#wait is my tag for you sam or sammy

[deanstead]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Requested: Yes, by anon

Summary: Sam gets an unexpected call from Y/N, which brings another surprise for Dean

Word Count: 2.7K

Tags/Warnings: Dad!Dean, canon-typical mentions of blood/violence

A/N: In my "everything i write sucks" era but thanks to @seatsbythepit for her consistent beta services! I think this was in my inbox for a (long) while so I finally got this out!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST

Sam frowned, glancing at his phone where it was lighting up with an incoming call from a number he didn’t know.

Not many people had this number, so he picked up warily, as Dean looked up.

“Hello?”

There was a short silence on the other end of the line before a familiar voice reached his ears.

“Sam?” 

Sam froze.

“Y/N?”

Dean sat up straighter, his eyes flicking toward his brother but Sam wasn’t paying attention.

It had been more than 2 years since you’d left and not a day had gone by that Dean didn’t blame himself for it. Sometimes, when he lay in bed at night, the last fight still haunted him - the look in your eyes when those hurtful words had cut across the room, the defeated sound in your voice as you looked him in the eyes and told him that if that’s what he thought of you, there was no point to all this.

After you left, he’d spent too many days staring at your name in his lists of contacts, his thumb hovering over the call button. The days ticked by, and soon it was way too late for Dean to call or reach out so he was left with replaying the last conversation you’d ever had like he needed to torture himself to make up for the hurt.

“Where are you?” Sam’s voice pulled Dean out of his thoughts and he frowned. That was never a good sign.

Sam spoke in a low voice before he nodded and hung up.

Dean stared at his younger brother as Sam stood, pausing as his eyes flicked toward Dean who was watching intently.

“Dean, she…”

Dean nodded, his eyes flicking back downward. “Yeah, I don’t blame her.”

“Look, why don’t you help from here, alright? I’ll make sure she’s alright.” Sam said, although he knew it must be killing Dean. 

“Yeah, just let me know what you need,” Dean responded, failing to hide the slight dejection in his voice as Sam left.

“Sammy.”

His name flowed off your lips the moment you opened the door, feeling familiar yet foreign at the same time. Yet, it was really good to see him.

Sam just smiled, enveloping you in a tight hug the way only an older brother would. “It’s good to see you.”

You nodded, smiling.

“You flying solo?” Sam asked, frowning.

You shook your head. “I’m not hunting. Not really. We were just passing through and I wanted to just run, but I… I couldn’t. Now, my friend’s sister is missing and I just…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Wait. We?”

You gave him a guilty smile. “That’s why I called.” You paused before continuing. “And why I asked you to come alone. I didn’t think I should surprise Dean out here.”

Sam gave you a confused look and you exhaled slowly.

Without saying anything more, you led Sam into the room, as his eyes fell upon a two-year-old kid. A kid who was unmistakably Dean’s son as he gripped a miniature Impala car in his hand where he was sitting on the ground.

Sam looked at you in surprise.

You nodded. “This is Leo.”

It was probably a Winchester thing but Leo took to Sam almost immediately despite the fact he never let anyone else but you carry him for the past two years. 

You remembered how he’d wail in the doctor's or nurse’s arms but he seemed perfectly content sitting in Uncle Sammy’s arms now, playing with Sam’s hair.

“I was gonna get a friend to watch him, but if he likes you so much…”

Sam looked at you like you were crazy. “You’re not going alone.”

You exhaled slowly and nodded, like you’d already expected this answer from him.

Instead, Sam asked to review the information you had. It felt almost like the good old days, as you watched Sam pore over the notes you had at the small desk at the motel, the only thing different being that Dean wasn’t here and you had a two-year-old who’d fallen asleep in your arms.

You knew Sam was planning to call Dean when he left to get dinner but you pretended like you didn’t, busying yourself with preparing Leo’s meal.

When Sam returned with food for the both of you, you glanced at him and he nodded. “Yeah, I called Dean. Look, you know the research there is helpful. It won’t hurt.”

You shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”

Sam glanced up at you. “What’s the plan, Y/N? Why didn’t you tell him? Or me?”

You glanced over your shoulder at where Leo was sleeping soundly and sighed softly. “I don’t know. I guess… I guess Dean and I never really had the talk. I didn’t know where he stood with regards to having kids, especially in this life.”

You paused, looking up at Sam momentarily before continuing. “Besides, we’d broken up. I thought he’d try to come and get me but… well, he didn’t. By the time I found out I was pregnant, too much time had passed and I didn’t know how to tell him.”

Sam nodded quietly, letting you continue.

“But I got out. I didn’t let Leo into this part of our life. Until today. And I hate it that he’s here when there’s a nest of fucking vamps right here. I didn’t…”

Sam reached out and squeezed your shoulder. “You were right to call. No matter what, it never hurts to have someone looking out for you.”

You smiled. “Well, I’m glad it’s you…”

“And Dean. Sorta.” You added after a small silence.

The conversation was cut short by Sam’s phone and he quickly answered it. “Anything good?”

You could hear the crackle of Dean’s voice and you felt your heart give a jolt. A jolt that didn’t exactly surprise you. Of course, how could you ever get over Dean Winchester?

You could vaguely hear Dean giving Sam some additional information before Sam hung up, glancing at you.

“You sure about this, Y/N?”

You glanced at Leo before nodding. You planted a firm kiss on Leo’s head, nodding to your friend, Samantha.

“Don’t worry. Sam’s great at what he does. We’ll figure this out.” 

She nodded back at you, assuring you that Leo was in safe hands.

It was your first hunt in a long while, but being a hunter seemed to already be a part of your DNA. 

Armed with the information that Dean had dug up, you and Sam managed to infiltrate the nest, easily lopping heads of vampires off as they were caught off-guard. You were glad Sam was there to have your back, especially when you both made your way to the dead center of the nest. 

“Sharon?” You kept your voice low. 

You headed to where she was huddled in the corner. You didn’t know Sharon well but you’d met once or twice when you’d come up here to meet Samantha.

“Y/N?” 

Her voice shook slightly. 

You nodded. “Yeah. I promised Samantha I’d bring you home.”

Sharon looked around, her eyes flicking to a dead body lying to the side. “They’re…”

You shook your head at Sharon. “Sharon, look at me. We’re going to get you home alright? Trust me.”

“Come on, Y/N.” Sam urged gently. 

