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princessmisery666 · 3 years

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Don't Pull This Thread - 8 Part Mini Series

Summary: Sam receives a call to tell him that his best friend from Stanford is in hospital. He rushes to her side and discovers she has secrets similar to his. Sam and Dean help her seek revenge till a revelation means she needs to go it alone and the boys need to focus on the job.

Series Warnings: lots of angst, sexual assault (described), fluff, smut, slow burn, canon type violence, language.

W/C: 50k.

Notes: switches between Sam and OC POV. Canon divergent but set around season 6/7.

A/N: This completed fic has been sat in my docs for 2 years. I wrote this first and then Sharing Dean Winchester spawned from the ending I wrote so I never posted this. My writing has improved so much since then and I had the intention of rewriting it to make it third person and past tense but I've never found the time or energy. Anyway, I read through it again and I absolutely love it, so I'm posting it as it is.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Female OC (Lexie), Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle, Ash, Bobby, random OC’s.

Pairing: Sam x OFC (Lexie).

Betas: I'm sure @slytherkins and @deanwinchesterswitch have looked it over at some point but otherwise none. I'm owning all the mistakes I made as a novice. 😜

Parts: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

Prologue below the cut

Lexie POV

Eight months. Eight months I had been on the trail of the vampire that killed my family. Zak, my high school sweetheart -- who was turned shortly after I left for Stanford -- massacred my entire family. My mother, father, Tyler - my older brother, Cody - my younger brother, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and a few family friends for good measure.

I’ve never been under the impression that I’ll make it out unscathed. I know there’s a distinct possibility that I will die in my quest for vengeance, that I’ll be severely hurt or maimed in some way at best, dead in the worst-case scenario. But the one thing I didn’t count on was the person who would be on my mind in my final moments, Sam Winchester.

I’d always been close to my brothers, Tyler and Cody, my mom was my best friend, and I idolized my dad. I thought they would be who I saw in my final moments . However, it’s Sam. My best friend, the only person I truly have left in this world.

I’m in Zak’s lair, five vampires staring at me like I’m an expensive steak dinner, and I’ve accepted that I’m not getting out of this alive. I killed four of them on my way in, so they are going to make me suffer. It won’t be swift, it will be painful and bloody.

Zak has allowed his followers to beat me, he has permitted two strikes each, but no one is allowed to bite me. My ribs take the brunt of the blows, and I feel them when they break.

There’s a sharp pinch as a needle pierces my neck, and I know this is it. Zak’s drugging me so he can bite me without resistance, kill me while I’m unable to fight back.

Sam’s face flashes before my eyes, his annoyed, serious bitch face, his shy, dimpled smile, his multi-colored eyes that I can never quite decide what color they truly are, his long brown locks that always seem to fall just right around his face. My last thought before my eyes close completely; Sam is going to be so mad at me when he finds out I’m dead.

Sam POV.

Six months later

The Impala has never moved so slowly. I know Dean is flooring it. I know the needle is probably in the red, but it’s just not fast enough.

The call I received woke me from my sleep. I was too busy being pissed about the fact they had woken me to really pay attention, but when they had said her name, I was instantly awake.

“I have you down as the emergency contact for Miss Lexie Walker.”

Even though I had missed the caller’s introduction, there was no mistaking the professional, slow even tone was the voice of a nurse.

I asked her to repeat the location and then spat it at Dean. The panic in my voice and expression told him something was seriously wrong, and he immediately pulled an illegal U-Turn to put the car in the right direction of the hospital in Idaho.

My leg is bouncing up and down, and I can’t stop it. I’ve chewed the skin around my thumbnail to the quick and if I carry on, it's going to bleed.

“Why does this chick have you down as the emergency contact anyway?” Dean asks, throwing a glance at me.

“She doesn’t have anyone else,” I exhale sadly.

I knew I was her emergency contact, she had asked me if she could use my name, and I agreed without hesitation. However, I never thought I would get a call to tell me she’d been in an accident and would need someone to take care of her for a few weeks while she recovers.

“Sam?” Dean asks, “gonna need a bit more here. We passed on a case to drive six hours in the opposite direction to go see some ex-girlfriend?”

I shake my head and roll my eyes inwardly. Why does Dean always assume it's about sex when there is a woman involved? I guess he wouldn’t know a platonic relationship if it smacked him in the face. I huff a breath through my nose, “she’s not an ex-girlfriend. We went to Stanford together, she was,” I take a breath and correct my use of the past tense. “She is my best friend. Lexie is ‘Digital Girl’, as you call her.”

I kept in contact with Lexie when she left Stanford, six months before Dean showed up, and we’ve kept in touch since. She knows my secret now, though she didn’t know it back then.

Dean always gives me shit for laughing at a text message, e-mailing furtively at night when I can’t sleep, or walking away from him to take a private call. He jumped to the conclusion I had an online girlfriend, a digital girl. I stopped denying it a long time ago; it was easier to let Dean tease me than explain about her.

