce than expected.” She was not upset or bitter about this fact, merely making an observation. Charlotte did not fall all over herself anytime a new eligible man came to town. She was as eager to be married as any young lady, but she was determined to marry for love. Therefore she had no interest in the Winchesters at present beyond perhaps a desire to get to know them.

Managing a calm that she did not feel, Anna agreed with her. Her hand twisted nervously in the skirt of her gown as she watched her parents. The musicians started up a new song and couples shuffled off to the dance floor, no doubt still keeping a curious eye on the newcomers.

“Anna, darling, come here,” her mother requested when she noticed her standing nearby. She was absolutely beaming, smiling so widely it looked like it hurt. Even though she dreaded what might happen, Anna obeyed immediately, coming to stand next to her mother who wasted no time before getting to introductions.

“This is my daughter, Anna.” Anna said a polite hello as she curtsied. “Anna, this is Mrs. Winchester,” she continued giddily. “My childhood best friend I’ve told you so much about.”

She had indeed told Anna much about Mary Winchester, and always spoke of the other woman fondly. Mary had moved to London with her husband shortly after marrying, and Mrs. Foster had missed her friend dearly. Anna had never seen her so happy as the day she learned they were soon to be neighbors.

“This is her husband Mr. Winchester. And their sons, Sam and Dean,” Mrs. Foster finished. All three gentlemen bowed as they were introduced.

“How do you do?” Anna asked. “I hope you are finding Brighton to your satisfaction.”

“We've only been here but an hour or two, but my dear Mary is quite excited to be back,” Mr. Winchester said. “I must admit, I do have fond memories of the place myself and I believe we are both hoping Sam and Dean will grow to love it here as much as we once did.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Anna answered.

“I hope your expectations haven't been raised too much,” Mrs. Foster said to the younger Winchesters. “For while I find it hard to believe anyone could not be pleased with this fine city of ours, I find expectation a hard thing to live up to.”

“I don't doubt that we should be very happy here,” Dean answered with a polite smile. Anna forced herself to maintain eye contact as their gazes met. She saw no recognition on his face and couldn't decide whether to be relieved or disappointed.

“Come now, dear,” Anna's father interjected. “Surely Mr. Winchester and his family should like to make the rounds to reacquaint themselves with old friends and meet their new neighbors. We mustn't keep them to ourselves all night.”

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Foster immediately agreed. “Shall I introduce you to the Baileys? They are your closest neighbors.”

“I should like to make their acquaintance, but first I think we're forgetting something rather important,” Mrs. Winchester said. “We have not given either of my sons the opportunity to ask your daughter for a dance.”

Anna's heart started to race. Surely she would be allowed a little more time to settle her nerves before being thrown into a dance with this man.

“I assure you I would not mind if you wished to make a few more acquaintances before being thrown straight into the dancing.”

“Nonsense. It would be poor manners indeed not to ask for a dance from such a lovely new acquaintance, especially one whose family is graciously hosting this ball,” Mrs. Winchester insisted.

Before Anna could protest further, someone else spoke up.

“Would you do me the honor of dancing the next with me, Miss Foster?” It was Sam, and he wore a smile Anna recognized well, full of apologetic exasperation and fondness.

“I would love to,” Anna agreed immediately, smiling back at him. She was relieved it had been him who asked and not his brother.

As her parents took the Winchesters off to meet more people, Anna made her way back over to Charlotte.

“Well then, are they deserving of all the attention they’ll no doubt be getting from every eligible lady around?” Charlotte asked immediately. She was nothing if not to the point.

“I hardly know,” Anna answered. “I only spoke to them for a moment. I daresay they do appear to be quite kind though. I am to dance the next with the younger Mr. Winchester. I shall give you a better formed opinion after.”

“Wonderful,” Charlotte said. She sighed wistfully. “I do hope at least one of them has a character as lovely as his face is handsome.”

Anna smiled. “That would be quite lovely indeed. But of course nothing less could ever be deserving of you.”

As the two girls talked, Anna noticed Dean excuse himself from the conversation with the Baileys and make his way across the room. He stopped beside George Young and they warmly clasped hands. George had just returned home from university and Anna assumed that must be how they knew each other.

“Anna, you’re staring,” Charlotte informed her gently. Anna blinked in surprise before turning back to her friend, feeling a rush of heat to her cheeks.

“What is going on with you?” Charlotte asked. She sounded torn between concern and amusement. “I thought I detected a hint of unease when you saw his family tonight, but I dismissed it as nerves. But now to catch you staring as well. That’s not like you.” She paused, waiting for Anna to respond. When she didn’t, Charlotte continued. “He is very handsome. Perhaps you find him particularly so? Should I focus my attentions on the other brother then?” The ‘assuming he’s worth paying attention too’ went unspoken.

“No, it’s not that,” Anna protested. “I mean, he is quite handsome. But you know as well as I that I could not hope to be pursued by him even if I wished it. It is only…” Charlotte waited patiently for her to finish her thought. Anna sighed, steeling herself to admit something she had hoped never to speak of. If anyone deserved to know though, Charlotte did. “It is only that I’ve met him before. And I am quite ashamed of the way I behaved.”

Charlotte seemed puzzled by this news. They usually confided in each other quite openly after all. It wasn’t usual for something to happen, especially something big enough to cause discomfort at the mere mention of it, that the other was unaware of.

“What happened?”

“Nothing I want to speak of in such a public place,” Anna replied. “But I promise to tell you soon.”

“Alright,” Charlotte agreed worriedly. The closing notes of the song rang through the room and Anna saw Sam excusing himself from the small group of people he was talking to. “But… everything is alright?”

“Everything is alright,” Anna assured her.

Sam stopped in front of them with a bow and offered his hand to Anna. She took it and he escorted her to the dance floor where they lined up with the other couples.

“How are you enjoying your evening so far Miss Foster?” He asked as the musicians started up with the next song and they moved together in the first steps of the dance.

“Very well,” Anna answered. “Although I think it is unlikely for anyone to feel otherwise at a ball.”

“Yes, I believe you are right,” he agreed. Anna glanced around and saw all the ladies who were not currently dancing eyeing either her and Sam or Dean.

“I suppose you have a long night ahead of you dancing with every eligible lady in the room,” she said sympathetically. She did not know of anyone who did not enjoy dancing, but to be new to town and expected to get to know everyone through an endless stream of dances seemed rather tiring. “I should be happy to make introductions for you if anyone catches your eye. Or if at any point you need a break from all the dancing, I shall brave the displeasure of all the young ladies here and sit and talk with you.”

He smiled widely. “A very generous offer.” He was either amused or grateful. Possibly both, Anna couldn’t tell for sure. They danced in silence for a few moments before Sam spoke again. “I must apologize for being so quick to ask for a dance when I know it’s possible you would have preferred the invitation to come from my brother.”

“Why should I have preferred that?” She asked calmly, desperately hoping it hadn’t been that painfully obvious how nervous his older brother made her.

“Well, as the eldest son he is a better prospect than me. I shouldn’t blame you if you would prefer to get to know him.”

She supposed that was true enough, but why anyone would turn their nose down at Sam – who seemed to be a very kind, well-mannered man – simply because he was not the oldest was a mystery to her. He was still a very advantageous match.

“I do wish to get to know him,” she answered truthfully. “I have actually been quite anxious to make both of your acquaintances. But not in the hopes of securing an offer from either of you.” He looked at her questioningly, so she continued. “It means a great deal to my mother that all of us get along.”

“Ah,” Sam said, the understanding clear on his face.

“So no, I am not offended that you offered me a dance before your brother could. I should not feel slighted in the least to not dance with him at all tonight. I believe there shall be ample opportunity for us to talk in the future.”

“That may be true, but you can be assured you will not have to wait until after tonight for a chance to talk to him. Our friendship means a great deal to my mother as well, and she would not hear of us leaving here tonight without both of us having had at least one dance with you.”

Anna chuckled. “It should not surprise me to hear that your mother and my own appear to have a great deal in common.”

“No, it should not,” Sam agreed with a smile. He hesitated a moment before speaking again. “I hope it is not too forward of me to say I am glad that the young lady our mother so dearly wants us to become closely acquainted with is you. Though I do not know you well, I daresay I think it shall be quite easy to be your friend.”

“I quite agree Mr. Winchester. You appear to be just what I might look for in a friend.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

They chatted quite contentedly for the remainder of the dance, at the end of which he escorted her back to Charlotte’s side.

“Might you introduce me to your friend, Miss Foster?” Sam asked politely.

“Of course,” Anna agreed. Well, she thought, now Charlotte can form her own opinion of the man. “This is my good friend Charlotte Thompson. This is Mr. Winchester.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Charlotte said.

“The pleasure is mine,” Sam replied. “Would you like to dance, Miss Thompson?”

“I thank you, yes,” Charlotte agreed, taking the hand Sam offered her.

The pair walked off, leaving Anna by herself. She retreated to the refreshment table, grabbing a glass of lemonade for herself. She noticed a small group of ladies gathered together in one corner of the room and was about to join them when a gentleman stopped her.

“Miss Foster,” he said. She turned to see Mr. Winchester grabbing a glass off the table. “Pardon me. I don’t mean to keep you from enjoying your evening.”

“Not at all,” she assured him. He took a sip of his lemonade, looking around the room as he did so.

“This is quite a lively ball your parents have put on tonight. My family and I are quite pleased to have such an event to attend on our very first night here.”

“As we are all quite pleased to have you here,” Anna said. He smiled.

“I think it will not come as a surprise to you to hear that my wife dearly wishes to get to know you,” he told her. “While I fear it will be some time before we host an event as grand as this, we should be settled enough in a few days' time to host small gatherings. I tell you this so you can know to expect a more formal invitation from my wife very soon as you are no doubt at the very top of her list of people to invite.”