Of course, you knew hunts never went that smoothly. 

A growl alerted you that a vamp had joined you and your body stiffened, the grip on the machete in your hand tightening. 

“Sam, get her out of here.”

“Y/N.” Sam’s voice was stressed and you recognized it, the struggle between leaving you here and taking Sharon to safety. 

“I’ll be fine.” You assured him, glancing back at the new arrival.

Sam didn’t answer but you knew the exact moment when he took Sharon and left, their footsteps seeming to echo as they got further away. 

“You hunters are the real monsters.” The vampire droned, staring at you. “Here we are, just trying to survive and you break into our home and kill my entire family.”

You tried to stifle the sarcastic laughter that was at the tip of your tongue.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

You knew it was coming before the vampire twitched, and you swung your machete upward as he rushed toward you. 

The vampire sidestepped, missing the machete by inches as it growled, even more determined to get you.

You stepped back again as it lunged at you, your heart sinking as you felt yourself lose your footing. 

Fuck. 

You rolled out of the way but the vampire was too quick, pouncing upon you. 

You raised your machete but it was too close, the machete inching closer toward you as the vampire bared its fangs at you. 

You held onto a single thought. You had to get home to Leo. 

Then, as if by sheer willpower, the unmistakable sound of a blade swishing through the air before the vampire’s head rolled off its shoulders. 

“Dean?”

Dean had lasted all of five minutes after the last call with Sam before he’d muttered a “screw this” to himself and torn his way out of the bunker and down to where Sam and you were.

You were still stunned as Dean rolled what was left of the vampire off you and helped you up.

“You alright? Are you hurt?” Dean’s eyes studied you, unable to differentiate if the blood on you was the result of any injuries you might have sustained before he’d arrived.

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

The atmosphere sank into awkwardness as the both of you stood there now in silence.

“Sorry, Y/N. I know you wanted me to sit this one out, but I…”

You shook your head and interrupted him. “No, I… Thanks, Dean.”

You fell back into silence, both of you walking out toward the exit to Sam.

“God, Y/N!” Sharon’s stressed voice made her way to you first but you didn’t miss the surprised look Sam gave his brother even as you were assuring Sharon you weren’t hurt.

You looked up to see Dean quietly heading to the Impala, and before you could think through your next move, you were running toward him.

“Dean.”

Dean paused and turned to look at you.

You took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

There was a look in Dean’s eyes that sat somewhere between confusion and intrigue.

You looked down at your blood-stained clothes and smiled. “Give me a few hours and I’ll come meet you at the bunker?” 

The words rolled off your tongue feeling foreign yet welcoming at the same time.

“The bunker?” Dean asked.

You shrugged. “Or wherever you guys want. If you don’t want me there.”

Dean shook his head. “That’s not what I…” He paused before continuing. “See you there.”

You watched the Impala drive off before you turned back to look at Sam, who had a small smile on his face, and you knew he’d heard everything.

You’d delivered Sharon safely back to Samantha, who hadn’t asked any questions, just glad to see her sister again. and you even managed to shower and change before Leo even noticed you and Sam were gone.

Now, Sam pulled up outside the bunker and you took a deep breath. 

“Ready?” Sam asked softly.

You gave a short laugh. “Never.”

You felt everything at the same time as you took Leo in your arms and walked into the bunker, the memories seeming to hit you all at once - the way this place made you feel, the laughter in your head that belonged to a memory of the three of you as you sat in Dean's embrace.

Even if this was the same place where things had ended, it was the happy memories that followed you as you walked down the stairs now.

Dean stepped out of the kitchen, freezing in his footsteps.

His eyes took in the sight before him, a kid that looked like a carbon copy of himself except for the eyes that were undoubtedly yours.

“Y/N…”

You cleared your throat and exhaled. 

“Hey Leo, let’s go find you some snacks,” Sam said, reaching his hands out for Leo.

Leo cracked a smile and allowed Sam to pick him out of your arms. “Pie!”

Sam glanced over at Dean, unable to hide a chuckle. “I’m sure we have that.”

The silence that followed was almost loud as Dean looked at you in disbelief and you cleared your throat. “Let’s talk.”

Dean led the way into the library, unsure if he should be pissed or happy to see you.

You leaned against one of the tables, as Dean looked back at you.

“Sorry.” You said quietly, looking down. You knew Dean had every right to be angry and you braced yourself for the rise in his voice but nothing came.

You glanced up at him again, meeting the green eyes you’d sorely missed.

Met with Dean’s silence you spoke again. “I didn’t know how to tell you. By the time I found out about it, too much time had passed since the last time we spoke. I stared at your number but I was afraid. I…” You took another breath. “We never talked about this. I didn’t know if you’d be happy or not and I chickened out.”

“So were you never going to tell me?” Dean finally asked.

You couldn’t really determine the tone of his voice but you shook your head.

“I… I kinda was on the way here.” You said quietly.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. 

“I didn’t really have a plan.” You said. “Part of me thought if I just drove here, I wouldn’t be able to back out anymore. Then, that nest of vamps kidnapped my friend’s sister so I…”

“So you called Sam.” It was a statement.

You gave him a tentative smile. “Didn’t think you’d appreciate seeing Leo without an explanation in the middle of a hunt.”

Dean exhaled slowly.

“So what now?” Dean asked.

You didn’t dare look up at him, afraid your eyes would give you away. The eyes that screamed how you were still in love with him and that you’d missed him every single day that you’d been apart. The way your heart crumbled every time Leo smiled because it reminded you of Dean, and how all you wanted was to be enveloped in those arms again.

Even as those thoughts ran through your mind, you felt the prick of tears because this was exactly why you’d put off telling Dean about Leo.

“I don’t know, D.” You answered quietly. 

Your voice cracked slightly and you hoped Dean hadn’t picked up on it.

“Y/N.” He called, forcing you to look up at him, even though the tears blurred your vision.

Dean closed the gap between the both of you, one hand cupping your face as he pressed his lips against yours, his other arm snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“God, I missed you,” Dean whispered, as he pulled away just a little, your faces still pressed together.

You buried your face into his shoulder without saying anything, feeling your tears get absorbed into the shirt he had on.

You needn’t have worried about Leo. You looked at you son clutching the tiny toy Impala while he sat in his father's arms almost triumphantly as they came back in. Dean had brought Leo to see the real thing, and Leo had a ball of a time just sitting in the Impala.