“She’s real?” he asks, surprised.

“Yes, Dean, she’s real,” I confirmed irritably, “she’s very real. But I spoke to her two days ago, and she said she was in Italy, so how is she in a hospital in Idaho?”

The steady beep of the heart monitor is both annoying and comforting. I’m sitting in the chair next to my best friend’s bed, holding her hand. Though I hardly recognize the girl in the bed under the bruises, the only thing recognizable is the mousy blonde curly hair that haloes around her head on the pillow.

Her left eye is swollen, the cut on her forehead leading into her hairline has thirteen stitches. I’ve been staring at her long enough to have counted multiple times.

None of the Doctors were much help. They told me she had been dropped, literally, from the back of a stolen van on the hospital doorstep. She has two broken ribs, bruising on her face and her arms are marred with the after-effects of defensive wounds, so I know she put up a fight. There is a needle mark in the crook of her left arm, and that is the only explanation doctors have for her substantial blood loss. Someone or something drained four pints of her blood.

Dean enters the room, chewing the last bite of what I assume is a cheeseburger and slurping from a large plastic cup. He throws a box that says chicken salad on the bed next to me. I ignore the food and look at him with hopeful eyes, “what did you find?”

He stands at the end of her bed, shaking his head slowly. “The cops got nothing. No leads, no clues. The only thing they are sure of is that she couldn’t have caused her own injuries.”

I roll my eyes. Well, that was more than obvious.

“I, on the other hand, found some very interesting things.” Dean slurps his drink loudly again before continuing. “I went by her apartment; she signed a lease for six months, two months ago. She wasn’t in Italy; as far as I can tell, she never has been. Nothing out of the ordinary, but I checked out her car, too, just to be thorough. It’s a thing of beauty, Sam.” Dean’s eyes light up as he describes the car. “A deep purple fully restored ’66, convertible, Ford Mustang. It’s got a…”

“Dean!” I growl with a little more hostility than needed, but I don’t need to hear about her damn car. “The point?”

“She has an arsenal in her trunk to rival ours and enough books on vampires to be the sole cause of diminishing rainforests.”

He looks at me expectantly, waiting for something, but I’m not sure what. I’m too sleep-deprived and anxious about Lexie to follow his thought process. My lack of brain function doesn’t go unnoticed; he rolls his eyes and annoyedly replies, “Sammy, she’s a hunter.”

That doesn’t make sense. There’s no way she’s a hunter. I look at her in the bed, expecting her to magically wake up in this exact moment and explain everything to me.

“I take it from your expression you didn’t know?” Dean asks.

I shake my head slowly, gazing down at my friend. The longer I stare at her, the quicker the pieces start to fit into place. It could be true; she suffered a horrendous loss—her entire family. The killer was never found. Maybe she found out they were of the Supernatural variety, and that’s what made her leave Stanford so abruptly.

Dean’s voice pulls me from my head. “Either this girl isn’t who you think she is, or she’s picked up a new hobby since you last saw her. Does she know the truth about you?”

“Yeah,” I reply in a whisper. “Yeah, she does.”

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Super Supernatural: @denimbex1986 / @avanatural / @deanwanddamons / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @flamencodiva /

So Get This: @supernaturalgrandma /

#Sam Winchester #Coming Soon #Don't Pull This Thread #SamWinchester #DeanWinchester #Dean Winchester #DW #SW #Angst #Fluff #Smut #Trigger Warning #Language #Young Sam Winchester #SPN #Supernatural

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loganxwalker · 2 months

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starter for @loganxwalker

location: dean's place

"Knock, knock!" She hadn't really knocked. No, she rarely did so. However, this time Dean knew that she was coming over. Her older brother had extended the invite and Logan did not question if there were a reason behind it. She had picked up their favorite meal from the barbecue spot and placed it on the table as she came into the apartment. It had been a while since she hung out with her older brother, getting wrapped up in the new found romance she had with a certain Matt Wheeler. Needless to say, Logan was head over heels for the man, though missing him desperately as he was away on a trip. "Are you even here?" She called out, wondering if he'd leave his door unlocked if he weren't in the apartment.

#logan walker || threads #threads || w. dean walker

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lennyxclairmont · 5 months

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starter for @dean-walker

location: downtown kismet harbor

"Dean!" Lenny called out, lifting her hand in a wave as she spotted the other. She had been planning on meeting up with him and the kids were with her mother. Her mother had been wanting to spend some time with the grandkids - though nothing had been finalized yet with the lawyers as far as Lenny had last heard. "Where are you treating me to lunch, today?" She questioned him with a bright smile, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she adjusted the bag over her shoulder.

