#sam winchseter/reader

[scribeofwinchesters]

Secrets and Lies: Chapter 1 - The Injury

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 2733

Summary: After you get severely injured in a fight, you worry about what lengths Sam Winchester will go to to keep you safe. What would you do to make sure he felt like he didn't need to?

A/N: Heeeeey... Not sure if anyone is still out there after all these years. My job and my mental health took away a lot of my time and mental capacity for writing but I’ve kinda gotten back on the horse. This is an older story where I was never quite happy with the ending and I didn’t want to start posting it until I had an ending I was happy with. So... I never posted it. Thanks ADHD brain. In any case, I hope whoever is still out there, whoever finds this, enjoys this story. As always, link to A03 here if you prefer.

It had all happened so fast. You were just about to get the jump on a demon you'd been fighting with. He was big and burly and was really giving you a run for your money. He stumbled and you were about to jump around his neck and slice it open when you stumbled on the jump and he once again had the upper hand. He threw his arm out and with an unseen force, shot you back, your body slamming hard against a wall. You crumpled to the ground, every nerve in your body was screaming. It took a moment to remember that you were in the middle of a fight. Slowly, you forced your eyes open. They were swimming but you could see the demon making his way toward you. You tried to force yourself to your feet but your brain seemed to have forgotten how to communicate with your legs.

“Exorcizamus te, omn-” you began but the demon lifted his arm mid-stride and you felt your words being choked off.

The knife you'd been wielding had fallen to the floor when you were sent flying across the room but you still had an angel blade hidden away in your inside jacket pocket. It took every ounce of strength you had to move your arm, slip it from the pocket and hold it behind your arm, hidden away from the demon's eyes. The nerves in your arm were screaming with every move you made.

You wondered for a moment why Sam hadn't immediately rushed to your side but then you heard him attempting to exorcise the other demon that he'd been up against when you fell. Every syllable he managed out earned him a fist to his cheek. He plunged his knife deep into her stomach but of course it did next to nothing to slow her down. Dean had taken Ruby's knife.

The burly guy leaned over you. You gripped tight to the handle of your blade but kept it hidden beside your leg. He grinned at you in a way that made your stomach spin even more than it already was from being throttled against the wall. He pulled his knife lightly across your cheek as you stared daggers at him. The sting of it's blade was nothing compared to the rest of the pain you were in. You didn't even flinch.

“GET AWAY FROM HER YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Sam bellowed as his leg flew through the air, slamming hard against the other demon’s face. He couldn't come to you, not without shaking her first. If he turned his back on her, she'd kill him and then you'd really be screwed.

If this bastard would just step a little closer, you could plunge your knife into him, but he was keeping a careful distance, just close enough to taunt you.

“Your boyfriend's gonna miss you after I kill you,” the demon sneered. “It'll break him. He'll blame himself. I'll be there to watch and relish every second of his pain.” Your heart sank. You hadn't been with Sam long but you'd gotten pretty intense pretty fast. And Dean... If this demon had his way, you might not ever get to see him again. Dean and Cas had gone on a mission to free an angel being held by Crowley. The brothers had been tense at best since Dean learned Sam had shrugged off his responsibilities for the last year. Then Sam found out his brother was friends with a vampire and any progress they’d made seemed to have been lost. So you'd agreed it might be best to split up for a few days.

You choked down a sob at the thought of what Dean's face might look like if Sam had to call him to tell him the worst. You'd climbed out of Purgatory with Dean at your side. You'd gotten each other through that snake pit. Dean was your best friend, your brother in all but blood and name. At this point it would hurt Sam to lose you but it might very well ruin Dean. You couldn't... you wouldn't, allow either to happen.

The demon moved in closer to you. You could feel his useless breath against your face. He grinned even wider when he saw the pain his words had caused you.

You angled the knife toward his stomach. Now you only had to hope your arm would have the strength to drive it deep enough. He trailed a finger across your shoulder and down your arm, he seemed almost transfixed by the body before him and the many different ways he could hurt you.

“I'm gonna enjoy th-”

You shoved the angel blade deep into his stomach, as deep as it would go. The demon inside the meat suit sparked and fizzled. It was like glimpsing the fires of hell. You gave the hilt an extra shove, just to be sure. The body slumped forward over you, a shocked expression clinging to the dead face. You pulled the blade out and wiped it clean on the dead man's shirt before tucking it back into your jacket. You grimaced as you stared into the lifeless eyes and pushed with everything you had left, shoving the body away. It was sent tumbling a few feet away.

You could see Sam now and watched as he kicked the demon powerfully in her stomach. He seemed done now, at his wits end. He needed the fight to be over. His last kick sent her straight into a wall. He pressed his forearm against her throat, cutting off her windpipe, before splashing a bottle of holy water on her face. She sneered and laughed through the obvious pain as Sam began invoking an exorcism.