“Mama, can we stay?” Leo asked with anticipation in his voice.

You froze. Dean and you hadn’t talked about anything. He’d kissed you, you’d hugged and then you’d gotten him out of that library to meet his son.

Dean closed the gap between the two of you, putting Leo into a giant hug between the both of you before he reached out for your hand.

“Stay,” Dean said quietly.

You glanced up at him. 

“I’m not going to lose you again.” Dean added, squeezing your hand gently. “Not for anything in the world.”

The words felt stuck in your throat, but you glanced at Leo and smiled. “Yeah, we’re staying with Daddy and Uncle Sammy.”

Dean leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your lips amidst Leo's triumphant yells.

Sam moved forward to press you into a hug. “Welcome home, Y/N.”

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[bellaxgiornata]

Can't Run from the Truth

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings/tags: 18+; light angst, embarrassment, confession of feelings, happy ending, a smidgen of fluff and implied smut

Summary: After finishing a hunt, you and the Winchester brothers end up at a local dive bar in an attempt to wind down from the evening, though it doesn't take long for you to quickly find yourself drinking down your feelings while Sam flirts at the bar. But when the truth about your feelings for Sam accidentally comes to light, you panic and find yourself immediately ready to split ways with the brothers.

a/n: I'm back on my Sammy bullshit and couldn't resist a little one shot while I'm working on my series for him (Always Waiting for You). Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you absently spun your partially drunk bottle of beer between your thumb and index finger, your chin resting in your other hand. The growing chatter of the dive bar filled the room around you as your beer sloshed back and forth inside the bottle, your attention only somewhat focused on the way Dean was discussing the hunt you'd all just finished–a poltergeist that had been haunting a young couples’ new home.

Truthfully your attention was elsewhere tonight, keeping you from focusing on anything that Dean was saying as he sat across the sticky, wooden table from you. Vaguely your mind registered the sound of him laughing at one of his own jokes, but you were too busy watching Sam where he sat across the bar drinking down his second beer. You could see the dimples visible in his cheeks as he nodded his head, smiling wide at something the attractive brunette who'd struck up a conversation with him shortly after your arrival had said. You couldn't help but notice how close she was sitting beside him at the bar, either. 

Jealousy flared within you as you watched the pair of them continue to chat. Honestly you couldn't fault the young woman for her obvious attraction to Sam or for the way she was openly flirting with him. You weren't stupid, you knew exactly how handsome he was. It wasn’t as if both brothers didn’t always catch the attention of women whenever you all stopped in a new town. That wasn't exactly new to you.

But you also knew Sam was far more than just his outward appearance. He was an incredibly smart and compassionate man, having a bigger heart than most anyone else you'd ever met. He was selfless and courageous; the amount of times you’d firsthand witnessed him putting someone else’s life before his own had been too many to count at this point. But he was also sensitive, funny, and thoughtful. Whenever life on the road had begun to take its toll on you, Sam was always the first one finding ways to cheer you up over the past few months since you'd joined the brothers hunting. 

As much as you’d hate to admit it, even just to yourself, you'd grown to love all of those traits of his over the time you had gotten to know him. Because inevitably you had gone and developed strong feelings for Sam. Ones you couldn't deny existed any longer even if you constantly did your best to keep them to yourself. Which was why you were currently sitting at the table and sulking on your barstool as you drank down your third beer of the night, your eyes glued to his plaid back. 

It hurt to watch him flirt back with the woman. Every boyish grin he sent her way tore at your heart, and the way her hand often lingered on his shoulder or his thigh when she spoke to him had you gnawing your cheek even more aggressively in an attempt to keep from crying. You wished��you had the courage to ever just tell Sam how you felt. Wished he would want to pull you aside after a hunt and smile at you the same way he was smiling at this complete stranger.

Releasing a dejected sigh, your hand abruptly gripped the neck of your beer bottle. Life on the road hunting never really presented the opportunity to have relationships, which was something you knew from your own experience over the past few years. And while you were quite aware of the fact that neither brother seemed too interested in forming serious attachments to anyone because of that, you also knew Sam. You knew it wasn't a secret that he longed for a normal life, one free of hunting. You always quietly wondered if he would ever eventually fall for one of these women he randomly met and occasionally flirted back with in one of these towns. It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility after all. Would he ever consider getting serious with one of them?

Something lightly smacked into the beer bottle in your hand, the resounding clink the glass emitted jolting you out of your thoughts. Your eyes flew from the view of Sam's plaid shirt stretched across his broad back and came to land on Dean sitting across from you. There was a knowing albeit annoyed look you didn't quite appreciate drawn across his face.

“Seriously?” he asked, raising a brow at you. 

“What?” you asked him.

Dean shot you a flat look. “Did you hear anything I just said?” he questioned. “Or were you too busy staring at Sammy over there?”

Heat burned your cheeks at Dean's blunt accusation. You were immediately embarrassed that he had somehow noticed what you'd actually been doing while he’d been talking, but you clearly weren't about to admit you had in fact been staring at Sam. Shaking your head gently from where it still rested in the palm of your left hand, your gaze dropped down to where you once more began awkwardly fidgeting with your beer bottle.

“I wasn't staring at him,” you lied. “I'm just spacing out. We were up most of last night researching the case, remember? I'm just tired.”

“Uh huh,” Dean replied. He gestured a hand at your beer bottle as he asked, “Is that why you're drinking so much tonight then? Because I've noticed that you always drink more when someone gets a little flirty with my brother.”

“I do not,” you grumbled, eyes still downcast.

You heard the way Dean shifted in his stool across from you, emitting a noise of disbelief at your response. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him raise his beer to his lips before taking a drink. You kept your eyes averted from his, focusing on the table in the hopes that he couldn’t see the truth written on your face if you didn’t make eye contact with him.

“That's your third beer,” Dean pointed out a moment later, lowering his bottle back to the table. “I know you only have one drink at most after a hunt. But usually you’re the sober one. Now tonight some chick is over there being handsy with my brother, and here you are downing your third beer already.” 

Twirling your beer bottle even more nervously at how observant he was, you heard Dean sigh before he shifted again in the barstool. Leaning forward towards you, he rested his elbows along the table looking anything but ready to drop the topic. Clenching your jaw, you continued to avoid his gaze–though you could certainly feel the way he was staring at you now.

“I see how you are around Sam. It's painfully obvious you like the guy,” Dean continued, his tone far softer. “So why the hell don't you just tell him already?”