“I thank you for telling me. And if Mrs. Winchester should ask, you may inform her that I look forward to forming a better acquaintance with her as well.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Winchester said gratefully. “I shall detain you no longer from your evening.” With that, he bowed and returned to his wife’s side.

The next couple of hours passed by just as pleasantly as the first couple. Anna danced several more times with several different gentlemen. When she was not dancing, she chatted with her friends. She and Charlotte were in agreement about Sam being a very pleasant fellow to be around, but Charlotte did not seem any more taken with him than she did any of the other gentlemen of the town.

Sam stayed quite busy dancing with various ladies but did take her up on her offer of talking when he needed a break. He spent some time acquainting himself with the gentlemen as well. His brother, while seemingly not quite as inclined to dance as him, still spent a fair amount of time escorting ladies to the dancefloor. He still had not asked her for a dance though, despite Sam’s assurance that he would. She was fine with that. The more time she had to steady herself before facing him, the better.

It was nearing the end of the evening, the musicians expected to play only three more songs when he finally approached her. He stopped in front of the group of four ladies she was talking to with a polite bow.

“Forgive the interruption, but I was wondering if I might borrow Miss Foster for a dance.”

Her friends looked to her in question. “I would be delighted,” she told him. Charlotte gave her a reassuring smile as she walked with him to the dance floor.

As the dance began, she found herself unable to stop from speaking the first words that came to her mind. “I was beginning to think I would not be offered a dance with you this evening after all, Mr. Winchester.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean to say you’ve been expecting an invitation all night?” Anna cringed internally. What an incredibly presumptuous thing to say. “If that is the case, I apologize for keeping you waiting so long. And for causing doubt that I, or any gentleman, would not wish to dance with you.”

“You misunderstand me,” she hurried to explain. “I did not mean to imply that I myself had any expectations. Indeed, if you ask your brother, you’ll find I had none at all. He assured me, however, that your mother would be rather displeased if the evening ended without both of her sons acquainting themselves with her friend’s daughter.”

“I see,” he answered casually. “So you are under the impression that I have asked to dance with you because my mother wished it, and that my own feelings had no influence on the matter.”

Up until now, the dance had required no physical contact between partners. They now reached the part where they were to clasp hands together as they made their way from one end of the lined up dancers to the other. His touch sent a jolt through her that she had not experienced with any of her other partners. She felt flushed as the contact reminded her of her actions on that night several months ago. Luckily any redness in her cheeks could be blamed on the exertion of the dance.

“My mother would be flattered to hear you have such a high opinion of her ability to influence my actions, but I am no longer a boy required to obey every wish of his mother’s. I asked you for a dance because it was my own desire, not anyone else’s.”

Anna could not deny the sincerity she felt in his words. Not being able to come up with a response to this declaration, she decided to change the subject.

“I asked your brother for his opinion on your family’s move to Brighton.” At the other end of the row of dancers now, they detached themselves and took their places back in line. “He confessed himself torn between an eagerness to know the people and sights here, and a sadness at the loss of his old home.”

“And you find this odd?”

“On the contrary. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to leave the only home you’ve ever known. Of course there must be excitement at meeting new people and experiencing new places. But that can only soften the feeling of loss so much.”

“That is very insightful of you,” Dean said. They clasped hands again as they began to weave in and out of the other couples.

“Perhaps not so insightful as you might think,” she disagreed. “I rather think every woman contemplates the difficulties, or perhaps in some cases joys, of leaving home, given that once she is married it is possible she will be settled quite far from her family.”

“And once you are married, what would you wish?” He asked. “To be near your family or to have a new city to explore?”

“I believe I should be content with either,” she answered, “assuming I am close enough to visit my family on occasion.” The topic of her marriage wasn’t one she wanted to dwell on right now, so she steered the conversation back to her original point. “What of you? Do you share your brother’s feelings?”

“I do not,” he answered. “But perhaps that is because I am only to spend the summer here with my family. After that I shall move into a place of my own.”

Of course. Sam had mentioned that he had just finished school. It only made sense that he would be preparing to start his own life then, a house being the first step before starting a family.

“And where do you plan on settling?” Anna asked.

“I do not know yet,” he answered as they came to a momentary stop, allowing the couples on either side of them to circle them as they waited their turn to do the same. “I hope to find a place in the country, just outside of London. I admit I have not seen much of the world, but I do not believe there could be a better place to live.”

They started moving again as Anna considered her reply. “I hope you are able to find the sort of home you are looking for.”

They spent the remainder of the dance discussing such things as how the Winchesters’ journey from London was, upcoming social events, and their families. It was a surprise to Anna when the music came to an end. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed. They walked together to the edge of the room, out of the way of the couples who were lining up for the next dance.

“Thank you for the dance, Miss Foster. I look forward to seeing you again.”

Before Anna could reply, she became aware of the presence of another person stopping beside her.

“Good evening,” the new person said. Anna recognized his voice immediately. William Sanders. Her heart sank a little, but she kept a polite smile on her face. “I had meant to speak with you earlier, but I fear I got caught up talking with Mr. Wilson and Mr. Collins about tomorrow’s race,” he informed her. Then, as if just noticing she was not alone, he added, “Oh. I see you are already engaged in conversation. Would you introduce me?”

“This is Mr. Winchester. His family just moved here from London. This is Mr. Sanders.”

“Ah, yes,” Mr. Sanders said. “I had heard a new family was moving to town. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Yours as well,” Dean agreed.

Never one for small talk, William appeared to consider the conversation over. He turned his attention back to Anna and his original purpose in approaching. “I do hope I am not too late in asking you to join me in the last dance this evening. Have no fear, if you have already promised the dance to another I will not be upset, for I have only myself to blame. I do believe it would be quite unfortunate if I did not dance at least once with the woman I am to marry though, particularly at a ball thrown in her own home.”

“You are quite right,” she agreed, determinedly ignoring the surprise she saw briefly cross Dean’s face. “And as it happens, I have no partner for the final dance, so you needn’t worry.”

“Very good. I shall return to you in time for the dance then,” he informed her before walking away.

“I should return to my family,” Dean said when he was gone. “We had a long journey today, and while she would never admit it to anyone, I believe my mother is quite tired and would like to return home and rest. Good night, Miss Foster.”

Anna wished him a good night in return and watched as he walked away. She couldn’t help but feel like something about this last interaction was off, strained. She could come up with no explanation as to why she felt this way though. He had been perfectly polite and had already been about to leave her side before William showed up. Why, then, could she not shake the feeling that something about their short interaction had caused Dean’s departure? With a frustrated sigh, she forced these thoughts from her mind and took some time to catch her breath before the next dance started.

Chapter 2

Tags: @123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @aylacavebear

#bullets and ballgowns #fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #mary winchester #original characters #original female character #dean winchester x ofc #regency era #non hunting au

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sweet-heart-jack · 1 year

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Made a plus size page where I'll be writing characters x plus size OC's so please go check it out and follow me

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galacticwildfire · 2 years

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Bobby's Daughter | Dean Winchester

Dean Winchester x Original Female Character

Dean and Stevie Singer have been inseparable since childhood. Now with Sam away at college and with their fathers no longer speaking they crave one another more than ever, and find that love they have for one another has changed as they’ve grown older.

When the demon who killed Stevie’s mother comes for her, Dean makes the decision to disobey his father’s orders to go after her, and the two of them hit the road, unable to deny what’s between them any longer.

Only to discover Azazel has the same fate planned for Stevie as Mary, which causes Dean to make a decision he can never take back while she herself battles with the most important decision of her life.

Both of them willing to do whatever it takes for their family, even if it means they hate each other forever.

A/N - Starts in 2002 with young Dean and Stevie, then jumps to season one and will continue through the first seasons loosely following canon.

Under construction/being rewritten

#dean fanfiction #dean winchester #dean #dean winchester x original character #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction #bobby singer #sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #wildfirewildflower #bobby's daughter #jensen ackles #dean winchester x female original character #fanfiction #smut

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pycobutterpie · 8 months

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#spn #spn imagine #dean winchester x original female character #sam and dean #supernatural #all you can eat #Sam winchester imagine #Dean winchester aesthetic #spn family AU

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this-is-me19 · 1 year

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Chapters: 15/? Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005), Supernatural (AU) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Dean Winchester & Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester & Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester & Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character & Original Female Character, No Wincest - Relationship, Original Female Character & Original Male Character Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Bobby Singer, Rowena MacLeod, Crowley (Supernatural), Alex Morgenstern, Aloysius Morgenstern, Agnes Morgenstern, Azazel (Supernatural), Ramiel (Supernatural), Alastair (Supernatural) Additional Tags: Tumblr, spn-fanfic-reblog-writes, No Wincest, unhealthy dom/sub dynamics, Disassociation, Trauma, the mark of cain, Polyamory, Hell, Heaven, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Trigger Warnings, Anxiety, acoholism, Canon-Typical Violence, canon adjacent, season 10, After Deanmon, After Demon Dean, Post-Demon Dean Winchester, Drug Use, Dark fic, Body Horror, Human/Angel/Demon Hybrid, Patricide, Past Violence, Past Torture, Past Drug Addiction, Past Sexual Assault, Past Sexual Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Non-Consensual, Physical Abuse, Murder, Murder of Angels, Murder of Demons, Angel Death, Demon Death, Implied Murder, Grief, Loss, Kidnapping, Medical Device, Cannibalism, Implied Eating Angels, Implied Eating Demons, Implied Drinking Demon Blood, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Parental Bobby Singer, Bobby Singer Lived, Charlie Bradbury Lived, Castiel Can Fly (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse Series: Part 1 of Blood in Heaven and Hell Summary:

What do you do when your siblings want to destroy Heaven (and Hell)? Try to stop them and hopefully not have to kill them in the process.

New chapter up!

Summary: Alex talks to her big brother. The guys, however, don’t recognize laughter and panic. Warnings: None.

Author’s Note: I hope switching to ao3 hasn’t been to difficult for y’all to access. Just been easier to post and update is all.