#lenny clairmont || threads #threads || w. dean walker #event || kismet harbor wine month

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wyattxwheeler · 1 year

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starter for @dean-walker

location: nancy's bar and grill

"Well, turns out the mystery woman from the grocery store board is pretty much everything I could have ever asked for," was it being a little dramatic? Maybe. But it was the truth. Though he had not sought out Penelope before on his own, all those conversations on paper had brought them closer than he could have imagined and the two of them had really hit it off. "We even went up to the carnival together when that was happening."

#wyatt wheeler || threads #threads || w. dean walker

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wesonerdy · 7 years

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The Walking Dead premiered with a bang last night! Rick has momentum on his side, and with all the communities coming together to fight Negan, it looks like he might win. Here’s our recap of “Mercy” and preview for episode two, “The Damned.”

Photo Credit: Gene Page/AMC

The Walking Dead is back! I don’t mean with a new season either. “Mercy”, the season eight premiere, captured the show’s old voice, and I am living for this!

We left the group last season after they had chased Negan away from the ASZ with the help of Hilltop and The Kingdom. If we’re being honest, Rick would be handless and Carl would be dead had they not shown up when they did.

Going off this momentum, Rick, Ezekiel, and Maggie lead the way as they take the fight to Negan at the Sanctuary.

The episode has a disjointed feel to it, and there is a lot of back and forth, especially when it comes to Rick and his view of the story. “Mercy” has a cold open that features Rick being contemplative and the communities preparing vehicles for war.

Through his thoughts, we see Rick’s ideal future. A future with Michonne, Carl, and Judith (who is adorable) in a lovely home that doesn’t look to be in the ASZ but a combination of communities. It looks like Hilltop mixed with The Kingdom. Maybe that’s what he hopes Alexandria looks like in several years?

It’s a beautiful vision, and the only bad part of it is his haircut. I honestly don’t know how Michonne let’s him walk around like that.

That vision is pieced together over the course of the episode, much like Rick’s speech, Ezekiel and Maggie’s talking time, and bits of bonding time between Rick and Carl, Rick and Michonne, Rick and Daryl, and Rick and Maggie.

Those are the threads that connect the story together, the problem (Negan) is what appears through the gaps in Rick’s daydream and the preparation for war.

Photo Credit: Gene Page/AMC

With a well-timed plan, they lure walkers to the Sanctuary with Daryl expertly shooting boxes of explosives along the way to keep the walkers coming. Unlike season six, this plan doesn’t backfire on them or go south. Everything moves smoothly and actually doesn’t mess up.

This is a signal that after three seasons of “if it can go wrong, it will go wrong”, we’re seeing Team Family catch a break.

The primary action of the episode takes place at the Sanctuary. Rick and company “roll right up to the gates” (S4 Daryl quote right there) a la the Governor, and begin making demands of Negan. Unlike the Governor, they aren’t telling Negan to get out, Rick is using the same speech that he did when Hershel smiled at him before his death…

You have a chance to surrender. We can live peacefully together, but you have to give up now.

Now, this ultimatum isn’t issued to Negan or Eugene. Rick only calls out his “generals”, Simon, Dwight, Gavin, and Regina. When Negan asks about himself, Rick tells him that he already knows what’s coming for him.

Rick will fulfill his promise to kill Negan, just like he came through on killing Gareth with that machete.

That is, unless they follow the comics and Negan just ends up Rick’s prisoner. Which is not a more likely theory considering Rick’s final words, “My mercy prevails over my wrath.”

via GIPHY

When none of Negan’s men come forward and surrender, Negan opens the door and Gregory steps out. He basically forbids anyone from Hilltop to fight, and if they do, they won’t be welcomed back or have a home there. Neither will their families.

It’s sorta cute how Gregory thinks he still has control of Hilltop.

When no Hilltop resident walks away, Gregory gets frustrated and declares that Hilltop stands with Negan. It doesn’t get any better when Jesus answers back:

“The Hilltop stands with Maggie!”

Gregory has no home at Hilltop, no power over the residents there, and he’s of no use to Negan. It also makes Simon look bad, so he pushes Gregory down some stairs.

Things get even more tense when Rick realizes that none of the Saviors will surrender either. Rick asks Negan:

“You’re gonna make me count?”

Which is so condescending, and Negan doesn’t like that one bit. Rick begins his countdown from ten, but when he reaches seven, he starts shooting.

Photo Credit: Gene Page/AMC

This was such a pivotal moment because it showed me that Rick is back. He knows Negan isn’t going to change his mind, and he knows he can’t back down again. This time when they leave the Sanctuary it will be broken.

Not only the Sanctuary, but they’ve been systematically checking off the different Savior outposts, throughout the episode, too.

Rick has a plan and he’s going through his list to make sure that he brings Negan to his knees.

As the group rains bullets into the Sanctuary, Rick attempts to shoot Negan until Gabriel pulls him away, saying:

“It’s not about you, right? It’s not about you.”

Rick acknowledges him and moves into the car. Gabriel gets into his car, too, but sees Gregory scurrying away from the gunfire and walkers. He gets out of the car and rushes to help him.