“Exorcizamus te, Omnis Immundus Spiritus! Omnis Satanica Potestas! Omnis Incursio Infernalis Adversarii! Omnis Congregatio et Secta Diabolica! Ergo Draco Maledicte! Ut Ecclesiam Tuam Secura, Tibi Facias Libertate Servire, Te Rogamus, Audi Nos!” he shouted as he rushed quickly through the words but was still careful to enunciate.

She screamed in pain as the black smoke shot out of her mouth and billowed into a long cloud before bolting through the ground and disappearing.

The life left her eyes and Sam pulled his arm away from her throat. Her body crumpled to the floor, the human vessel long dead. He immediately turned and sprinted to your side.

“See... I’m telling you, we need to make a voice memo of the exorcism. That seriously would have come in handy just now,” you said with a smirk as he knelt beside you and tucked his knife away. His body heaved as he took deep, rapid breaths, trying to catch up with what the fight had taken out of him. You noted the swelling in his cheeks and blood streaming from various small cuts across his face. He was completely oblivious to it, though. His wide and horrified eyes surveyed you as he brushed his fingertips gingerly over your body. Blood dripped from the cut on your cheek. There was a sizable laceration just under the corner of your mouth and there was a decent sized gash on your forehead that was dripping into your left eyebrow, but other than that and your notable lack of movement, you appeared fine.

“Y/n... I'm so sorry. Oh God, I'm so sorry... Where does it hurt?” he said

“Kind of... everywhere,” you said with a light chuckle. Sam narrowed his eyes at you. He seemed seconds from rolling them and pursing his lips.

“This isn't the moment for your sarcasm,” he huffed.

“Mostly my lower back,” you said, lifting your hand to brush the side of his face. You couldn't argue with him now, not when he looked so sad.

“We need to get out of here. I don't know how many more demons are crawling in this place. Can you stand?”

You tried to move your legs but the nerves in your lower back sent a shock of white hot pain through your spine. You cringed as a whimper escaped your lips. Several tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Okay... Okay, that's fine,” Sam said. You could see his mind was reeling as he tried to come up with a game plan to fix this. “Um, can you feel your legs?” he asked, seeming to dread the answer.

“Yeah,” you murmured, eyes still shut tight as the pain slowly subsided. Sam had his palm pressed to the ground and you held your hand gently over it. He turned his hand over and grasped yours in his. It was nice and cool from the concrete but it quickly warmed against you.

“Can you wiggle your toes?” he asked. You tried and slowly the muscles of your toes contracted as they pulled toward your foot, hidden away inside your boots. You nodded at Sam.

“Okay, I'm gonna have to carry you,” he said as he pushed one arm between your lower back and the wall and the other beneath your thighs.

“This will probably hurt. Ready?”

“No, I'd like you to recite some Eliot to me first,” you said with a grin. Sam sighed and gently rolled his eyes at you. “Kiss me,” you said, half out of breath.

“I should've checked you for a head injury,” he said with a tone of mild annoyance. His lips pursed in a sarcastic way that made his cheeks dimple. You imagined that if you were well, you would have pressed a kiss to each dimple, softening his expression. You hated to see anything but a smile on his face.

“It might help me forget the pain,” you explained, once again caressing his face.

Without hesitation he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to yours, kissing you hungrily as he stood and lifted you into the air. There was a dull pain that came from the cut near your lip as he kissed you but that was forgettable compared to the shriek of pain in your lower back that howled despite your best attempts to focus on the way his lips moved against yours. It was still not quite as bad, though, as when you'd tried to move your legs yourself. Possibly because Sam had done a good job keeping them steady. He pressed one last kiss to your lips before pressing one to your forehead, careful to miss the gash there.

“And indeed there will be time to wonder, ‘Do I dare?’ and, ‘Do I dare?’ Time to turn back and descend the stair,” he said with a grin that you almost believed. It sparked something in you.

“We better call Dean. Can you reach my phone? It's in my chest pocket,” he said as he carried you out of the room. You'd heard Sam but you weren't listening. Your mind was suddenly whirling as you thought about the concern that hid behind his eyes and the horrified expression when he'd first knelt by your side.

What if he thought you'd screwed up and they couldn't trust you on hunts? This was too soon in your relationship. You hadn't been able to prove your capabilities yet and now maybe you never would...

A million scenarios played in your mind. You imagined him sitting you down and telling you that he loved you too much to let you hunt, that it wasn't worth the risk to your safety. You imagined he'd be able to get Dean on his side and then what could you do to argue? They'd overrule you. But eventually that wouldn't be enough for him. One day he might begin to think that he was the unsafe factor in your life and try to push you out, try to make you settle down somewhere without him and Dean. They were all you had now. That was not an option.