Enjoy!

tag:

@fluffiest-dreams @riley-phoenix @myloversgone

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princessmisery666 · 2 years

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Samnesia - Chapter 3 - Girls' Night

Series Summary: Brooke is a calming distraction from the chaotic mess of Sam’s life. When a hunt keeps them separated for over a month, Sam returns to find she no longer remembers him. The need to find out what happened while he was gone sends Sam on a case that will change the course of his life. What he discovers along the way will change the way he looks at love.

Chapter Info

Summary:

Now: Sam and Dean try to narrow down the cause of Brooke’s memory loss.

Then: Sam and Brooke share their first kiss and get to know each other a little better.

W/C: 5.4k

Warnings: slow burn, fluff, angst.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Original Female Character (Brooke), OCs. Brief: Mary Winchester.

Extra special shoutout to: @slytherkins - this would not have been possible without her input, she deserves co-write credits.

Beta: @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: @talesmaniac89

Previous Chapter

Then

Sam pulled on his jacket as he hurried through the corridors of the bunker, propelled by thoughts of Brooke. It had been over a week since he had seen her, and he couldn’t wait to be near her again. Eager as he was, he couldn’t deny his nervousness. He had decided that whatever happened, he was going to kiss her. Properly this time, not on the cheek. A full-blown, make-her-knees-weak kiss. At least, that was the plan.

They had communicated almost constantly over the past week, texting and calling whenever they could. Sam was captivated by every chat and wanted to talk to her again as soon they bid each other good night.

They talked about everything under the sun, asking probing, curious questions about everything from religion to snack preferences. Sam had been as honest as he could be without endangering his secrets.

He learned so much about her, and the more he discovered, the more he wanted to know. Everything he learned about her only intensified his hunger for her, emotionally and physically. So he had promised himself that, despite any interruptions, he would make a move regardless of what happened that night.

That was, if he could escape the bunker and the inquisition Dean was sure to subject him to. Sam groaned silently, seeing Dean nursing a beer, feet up on the map table, watching something apparently hilarious on his laptop. Though Dean’s eyes never left the screen, Sam knew he’d been seen and wouldn’t be able to avoid him.

“Going to see your girlfriend?” Dean asked, still without lifting his eyes.

“I’m just going for a drive.”

Dean chuckled, looking up long enough to throw Sam a skeptical smile. “Dude, we just drove nine straight hours to get home.”

“I just want to get out for a while.” Sam’s shrug did nothing to placate Dean.

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, unconvinced. “So you’re not going to go see the reason you’ve been smiling at your phone all week?”

There was no way Sam could deny it. He had taken private calls, texted furtively like a high school kid, and walked around smiling seemingly without reason.

Sam decided he’d be better off not answering and walked away rather than stand there any longer and allow Dean to interrogate him. He didn’t want to lie, but he wasn’t ready to tell Dean about Brooke. He didn’t want to hear Dean’s you’re-playing-a-dangerous-game-Sammy speech. And in some small way, Sam wasn’t ready for Brooke to be anyone else’s but his own happy little secret.

“What’s her name?” Dean called after Sam as he ascended the stairs, jogging slightly faster with each step.

“Don’t wait up,” Sam shouted back.

“I think I’ve met her,” chuckled Dean, “she’s trouble.”

Emily, Cara, and Nikki had been Brooke’s best friends since first grade. The foursome had been inseparable and remained close even when they all went off to separate colleges. Nikki and Cara married each other a year after graduating. Emily and Brooke served as both maids of honor and best women for the couple.

Work commitments, families, and just being fully functioning adults took up a lot of their time, but they all made an effort to get together at least once a month. Tonight was Brooke’s turn to host. A mild summer's evening meant the friends could sit comfortably on the back patio as the evening turned to night. They consumed too many burgers and hotdogs, barely touched the salad, drank too much wine, and laughed louder and harder than they had for a long while.

Brooke loved nights like this; cherished them because it was rare in their busy lives that they got to spend time together. She giggled along with her three closest girlfriends at Emily’s latest hookup story. She’d literally fallen asleep partway through sex.

“I think he was more embarrassed than me,” Emilly chuckled, her cheeks a deep red.

“Maybe next time, lay off the white wine. You know it makes you sleepy,” Nikki suggested.

The melody of the doorbell chimed through the house, cutting off Emily’s snarky response. “Who the hell is at your door after ten on a Friday night?” Cara asked Brooke, her perfectly sculpted brows cocked suspiciously.

“It’s probably Old Man Simms,” Brooke guessed, rising to her feet, “asking us to keep the noise down.” She took the last sip of her wine and motioned for Emily to refill her glass before entering the house. Through the frosted glass of her front door, she could see the unmistakable silhouette of Sam’s large frame.

“Oh crap,” she muttered. She paused in the kitchen and checked her distorted reflection in the gloss-black sheen of her refrigerator. Her cheeks were a little flushed from the alcohol, but there was no ketchup on her shirt or food in her teeth.

She pulled open the door, an almost giddy smile on her lips.

Sam wore a similar grin. “Hey.” Laughter from the backyard filtered through before Brooke could offer a greeting of her own. His smile faltered, and his gaze followed the direction of the noise. “Ah, you’ve got company.”

“I do.” Brooke wrinkled her nose apologetically. She stepped out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her. “It’s our monthly girls’ night. I thought you were the strippers.”

Sam lifted a brow. “Oh, it’s that kind of girls' night?”

She smirked. “I wouldn’t put it past Emily to actually hire strippers.” She laughed with him, but she’d only been half joking. Brooke looked up at Sam from under her lashes with a mischievous grin. “Although, I’m sure they’d pay you a pretty penny to get naked.”

Sam’s shoulders shook with laughter. “And what about you?”

Brooke liked the confidence Sam seemed to gain as time passed, and they became more comfortable with one another. He flirted more and grew bolder. She liked how she was around him, too, the person she could be, completely herself. She could shamelessly flirt and was never afraid to say something embarrassing. Sam wasn’t the type to judge or tease her unkindly.

She took a step closer to him and used the buttons of his shirt as stepping stones to walk her fingers up his chest. “Something tells me I could see it for free.”

Sam dipped down at the same time Brooke rose to her tiptoes. They inched closer. He went left; she went right. She inhaled his aroma: coconut shampoo and peppermint gum he must have been chewing on the drive over. She closed her eyes, eager to finally feel his lips against hers. Sam’s large hands encased her hips and drew her into him…

The door burst open behind them with a whoosh of air, and all three women sang a triumphant, “BUSTED!”

Sam and Brooke were startled but didn’t separate much. With her hands still resting on his chest and his on her hips, Brooke giggled as she walked him backward, whispering loudly, “Run, Sam! Run! Save yourself!”

He chuckled, leaning around her to address their audience. “Hi, ladies.” He waved awkwardly at the women crowding the doorway to get a better look at him.

“He does not look like Old Man Simms,” Emily teased, strolling to stand beside Brooke.

“Ladies, Sam. Sam, meet Emily, Cara, and Nikki,” she told him, pointing at each woman in turn.

“Key Thief Emily?” Sam asked, shaking her outstretched hand.

“The one and only,” Emily grinned. “So, you know about me, so why don’t I know about you?”

Brooke noticed the slight hurt in Sam’s eyes and the knit of his brow. He recovered quickly, cleared his throat, and flashed a dazzling smile.

“There’s not much to know,” he shrugged. “We haven’t known each other long.”

“Oh, there must be something,” Emilly disagreed, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes roamed his body.

Brook sighed heavily and rolled her eyes at Emily’s flirting. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t mentioned Sam to them yet. It wasn’t as if she sounded the alarm every time she went on a date with someone new, but she already knew Sam was different. He made her happy. She often found herself smiling whenever she thought about him. Her stomach fluttered excitedly whenever his name popped up on her phone. He seemed too good to be true, almost like a fairy tale prince, and telling her friends about him would have plucked him out of the storybook and dropped him into the real world. Maybe he’d lose his magic here. Maybe she’d realize she’d been dreaming. She hadn't been ready to wake up just yet.

“He’s not a secret or anything. I was just- ”

Emily interrupted her, eyes still locked on Sam. “Keeping you all to herself... and I can see why.” She ran her gaze hungrily up and down Sam’s body, and he awkwardly pulled his hand from her grasp. “So,” Emily said, turning so she could see them both, “is this just a booty call?”

“Oh my god, Emily!” Brooke groaned. She’d heard enough. Emily and her shameless flirting were done. Emily knew Brooke wasn’t the booty-call type. Sometimes she wished she was, but being with someone on a purely physical level had never appealed to her. She didn’t like that Emily’s question could make Sam believe otherwise.

“Brooke, don’t tell me you haven’t got all up on that because if you won’t,” said Emily, stepping closer to him, “I most certainly will.”

Brooke laughed and mouthed a silent ‘sorry’ to Sam, who looked past Emily to her as if pleading for help.

“Y’know, I’ve been telling her for months that she needs to get under someone to get over Chris.”

“Emily!” chastised Nikki.

“And you’re done,” said Brooke, gently clasping Emily’s shoulders to guide her back up the step and toward the house. Nikki took over, escorting the overzealous woman back inside.

“We’ll give you two a minute,” she assured Brooke with a not so subtle wink.

Cara eyed Sam appreciatively, making no move to follow her wife and friend back inside.

“Cara, honey,” Nikki coaxed.

Cara held her hand up for a high-five from Brooke, an obvious gesture of approval. “I’m proud of you.” Brooke chuckled bashfully but obliged her friend, slapping her hand loudly. “You go, girl!” Cara called over her shoulder before disappearing into the house.

Sam waited for the door to be closed before he released a long breath. “I should let you get back,” he said when Brooke’s apologetic eyes found his again, “before they come back to interrogate me.”

Brooke agreed with a fond chuckle. “They really will.”