Gregory being the absolute trash he is, leaves Gabriel when he sees an opening and takes the car Gabriel was going to use. This forces him to rush around and finally take shelter in a trailer. However, he’s not alone.

Negan comes out of the shadows and delivers the cringe-worthy line:

“I hope you got your shitting pants on.”

“What?”

Gabriel’s face is all our face in that moment.

Photo Credit: Gene Page/AMC

I feel bad for Gabriel because he’s had a pretty incredible arc when they give him screen time. He goes from being a coward to truly being someone that you look to for advice and judgement.

Which is the death toll for anyone in The Walking Dead really.

The episode ends with the rest of Rick’s speech and him declaring that this world is already theirs.

This sentence, along with Rick saying he’ll be following Maggie’s lead when this is over and Michonne acknowledging that Carl’s in charge of protecting the ASZ, shows us this season will give us the long awaited time jump to an older Rick Grimes.

A future where Carl is the central protagonist of the story.

The Walking Dead is known for stretching out storylines, but this season’s start is on pace and and condensed storytelling.

Oh, and I did I mention there was a Richonne kiss as he got ready to leave the ASZ? Because THERE WAS.

Photo Credit: Gene Page/AMC

“Mercy” also featured so many callbacks to previous episodes, and it’s completely intentional. Not only because it’s the 100th episode, but because The Walking Dead loves to remind you of the people that came before and how their legacy continues to live on.

– Carl and Rick’s shot-for-shot scene remake, featuring getting gas and abandoned cars and a random person they try and help.

Photo Credit: Greg Nicotero/AMC

– The infamous orange backpack makes another appearance. It’s the same one they took from dead hitchhiker they refused to pick up in S3.

– “It’s how it was always going to be…” — Carol says this to Daryl and it’s a total call back to Ty’s death episode where his hallucination of Bob says, “It went the way it had to, the way it was always going to.”

Photo Credit: Gene Page/AMC

– Rick’s visions of a future mirroring Beth’s vision of the prison that she tells Daryl in S4 or Rick’s thoughts as Negan taunts him in S7 after he has murdered Glenn and Abraham.

Photo Credit: Gene Page/AMC

– Older Judith from the visions mentions they’ve made a big owl for the festival. Jesse made an owl statue back in S6 that was destroyed.

– The final shot of the trailer Negan and Gabriel are in being a shot that ends episode one with Rick in the tank.

via GIPHY

Did I miss any other easter eggs? What did you think about the premiere? Honestly, I adored it! I’m so happy to see the show I fell in love with get back to its roots. I hope it continues!

Rick Grimes…

via GIPHY

Preview for episode two, “The Damned”

Take a look at the sneak peaks for the season to come and episode two, “The Damned” below! There are a few new stills, too!

The plan involving Alexandrians, Kingdommers and Hilltoppers unfolds. As Rick continues to fight, he encounters a familiar face. {via AMC}

Photo Credit: Gene Page/AMC

Photo Credit: Jackson Lee Davis/AMC

The Walking Dead airs Sundays on AMC at 9/8c!

RECAP: ‘The Walking Dead’ Season Eight Premiere “Mercy” The Walking Dead premiered with a bang last night! Rick has momentum on his side, and with all the communities coming together to fight Negan, it looks like he might win.

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princessmisery666 · 3 years

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Don't Pull This Thread - Part 2 of 8

Series Summary: Sam receives a call to tell him that his best friend from Stanford is in hospital. He rushes to her side and discovers she has secrets similar to his. Sam and Dean help her seek revenge until they discover her life is bound to the very thing they are helping her hunt.

Part 2

Summary: Sam and Dean take care of Lexie while she heals; Sam learns more about her habits than he likes.

Warnings: angst, fluff, slow burn, infidelity mentioned, Dean flirting.

W/C: 4k.

Notes: switches between Sam and OC POV. Canon divergent.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, OFC, other needed OC’s..

Pairing: they are getting closer buuuuut….

Beta: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes belong to me, before I knew better.

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Master Lists: Series (inc. Prologue) // Main

Lexie POV

A week later.

I had been going stir crazy. I spent three days in the hospital before being allowed home, with a promise to the doctor from Sam that he would take care of me. Sam has kept his promise and has had me on house arrest.

I’m not complaining; having the undivided attention of the youngest Winchester isn’t exactly a hardship. He cooked, cocooned me in blankets on the couch when I fell asleep, and carried me to my bed when I was too sleepy and worn out to walk the short distance. But staring at the same four walls and barely being able to walk from the living room to the bathroom without Sam hovering over me was wearing thin.

I have broken ribs; I’m not an invalid. I stopped taking my prescribed painkillers yesterday and convinced Sam to go to Mike’s Bar after a lot of pouting and fluttering eyelashes.

I work at Mike’s, and I haven’t seen him or the other two waitresses I had become fast friends with since I had left the hospital. I wanted to catch up with friends and have a drink with Sam and Dean outside the stifling confines of my apartment.