And you were a good hunter. You'd survived for months in Purgatory before meeting Dean. You were just as capable as they were. Okay, sure, they had decades of experience over you, so maybe not just as... but still, you could more than hold your own. Sam didn't really seem like the kind of guy that would be insanely, misogynistically protective. This was Sam Winchester, not Edward Cullen, after all. Still... could you take the chance? A plan started to hatch in your mind... you knew you shouldn’t but you had to ensure that the nearly perfect little life you'd found wouldn't crumble before your eyes.

You realized then, that Sam was calling your name, and had been for several moments as he made his way down the maze of halls, past bodies you'd felled on your way in.

“Castiel,” you whispered.

“Yes... Cas... I'm sorry, I should have thought of him sooner,” he said, half-panicked. There it was as always, Sam apologizing for something that was only human.. If he kept putting that kind of blame on himself, he would eventually crack under the pressure. Yes, this was the only way. It was better for both of you.

Sam was shouting Cas's name now as he made his way down the stairs of the foyer, out the front door and into the dark night. He jogged steadily to the car you'd jacked a few towns back. It was a black, early 2000's model Chevy Impala. You'd spotted it in a strip mall parking lot and couldn't resist how much it would annoy Dean. You'd made Sam take a picture of you leaning nonchalantly against the side of the car just so you could text it to him. He replied immediately to say that you were spitting on Baby's good name and he'd never forgive you. Which had left you rolling in a fit of laughter.

Sam was carefully stooping down, still cradling you, to pull open the back door of the car when Cas finally appeared.

“This better be imp-” he began and then Sam turned around and Cas's eyes fell on you, pale and bloodied, cradled in Sam's arms.

“What happened?” he asked sternly, but you caught the hint of alarm in his voice.

“Fix her,” Sam pleaded quietly, his voice breaking. He'd seemed so strong about this whole situation. You realized now it had just been for your sake.

“Demons?” Cas asked as he took several long strides toward you and turned to survey the building you'd just exited.

“Cas!” Sam shouted. Cas set his eyes on Sam for a moment, not appreciating being yelled at, before he reached out and touched the back of your hand for less than a second.

“Would you calm down? She's not on the verge of death.”

“She's not?” Sam sighed with relief. He looked down at you and his lips twitched up at the corners. It was almost a smile.

“No, she's got at least five hours to live in her current state,” Cas said nonchalantly. “Pelvic fracture. Lot's of internal bleeding.” He looked down at you. “Did you kill the one that did this?”

You cocked your head slightly and smirked at him. “Of course I did,” you said with a light chuckle. Cas grinned and nodded knowingly at you.

“Good. Give me a second, I'll be right back.”

“Castiel!” Sam barked in a low, ragged voice, so broken that it pierced your heart. It was too late. Cas was gone. Sam was left holding you gingerly in his arms by the wide-open back door of the car. The overhead interior lamp spilled light onto the grass around you and faintly across the frozen fields around you. It was the only light for miles other than the stars and sliver of moon. The cold was starting to settle on you and you noted how desolate and quiet it was. Any sound that might exist was easily muffled by the snow and ice.

“Do you want me to lay you on the back seat?” Sam asked. You wrinkled your nose as you thought about the pain from the last two times you were moved. Sam nodded in understanding.

“Unless I'm-,” you worried.

“No, no! Please, I could do this for at least another eight hours if I had too,” he said coolly. You chuckled quietly at him but noted that his time extended well past the time left that Cas gave you, as if he was willing you more.

“What if he-” Sam started.

“He'll be back,” you said, cutting him off.

Edit:  Chapter Two

[saventhhaven]

Only You - Chapter 8

Title: She Knows

Summary: When a man who left the reader six years ago suddenly reappears on her doorstep, she does everything she can to stop herself from falling in love with him all over again. Little does she know that his seemingly brief return will open an entirely new chapter for both of them.

Only You Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Tags: Angst, protective!Dean, fight training, sweet!Dean

Word Count: 3,801

(Gif not mine)

A month. Exactly one month today since Dean Winchester had shown up on your doorstep again. Three weeks since Geoff had died. Seventeen days since Linda's death. That was the last time you had seen the witch, too. Fifteen days since you had gotten fired. This was what your life had become now. A timeline of the bad things that had happened to you throughout the past month. Your paranoia had been kicking into gear again. You would only be kidding yourself to think that the witch had gotten over her grudge and moved on. But still, you hadn't seen any trace of her for over two weeks. You didn't know how, but you knew that she knew where you were. That she was waiting, watching, and calculating her next move. And that scared you more than anything.

You took up a fighting stance again as a pleasant fall breeze pushed damp strands of hair away from your face. It had been in the early hours of the afternoon when you and Dean had started today. Now, the sun was threatening to begin its descent, and you knew it was only a matter of time before Dean would force you to call it quits. He'd had to do so the past few days, claiming you weren't going to get anywhere if you let yourself get too burnt out.