“Because I don't like him,” you retorted. 

“Oh come on,” Dean shot back. “You definitely drink more whenever we stop somewhere and some chick flirts with him. It’s happened more than enough times for me to know it isn’t just a coincidence.”

You shrugged weakly, still refusing to meet Dean’s eyes. “Like I said, I’m just tired. And it’s been a long day. That poltergeist did throw a mirror at me. I think that warrants me trying to have a few drinks to unwind for the night.”

Sam had also very meticulously and tenderly cleaned and bandaged the cuts you’d received on your bicep from the glass shattering immediately after the fact. The memory of his gentle, warm hands on your skin as he’d taken care of your wounds after the fact had been worth the injury in the end, but you'd rather face a vampire nest alone than voice that thought aloud. 

“Bullshit,” Dean challenged. “I see the way you smile at him. I see how you sneak looks at him, especially on long drives. The way you laugh at his jokes–which are terrible, by the way. We all know I’m the funny one.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. As Dean continued on, you raised your beer from the table, taking a deep pull off of it as you turned your head over your shoulder and focused on the window to your left. It was getting fairly late now, the nearly full moon hanging low in the night sky. Just across the street you could see the Impala parked out front of the motel the three of you were staying at tonight, the red neon of the bright sign catching your attention.

“He likes you, too, you know,” Dean told you. 

You huffed out an unamused, bitter laugh at the thought. “Now that is some bullshit, Dean,” you muttered, still focused on the motel across the street. “He sees me like you do. As a little sister.”

“Are you kidding me?” he snapped. “Do you not see the way his face lights up whenever you stay up late with him to research a case? Or how excited he gets when you help him search online newspapers for a new job?”

“Because you never want to,” you replied, finally turning your attention to Dean. “I can’t let him be the only one doing all the work when we're on a job. And I’m sure he just appreciates getting the help.”

Dean pulled a face at you, shaking his head. “That’s definitely not it, I think I know my own brother. I mean, the man gets heart eyes when you find us a diner that has avocado toast on the menu.”

“Well we don’t all enjoy eating greasy burgers constantly,” you argued back. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Across the table from you, Dean’s eyes narrowed. Something smug crossed his features next and you found yourself growing a little more nervous at the sight. You didn’t believe him in the slightest about Sam, but you knew he was far too right about how you felt. And you didn't like that one bit.

“Then what about those times I’ve seen you both share a bed?” he questioned, that smug expression still on his face. “Countless times I’ve woken up to take a piss and I’ve found the pair of you cuddled up together looking rather cozy beneath the sheets.”

Your cheeks burned again as you ducked your head awkwardly, once more avoiding his probing gaze. Truthfully you’d never known what to make of those mornings yourself when you and Sam had woken up in bed wrapped around each other. Usually you both profusely apologized before one of you–usually you–bolted to the bathroom. And then nothing further was ever said after the fact.

“It’s not intentional,” you weakly replied. 

“You know,” Dean began in a cocky tone, “out of all the times I’ve shared a bed with you, we’ve never woken up like that. Pretty sure that says something.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you firmly countered.

“Just admit it already,” he pushed. “Stop trying to deny it. You have feelings for him.”

Eyes snapping shut at his determined persistence, your hand tightened hard around the neck of your beer bottle. You could feel the alcohol in your system beginning to cloud your mind, making you more easily irritated with Dean than you normally would’ve been if he had brought up this subject when you hadn’t already drank so much. 

“At the very least, you can admit it to me,” he continued. “Both of you are so damn stubborn, but I already know–”

“Yes, fine!” you snapped, eyes flying open as you glared across the table at Dean. “If it gets you to finally shut up about it, yes! I like Sam, alright? And I can’t stand watching him flirt with other women whenever we’re out because yeah, I wish it was me instead. So I drink a little extra to try to ignore how much it hurts me. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

You were fuming as you glared at Dean, your jaw clenched tight as he sat there with a self-satisfied grin on his face. The sight of that grin confused you, somehow further growing your irritation at him and this topic. If he'd wanted to get a rise out of you tonight, he’d certainly succeeded.

“What?”

At the sound of the voice coming from just beside you, you abruptly stiffened in your seat. Mouth falling open as your eyes widened in shock, you instantly recognized that voice. Sam was apparently standing beside you and no longer sitting over at the bar, meaning he most likely had overheard what you'd just angrily admitted. Your heart immediately began to race in your chest, your palms beginning to dampen with sweat as embarrassment flooded you.

“Yeah,” Dean said, that amused little grin still on his mouth as his eyes glittered with mischief. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, actually.” His attention shifted to just over your shoulder, his expression never wavering. “Perfect timing there, too, Sammy. I’m guessing you caught all of that?”

Panic soon mixed with the embarrassment you felt, your body still rigid where you sat in the bar stool. You didn’t dare to look at Sam behind you as the urge to bolt out of the bar hit you strong and hard. 

This whole situation was mortifying. How were you supposed to go back to the motel and sleep in the same room with either of them after that? How were you supposed to share a bed with either of them? Or continue to even work together? It was one thing when you could pretend you were just friends with Sam and he had no clue about your actual feelings, but now that he knew? You felt like you were going to be sick with the way your stomach was twisting and churning.

You needed to get out of the bar. You needed to get away from the Winchesters. Far, far away.

Releasing your death grip on your beer bottle, both of your hands landed down hard on the table. Abruptly you pushed your bar stool back, the legs screeching along the bar floor. That roiling, sick feeling inside your gut only intensified as the seconds passed. As you rose to your unsteady feet, those beers in your system causing the room to spin just a little around you, you caught the way Dean’s expression finally changed. The smug, self-satisfied look shifted to something like concern as his brows drew together.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“I need to go,” you blurted.

Grabbing your bag from off of the bar stool beside you, you flung the strap of it over your shoulder. Still avoiding looking at Sam who’d remained entirely silent, you spun on your heel towards the bar’s exit and made your way straight to it. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Dean exclaimed behind you. “Where do you think you're going?”

You didn't respond. Instead, your sluggish and somewhat inebriated mind was quickly trying to piece some sort of escape plan together. Maybe you could call a cab and get a ride to another motel for the night. You could probably book a flight and head out to Bobby’s place tomorrow and get yourself sorted with a vehicle with his help. It wasn’t like you’d needed to hunt with the Winchesters, after all. For now you’d go back to the motel across the street and grab your duffle bag and wait for a car to come pick you up. When you were safely away from the brothers you’d shoot Dean a text to let him know you were planning to do your own thing so he wouldn’t worry–but you weren’t going to mention going to Bobby’s. You didn’t need them showing up there on you.