Mike enveloped me in a tight hug before I even made it three steps into the bar and kissed both my cheeks. I choked down the whimper that Mike’s crushing embrace caused, not wanting Sam to see I was in pain and insisting on taking me home to rest.

I introduced Mike to Sam and Dean as we walked to sit at a table near the bar. “Drinks are on me tonight, boys,” I tell them with a broad smile, “it’s the least I can do for taking care of me.”

“In that case.” Dean grins, rubbing his hands together looking at Mike, who’s waiting to take our order. “I’ll have a bottle of Johnny Walker, and Sam here will take a glass of milk.”

Sam sneers at his brother while ordering a beer, and I ask for my usual vodka and coke.

Mike returns with our drinks and joins us. “So when are you coming back, Lex?” Mike asks with an exaggerated sad face. “I miss you.”

“Hopefully at the end of next week.”

Sam adds, “Doc said light duties only. No heavy lifting.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll look after her. But in the meantime, Lex,” Mike’s eyes sparkle mischievously, “if you want to make a little extra cash. The guy at the pool table with the expensive Rolex has been here for almost three hours and is up by about eight hundred bucks. But I think you can take him.”

“You hustle people at pool?” Dean asks, his voice full of surprise.

Mike scoffs loudly, “it’s how I met her.”

I point a warning finger at Mike, “do not tell that story!”

“Oh no, you gotta tell us now,” Sam says, shuffling forward in his chair to be closer to the conversation.

Mike looks at me with pleading eyes, “come on; it’s my favorite story to tell.”

Mike turns to Sam and opens his mouth to speak, but I jump at him, clasping a hand over his mouth. “Mike,” I warn, “remember I saved your life; you owe me.”

Mike mumbles against my hand and rolls his eyes, “fine.”

Sam POV

Dean, Mike, and I sit talking while Lexie plays pool with Mr. Rolex. I have a perfect view of her over Mike’s shoulder, and I’m trying my hardest not to keep staring at her. I know I’ve been overprotective and overbearing the past few days, but I haven’t been able to stop. Having Lexie back in my life on what is shaping up to be a permanent basis and knowing her secret has changed something between us.

Maybe it’s the relief she is okay, the close quarters of living together, or that nothing is holding us back anymore. No secrets we have to keep from one another.

I feel the shift, the difference in her eyes when she looks at me when she thinks I’m not looking. The way she lingers when she kisses my cheek in greeting or the way her body relaxes when I kiss her goodnight. The way she fits herself into my body every night we share a bed. There’s definitely been a change in our relationship, and I like it.

Lexie is flirting with Mr. Rolex, touching his arm when she talks to him, allowing him to bend over her to help her with her shot. I know it’s all part of the hustle, but it doesn’t help stifle my jealousy.

They finish their second game, and Lexie comes back to the table to pour herself a glass of Dean’s Johnny Walker. “How’s it going over there?” Dean asks.

“Best of three, we’re one apiece so far.”

“What are the stakes?”

Lexie shoots back the burning alcohol, “I win, I get a thousand bucks. He wins, he gets me for the night.”

Dean laughs through his nose and sits back in his chair so he can get a better view of her, “just when you think you know a person,” he grins stupidly at her.

Lexie chuckles, shrugging her shoulders unfazed. “He’s a man, give him the promise of sex, and he stops using his brain and starts thinking with other parts of his body. I’m playing the man,” she winks at Dean.

Mike looks over his shoulder at Lexie’s opponent. He’s six feet, athletically built, with large hands. Mike turns his attention back to Lexie, high-fiving her as he croons, “though if you lose, it’s still a win, honey.”

“How about you play me after?” Dean asks, wetting his lips, “same stakes?”

Lexie rolls her eyes enough for both of us as she pours herself another drink from the half-empty bottle. “Sorry, Winchester, you’re not my type.”

“Please, I’m everyone’s type!”

Lexie shakes her head. She’s not into his cock-sure attitude. She’s always hated cocky, egotistical, over-confident men. She’s told me she finds it to be a total turn-off. She shrugs again, “I prefer my men less...”

“Manly,” Dean interrupts.

“Promiscuous.”

“Ouch,” Dean feigns offense, clutching his heart dramatically. “Low blow, sweetheart.”

Lexie pinches his cheek like an over-zealous Aunt at thanksgiving. “Truth hurts, sweetie.” She skips away back toward her handsome adversary before Dean can respond.

I slap Dean’s arm to get his attention from Lexie’s ass. “Dude, stop hitting on her.”

It’s not the first time Dean has hit on her, and I’ve had enough. Partly because I’m tired of Lexie having to politely reject him and partly because maybe I am a little worried Lexie would cave and fall for my brother’s charm.

“Sorry, Sammy.” Dean grins, slapping a hand on my shoulder. “Didn’t know I was stepping on your toes.”