Dean was a few steps away from you, his expression focused. It was a look of warning - one that dared someone to try and go up against him. You had seen him don this look before on a hunt, but being on the receiving end of it made you uneasy. The way he had his eyes narrowed and his jaw set was intimidating to say, in the least. Honestly, you weren't sure how others were still always so willing to go up against him. You took in a few slow, deep breaths, centering your concentration. Your fighting skills had improved immensely since Dean had started training you, and you were still getting better every day. The adrenaline rush that came with having to block and then counter a blow within half a second made it easy to learn quickly, and not repeat your mistakes a second time.

You moved with precise speed, throwing a series of quick jabs and kicks at Dean. He blocked your attacks with ease, coming at you with a left hook when you faltered. Some of your training kicked in, and you ducked automatically. The movement of Dean's punch left his face open, so you took the opportunity to aim a blow at his jawline. When his hands didn't make it up to block your hit in time, you froze, your fist only centimeters from its mark. A small smirk made its way onto your face.

"Gotcha," you said. Dean nodded, looking surprised, but pleased.

"Good," he praised. "That was really good." You gave him a smug smile, planting your hands on your hips.

"I told you I know how to defend myself." Dean snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, you do now."

"Hey!" you exclaimed. Ignoring you, Dean clapped his hands together and backed away from you again.

"All right. Try to knock me down." You eyed him skeptically in response.

"What?" Dean laughed.

"Knock me on my ass," he repeated. "Come on, Y/N. I know you can do it." You gave him the same skeptic glance as before as you readjusted your stance nervously.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" you asked. Dean shrugged and bent his knees as if preparing for some unseen force of impact.

"Just think of something. I wanna see what you can come up with on the fly." Blowing stray hairs from your face, you nodded. In what you were hoping was a swift movement, you swept your leg in a half-circle, aiming for Dean's feet. He moved out of the way easily, and in the blink of an eye had spun you away from him and pinned your arms behind your back. "Too slow," he said in your ear. You let out a huff of frustration, painfully aware of how close to you he was. His broad chest was pressed flush up against your back, and the warmth from his body seeped in through your shirt. You wrenched yourself from his grip and rubbed your wrist, where Dean had been holding onto it only moments before.

"Aren't you gonna at least cut me some slack?" you asked impatiently. Dean shook his head.

"Nope." You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Dean, I'm still learning," you pointed out.

"I know," he replied, nodding his agreement. "But in a real fight, no one is going to go easy on you just because you're new at this. This is how you get better." You sighed. "Now," he continued, "you've got a good deal of power behind that punch and a sturdy stance that won't be easy to knock over, but you're forgetting the most important part." You raised your eyebrows with curiosity.

"All right, well, don't leave me in suspense here," you said imploringly.

"You need to be able to catch your opponent off guard," Dean explained. "If you only use what you know right now in a fight, there's no way you can win." You let out a small puff of air along with a roll of your eyes. Normally, you would have some sort of snarky reply to fire back at him, but you knew he was right. If faced with a real fight right now, you really wouldn't stand a chance.

"Okay, so what, you're telling me I need an element of surprise?"

"Exactly." Without giving him any warning, you sent a fist flying in his direction. Dean caught your punch in his hand, his eyes lighting up with what you recognized as amusement.

"Better," he said, nodding his head. "But still too predictable." You scowled and thrust a knee up into his groin area, a move he hadn't taught you. Dean blocked the blow with his forearms before you could make contact. He shoved your knee out of the way and held up a finger, a deadly serious expression on his face. "Whoa."

"You said you wanted me to catch you off guard!" Dean nodded his agreement.

"Yes! Catch me off guard! Not damage the goods!" You let out another frustrated huff. There wasn't much else you could do. Well... there was one thing. If he wanted an element of surprise, then he was going to get one. You threw a punch at him with your left hand. Just as you were expecting, he caught it with ease. "Come on, Y/N," Dean began, "that was-" Using your free hand, you wove your fingers through the soft, short hairs at the nape of his neck,and pulled his face down to your own before he could react. And then his lips were on yours.

The way your mouths moved together in such perfect synchronization had you feeling like no time had passed at all. His full lips against yours left your heart racing, and you had to force yourself to remember why you were even doing this in the first place. You weren't playing fair, and you knew that, but Dean had been asking for it. Reluctantly, you pulled away and watched him intently as his green eyes fluttered open, gauging his reaction.

"Y/N..." he said softly. He opened his mouth to continue, but you didn't give him a chance, switching the grip on your left hand, so you were the one holding onto his wrist. Using his surprise to your advantage, you whirled him around, pinning both of his arms behind his back and pushed him down to the ground almost effortlessly. Dean laid in the grass, stunned, as you held him down.

"Gotcha," you repeated, though this time, you were hardly able to get the word out. You stepped back, releasing his arms. Dean rolled over on his back, looking up at you with a face that told you he clearly wasn't thinking about your training anymore. When you held out a hand to him, he took it wordlessly and stood. You held your breath. It was the type of silence where you knew that if you even breathed, the moment would be broken. Finally, Dean spoke.