“Goodnight, Brooke,” he said softly as he backed away.

“‘Night, Sam.”

He gave her his megawatt smile and turned his back to her to walk to his car. Her brow furrowed as she watched him go. His stride wasn’t as sure as it usually was, and his head hung down a little lower. Maybe the disappointment of not finding her alone, the almost kiss, or the fact that she’d been keeping him from her friends had hurt him. She couldn’t be sure, but whatever the reason, she didn't like to see him that way. Sam had never had a cocky strut, but he’d always carried himself confidently.

Perhaps it was the fault of too much wine, being so close to kissing him moments earlier or seeing his almost dejected amble, but Brooke found her feet carrying her forward before she realized it.

As her wine-soaked brain finally caught up with the steps that carried her rapidly down the path after Sam, a smile crept to her lips; then lust and passion drove her forward.

Sam spun around at the sound of his name. Reading her intentions correctly, Sam planted his feet a second before she pushed off the ground and leaped into his arms. Her mouth found his as her legs wrapped around him, and he used a firm grip under her thighs to hoist her up so she could lock them tightly around his waist. Her hands tangled in his hair, and she pulled back to look at him.

Sam didn’t allow her to stare for long before he dove back in to kiss her again. Brooke felt his initial shock dissipate as he released a satisfied sigh into her mouth. She teased his mouth open with her tongue against his bottom lip, desperate to taste him. She moaned when he parted his lips for her, and their tongues found an eager rhythm. His lips were plush and soft, his tongue firm, and it danced with hers slowly and sensually.

Too caught up in the taste of him, it wasn’t until his hands squeezed her curves that she realized that they cupped her ass, helping to hold her in place but also taking advantage of the necessary placement. The sensation evoked another moan from her.

Air became an issue, and she prepared to pull away, but Sam must not have been ready for it to end because he ran a hand up her back, his long fingers finding the nape of her neck to hold her against him for a moment longer. When they eventually parted, they were gasping for breath. She kept her eyes closed, savoring the moment, committing the sensations to memory. When she opened them, Sam’s lust-blown pupils held her gaze. The emotion he clearly felt had made the pretty hazel of his irises all but disappear.

He exhaled slowly. “Wow.”

Breathlessly, she agreed, “I meet your wow and raise you a holy shit.”

Muffled hooting and hollering could be heard from the house, and they laughed.

“They’re all in the window, right?”

Sam reluctantly pulled his eyes from Brooke, and she turned her head to check her own suspicion. Sure enough, the three women stood in the large bay window of Brooke’s living room. Their thumbs up, clapping, and excited little dances made them both chuckle. She shooed them away with a wave of her hand as she untangled herself from Sam, and he helped lower her to the ground. His hands slipped from her butt to her hips to steady her. When her attention returned to him, he guided her into him and dipped to claim her kiss-swollen lips once again.

She grinned against his mouth before she broke the connection and began walking backward. “Night, Sam,” she winked as she turned.

“Really?” he scoffed in disbelief. “You’re going to kiss me like that, and then it’s just ‘Night, Sam’?”

“Yeah,” she called back without stopping. The smirk she wore was more than apparent in her tone. “I have to go tell my girls about this tall, handsome man I met who just so happens to be an incredible kisser.”

“Old Man Simms, really that good a kisser? Should I be jealous?”

“Immensely,” she laughed, twisting to look when she reached the top of the porch steps. “If you see him around here, let him know I’m free for breakfast tomorrow.”

“I’ll be sure to pass the message on.”

She bit her lip to stifle a grin. “Night, Sam.”

“Sweet dreams, Brooke.”

Sam couldn’t wipe the grin from his face the whole drive home. He hadn’t even bothered to try. He had been disappointed to find she had company and that it meant he couldn’t spend the night with his head in her lap while she stroked his hair - which could have led to so much more - but that kiss had unquestionably made up for it.

He had been disheartened to learn Brooke hadn’t told her friends about him. Had their dates not been worth mentioning? Was she not as into him as he was into her? It stung more than he liked. Maybe Brooke hadn’t spoken about him because of his sporadic visits. He’d had to cancel plans with her twice that week and had given her less than twenty-four hours notice each time. He hadn’t wanted to, but duty called.

Granted, he hadn’t told anyone about Brooke, either. Keeping Brooke a secret was to delay the inevitable. Dean, and maybe Mary, would more than likely try to talk him into ending it with her. Dean would be the voice of reason, the one to make Sam see sense, to make him understand what he already knew deep down: that what he was doing was dangerous, playing a game they rarely got to win.

But that kiss…

After that kiss, he wouldn’t stop seeing her. Couldn’t. Already yearning to do it again, he would have driven back over there in a heartbeat if she were to call and ask him to.

Striding happily into the bunker, the knowing smiles of the war room occupants went unnoticed. His attention was focused on writing Brooke a text, his smile wide and boyish.

Sam: I didn’t see the old man. Sorry. I’ll have to take you to breakfast instead. x

Brooke: I’m disappointed, but I guess you’ll do. X

He chuckled at her response, jogging happily down the stairs. The joyful spring in his step faltered when he noticed Mary and Dean gazing expectantly at him.

“Your boyfriend not home?” joked Dean.

Sam tried to wipe the jubilant grin from his lips but was unable to do so. The sight of Brooke leaping into his arms replayed in his mind, and his mouth responded by twitching up and down a couple of times as he tried to suppress the smile. Once he realized it was a losing battle, he let it stay and opted to tell Dean, “Shut up.” A heated blush crept to his cheeks, and he lied, “I told you I was just going for a drive.”

“Yeah, but these ‘drives’ you keep going on are normally a lot longer than just an hour or two.” Mary pointed out, grinning at her youngest son.

“What happened to ‘don’t wait up’?” Dean aimed his shit-eating grin at Sam. “You strike out?”

Sam had known they would question him about his absences sooner rather than later. Dean had held back from teasing him for far too long already.

Neither Dean nor Mary was dumb enough to believe Sam was merely enjoying late-night ‘drives’, but they must have understood it was something he wasn’t ready to tell them. Or else, they wanted to give him time to enjoy whatever it was for as long as he could. The curiosity must have been eating them up, though.

“Leave him alone, Dean,” Mary reprimanded lightly. “Let him be happy.”

Sam smiled thankfully at her, taking a seat to join them at the map table. Mary twisted the cap off a beer. As she offered it to him, she pointed toward the side of her mouth, “You’ve got a little lipstick...”

Sam’s face fell with embarrassment, and he wiped at his lips. Mary and Dean burst into fits of laughter.

“I KNEW IT!” Dean yelled, pointing an accusing finger at his brother.

Sam shook his head at himself. How could he fall for something so simple? He knew Brooke hadn’t been wearing lipstick when she kissed him. He stood abruptly, told them good night, and started retreating.

Dean was still chuckling when he called after Sam. “What’s her name?”

“None of your business!” Sam yelled over his shoulder, leaving his laughing family in the war room.

Now

Brooke covered her mouth to stifle a yawn as she readjusted her butt on the wooden seat. The library chairs weren’t the comfiest. She had been so lost in the timbre of Sam’s voice as he recounted asking for her number and their first kiss, so wrapped up in his storytelling and how much emotion shone in his eyes, that she barely moved a muscle for fear of disrupting his flow or inadvertently doing something that caused his adorably shy, dimpled grin to disappear.

She swirled the remaining whiskey in the tumbler before knocking it back and giving Sam a tight smile. Tears swam in her eyes, and she was unsure if the burning liquor or something he’d said had caused them.

Sam seemed to wonder the same and hastily apologized. “Brooke, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” she assured him, tipping her head back to blink the tears away. She took a deep breath to compose herself and steadied her voice before she looked back at him. “It just... it’s all a little overwhelming. It seems like we had fun, but it’s all still kind of hard to believe. They’re amazing stories, but they aren’t my memories. I wish I didn’t have to sit here not knowing for sure whether you aren’t just good at making up fairy tales. I wish I could remember you. Us.”

“You will,” he promised, his arm extending toward her out of habit.

She watched his hand, and panic widened her eyes. She didn’t fear him anymore, but she wasn’t ready for him to touch her. He was still, after all, a stranger. She didn’t know him, not in the way he knew her.

Sam seemed to understand her reaction, and he stopped his advance, his hand hovering above hers. He stared at it as if he hated his own hesitation to touch her, even in the casual, comforting way it was probably intended, but he must have known she felt it would be crossing a line she wasn’t ready to have crossed yet.

He withdrew his hand to his lap and spoke to his fidgeting fingers. “I promise you, Brooke, I’m going to make this right,” he told her with a resolute nod. “I’m going to fix it because I don’t know how long I can go without-”

He broke off and looked away. She waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she prompted, “How long you can go without what, Sam?”

He shot her a tight-lipped smile. “It’s late. Or early, I guess. It’s been a really long day. I’ve bombarded you with information. We should get some rest,” he suggested, getting to his feet.

Brooke followed him as he walked out of the library toward the bedrooms without a word. He seemed to take measured steps to avoid getting too far ahead of her, or maybe he wanted to spend those extra few moments with her. Regardless, it allowed Brooke to focus on the side of his face she could see.

He seemed in such pain. To hear Sam tell it, they’d been happy, in the ‘honeymoon’ period of a new relationship, the fun stages of getting to know each other. To have that taken from him without explanation, he must have been confused and hurt, even without the added pressure of trying to fix it.

Brooke held a deep breath as she reached out and cautiously slipped her hand into his. Sam froze, keeping his eyes on the floor, and waited for her fingers to delicately hook around his. She sighed, somewhat relieved when he showed no sign of resistance and tugged to coax him to turn to her. He twisted to face her but hesitated to bring his eyes to hers.

“I guess this is what you meant, right?” she asked, holding out her other hand, requesting his. “You don’t know how long you can go without touching me?”