I roll my eyes hoping it's enough to convince him that’s not the reason. “It’s not even like that,” I deny. “It’s getting a little embarrassing seeing her reject you over and over again.”

“Okay, baby brother,” Dean agrees, a telling smirk on his mouth while taking a sip of his drink.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, sweetie,” Mike interrupts us, “you’re both a little too available for her anyway.”

My brow creases at Mike’s vague comment, and Dean’s expression asks for further explanation.

“She prefers her men attached,” Mike says, nodding over his shoulder at Mr. Rolex.

We both understand as soon as we each clock Mr. Rolex’s shiny wedding band. Mike elaborates anyway, “I don’t know what happened to that girl, but whatever it is, she only goes with guys who are attached or unavailable somehow. I guess it’s her way of ensuring it’s just about the sex.”

Mike closes the bar at midnight, chucking out the last of the drunk customers, leaving me, Dean, Lexie, Rachel, and himself to drink and catch up.

Lexie counts two hundred dollars from her earlier winnings and hands it off to Mike, who accepts it with a thankful smile.

Rachel, a new team member at Mike’s, watches the transaction with young, innocent eyes. “You let her hustle people in your bar for a cut of the winnings?”

It’s not an accusation, just a simple observation.

Mike smirks, shrugging, “It pays for damages.”

Lexie protests loudly, “Hey, I still stand by my story that that guy broke his own arm!”

“You broke his arm because he was a sore loser,” Mike concludes, earning a laugh from the crowd.

I smirk, thinking about that poor guy. I’ve seen Lexie lose her temper; our road trip was pretty much a tour of America’s bars. I know she can handle herself against the unwanted affections of a drunk, and I would never like to be on that side of her.

Dean wonders aloud, “where did you learn to hustle anyway?”

Lexie pats me on the back, winking, “Sam taught me everything I know.”

I shrug my shoulders at Dean taking a swig of my beer. He huffs out a breath smiling wickedly at me, and I know he’s going to embarrass me before he speaks. Dean gives me his shit-eating grin. “So you’ll let my brother bend you over a table but not me?”

“If you’re giving me the choice of Winchesters,” Lexie says, looking at Dean with a raise of her eyebrows, and runs her hands over my shoulders as she leans against me, “I’d pick Sam, every time.”

I mask my happy chuckle with a swig of my beer but can’t fight off the small, proud, smug tug on my lips as they curl into a grin. Dean pouts and sneers comically at us both.

“Ah, don’t worry, baby, I’d pick you.” Mike retorts, leaning closer to Dean.

Lexie POV

Dean’s awkward throat-clearing makes us all crack into fits of laughter. This is just what I needed.

Rachel seems to be a bit in awe of me like I’m some kind of a role model. If only she knew. “Have you ever lost and had to go home with someone?” Rachel asks, young and a little naive; she seems excited and yet fearful at the prospect.

I feel the blush heat my cheeks and sip my drink, so Mike answers for me, sighing dreamily, “ah, Wyatt.”

“Who’s Wyatt?” Sam asks.

I swallow my drink and can't keep the satisfied grin from my mouth at the memory. “He hustled me the third or fourth night I started working here. He’d watched me play other people and played me at my own game.”

Rachel’s excitement lights her eyes. “So you went home with him?”

“I may have lost the bet, but I won multiple times that night,” I quip, clinking my glass against Mike’s in an appreciative toast.

Rachel’s curiosity gets the better of her, and she wants to know more. She asks me questions about Wyatt. Where had he taken me? Had I seen him again?

I answer all the eager girl’s questions. Wyatt had rolled into Mike’s bar two days after I arrived in town. It was my first night waitressing there, and I had fended off a lot of unwanted attention. Wyatt hadn’t tried groping me the first time he spoke to me, and we exchanged a few friendly words, then I went off to hustle some college kids.

Wyatt came to Mike’s three consecutive nights, and on the third, he challenged me to a game of pool, claiming to be rusty from his time overseas. Wyatt was a soldier; I assumed special operations though he had never specifically told me that. He was home visiting his family until his next deployment.

He was nice, charming, and gorgeous. Short brown hair, trimmed and sculpted beard, broad shoulders, and an ass that marble sculptures could never replicate. I had not been bothered about losing to him one bit.

“We spent a week and a half together, six dates and forty-eight consecutive hours in bed.” I finish with a dreamy exhale. “We text each other and talk on the phone sometimes, but I haven’t seen him since.”

I’m smiling broadly; Wyatt is a good memory in an ever-expanding ocean of bad ones. I catch Sam smiling at me, and I ask what he’s looking at.

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head without breaking eye contact, “it’s just nice to see you smiling.”

I’m lying in my bed with my head on Sam’s chest. He’s shared my bed every night since he heroically charged into my room to save me from my nightmare. Sam’s flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, and I know from his breathing he’s not asleep. His hand strokes up and down my shoulder blade a few times, and I draw myself closer to him.