"Why did you..." he trailed off. He was at a complete loss for words. You gave a weak smile.

"You were the one that wanted me to catch you off guard." It was as if your comment fell on deaf ears. Dean hadn't heard a word you said. Not really. He wrapped a well-toned arm around your waist and pulled you close to him. You didn't resist.

"Y/N." The way he whispered your name sent shivers down your spine. Your breath hitched in your throat as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, in a way that was so gentle, you almost thought he was afraid he was going to break you. His warm, calloused hand rested on your cheek, and he looked into your eyes seriously. "Was that real?" he asked. "Or were you just trying to get the jump on me?" You swallowed hard, heart hammering in your chest.

"It was real," you breathed. When Dean looked down at you with his eyes full of infinite tenderness, all of the feelings you had desperately been trying to repress for the past month forced their way to the surface.

Ever since he had shown back up on your doorstep, you had been trying to convince yourself that you weren't in love with him. That he broke your heart once before, and you knew better now. Still, here you were. There was a realization that you had come to a couple days after Dean had left again that you had refused to admit at the time. It had occurred to you that maybe after all that time, you had never stopped loving Dean. You knew now that you were right. After all that time, your heart had put itself back together, and you somehow found yourself loving Dean Winchester again. But then again... maybe you never stopped in the first place.

Dean clenched and unclenched his jaw as he leaned down again to recapture your lips. When you tilted your chin up slightly, you could feel how close he was by his breath fanning across your lips. And then his phone began to ring, and the spell was broken. Dean hurriedly released you, his cheeks a shade pinker than usual. He yanked the small, obnoxious device from his pocket, frowning down at the screen.

"Sammy?" Sam's voice frantically rambled on the other end of the line, and Dean's frown deepened. "Wait, wait, wait, slow down." You heard him sigh.

"Put Y/N on the phone." Dean held out his phone to you, which you took.

"What's up?" you said into the receiver. 

"Hey," Sam greeted, sounding both agitated and slightly amused. "There's a woman trying to pound down your motel door, and it's not the witch." You felt your eyebrows knit together.

"Uh, who is it?"

The drive back to the motel was faster than it usually was, which you were thankful for. Dean had barely put the Imala in park before you jumped out, walking briskly over to your door, where the woman was still standing, her phone up to her ear.

"Mom?" you asked incredulously. Your mother whirled around, her eyes frantic. She shoved her phone back into her purse as you approached her, an obvious look of relief on her face. "What-" Before you could get another word out, she gathered you into a bone-crushing hug, eliciting a small "oof" from you.

"I went to the hospital to surprise you and drop off lunch, and they told me you were fired! What happened? Where the hell have you been?" You removed yourself from the hug, holding your mother at arm's length so she wouldn't suffocate you.

"Mom, breathe," you said. "I've been at home." She narrowed her eyes at you, planting her hands firmly on her hips.

"You were not at home because I went there before I came here! Which reminds me, what the hell happened to your apartment? It looks like a tornado went through there!" She was asking questions you didn't have safe answers to. If you told her what was really going on, she would think you were going crazy.

"I-I," you stuttered. Dean began to slowly approach, and you locked eyes with him, desperate for an excuse. "I got robbed," you blurted out. Dean tucked his chin back slightly as he raised his eyebrows.

"Robbed?" he mouthed to you. He gave you the "ok" sign with his hand as he pursed his lips and nodded. "Nice."

"You what?" You glanced at Dean again with helpless eyes. He stepped back, holding his hands up, a clear sign that you were on your own here. "Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N," your mother scolded. You grimaced. She only used your middle name when you were really in for it. "You tell me what the hell is going on right now."

"Mom, I'm fine!" you exclaimed. She sputtered in disbelief.

"You're 'fine?' Oh no," she admonished, "don't you try to tell me you're 'fine!' 'Fine' wouldn't be unemployed! 'Fine' would-"

"Okay, mom, okay," you cut her off. "I get it."

"Come home," she ordered. Your stomach turned uneasily. "I don't want you staying in an apartment that's been robbed, and-" You glanced at Dean again, who looked just as perplexed as you did. This time, your mother followed your gaze and turned around. When her eyes landed on Dean, she reached for you absentmindedly. "You," she said venomously. "What the hell are you doing here?" You should have known this would happen. The only person that was more protective of you than Dean was your mom. Especially when it came to Dean. When your heart broke six years ago, she was there to help pick up the pieces. She knew all the anguish he put you through. There was no way this was going to end well. You latched onto her arm tightly.

"Mom, let me explain," you pleaded.

"No," your mother replied angrily. "I don't want to hear it. This man is nothing but trouble, Y/N, can't you see that?" You brushed past her and went to stand next to Dean.