Pushing the door of the bar open, you exited the building in a hurry, still ignoring the sound of Dean calling after you. The cool air of the late summer night brushed over your cheeks as you briskly made your way towards the street. The bright red neon of the motel sign was like a beacon of safety right now, drawing you towards it and away from Sam and Dean and the disaster that your night had unexpectedly taken. 

It was quieter outside of the bar as you walked, the lack of extra noise allowing the panicked, anxious thoughts in your head to grow even louder. You couldn’t believe Dean had been such an asshole tonight, intentionally goading you into not only admitting you had feelings for his brother, but pushing you into confessing it within earshot of him without you even knowing. He’d ruined everything by doing that. 

And now you were left with no choice but to go back to hunting alone again. Just you by yourself. The thought had tears pricking at your eyes. Ever since you’d decided to work together with the brothers, hunting and living life on the road had been far less lonely, even if you’d had to deal with your one-sided feelings for Sam. But now it would once more just be you again. With no one to watch your back or shoulder the burden of driving. No one to play amusing games of twenty questions on long car rides, to keep you on your toes with ridiculous pranks, or to keep you company as you ate all your meals on the go. No more Sam to shoot you warm smiles that never failed to brighten your day, or to help patch you up whenever you got hurt.

Roughly wiping the back of your hand across your cheeks, you attempted to remove the few tears that had fallen. With a soft sniffle you fought the urge to continue crying down as you approached room number eight, the room the three of you had rented just before heading over to the bar for a few drinks. Unzipping your purse, you stuck your hand inside and dug around, feeling for the room key. It was a moment before your fingers found it and you pulled it out of your bag. 

Quickly unlocking the door, you pushed it open and stepped inside, shutting it behind you a little harder than necessary. Wasting no time, you tossed your room key onto the small, round table positioned next to the outdated and worn armchair in the room before making your way over to your bag where you’d earlier tossed it onto one of the queen beds. Taking a moment to unzip it, you made sure everything you needed was still packed inside. Satisfied that everything was still there, you sat down onto the end of the bed before reaching back into your purse. You pulled out your cell phone and unlocked the screen, but you hadn't even had a chance to search for a local car service before the motel door swung open. 

Head darting over your shoulder at the abrupt noise, you were surprised to find Sam's tall frame filling the doorway. He stood there staring at you for a moment, a hard to read expression on his face as his lips thinned into a straight line. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding under his gaze. You saw Sam's focus shift to your duffle bag where it sat at your side on the bed before his eyes dropped down to the phone in your hands. It looked as if he'd winced before he focused back on you. 

“What’re you doing?” he asked softly.

Swallowing hard, you watched as he entered the room, carefully closing the motel door behind himself and leaving the pair of you very much alone. You could feel your heart beating harder in your chest as he slowly made his way across the room towards you, another pained look on his face when he saw the room key you'd tossed onto the table.

“Are you…leaving?” he asked slowly, his sad eyes meeting yours once more.

Awkwardly biting your bottom lip, not sure you could trust your voice, you nodded. When his expression further fell, you felt like someone had punched you right in the stomach. He looked so unexpectedly hurt at the news.

“Why?” he asked next, voice barely above a whisper. “Why would you leave?”

Silently you watched as Sam lowered himself onto the foot of the bed next to yours. He was looking at you with such raw emotion on his face that it had you feeling tears beginning to well in your own eyes again. You couldn't understand why he looked so upset, which only had you feeling guilty for almost disappearing on them without a word tonight.

Shrugging lightly at his question, your eyes dropped back down to your phone that you were clutching tight in both of your hands. You didn't want to have this conversation, especially not with Sam.

“Because you weren't supposed to hear any of what I’d said to Dean,” you quietly confessed. “And now things are going to be awkward and weird between us.”

“What do you mean?” he pressed. “How would things be awkward and weird?”

“Because I like you!” you blurted, your watery gaze flying towards where he sat on the other bed. The beers you'd drank earlier had fully loosened your tongue, the words easily flowing from your mouth now that Sam had already learned the truth. “And now you know that I don't just see you as a friend or a hunting partner. And I definitely don’t see you like a big brother despite you and Dean seeing me like a little sister. And that’s embarrassing , Sam! You weren't supposed to hear any of that! Now there’s no way that I can just keep traveling with you both. I can't sit in the car with you for hours on end pretending I don’t have feelings anymore. I can’t share a motel room with you, let alone share a bed with you ever again!”

Sam's eyes narrowed, his dark brows furrowing at what you'd said as if he was confused. But just as he'd opened his mouth to say something in response, you barreled on, not giving him the opportunity as the words continued to spill out of you.

“So I'm just going back to hunting alone,” you told him. “I think that's better for everyone. Certainly better than making everyone uncomfortable by continuing to work together. I’d rather go back to being on the road by myself than–”

“Whoa, hang on,” Sam said, raising a hand and finally cutting you off.

You paused, eyeing him nervously as he waved his hand in the space between the pair of you. He was shaking his head, his features tightened together as if he was in thought. 

“So you're what? Just going to run away now?” he asked. “Without even saying anything first? Not even a goodbye or an explanation?”

Your gaze guiltily dropped down to the phone in your hands. “I was going to send a text,” you murmured.

“Did it ever occur to you at any point to hear what I might have to say?” he questioned. “That maybe you might be wrong?”

Pulling a face, you glanced back up at him. He'd leaned closer towards you from his place on the end of the other bed, a softness reflecting in his hazel eyes that you hadn't ever seen before in them. It had your heart nearly skipping in your chest. 

“Wrong about what?” you asked.

A small, unexpected smile pulled at the corner of his lips, something about it seeming almost timid. Your stomach nervously flipped inside of you at the sight of it. Vaguely you wondered what he could have possibly meant, but you remained silent, lost in the tender way he was staring back at you. A way he’d never quite looked at you before.

“That I view you like a little sister,” he answered softly. “Or that things would be weird between us now that I know how you actually feel about me. Wrong about needing to run off and be on your own again because things would be uncomfortable.”

“But Sam–”

“And wrong to think that I don't have feelings for you,” he finished. 