I’ve known him long enough to know he has something on his mind, and he’s not going to sleep until he gets it out. I say his name, and even though I whisper, he jumps a little in surprise. “I can practically hear you thinking. What’s on your mind?”

His mouth is resting against my forehead and curls into a smile; he knows I know him too well. But then maybe I don’t know him all that well as his question surprises me. “Would you really have left with that guy tonight if you had lost?”

I sound robotic and devoid of emotion when I reply. “Yes. A bet is a bet.” I don’t make bets I can’t cash.

“But he was married.” He sounds almost disgusted; he’s disappointed in me. My body stiffens, and he must know he’s struck a nerve because he quickly adds his reasoning. “You could have your pick of guys, so why?”

I roll onto my back, and the cold absence of my body against his goes deeper than my skin. “It’s easier. No risk of emotions, no complications.”

Sam corrects my answer. “You mean no risk of them sticking around.”

“I’m not exactly the safest person to be around,” I whisper sadly. “Zak makes a point of hurting anyone I get close to.”

I have never felt guilt or remorse for sleeping with any of the men I have slept with, married or otherwise. But Sam’s disappointment in me is palpable, and I despise the thought of him thinking less of me, judging me if only for a fleeting second.

Sam finds my hand on the bed and interlocks our fingers. “What if you met someone who wanted to stick around?”

He phrases it like a question, but it isn’t. He’s telling me he wants to be the one to stick around. So now I know he feels the change in us too. We both want to be more than friends; we want to share a bed and lose the clothes we wear every night. We both want the kisses that have been exchanged a thousand times between our eyes but never reached our lips.

I won’t put Sam in harm's way because of how I feel about him. I gently take my hand back, it’s a rejection, but I solidify it by saying, “I’d run as far and as fast as I could.”

“Lex,” tries Sam.

I present my back to him, effectively ending the conversation. “I think you should go sleep in your bed.”

“Lexie, I’m…”

I raise my voice, “please, Sam!”

I feel the bed spring back up after his weight leaves it, and I manage to hold off the tears until he closes the door with a soft click after exiting.

I sleepily shuffle my feet from the bathroom down the small corridor and into the kitchen. The clock on the wall reads two fifteen a.m. I’d like to believe it was just my aching ribs that woke me, but it’s more than that. The vacant Sam-shaped spot in my bed, missing his warmth, the deafening silence without the sound of Sam’s light snoring had woken me too.

I took some aspirin in the bathroom, which are nowhere near as strong as the prescribed painkillers I was on, so they will be slow to take effect. I won’t be able to find sleep again until the pain ebbs.

I take an ice pack from the freezer and gently hold it against my ribs under the loose-fitting t-shirt, trying not to wince or jolt as the cold touches my skin. I lean against the countertop savoring the almost immediate relief the cold provides.

I hear the boy’s bedroom door open and listen to ascertain if they are going to the bathroom or if I’ve woken them even though I made every effort to be as silent as possible. Bare feet pad across the tiled floor, and know from the sound of the footsteps it’s Dean. It’s funny how quickly I've become accustomed to having the boys living with me.

A shirtless Dean enters the kitchen rubbing the remnants of sleep from his pretty hazel eyes. “Hey,” he greets in a sleepy voice squinting at the attack of light after walking through the darkened apartment. “You okay?”

I clear my throat and wet my lips subconsciously, taking in his chiseled physique, running my eyes over his scars and the tattoo on his chest, before meeting his eyes. I smile widely. “I’m fine, just needed some aspirin,” I explain, hoping he missed my ogling. “Did I wake you?”

Dean smiles cockily, leaning against the doorframe, telling me, “Sam’s snoring woke me.”

Sam has slept in my bed every night since he woke me from my nightmare. Dean has got used to sleeping in the room alone. I tell myself to focus on his face and not his shirtless body or let my eyes roam further down to assess his package in the thin sweatpants he wears as pajamas.

Dean isn’t my type, but it doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate him.

His eyes roam my body, and I’m suddenly acutely aware I’m wearing a pair of black cotton shorts and a loose-fitting light grey t-shirt. I know the t-shirt shows the shape of my braless breasts, and I’m a little self-conscious that the way I’m holding the ice pack to my ribs means my shirt had ridden up to reveal my stomach.

I cough to get Dean’s attention, fighting off the urge to readjust my shirt to cover up as his eyes travel from my toes up. We both laugh somewhat awkwardly, knowing each other’s thoughts and seeing the appreciation of each other’s bodies.

“Well, I’m not going to sleep again anytime soon. You’re welcome to take my snoring-free bed,” I tell him to break the moment.

Dean raises his eyebrows enticingly, walking to stand in front of me. “That an invitation?”

I giggle, putting a hand on his chest to stop his advance. “Keep it in your pants, Winchester.”

He holds his hands in the air, surrendering. “Understood, Walker.”