He watched as she wove her fingers with his. Her smaller, softer hand was a contrast to his large calloused one, but somehow they just seemed to fit. Her stomach fluttered, and she had a strange sense of familiarity.

Sam found the courage to meet her eyes, and she wore a small, encouraging smile for him. “Yeah,” he admitted, “that’s what I meant.” The admission proved too much, and he dropped his eyes again. “You don’t know how hard it is for me to have you right here and not be able to touch you, even just to comfort you.”

“Can this be enough for now?”

He brought their interlaced hands to his lips and kissed the back of hers lightly. “It’s enough. For as long as you need it to be.”

Her smile widened in gratitude. Hope ignited his eyes, and she figured even if he couldn’t fix whatever made her forget him, she’d probably end up falling for him all over again.

The urge to kiss him overwhelmed her, so she reluctantly pulled her gaze from his and let him lead her by the hand to the bedroom across from his.

“I’m right in here if you need anything.”

Now

Brooke slept better than expected. The stress of the day and the whiskey with Sam caused her eyes to close as soon as her head hit the pillow. She woke just after ten thirty. She’d have rolled over and gone back to sleep if she hadn’t felt guilty. After all, she hadn’t gotten to bed until after six, but it was a Thursday. She should have been two hours into the day's work by now. She didn’t, however, feel guilty about missing her five a.m. morning run. She was sure the stress she’d endured in the last twelve hours had burned just as many calories, if not more.

She dressed in the same clothes from yesterday and made a mental note to ask Sam if she could go back to her place and grab some stuff as she made her way to the kitchen seeking coffee.

Her phone's text tone immediately chimed when she turned it on as she slid onto a stool at the kitchen table. She had sixteen messages and three voicemails from Tommy, two texts from her personal assistant, and three WhatsApp messages from her BFF group. She opted to read the ones from her friends first. Emily (who worked for Brooke as the Operations Manager) would have covered for her at work. Nikki, Cara, and Emily’s messages were all supportive - concerned but understanding her need to escape. She felt a pang of guilt for lying to her friends, but maybe she would be able to explain soon enough, if Sam kept his promise.

Tommy wasn’t so understanding. His messages got progressively angrier, asking where she was so he could join her, demanding she answer the phone.

Where are you?

Why is your phone off

tell me where you are I’ll come join you

you’re pissing me off, answer your phone

answer your fucking phone!

She stopped scrolling after reading the first six.

Dean entered, scrubbing his hands down his tired face. Brooke welcomed the distraction. “Morning,” she smiled brightly.

He grumbled something that resembled a greeting, and she laughed to herself, wondering if Sam was more of a morning person than his brother. The anticipation of seeing him made her stomach do a happy flip.

Dean’s butt had barely made contact with his seat before she asked, “Sam not up yet?”

He scoffed. “Please. That fitness freak is probably running his tenth mile.”

“He’s a runner?”

Dean sighed. “I forgot you don’t know him.” He gave her a small, sympathetic smile. “Yeah. Sam runs.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Every morning. Bit much, if you ask me.”

Brooke chuckled. “You're not a fan?”

“The only time this Winchester runs is if something is chasing him.”

Brooke laughed, but she felt like running back to her temporary bedroom and googling Sam Winchester. He’d been careful not to tell her his last name, and she hadn’t pried. Apparently, Dean hadn’t gotten that memo.

“You get chased often?” she asked, but the second the question left her lips, she knew she’d made Dean realize his own mistake. She had only meant that he must be chased often to be in such good shape, but that was not how Dean interpreted it. Being in his own environment and still half asleep, he had slipped up, and the realization was written all over his face.

“Look,” he began, setting his features into an unreadable mask, “if we’re gonna help you, then you should-”

Sam’s voice called for them from nearby, and Dean smiled tightly, almost as if he regretted his brother’s interruption. “In here!” he called back.

Sam grinned broadly when he saw Brooke and greeted them both, heaving a grocery bag onto the countertop.

“You went on a supply run already?” Dean asked. “I thought you’d be jogging with your woodland creature friends.”

Sam ignored the latter part of his comment, unpacked the loot from his early morning trip, and explained to Brooke rather than Dean, “I went to the grocery store. Thought you’d want your favorites.” He held up a jar of Brooke’s preferred coffee, and she smiled her thanks. “And I, um...I went by your place. Figured you’d be more comfortable in your own clothes.”

Brooke was taken aback. It was a sweet gesture, she’d had the same thought, but it also seemed like an invasion of her privacy. He’d gone through her things, no doubt her underwear drawer. He may already have seen most of its contents, but the thought made her a little angry. He didn’t have the right nor the permission.

She sighed heavily. She couldn’t keep going around in circles. She’d agreed to stay for four days to give Sam time to fix whatever he thought was wrong. She had never been one to do things by halves, so she needed to fully commit to it, embrace the doubts but push past them.

“Um, thanks,” she grinned as genuinely as she could muster. “I guess I can use it as a test to see how well you know me.”

Sam chuckled, and his returning grin made it easier to find the sincerity in her own. “I grabbed the essentials and all your favorites: gray Nike sweats, purple hoodie, white sneakers, and your work laptop. I know the guilt of taking a day off is probably eating you up.”

Brooke laughed authentically -- he does know me, after all -- and her ears pricked up at the mention of her computer. She could work remotely, ease some of her guilt, and google the man she couldn’t stop smiling at.

“I left it all in the library. Feel free to go change or hop on your computer. I’ll bring you some breakfast.”

Now

Sam brought Brooke a plate of food, and the two of them sat quietly in the library. While she ate and caught up on emails, he stared into his own laptop, occasionally lifting his eyes to her. He’d already started working on the mystery surrounding Brooke’s amnesia. His mind was filled with weather reports and her social media feed, and he almost didn’t notice Dean setting a fresh cup of coffee in front of him.

Dean’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He dropped a steaming mug in front of Brooke and took a seat across from her, kicking his boots up onto the table.

“So...” He cleared his throat, giving Sam a look. “I think it’d be best if Sam and I get a full rundown of everything you remember so we can start filling in the gaps.”

Brooke nodded and closed her laptop, and Sam gave her a tense smile. “Have you been anywhere new?”

She shook her head. “Other than here, no.”

“Meet anyone new?” Dean chimed in. “Someone that maybe offered you something that seemed kind of weird, and you just brushed it off as them being quirky?”

She eyed him suspiciously, “You mean like to grant me three wishes?”

“Not exactly,” Dean shrugged, “but something similar.”

“No.”

“Have you noticed any weird smells or powders?” Sam asked quickly after. “Found any small bags lying around? Any electrical interferences like flickering lights?”

“...No,” she said carefully, giving them both a sideways look, and Sam worried he might have lost some ground in gaining her trust. She seemed to be rethinking her decision to stay.

“I…need to make a couple of calls,” she said, excusing herself from the table.

Sam winced as she passed. Those questions almost always elicited the same mixture of confusion and reservation, but there wasn’t really a better way to put them. Sam watched her walk away and waited until she’d disappeared around the corner before turning to Dean. “Well, that rules out a few things.”

“Did you check out her place while you were out sniffing her panties?”

Sam shook his head at his brother, but not in answer to his question. “I did a quick search, EMF, sulfur, hex bags. Came up empty. I tried calling Rowena, but she didn’t answer, so I left a message. If it’s a spell, she’ll know how to fix it.”

“I tried Cas while you were making googly eyes at your girlfriend over breakfast, but he didn't answer, either.”

Sam nodded. It was a small step in the right direction, at least. He just hoped that one of them would return their calls soon.

Chapter 4 - Expectations

Series tag list is open.

Master Lists: Samnesia // All The Fandoms

#Samnesia #supernatural #sam winchester #spn #dean winchester #Sam Winchester fluff #Sam Winchester angst #first kiss #case fic #supernatural case fic #sam winchester x ofc #sam winchester x original female character

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hogwartsalumni08-slytherin · 1 year

Text

Baby Sister

Dean's POV

It was shortly after Dad died that me and Sam get a phone call from an unknown number on one of dad's cell phones. I pick up the phone.

Me: Hello. Who is this?

Unknown: Hello, this is Holly. I am looking for John Winchester. Who is this?

Me: Hello, Holly. I am Dean Winchester.

Holly: Oh! John's oldest son. Well, I guess it is alright if I tell you this.

Me: What?

Holly: You have a baby sister.

Me: I don't know how to tell you this, but Dad just died.

Holly: (crying) I am so sorry I bothered you.

Me: Don't cry, Holly. I am with my little brother, Sam. We would love to meet our little sister.

Holly: Okay. I will text you my coordinates to this cell phone.

Me: Alright sounds good. See ya soon.

Holly: See y'all soon.

After I hung up the phone, Sam looks so confused. I am now forty-one and Sam is now thirty-seven. I say, "We have another half-sibling. Holly, the mother, just called. She said a baby sister. So, who knows how old the baby girl is." Sam asks, "Are we going to meet Holly and the baby girl?" I nod and say, "Holly said she would send her coordinates to this cell phone." The phone beeps and I read the text out loud, "32.4640deg N, 86.4597deg W." Sam looks up the coordinates on his iPhone; and, says, "She is in Prattville, Alabama. What was dad doing there?" I groan and say, "About a year ago, Dad went to this small town in Alabama to fight off civil war ghosts right before I got you at Stanford." Sam says, "Alright let's go." I start up the Impala and blare Wild Eyed Southern Boys by 38 Special on the radio.