You sucked in a sharp breath at his words, your lips parting in surprise. For a moment you were too shocked to speak, stunned into a brief silence as you studied that unfamiliar look of fondness on his face. It wasn't one you'd seen before. 

“You–you what?” you stammered out.

Sam’s smile widened a little more, the shyness disappearing from his face as he nodded. “I’ve had feelings for you for a while now. Ever since we finished that exorcism out in Georgia.”

Face scrunching up in thought, your attention dropped back down to the phone in your hands as you tried to think back to when you’d all last been in Georgia dealing with a demon. It took you a moment to finally recall the job.

“But that was…months ago,” you said slowly, your eyes once more meeting Sam’s. “About a month after I officially joined you guys on the road back at Bobby’s.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, rising up from his place at the edge of the bed. “Truthfully I’d had a crush on you when we first met in Indiana. During that haunting we all wound up accidentally working together.” 

Sam crossed the small space between the beds before carefully sitting down on the bed beside you. The weight of him dipped the mattress once he sat, causing your body to inevitably slide a little towards him. Heat crept up your neck at his close proximity, aware that his thigh was mere inches from yours now. Trying to keep your breathing even as it started to come in a little shallow, you averted your gaze from his, setting your phone off to the side of yourself.

“I…didn’t know that,” you said.

“I didn’t want you to,” Sam admitted. “Figured I probably wouldn’t be seeing you again after that, even though we’d all exchanged numbers once the job was finished. But then you’d unexpectedly shown up at Bobby’s months later looking for help with a vamp nest. And when we’d officially decided to work together after that job–” Sam shrugged, his shoulder lightly bumping against yours as he did. “Well, I figured it would be easier to work together if I kept my distance.”

“So you mean,” you began slowly, turning your attention back on Sam at your side, “that all this time you’d actually felt the same?”

“Yeah,” he answered.

“But–but what about the women I’ve seen you flirt with?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “The woman at the bar tonight? That waitress the other week in Kentucky? I thought you liked them?”

Sam quirked a brow at you, his head tilting a little to the side as he shot you a questioning look. “What about that guy who bought you a drink last month in Texas? Or the police officer in Montanna who gave you his number? Were you interested in them?”

You frowned at his question, shaking your head. “No,” you told him. “It was just nice to be noticed for once, I guess.”

Sam grinned at you, laughing lightly as he did. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

A silence fell between the pair of you, your mind racing at everything you’d just learned tonight. You hadn’t expected the night to go the way it had, especially with Sam showing up and admitting that he’d also had feelings for you. But as you sat there trying to process everything, you realized he was steadily leaning in closer to you on the bed, his eyes occasionally flickering towards your mouth. Once more you felt your pulse quicken.

“So now what?” you asked him.

“Well,” Sam began in a hushed tone, his eyes once more dropping down towards your lips before meeting your gaze again, “I’m guessing you’re not still planning to run off on your own, are you?”

He leaned in another inch closer and you found yourself struggling to form a coherent thought. Was he doing what you thought he was? Was he going to kiss you?

“No,” you breathed out.

“Then how about tomorrow morning I take you out for coffee?” he suggested. “Before Dean wakes up. Just you and I?”

He’d leaned in even further now, his face so close you were actively refraining from closing the small distance between yourselves and just kissing him. You could feel the soft exhalations of his warm breath brushing over your cheek every time he breathed and it was making you dizzy.

“I’d like that,” you whispered. 

The corners of his mouth curled even higher before his hand rose up, gently grasping your chin with his fingers and carefully tilting your mouth towards his. His nose lightly bumped against the tip of yours and your eyes instinctively closed at the touch. Tongue darting out to nervously lick your lips, you could feel how hard your heart was pounding, feeling as if the organ itself had somehow jumped up into your throat in anticipation of a kiss.

After a moment you were unable to hold back any longer, his warm breath still rhythmically cascading over your skin had already driven you mad with want. Losing the battle against your self-control, you leaned in and finally connected your lips to his. The kiss was somewhat hesitant at first, your mouth moving carefully against his soft lips as if you were unsure of how he’d react at first. But Sam’s mouth responded to yours with such a firm certainty that you soon melted right into him, your body sinking closer to his on the mattress. His fingers quickly released your chin, his hand soon coming to cradle the back of your head as he kissed you more passionately. There was no denying the way he felt about you with the way his lips were moving against yours right now.

Losing yourself in the moment, your hands flew up and latched onto his broad shoulders. Nails digging into his plaid shirt, you drew him closer to the front of yourself as the heat of his body warmed you in more ways than one. He smelled so good–like a mix of leather from the Impala’s seats, a hint of something like cedarwood from his soap, and a bit of gunpowder from earlier’s hunt. You couldn’t seem to get enough of him, your own mouth heatedly matching the pace of his.

Sam’s other hand was soon gripping your hip tight, tugging you towards himself and almost straight into his lap as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. You’d only barely loosed a faint moan against his mouth at the feel of it before he gradually pulled away, breaking the kiss. Chest heaving as you’d tried to catch your breath, your eyelids slowly fluttered open. Sam’s face hovered just before yours, an obvious flush to his cheeks as he grinned back at you. You couldn’t fight back the smile that broke out across your own face at the sight.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he confessed.

“Yeah,” you said, still attempting to catch your breath from your place now halfway in his lap. “Me too.”

“So uh,” Sam began, clearing his throat a little as his hand left its place cradling the back of your head, both of them now gripping your hips firmly in his large palms, “does this mean we always get to share a bed now?”

Nails still digging into his solid shoulders, you shot him a grin. “If you want,” you replied. “But does that also mean it's not weird if we actually cuddle in bed now?”

A wide smile broke out across his face, somehow making him look even more handsome than usual. The sight nearly knocked the breath out of you. 

“Definitely not weird, no,” he answered. 

Easing your grip on his shoulders, you tentatively wrapped your arms around his neck. When he only continued to smile back at you, you relaxed even further against him.

“So…should we head back to the bar?” you reluctantly suggested. “Let Dean know everything is good?”

“Nah,” Sam said, shaking his head. “He'll figure it out. I think I'd rather enjoy the rare alone time we have suddenly found ourselves with.”

Arching a curious brow at him, you watched as a mischievous smile slipped onto his mouth and lit up his face. Without warning, his hands on your hips tugged you forward and entirely onto his lap. A soft, surprised gasp fell out of you as your arms wrapped even tighter around his shoulders, keeping you steady after the abrupt movement.