"He's helping me!" you argued. She shook her head.

"I don't care! This happened last time, too! You disappeared for two weeks, and went, God knows where!" Your stomach clenched with guilt. She wasn't wrong. The last time you helped the Winchesters with their hunt, you had to take yourself off the grid to protect your mother. She had practically gone ballistic when she hadn't been able to get a hold of you. You tuned back into your mother's screeching. "I bet it was his idea to drag you out here, too, wasn't it?" Something clicked in your brain as realization hit you in the face like a ton of bricks. Your mouth went dry.

"Mom," you said shakily. "How did you know where to find me?" She crossed her arms, still looking annoyed.

"Well, when I was leaving your apartment, one of your neighbors told me where you went." She stuck out her chin and sniffed. "Since you were apparently too busy running around with him to tell me yourself. She was really, very nice." Your surroundings seemed to buzz loudly in your ear as you forced yourself to remember to breathe.

"What did she look like?" you asked in a panicked voice.

"What?"

"The neighbor, mom, what did she look like?" Your mother looked bewildered as her angry expression melted away.

"I don't know for sure, I wasn't paying attention to that." You grabbed her forearms, giving her a small shake.

"I know this doesn't make any sense to you," you said, trying to keep your voice level. "But I need you to try and think of what she looked like, mom. please." She blinked, still looking confused.

"Well, I know she was my age, at least." She paused. "And she had long, black hair." You released your mother and took a step back as the world spun around you. "She told me to tell you that she hopes you come back soon."

"The witch," you breathed. There was no doubt in your mind that your mother was no longer safe. This was some unbelievably cruel mind game. Images of victims from the case you had worked years ago flashed briefly before your eyes, and you really thought you might pass out. When you stumbled, Dean grabbed onto you tightly. You held onto him for dear life, shaking your head wildly. "Sh-she," you stuttered, "she knows. Dean, she knows."

"I know, I know," he said, trying to talk you down from your panicked ledge. "We're gonna figure it out, okay? And we're gonna do everything we can to keep her safe. But first, you need to calm down. Your mom looks really scared right now." You glanced over at your mother, who was watching you, eyes wide. You took in a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down. "And we need to explain this to her."

"Okay," you finally said. "Okay." Patting Dean's arm in a silent gesture of thanks, you made your way back over to your mother.

"Y/N," she said softly, "what is going on?" You wrapped your arms around her form, incredibly grateful that she was still in one piece.

"Let's go home," you decided. "We need to talk."

"Witches?" You moved around your old home's kitchen with familiarity as you made a pot of coffee. "You really expect me to believe that?" You shook your head.

"No," you answered honestly, "I really don't. That's why I need you to trust me. I know this all seems like something out of a fucked up fairytale." Despite your age, she still glared at you harshly when you dropped the f-bomb. "But it's real." Your mother sighed loudly, resting her elbows on the kitchen table and steepling her fingers underneath her chin.

"I don't really know what to say here, Y/N," she admitted after a long moment. "I mean, it's like you're asking me to believe in vampires and werewolves, here." In the corner of your eye, you caught Sam and Dean exchange a glance a few feet away. When Dean looked at you meaningfully, you subtly shook your head. Witches were enough for today. Anything else and you were afraid she would have a heart attack.

"We know it's a lot," Sam piped up. "But Y/N is telling you all this to protect you."

"What do you know about my daughter?" your mom snapped.

"Mother, please," you demurred. She sighed heavily, nodding in the direction of the Winchesters.

"I just don't understand why they're here." You glanced back at the boys nervously before turning your attention back to your mother,

"This... isn't my first run-in with a witch," you admitted reluctantly. "The first time you ever met Dean, we had just finished hunting another witch. I owe these boys my life. They've saved it more than once before." Your mother gave the two boys a wary once-over before sighing, seeming to surrender her angry facade.

"Then I suppose I owe you my thanks," she decided. She paused for a second before narrowing her eyes at Dean again. "But I still don't like you," she informed him. Dean looked to the ground shamefully, and you placed your hand over your mom's.

"It's okay," you assured her. "I'm not worried about that. Right now, my main priority is keeping you safe." She let out a snort.

"And how do you intend to do that? Never let me out of your sight again?" Your lips quirked into a wry smile. You definitely got your sarcastic sense of humor from her.

"Maybe not quite to that extent, but I do think it would be a good idea if we stayed here until this is all over with." Your mother looked between the three of you.

"'We?'" she asked. "As in all of you?" You glanced over your shoulder at the boys, silently asking them with your eyes if this was something they were okay with. Both of them gave you nods in return.

"Yeah," you responded. "All of us." The coffee pot stopped making noise, a sign it had finished brewing.

"Oh, hell," your mom swore, giving another heavy sigh as she stood. "Fine," she relinquished. Without another word, she turned to pour herself a mug of coffee. You went over to the Winchesters, giving them a half-hearted smile of relief.