It's a hot night at the juke joint

And the band's pumpin' rhythm and blues

Gonna spill a little rock and roll blood tonight

Gonna make some front page news

And the ladies hate the violence

Still they never seem to look away

'Cause they love those

Wild eyed southern boys

Wild eyed boys

Wild eyed southern boys

It's a southern point of honor

You gotta get right in on the action

You can hear the outlaws holler

Fightin' for the lady in black

And she's just one in a million

But she's all I need tonight

'Cause she loves those

Wild eyed southern boys

Wild eyed boys

Wild eyed southern boys

Wild eyed boys

Ooh yeah

Wild eyed boys

A man of wealth and power

Is out on the dance hall floor

He's got a champagne Eldorado

Parked outside the door

And he's looking for a honky tonk angel

But he don't stand a chance in hell

'Cause he ain't no

Wild eyed southern boy (Wild eyed southern boy)

Wild eyed boy

Wild eyed southern boy (Wild eyed southern boy)

Wild eyed boy

Wild eyed southern boys (Wild eyed southern boys)

Wild eyed boys

Wild eyed southern boys (Wild eyed southern boys)

Wild eyed boys

Wild eyed southern boys (Wild eyed southern boys)

Wild eyed boys

Wild eyed southern boys (Wild eyed southern boys)

Wild eyed boys

Sam's POV:

I cannot believe that Dad has another child. Dean and I already have a half-brother, Adam, that is thirty-one now. Dad apparently doesn't understand the concept of condoms. Oh well, I guess it is all good.

Holly's POV:

I have been a nervous wreck over the past year. I lost my virginity in a one-night stand to John Winchester. I was devastated when he had to leave my hometown. He told me all about hunting the supernatural. I wanted to go with him, but he insisted on me staying here to have a normal life. About a month after he left, I missed my period. I found out that I was pregnant. I didn't let John know at the time. I was thirty years old when I lost my virginity. I wish I told him now. I know that John's sons are older than me. John and I had a age gap relationship that was short lived.

I am thirty-one now almost thirty-two. I had a beautiful baby girl that was born on November 14th, 2021, that I named Ivy Winchester. I have been taking care of her on my own since then. It is now February 15th, 2022. Ivy is three months old. I am going to be thirty-two next month.

After I put Ivy in her crib for her nap, I hear a knock on my front door. I look down in the crib and see that Ivy is already asleep. I smile and walk to the front door. I answer the door. I see a man that is about six foot one and another man that is six foot four probably. I say, "Hello. May I help you?" The shorter man says, "I am Dean Winchester, and this is my little brother, Sam. Are you Holly?" I say, "Oh hello Dean and Sam. Yeah, I am Holly. Please come in. I just put down Ivy for her nap. But y'all come in and I will make y'all some coffee or tea. Sorry I don't have any alcohol in the house." Sam smiles and says, "Thanks, Holly."

I lead them into the living room and they both sit down on my retro orange armchairs, so I sit down on my green Lazy Boy sofa. Dean asks, "So, Holly how old are you?" I blush and say, "I am thirty-one. I will be thirty-two on March 2nd." Sam says, "Happy early birthday." I say, "Thank you, Sam."

Dean's eyes widen and he asks, "So what happened between you and our dad?" I say, "He was here for almost two months hunting the civil war ghosts. We dated while he was here. Yeah, John told me all about hunting the supernatural, what happened to y'all's mom (sorry about that by the way), and about y'all. Obviously, he didn't tell you about me. I gave him my virginity. He left shortly after that. I wanted to come with him, but he wanted me to have a normal life. I fell in love with your father. I am not sure how he felt about me. No one could ever replace y'all's mother obviously."

Sam asks, "How old is Ivy?" I say, "Ivy is three months old. She was born on November 14th." Dean says, "I am sure Dad loved you in his own way. He hasn't stayed with someone that long since Mom died." I nod and say, "Yeah he said that he wasn't into the whole relationship thing since Mary died." I hear a cry from the other room. Dean says, "I will get her." I smile and say, "She is in the room fourth door on the right." Dean walks down my hallway to get his baby sister. I see Sam smiling. So, I look up to see Dean is holding Ivy perfectly. I smile and say, "Ivy must like you, Dean. She doesn't let everyone hold her." Dean smiles. Sam takes Ivy from Dean. I say, "Sam, Ivy looks a lot like you." Dean smiles and says, "Yeah they both look like dad." I nod in agreement and say, "Yeah they both have John's brown hair and hazel eyes."

Dean says, "You and Ivy must come with us. We have a bunker in Lebanon, Kansas, that will provide better protection. Who knows if Yellow Eyes might be after you since you were with bunker has all the proper paintings on the walls to prevent demons from coming inside." I nod and say, "Let's go." After that, Ivy and I lived with Dean and Sam. I learned how to hunt the supernatural and we raised Ivy to do the same thing. Dean got married to Castiel; and Sam got married to Eileen. I got married to another hunter named, Garth, that is the same age as Sam. We continue to hunt the supernatural. It wasn't the apple pie life (or what John called "normal"), but it was as close as we were going to get.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #original characters #john Winchester x original female character #age gap relationship #Winchester half sister #Castiel #eileen leahy #garth fitzgerald iv

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ao3feeddestiel · 7 months

Text

all roads lead back to you | Sam Winchester x Original Female Character

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/8t3QPVI by kennabee (mondaywrites) Before Sam passed his LSATs, someone convinced him to run away. Olivia Monroe had been in the Winchesters' life since they didn't come home from a hunt with John Winchester. She was raised with the boys, joined the 'family business', and fell in love. When Sam talks about Stanford, she tells him not to look back. Olivia just wishes he knew she didn't mean to leave her in the past, too. Four years later, Dean forces an impromptu family reunion to find their missing Dad. With neither of the two runaways particularly thrilled about being brought back into each other's lives, it begins to look like destiny giving them a second chance. Words: 2324, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Castiel, Bobby Singer, Original Female Character, Crowley (Supernatural) Relationships: Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester & Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & John Winchester, John Winchester & Sam Winchester Additional Tags: Angst, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, Second Chance, Follows Canon, Canon Compliant, Dean Winchester causing problems, John Winchester still needs therapy, All the Winchesters need therapy, The Winchesters Need to Use Their Words (Supernatural), eventual destiel, Hurt/Comfort, Quote: Saving people hunting things (Supernatural), She falls first, He falls harder read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/8t3QPVI

#IFTTT #all roads lead back to you | Sam Winchester x Original Female Character #kennabee (mondaywrites)

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pascaloverx · 2 months

Text

Sweet Love

Summary: You're an up-and-coming writer, congratulations. To protect your beloved job, you're willing to do anything. Even strike a deal with the devil, better known as your sister's neighbor. You and Dean Winchester don't really see eye to eye, but in a moment of desperation, you agree to collaborate with him for a greater good.

Author's Notes: Many characters do not belong to me but to the Supernatural Universe (2005-2020). I hope you enjoy the fanfic's story. The fanfic will contain strong language and future adult content.

chapter one chapter two

PREVIEW

She didn't know what to say. Her publisher was about to choose another book instead of hers to launch. This was supposed to be her moment. After being the author of a bestseller, she was working hard to build her next sales success. But her fans and the publisher itself suggested that she spice up her narrative. The problem was that sex was something she hadn't done in a while. Sharing the apartment with her sister, she rarely thought about bringing someone to share the bed. So, in a desperate act, she sought him out. Perhaps her salvation. The failed neighbor who had a lot of success in romantic encounters; if they can be called that. The truth is that her next-door neighbor is the embodiment of everything that succeeds in a romance novel.

As for him, he prefers never to mix sentimentality with carnal pleasures. His last relationship still affects him a lot, so since then, he has only engaged in sexual encounters. He usually even tries to talk to the grumpy neighbor who lives across from his apartment. But she seems to disdain him, which ironically makes him even more interested.The problem is that he's feeling demotivated. Perhaps even lonely. His mother is about to give him an ultimatum to become more responsible, or she will stop supporting him. So he sees an opportunity in the neighbor's proposal. If his mother finds out that he's going to help a well-known (though almost declining) writer, maybe she'll leave him alone for a while.

But together, the two of them will try to get through this. Of course, if they can manage to go more than a few minutes without arguing.You are her, and he is none other than Dean Winchester. Follow along to discover how this story ends.

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #female reader #mary winchester #sam winchester #castiel #supernatural x reader #supernatural universe #john winchester #original character #supernatural #supernatural masterlist #enemies to lovers #jensen ackles characters #Spotify

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laurel-finch · 2 months

Text

'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch11: In The Dark

Summary: An unusual case yields new discoveries and old faces... Referenced Episodes: S1 E16 "Shadow" CW: The usual Supernatural shenanigans. Word Count: 4709 Recommended Song: Bad Moon Rising -- Creedence Clearwater Revival Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

I pushed our motel room door open harder than anticipated. My eyes flitted towards Dean, his green ones wide with surprise and his phone held to his ear. I half-smiled in apology and made my way toward the table where he sat.

"You trying to bust the hinges or something?" he asked. My cheeks dusted red and I glared at him as I dropped a bag of gas station goodies on the table.

“Got lunch,” I replied dismissively as I shrugged off my coat and tossed it onto the back of the other rickety chair at the table. “They didn’t have the Black Forest ham sandwiches you like, so you’ll have to make do.”

"Sure, thanks,” he muttered as he turned his body away slightly and returned his attention to his phone. “Right, sorry Sammy," he started again, leaning back in his chair. "Like I was saying, she checks out. There is a Meg Masters in the Andover phone book. I even pulled up her high school photo," he sighed and held his unoccupied hand up, gesturing as if Sam could see him. "Now, look, why don't you go knock on her door and, uh, invite her to a poetry reading, or whatever it is you do, huh?"

I laughed and Dean's eyes slid over to me, a smirk resting on his features. He winked and then returned his gaze to the ceiling. I rummaged through the contents of the grocery bag, pulling out my own drink and chicken pot pie. Thank God for hotels having microwaves.

Dean hummed and leaned forward once more, scanning his notebook resting on the table. "Yeah, that I did have some luck with." I straightened and turned to him to see him hunched over his hastily scrawled notes. I moved to stand behind him, staring down at his wrinkled paper. "It's, uh—turns out it's Zoroastrian. Very, very old school, like two thousand years before Christ. It's a sigil for a Daeva."