“What're you up to, Sam Winchester?” you asked, gazing down at him from your place on his lap.

“I guess you'll just have to wait and see,” he said, shooting you a wink. 

A light laugh escaped you before it was quieted by Sam’s mouth once more crashing onto yours. All thoughts of anything but the way Sam’s large hands had begun roaming their way beneath the back of your shirt quickly left your mind.

[holylulusworld]

Girls just want to have fun

Summary: Girls just want to have fun

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: partying, drinking, dancing, ladies’ night

A/N: For my story everyone is alive.

Inspired by Cindy Lauper's song "Girls just want to have fun"

It’s a damn good night. You feel good, and maybe you’re a little tipsy.

After months of being cramped in sleazy motel rooms with the Winchesters and fighting battle after battle, you finally got the chance to have a night out. It’s ladies’ night with karaoke and free drinks at the bar in town.

“Yes! Show them what you got!” you cheer your friends on, raising your glass. Jo, Charlie, and Bela are on the stag singing we will rock you. You’re not much of a singer, but you like to watch your friends having fun.

“They had too much wine,” Donna laughs because Charlie wants to try out stage diving. “There are like three people. They cannot catch her fall.”

“Nah, she’s like a cat and lands on her paws!” You exclaim loudly. “Believe me, she got this. A girl who fuck’s Dick Roman and Leviathans over can rock a stage dive too.”

“She will get hurt,” Jody worriedly watches Charlie stagger on the stage. “I can’t even look.”

“Wait! I got an idea,” you get your phone out to call Sam and Dean. “Guys, we have an emergency. You need to come to the bar. We need your help.”

You end the call before Dean can ask what happened, or if he needs to bring the big guns. While you order another drink and tell Charlie to wait for her stage dive a little longer, Sam and Dean run toward the garage at the bunker.

“What the…?” Dean watches Jo, Charlie, and Bela sing another song. Charlie waves at Dean while Bela blows a kiss at Sam. “Sammy, what has gotten into them? Do you think it’s a wrath? A ghost maybe?”

“Uh-Dean. I don’t think this is the supernatural kind of emergency,” Sam smirks at Bela who undresses him with her eyes. “I think they are having fun, is all.”

“What? Fun!” Alerted Dean storms toward you to snatch the drink you just ordered out of your hands. “Y/N, I hope you’ve got a damn good explanation why you called me. This doesn't look like an emergency.”

“It is!” you grab his arm to guide Dean toward the stage. “You see.” You point at Charlie on the stage. She giggles and walks toward the edge. “Charlie wants to try her first stage dive. We need strong men to catch her.”

“Stage dive – what?” Dean blinks a few times. “You’ve got to be shitting me! No more drinks for you.”

“Aw, but Deano,” you pat his chest with both hands. “Girls just want to have fun sometimes.” You lean closer to nuzzle his chin with your nose. “Please for me. Catch Charlie.”

Dean purses his lips. “This is far too dangerous! She could get hurt!”

“You sound like a dad,” you grin. “Deano, come on. Live a little.”

“What’s going on?” Sam finally joins your little conversation. “Where is the emergency, Y/N?”

“Charlie wants to stage dive. Y/N came up with the brilliant idea that we can catch Charlie,” Dean huffs. “She called us for a stage dive, Sammy.”

“Hmmm…” Sam looks at the stage, at the ground, and then at his hands. “If we team up, we can do it, Dean.”

Dean turns his head like in slow motion, to gape at his brother. “Did you hit your head, Sammy? What if she misses us and ends up on the ground? Charlie could get seriously hurt.”

“Deano, please,” you fist his Henley, tugging hard. In a hurry, he didn’t put on a plaid or a jacket. “I’ll make you pie tomorrow.”

“You’re going to be hangover tomorrow,” he points out. “If she gets hurt, you’ll take the blame.”

Dean walks toward the stage to talk to Charlie. He’s still not convinced this will work, but he’ll do it for Charlie and you.

“We can help,” Sam says. He walks toward the stage, followed by Castiel, Jack, and Gabriel who popped up Out of nowhere.

“Don’t tell me she called you too…” Dean sighs deeply. “Fine, let’s do this…”

And then, you all joined Dean to give Charlie the chance to have her first stage dive.

Sometimes girls just want to have fun.

Tags in reblog.

[doctorprofessorsong]

Destiel fic recs

Another round of brainrot. I hope they never fix what's wrong with me.

Beggars Would Ride by Tiamatv (Explicit, 118k)

You had me at Aladdin AU. When Dean Winchester is caught stealing, he's given one chance for freedom. Go into the Cave of Wonders, grab the amulet, and get out. Things don't go as planned. Now he's got a moody ancient genie to contend with. But maybe he can use up two of his wishes and then grant the genie his wish: to be free. What could go wrong?

This fic is an absolutely delight. I laughed so hard, especially at the fun ways Tiamatv played with the SPN canon and the Disney movies. But beyond the humor is some really fantastic world building and a beautiful story about finding your way when you feel trapped by life.

Genie Cas is very cute and grumpy and sassy, and it's fun to watch him start to care. And Dean has so much heart it will make you ache. Sam and Jess are disgustingly cute but both are also whip smart and fun. And Jo (Jess’ sister in this) is the knife girl of my dreams.

This one is hard to put down.

Tourbillon Dreams by kayliemalinza @kayliemalinza (Mature, 40k)

Dean uses Bobby's life insurance proceeds to buy a hoarders house stuffed to the brim with cursed and haunted objects. But when he finds a clock that also happens to be an angel, things take an unexpected turn.

It sounds cracky and there is some delightful humor, but this fic packs a beautiful emotional punch. Dean is in his peak caretaking, competency mode and Clockstiel is adorable and entranced with Dean in a way that is just immensely readable.

There is something starkly gorgeous about the way Dean and Cas are physically so different and yet they find each other in meaningful and beautiful ways.

Love Is a Meat Loaf Song by followyourenergy @followyourenergy (Explicit, 68k)

A reimagining of canon where Dean is never saved and becomes a demon. He's bored waiting for the apocalypse when he happens upon a certain blue eyed seraph and they decide to work together.