"What now?" you asked quietly. Sam stuffed his hands in the pocket of his jacket.

"For now, you just stay here with her, so she isn't alone. Dean and I can go get our stuff from the motel." Honestly, you were relieved. As much as you liked being with the Winchesters, driving halfway across town and back didn't exactly sound like something you wanted to do right now.

"All right. Thanks, guys." The moment the two boys were gone, your mother rounded on you, placing her mug on the kitchen counter.

"Y/N," she said firmly. You looked up at her sheepishly through your eyelashes. Based on that tone of voice, you could already guess what was coming. You expected her to continue, but she merely raised an eyebrow at you, apparently waiting for you to speak first. Giving a shrug, you came around next to her to pour your own mug of coffee.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"I don't want you to say anything," she chided. "I just want you to think about what you're doing here. I remember how badly he hurt you last time. Do you?" Her words made you pause. Of course, you remembered. How could you forget? It felt like someone had ripped your heart straight from your chest. Whether or not he had intended to, Dean had left scars on your heart that you didn't think would ever fade. Less than a few hours ago, you had been so sure of what you wanted. But now that your mother had gotten in your head, you weren't so sure anymore. You raised the mug of coffee to your lips thoughtfully, trying to justify your reasoning to her.

"He's changed, mom." Your tone of voice sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than anything. You hated that. "He told me he's trying to make it right." Your mother watched you carefully while you took another sip.

"For your sake, I really hope that's true."

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Chapter 9 - Where Do We Start?

[jawritter]

Waiting....

**Warnings** Angst, Language, SPN level violence. Hurt Dean, Hurt/comfort fic. Think that’s everything.

Word Count: 1794

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader; Sam x Dean (Not Winchset)

A/N: All mistakes are mine!! Please don’t copy my stuff!! Cross Posted on Wattpad! If you want to be added to my tag list let me know!! This is a filler until tomorrow's chapter of Promised is released!! Hope you all enjoy this one!! As always feedback is appreciated!!

Dean's POV:

Tired wasn't the word for what Dean was feeling throughout his whole body right now. There wasn't a spot on him that wasn't sore or didn't feel like he'd been nailed with a sledgehammer. He knew he'd be covered in bruises in the morning, and if he was already this sore, then by the time he woke up he was going to barely be able to walk in the morning at all. 

He'd been in this shape before, it wasn't the first time some freak had kicked his ass. There were a lot more vamps in the coven than what they'd expected, and they'd almost got the jump on him. If Sammy wouldn't have shown up when he did, well...

Still, he was determined to not let it show just how bad he was hurting right now. Standing his aching body up as straight as possible he poured the last of the gas from the small can into the doorway of the house, struck the match, and tossed it inside before closing the front door. Torching the evidence was the fast way to go, and he needed this job to be over with so that he could get them back to the Lawrence before the soreness and stiffness won out over his own resolve, and they'd be stuck in this town for days.

"Come on Sam, get the lead out of your ass!" Dean yelled over his shoulder as he walked as straight as he could to the car.

Sam came trotting up to the passenger side of the impala, both men looking back at the burning house over before sliding in a shutting the door, pulling out of the driveway, and headed toward the city limits as fast as they could without getting caught. Dean was more than ready to put this little Podunk town behind him. Even though his body protested against him with every moment he was determined to make it back to Lawrence tonight, even if it killed him.

She would be waiting for him when came through those doors, and that's all he could think about. Getting back to her...

Your POV:

Sitting on the porch of the small house you'd been living in since moving to Lawrence Kansas, you held the cup of coffee that was steaming in your hands tighter to your chest like you could channel the warmth from the drink into your body to cut through the chilly night air. 

It wasn't completely dark yet, just dusk. 

You couldn't get used to this hunter life. When you meet dean, he'd told you he was just a traveling salesman selling health insurance.  About a year into your very odd relationship though, he stumbled through the front door of your house bloody, and with a dislocated shoulder. 

That's when you got the shock of your life. 

You almost left him that night. It wasn't one of your proudest moments. 

The shock of learning that all the shit that goes bump in the night is real and that your boyfriend hunts them and kills them, combined with the fact that he'd lied to you for over a fucking year and didn't open up to you about what he really was doing, laced with the, one day he may not come home, and it was almost too much for you to handle.

Even though you packed your bags you couldn't leave. You loved him too much. 

So every time he'd disappear with his brother to work on another 'case' as he called them, you'd pace the front porch and check the phone every few minutes until you heard from him again. You never really relaxed until he was back in your arms. This was just something you were going to have to learn to live with. You loved him too much to walk away.

Your phone dinged in the pocket of your favorite, oversized, fluffy robe that you wore when you needed some sort of comfort, and Dean was unavailable. 

Pulling it as quickly out of your pocket as you could you breathed a sigh of relief you didn't realize you were holding when the phone rang.