My finger ran lightly over the sigils and words that I had never seen before. I had no clue what a 'Zoroastrian' was, nor a Daeva. It certainly sounded demonic, which was far above my educational paygrade.

"What's a Daeva?" I heard Sam's voice from the end of the phone. Dean changed his phone to his other hand and hit the speaker button.

"It translates to ‘demon of darkness.’ Zoroastrian demons, and they're savage, animalistic, you know, nasty attitudes. Kind of like, uh, demonic pit bulls."

I chuckled. "Pit bulls aren't that bad. Sweethearts, really."

Dean quirked a skeptical brow and Sam laughed breathily from the other end. "How'd you figure that out, Dean?"

Dean huffed in an almost offended way. "Give me some credit, man. You don't have a corner on paper chasin' around here."

"Oh yeah? Name the last book you read."

Dean fell silent and visibly sweat. After a few moments, he finally spoke up and said, "I called Dad's friend, Caleb. He told me, alright?"

I bit back a laugh and hid behind my hands. When I looked up I found Dean already scowling at me and the clear sound of Sam’s laughter over the speaker. I grinned somewhat sheepishly and collected my food from the table. I felt Dean’s eyes burning into me as I strolled to the kitchen and readied my meal.

"Anyway," Dean continued. "Here's the thing: these Daevas, they have to be summoned, conjured." That piqued my interest and I turned back towards Dean, resting my back against the counter.

"So someone's controlling it?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm sayin'. And, from what I gather, it's pretty risky business, too," he took a deep breath. "These suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them. And, uh, the arms, and torsos." I scrunched my nose in distaste.

"So what do they look like?" Sam's voice was tinged with obvious confusion and worry.

"Well, nobody knows, but nobody's seen 'em for a couple of millennia. I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? Someone really knows their stuff. I think we've got a major player in town." Dean smirked and leaned back in his chair again. "Now, why don't you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?"

"Bite me," Sam snapped.

"I can arrange that!" I hollered from the kitchen. Sam laughed and Dean rolled his eyes.

"No, don't!" Dean said quickly, waving his hands wildly. "Bite Meg, Sammy! But don't leave teeth marks-" the line went dead. "Sam? You there?"

"I think he's busy now, Dean," I called over my shoulder as I put my pot pie in the microwave and started it.

"I sure hope so," Dean grumbled in response. "Kid doesn't get laid enough."

I scoffed and made my way back towards the table and Dean. "I'm sure Sam does gets laid enough, not that it's any of your business." I rifled through the plastic shopping bags to pull our food and drinks out. Dean paled as I slid a chicken salad toward him.

"I can't eat this."

"Then I guess you'll starve," I answered with a shrug. "That's what you get for sending me to the store by myself."

"I was doing research!" he argued, thoroughly exasperated, and threw his hands in the air.

"No, Caleb was doing research. Who knows what you were doing. Probably something I don't want to know about." The microwave dinged, signaling to me that my meal was ready. I sauntered towards the kitchen and pulled my dinner out of the microwave.

"You got a pot pie, and I get rabbit food? What kind of injustice is this?" Dean demanded, shoving his salad away from him.

“It’s good for you.”

“So’s pot pie,” he said, lowering his voice to a piteous grumble. “Can’t I just get a bite of yours?”

I turned to glare at him over my shoulder. “Like Hell, Dean. Your version of a ‘bite’ is half the frickin’ meal.”

“You must want me to starve to death-”

“I picked up some of that raspberry vinaigrette you and Sam like.”

He fell silent for a moment and I heard him fishing through the plastic bag again. From across the room I could hear the quiet but not displeased sigh he let out. “At least there’s some meat in it… but you’re still on thin ice.”

—

Dean tapped away at his laptop for a solid thirty minutes before either of us spoke up. He combed through county clerk records, his preferred type of research… which subsequently left me with the mind numbing task of researching a several thousand year old Iranian religion with a fine-toothed comb.

I eyed his father’s journal from where it sat beside Dean. Now wasn’t the time to bring any sort of drama into this case, not when we knew we had a demon on our hands. But God, that phone number… it itched at the back of my mind. How did John know him?

"Holy fuck!" Dean exclaimed. I jumped from my place across the table and met his excited gaze with one of surprise. "How the hell did we not notice this before?"

"What is it?" I asked. "You find something important?"

"Hell yeah, I did! Take a look at this," Dean said as he spun the laptop to face me. His cursor highlighted a line from the deceased man’s obituary, the first victim. "Look at where the banker guy was from."

My eyes trailed over the blue highlighted text. "Lawrence, Kansas," I breathed out, practically a whisper. Dean nodded.

"Now look at our girl Meredith," he said excitedly as he clicked to the next tab. My eyes searched for her birth city on the webpage.

"She's from Lawrence too..." I mumbled and handed the paper back to Dean. "You think there's a connection?"

"Of course, there's a connection! How could there not be?" He stood abruptly and practically jogged towards the door. "I'm going to go find Sam. If we don't get to him soon, he could end up being our next Lawrence victim."

"Dean-" I said, holding up a hand for him to wait. He quickly threw his jacket on and yanked the front door open to find himself face to face with Sam.

"Dude, I need to talk to you," the brothers said in sync, without skipping a beat. Sam pushed past his older brother and into the room, pacing beside one of the beds.

"Meg's the one controlling the Daevas," Sam stated, tossing his hands into the air in frustration. I left my spot at the table and narrowed my eyes in worry.

"What? How do you know?" I demanded.

"I followed her to this abandoned warehouse thing and-" he took a deep breath. "She had an altar there, with that symbol we found in Meredith’s apartment. She was- she was talking to this, this bowl, and telling whoever it was she was talking to that they shouldn't come."

My eyes widened and I turned to meet Dean's. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door contemplatively. I could see him connecting the red string in his mind, pressing each push pin into place until it all made sense.

"So, hot little Meg is summoning the Daeva?" he asked thoughtfully. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as his eyes moved from the floor to his brother.

Sam nodded. "It looked like she was using the black altar to control the thing."

Dean chuckled and nudged me with his elbow. "Looks like Sam's got a thing for the bad girl." I rolled my eyes sky-high. "So what's the deal with this bowl thing?"

"She was talking into it. The way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone," Sam replied. I raised a brow.

"Is that a thing witches actually do?" I asked.

"Not all of them- most don't. That's more of a folklore thing, but scrying does have its purposes," Dean answered quickly. "Who was she talking to? The Daeva?"

"No, you said those things were savages. No, this was someone different. Someone who's giving her orders. Someone who's comin' to that warehouse." Dean suddenly straightened and moved toward the table. I hurriedly snatched his laptop from his side of the table and handed it to him.

Dean hurriedly thrust his laptop into Sam’s hands and stood beside him, pointing over his brother’s shoulder at the screen. "What I was gonna tell you earlier. I pulled a favor with my-" he cleared his throat, " -friend, Amy, over at the police department. The complete records of the two victims—we missed something the first time."

"What'd we miss?" Sam asked, eyes scanning the papers.

"The two victims," I interjected. "Look at where they were both born."

Sam flipped between the two papers as it dawned on him what we were implying. "Lawrence. They were both from Lawrence, Kansas. Holy crap."

"Yeah," said Dean.

"I mean, it is where the demon killed Mom. That's where everything started. So, you think Meg's tied up with the demon?"

"I think it's a possibility," Dean answered with a shrug.

"But I don't understand. What's the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?"

"Beats me," he replied. "But I say you and I trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation."

"Don't," I growled firmly. "You'll just tip her off- you'll get hurt."

"We'll stake out the place first," Sam offered, attempting to be reassuring. "We've gotta see who, or what is showing up to meet her."

"And I'm going to need you," Dean used his whole laptop to point at me, "to stay here."

I snarled. "What!? You expect me to let you track down some crazy blonde demon summoner without my help!?"

"What would you be able to do against her!?" he snapped back. "You can't go wolf-mode on her right now, and I doubt you'd be able to take her and a bunch of demon things."

"Have you forgotten that I’m not a dog!? I have thumbs, dumbass! I can use weapons too!” I shouted. I crossed my arms indignantly across my chest and fixed them both with a heated glare. “If I can't take her and a few 'demon things' then you certainly can't either! I literally have built-in fangs and claws, you two only have guns! I'm not letting you two go alone!"

"We won't be going alone!" Dean shouted back. "I have a plan."

I glared as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He dialed a number and leaned back against the table. I watched the brothers exchange glances. Sam looked reluctantly between the two of us but eventually withered under Dean’s heated glare. I scoffed as he stepped out of the motel room, likely to prepare the Impala.

I sat down on the bed, fuming. The dialing finally ended and went to voicemail. Dean swallowed dryly.

"We think we've got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom," he started, sounding rather nervous. My eyes widened as I realized just who he was calling. "So, uh, this warehouse – it's 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can." He closed the phone and slid it back into his pocket, running a weary hand over his face.

"You called your fucking dad?" I snarled from my place on the bed. "The guy who hasn't answered a single one of your calls since this whole shit show started!? You're expecting him to show up when you could just take me with you!?"

"Well, it's not like you can do much against her!" he growled back. "You're in no shape to be fighting demons and crazy people!"

"I can handle myself just fine, Dean, fur or not!" I paced up and down the edge of the bed, raking my fingers through my hair. My eyes were swimming with a dull golden color, fighting to get out. "I was raised by hunters too! I know how to fight! Let me help you!"

"You're not coming with us!" he shouted, pushing off the table and stalking towards me.

"Like Hell, I'm not!" I felt that familiar clawing sensation in the back of my mind. She was digging her claws into the barrier, fighting to tear it down. I inhaled sharply, expecting her to fight to put Dean in his place – instead, it dawned on me that she was yearning and fighting for his safety. "Dean, you don't even know what you're walking into!"

"And you do!?" he challenged, practically in my face at this point. "Sam and I can do this without you! This isn't your fight!"