I offer to make coffee, and he accepts but tells me to sit while he makes it because I should be resting. I stop my roll eye and sit down. He makes us both coffee and then sits across the table from me, and I scan his scars.

“How’d you get this one?” I ask curiously, running a finger down the three-centimeter scar just below his collar bone.

“Knife wound, courtesy of a poltergeist.”

“And this one?” I feel a rounded scar that is obviously a bite mark from something with an excess number of sharp teeth.

“Wendigo took a chunk out of me before I put it down.”

“Wendigo?”

Dean smiles, amused. “I keep forgetting you’re new to all this.”

I nod my head laughing. “I can handle a suck-head and a vengeful spirit or two, but anything other than that, I’m out of my league.”

“If there were only vampires and vengeful spirits out there, I could have a day job.”

I chuckle, “what would Dean Winchester do as a day job?”

Dean smirks cheekily. “Oh, I’d totally be a model.” He sits up straight and puffs out his chest. “With these rugged good looks, I’d be rich and famous.”

We share a whole-hearted laugh.

“The tattoo, does it mean something?”

“Anti-possession symbol.”

I contemplate Dean’s scars and wonder how many Sam has. I’ve never seen Sam’s body long enough to examine it closely. I try to imagine all the things they have faced, the sheer amount of times their lives have been in peril, the occasions they have put themselves in harm's way to help other people, strangers they don't know.

They are in harm's way now. I put them on Zak’s radar by simply being in their presence. I pick at a chip on my coffee mug, thinking about how they have been lucky so far. Zak hasn’t made his feelings on the Winchester’s known yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Zak will send a message soon enough. I’m sure of it.

Dean touches my hand, and it brings me out of my head. I smile up at him, but it’s not convincing enough, and he asks, “where’d you go just now?”

“I was just thinking I’m kind of in awe of you and Sam,” I admit, a genuine proud smile on my lips. “All the things you must have seen, all the people you have saved. You're kind of amazing; you know that.”

Dean grins bashfully. “Just kind of amazing?” he questions with a wink.

“Well, if you were humble as well, then you’d be totally amazing,” I joke, laughing with him. “Seriously, it scares me to think of all the things out there that I don’t know about. You and Sam fight them all the time while I’m hellbent on revenge, selfishly focusing on my own mission.”

“It’s not selfish to want revenge,” Dean assures me. “Hell, me and Sam have done the same thing.”

“Only you’re not,” I point out. Here’s my chance, maybe I can convince Dean to leave me, get Sam to go before anything serious happens. “You’re here with me; you’ve stopped.”

“Don’t do that!” Dean warns.

I feel like my big brother is telling me off, but I don’t stop. “Don’t what?” I ask, frustration seeping from my voice. “You know as well as I do you’re going to have to leave me alone at some point. Sam won’t listen to me, but he might listen to you. You could convince him to go.”

He raises his voice, pissed that I’m trying to talk him out of helping me. “Don’t bat your eyelashes and try to manipulate me.”

“I’m not trying to manipulate you unless it's working,” I test with a quick grin. “But I’m not some quick fix case, Dean. This isn’t something that’s going to be resolved in a few days so that you can move on to the next one.”

“It takes as long as it takes,” he tells me calmly.

“Oh, come on,” I groan, “when was the last time you spent this long in any one place? You’ve both put your life on hold for me, and it isn’t fair to either of you.”

Dean stands, taking his half-empty coffee cup to the sink, and pours the remaining liquid down the drain. I’m right, and he can’t deny it.

“You ever consider we like being here?” he asks without turning. “That it’s nice to know we can go do a job and we have somewhere to come back to? That it’s nice to see Sam smile, genuinely smile, not fake it for my benefit?”

My breath catches in my throat. I had never thought that being around me was good for them too. Take Zak out of the equation, and we could be a small hunting family.

Dean likes to have the option of having somewhere to come home to, a reason to return to a town he normally would have put in his rear-view mirror and forgotten about. He likes that Sam is happy, and he is when he’s around me.

I cross the kitchen and wrap my arms around his waist, hugging myself to his back. I can let it go for now. The prospect of having the Winchester’s around to help me while I heal, and maybe after, isn’t so terrible.

“You wanna try and get some sleep?” I offer, unwrapping myself from him.

Dean huffs a laugh turning to face me. “With Sam’s snoring, not likely.”

“The offer of my bed is still valid.”

“With you in it?”

I roll my eyes. Sensitive, vulnerable Dean’s appearance had been sweet but short. “Go to bed, Winchester,” I grin, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek.

“Worth a shot,” he smirks with a wink walking out of the kitchen.

Part 3

#Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #OFC #Fluff #Angst #Flangst #Don't Pull This Thread #SamW #DeanW #SamWinchester #DeanWinchester #SamWinchesterFluff #Supernatural #SPN #SamWinchesterAngst #DeanWinchesterFlirting

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