Dean: On my way home sweetheart. See you soon.

Dean's POV:

"Let me drive Dean so that you can get some rest.."

"No Sam, I'm fine! We only got about fifteen minutes and we'll be home. Why the hell would I pull over now?"

"Your hurting Dean, Let me drive you the rest of the way. I'll drop you off at the bunker, then I can go pick up Y/N if you want..."

"No Sam, now that's finale. I'm fine. I've had worse. I'm just a little sore, and ready to get out of this car. I'm not about to stop the car and prolong this trip any longer just so you can drive for the remainder of what's now probably only about a 13 minutes drive!"

Throwing his hands up in the air Sam gave up, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief. Well, the best he could anyway. He didn't know if it was the position he was sitting in, or if his ribs were broken, but about an hour into the drive they'd started screaming at him in an ugly way, and it started getting hard to hide the fact that he was so uncomfortable to his little brother who then became increasingly annoying as Dean's discomfort seemed to increase. 

The last 15 minutes to the journey seemed to feel like 15 hours. Finally, Dean saw the bunker. Pulling the car in front of the door, throwing it in park he looked over at Sam, not saying anything, just giving him the look of 'get the fuck out of my car I want to go home to my girl,’ or at least he was hoping that was the look he was portraying, and he didn't just look constipated...

"You're not serious? Dean look at you, your basically panting in pain! You’re not really going to drop me off here, then drive to Y/N’s house!"

Dean said nothing, just continued staring, wishing he could reach across the seat and slap him, but his ribs protested too much. He was pretty sure his left ankle had been dislocated as well, so that ruled out leverage. 

Sam shook his head and jerked the car door open. "You know I can go get her and bring her to you." 

Dean said nothing, just threw the car in reverse and looked at Sam waiting for him to shut the door. 

"I swear sometimes you're just like dad," he said, shutting the door like a little child, and stalking off toward the bunker. 

He'd be fine. Elaine was waiting there for him, he didn't know that yet, but Dean saw the tail of her car parked just next to the garage, safely hidden in the bushes. She'd keep him company. 

Dean knew that they had been secretly seeing each other for about a month now. They needed some time alone together. It was good for him. Even if for whatever reason he didn't want to tell him.

Getting back out on the main road Dean only had one goal in mind. Getting to his girl.

Your POV:

You'd been pacing the floor now for what felt like an absolute eternity. You were pretty sure this is what hell felt like even though you'd never been there. The time between knowing he was heading home, and hearing the sound of that impala he loved so much pull up in your driveway was the most agonizing part of waiting on Dean to return from a hunt. 

Looking at the clock for what felt like the thousandth time your chest heavy with anxiety. You knew you could never ask him to hang up his hunting boots. He'd done too much good. Saved too many people. This is who he was, you knew that when you signed up to stay for this. Still, that didn't make it any easier. 

Finally, when you thought you couldn't take another second you heard baby purring her way down your driveway.

"Thank God!"

You breathe the second sigh of relief that night. He was okay. He was home. 

Pulling the door open you run out of the door of your little house as you see the door open on the impala. Dean didn't get out. Fuck.. Something was wrong. Running your way down the steps to the car your blood ran from your face as soon as you saw him.

He was beaten up worse than you'd ever seen him. He looked at you with one of his eyes almost swollen shut, holding his body at a strange angle, taking shallow breaths as he leaned against the steering wheel. 

"Dean? Baby, what happened? Look at me!"

How the fuck he made it to your house form the bunker you'd never know. Sheer stubborn grit. 

Rolling his head around, his eyes finally meet yours. He gave you a weak smile. Taking the last little bit of grit he had left in him to stand to his feet and lean outside the car, arms reaching for you instinctively. You didn't care that he was filthy, all that you cared about was that he was here, and he was safe.

"I probably need a bath," he mumbled as you lead him into the house. 

Your neighbor was watering the bushes between your two houses, looked at Dean like he'd seen a ghost. Dean gave him the finger and you had to cover the laugh that crept up to your lips. 

"Fucking nosy old man," he said as you reached the front door. "Do I look that rough?"

"Yeah babe, you look pretty bad." 

You couldn't help laughing at his sarcastic bitchface that he gave you, or well the best one he could in his current state. As long as Dean had his wit you knew he would be fine. 

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

Three hours later the two of you lay in bed, the room dark, all but the TV playing some stupid movie that you couldn't even remember the name of. Dean was sleeping peacefully with his head on your chest, and his arm and leg threw over you. You still were playing with his soft, freshly washed hair. Just enjoying the feeling of his body warming yours. 

You were pretty sure his ribs were fractured, still, he wouldn't go to a hospital, saying he'd had worse, and he could just sleep it off. He was always stubborn to a fault, but he was yours, and nights like this, just the two of you, it made all the waiting and fear worth it. He was worth it. He'd always be worth it...

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