"My fight is your fight! How long is it going to take you to realize that you're part of my pack now!? It's my job to look out for you!"

He scoffed. "Yeah, great job you've been doing there! Last time you tried to help out, someone died! Sam could have died! You could have died!"

My eyes widened and then narrowed just as quickly, a low growl rising in my throat. My wandering hand clutched onto a rather firm pillow. I inhaled deeply, puffing up my chest, and swung the pillow towards Dean, who raised a hand to block it.

"You-!" I screamed and smacked him again, "Are such-!" I hit him in the ribs with the pillow, causing him to drop his raised arms and expose his head, "A fucking-!" I whacked him in the shoulder, "Asshole!" I screamed, slamming the pillow down on his head and sending him stumbling backward.

My chest rose and fell with labored breaths as I watched the red recede from my vision. The door clicked and my wild, golden eyes fixated on Sam as he peeked inside.

"Bad time?" the younger brother asked.

"No, perfect time," Dean grumbled, rubbing his shoulder and doing his best to smooth out his now messy hair. "We just finished." He glared at me, one full of hurt and irritation. I glared right back, standing tall under his scrutiny.

"You sure?" Sam inquired and gestured over his shoulder with his thumb towards the door, "cause I can leave again, if you want, let you get everything off your chests."

"We're fine, Sam," I said, my short temper obvious. "We can talk about it more when we get back. What'd you get from the car?"

"I ransacked the trunk. Holy water, every weapon that I could think of, exorcism rituals from about a half dozen religions. I'm not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything," Sam answered with a nervous laugh and dumped his haul onto the bed furthest from the door.

I wasted no time in helping the boys load their guns and pack their small bags. I had a feeling that there was no point arguing in packing my own. The boys carried on their own conversations as I pondered, lost in thought.

There was something seriously dark swirling overhead – I felt like something terrible was going to happen soon, like everything would come crashing down. It was a foreboding feeling and one that brought that familiar chill down my spine. Something was going to go wrong on this hunt, I could feel it.

The boys were going to get my help whether they liked it or not.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. Once again, Sam seemed to understand my frustration. Likewise, I understood why he sided with Dean, although he wasn't outright voicing his opinions. If he had, I might have smothered him. I just wished Dean would understand. I wanted nothing more to protect the brothers, just like I only wanted to protect my pack. I know Dean felt the same way, considering how hard he was fighting to make me stay. So why couldn't he see that I felt the same way, just from the opposite end of the spectrum?

After a few pain-staking goodbyes, the boys were finally prepared to leave me to my own devices while they fended off whatever evil Meg was. God, I wish I could have smacked them hard enough to make them understand.

I huffed as Dean stood in the doorway, an apologetic but confident look on his face. He looked as though he had something he wanted to say but just wasn't sure how. It was the same look he had given me in the bar when I first tried to tell them about the number in the journal.

He lifted a finger to point nervously at me. "Sit," he said. "And stay."

I raised my own middle finger at him, glaring harshly. "Bite me."

He chuckled and turned to leave, calling out over his shoulder. "Don't tempt me, fido!" And with that last remark, the door closed on him, leaving me in the dark, in more ways than one. Alone.

I rushed to the window and drew back the curtains just enough that I could see the drive away, but they wouldn't see me. As soon as I heard the Impala's purr and watched it race out of the parking lot I was off again, rushing around the room.

I stuffed whatever weapons I could find into my small bag, dumping out whatever clothes and utilities I once had in it. Since my first hunt with the boys, I had been sure to pack whatever necessities I may need for either a solo hunt or a situation like this: salt, two lighters (they were notoriously unreliable), holy water, shotgun shells preloaded with rock salt, two knives, one silver and one not (I didn't like to use the silver one) and a pistol with extra bullets. Needless to say, I was prepared, although I would have been more prepared with the help of the brothers.

I checked my pistol to make sure it was loaded and zipped up the backpack, leaving everything easily acceptable but not easy to steal or see. I donned Dean's old coat and slung the bag over my shoulders, marching out the door of the hotel room with fury and confidence licking at my heels.

The boys had to know I would do something like this. Perhaps they thought they could wrap up the case before I made it there on foot.

They were wrong.

—

Surprisingly, it didn't take me long at all to get to the warehouse. Iwas panting with my hands on my knees, gazing up at the sheer scale of the building before me. It must have been seven or eight stories. My stomach felt queasy. My instinct and I could both agree that a skinwalker's place was with all four paws on the ground, not high in the air.

God, the things I do for those boys. They were lucky I put up with this bullshit.

I steeled myself and shrugged my shoulders, preparing to march across the road and enter the building. I was stopped by the odd whining sound of a large truck. My eyes scanned up and down the road until they settled on a black pickup, a rather tall and bulky vehicle. The truck pulled into a side alley a few buildings down and stopped. The engine cut out.

My hackles rose once more, and I felt that unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach. I chalked it up to my nerves about facing my first demon. If my uncle could see me now, I don't know if he'd be terrified or proud. He tried to stay away from demons and magic, and just stuck to good old-fashioned monster hunting. My parents would certainly be terrified...

I tightened my jaw and marched across the street. Despite this being a busy city, there were no cars out tonight. I was thankful for that, the fewer people to see me, the better.

The inside of the building was ratty and honestly a mess. I really hoped it was condemned. If not, someone was going to get seriously hurt in here. My eyes scanned the broken-down elevator shaft that went up to the highest floor.

"No fucking way," I grumbled at the very thought of scaling that monstrosity. Instead, my eyes flitted around the room, searching for any other option, before finally resting on an old wooden door, tightly shut. I grinned and paced towards it, trying the handle and frowning when it didn't budge. I pushed against the door, hoping my weight would make it pop open. It didn't.

With a puzzled frown, I took a step back and rolled up my sleeves. I squared my shoulders and turned slightly to the side, angling my shoulder towards the weak point near the door handle. With a shake of my arms and a preparatory inhale, I launched at the door, ramming into it.

And suddenly I was falling forward with the door as it came off its hinges, a mess of cobwebs raining down on top of me. The door, and I, landed with a crash at the foot of a long flight of stairs. I lay there for a few moments, catching my breath.

"They definitely heard that," I whispered just loudly enough for myself to hear.

I stood and dusted myself off, my eyes following the length of the steps. If I wanted to make it to the boys before they did something stupid, I'd need to hurry.

I ran up the steps as quietly as I could, hoping the pounding I heard was my heart and not my feet. Whatever was up there, I didn't want to alert it to my presence. I was lucky I didn't have a swarm of evil thousand-year-old demon things descending upon me as I ran.

My heart thumped in my chest as I made it to the top of the stairs. In front of me was a rather short hallway with a single dark door at the end, the glow of light from something on the other side peaking through the crack under the door. I licked my lips and tip-toed to the door, nerves rising, hoping to hear something on the other side.

I did in fact hear something. It sounded like a muffled conversation. I put my ear to the door and listened.

"It doesn't mean anything. It was just to draw you in, that's all," I heard a woman say. I ground my teeth together as my lips pulled back in a silent snarl. Meg.

"So you killed those people for nothing?" came Dean's unmistakable but muffled voice.

"Baby, I've killed a lot more for a lot less," Meg purred in response. I bit back a growl. My blood was boiling and it wasn't long before I was fighting with myself. Should I charge in and risk their safety, or play it safe and sneak in?

My ears pricked at Sam's voice. "Dad. It's a trap for Dad."

Shit. A trap for John? But there was no way he could make it to Chicago in time, was there? Not unless she planned to use him as bait. For a moment, I was glad I had stayed behind. Now I had a chance to warn John and maybe save the boys.

I straightened as my skin suddenly prickled with goosebumps. I felt an itch at the back of my mind, as if urging me for my attention.

My attention was redirected yet again to the sound of a scuffle on the other side of the door. I heard a crash and what sounded like a person tumbling across the floor – one of the brothers. I went to reach for the handle, but something stopped me. A buzzing between my ears.

My fist clenched, struggling to identify the feeling. My eyes widened as I felt pressure in my head.

Duck, ordered a whisper.

And I did. I ducked low enough to see a fist fly over my head and narrowly missed the door handle that I had just been reaching for. With a growl I spun in my crouched position and lunged towards my assailant, flinging them into the door.

The door splintered with a crack, light filling the once dim hallway. I snarled and tossed myself at my assailant as they struggled to stand, landing a harsh blow to their ribs and a kick to their shin. They grunted and dropped low, attempting to tackle me. I side-stepped just in time to see two shadows tear into Meg's flesh and toss her out a seventh-story window like nothing but a heap of trash.

I heard Sam's voice shout my name from beside the once meticulously arranged altar. I didn't have time to look at him before my assailant knocked me to the floor in a tackle. The two of us struggled and I felt them land a harsh blow to my cheekbone and mouth. Blood careened down my lips and dribbled into my mouth.

Suddenly, the weight was being dragged off of me and I flailed as a set of hands grabbed me under my arms, dragging me away. I kicked and screamed, fighting against whoever held me as an arm wrapped around my torso, struggling to hold me still.

"Easy, tiger!" shouted Dean, from his place beside my assailant, his hands extended toward me in an appearing gesture. My sight cleared enough to rest on the man before me. He was tall and his features were dark, a line of blood dripping down his temple from where I had hit him. He scowled at me and I glared back, struggling to get at him and fight. My eyes widened, seeing Dean's hand on the guy's shoulder.

"It's OK!" shouted Sam near my ear, struggling to hold me still and calm me down. "It's alright, we know him!"

"Who the fuck is he then!?" I snapped back and dropped my arms, ceasing my struggle. Sam let go and helped me stand, a hand under my elbow to steady me. His voice was filled with awe and his eyes were wide with shock.

"He's our dad," he said, quietly. My own eyes widened to the size of saucers, flitting between the two shocked brothers and their raggedy father. My round eyes locked with his brown ones.

"John?"

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