This fic has all the delightful sassiness you expect of Demon!Dean and especially when he spends time with his frenemy, Meg. It also has just absolutely amazing angel lore and a deep dive into Cas and his trauma. All of this is wrapped up in a soft love story about two beings finding each other and seeing each other and breaking down each other's walls.

It's the entire package of funny, sincere and romantic.

Where there is Darkness by quiettewandering @wanderingcas (Explicit, 91k)

I may have popped this on at some point when it was a WIP but I have to renew my recommendation if so. Dean and Sam are lighthouse keepers, but Dean keeps driving off the third member of their team until Cas shows up. But will they be able to overcome their past to carve out happiness?

This Dean and Cas are so delicious. I am deeply fond of them both. They are fighting against so much baggage and yet they find in each other something so special. Sammy is also perfectly oblivious in the best way. It's hard to explain what makes this fic special except that it is so engrossing, you will be slamming next chapter

Valley of God by ValleyDean @valleydean (Mature, 145k)

I know. I KNOW. The MCD tag is daunting in a fic like this but I promise that while it is accurate, then ending is softer than you think and it's really the way it should end.

So there are a few things about this fic that make it absolutely delicious. First, it really delves into Cas’ trauma in a really gorgeous way. We don’t have enough fics that look at his angel trauma (we can't for me tbh) and this one uses a religious cult situation to delve into it. Second, Dean and Cas in this fic are just so messy and delightful. Dean wants to believe that Cas is good so badly. Cas wants to protect Dean the same way. It's crunchy. Finally, the atmosphere is amazing. It's creepy. It gets under your skin.

Is it dark? Absolutely. But it's also amazing.

The Darkest Sunshine by StarlightOfFandoms @starlightoffandoms (Explicit, 35k)

If murder husbands is your thing, this one is a delight of a fic. Dean Winchester is the Righteous Man serial killer, a notorious murderer who goes after monsters (in human form). People who are guilty of abhorrent crimes. But when he goes after Cas, a professor believed to have murdered several students, he discovers an innocent man being framed. Together with Cas and his team, Dean decides to find the real killer. He just has to pretend to be Cas’ boyfriend until they succeed.

The fake dating trope in a murder husbands fic was a total delight. So was the fact that Dean doesn't work alone and has a full support system to go after the worst of the worst. It's an intriguing concept done really well. Dean in this fic is an interesting blend of sociopathic tendencies, a strong sense of justice, and a willingness to do anything for those he is loyal to. Cas is intrigued by Dean and accepts him as he is. It's a really great combination.

A Weed In Any Other Place by VioletHaze @scones-and-texting-and-murder (Explicit, 63k)

On the other end of the spectrum is this fluffy rom com. There is some angst, but most of it is soft, sweet falling in love along with supportive friends and family.

Cas is a writer. Well, Cas had a book published and now he's desperately trying to write his second while convincing himself the first was probably just a fluke. Writers block is a bitch. That is until his car breaks down and he ends up at a little shop called Winchester and Son. By some weird trick of fate, it's exactly what he needs. He has the most productive day in years sitting in their waiting room. So he comes back, and keeps coming back. The extremely cute mechanic with green eyes doesn't hurt.

Cas is a disaster at social situations in a relatable way. Dean is struggling to put away some bad lessons from his dad so that he can find what he wants instead of what his father pushed on him. Both have a lovely support system. Charlie, in particular, makes me deeply fond in this fic.

i like your shoelaces (thanks! i stole them from the president) by you-cant-spell-subtext-without (ayreisha) @you-cant-spell-subtext-without (Explicit, WIP, 33k so far)

My lovely Tumblr wife is back at it, writing the most delightfully chaotic fic based on Misha's prompt awhile back for President Cas and Fast Food Janitorial Staff Dean Winchester. It's a Cinderella story and in equal parts hilarious and adorable. Also it is a Dean-saster/Cas-tastrophe pairing which is always fun plus there's a 2 person love triangle situation.

Dean's stuck in a miserable job with his only escape being his love of How I Met Your Mother and the Tumblr blog he devotes to the fandom. But when a handsome man walks in one night after hours, things heat up. Too bad the man in question is actually the President.

It's a romp and a love letter to fandom.

[ericshoney]

Marathon ~ Brother!Sam Golbach

Summary: Based of the video where Sam ran 26 miles with 26 YouTubers, you his younger sister, join him at the end.

Warnings: possible swearing, nicknames, crying, mentions of cancer, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was running a twenty-six mile marathon with twenty-six different YouTubers. You were also going to join but for the last mile, knowing the marathon was for an amazing cause.

When you got the news Colby had cancer you felt your whole world collapse. Much like Sam. Colby was another brother to you and you were a little sister to him. You often helped where you could, which both Colby and Sam appreciated.

So when Sam said he was doing this marathon, you had to join, along with your other siblings.

You stood at the twenty-five mile mark, waiting for Sam to arrive. You had been watching your socials seeing the live stream and smiling at how he kept pushing himself.

"There he is!"

You looked and saw your older brother now running towards you. You smiled and tapped to swap and run with him.

"Hey." He called.

"Hey, your doing amazing." You said.

"Thanks, kid." He replied.

You quietly ran alongside your brother, smiling at everyone who cheered him on. You looked and saw he was very tried but knew it was totally worth it.

"Nearly there, Sammy." You mentioned.

Sam chuckled at the nickname, one you used when you were younger. As you got to the finish, you both smiled, a few tears forming in your eyes.

"Fuck, we did it." Sam said.

"You did it." You replied.

Sam smiled as everyone came and gave him a high five, aside from Colby, who Sam hugged tightly. You smiled and got pulled in by the two to join the hug.

"Thanks for doing this with me." Sam said.

"Anytime. Anything for my brothers." You responded, making him and Colby both smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

@lgbtq-girl @mattsfavbigtitties @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann

[negans-lucille-tblr]

Go Easy | Sam Winchester Oneshot

Summary: Sam’s hiding a part of himself from his new, inexperienced girlfriend, but maybe he doesn’t have to. 

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Tags: teasing, flirting, mentions of virginity, mentions of liking younger women, angst, mentions of BDSM, Dom/sub vibes, mild BDSM, bondage, fingering, p in v

WC: ± 2.8K A/Ns: This was commissioned by someone who would like to remain anonymous! Hope you like it!

Sam Winchester Masterlist

“So, how did you two meet again?” 

There’s a sparkle in Dean’s green eyes that Sam knows only too well means that Dean hasn’t forgotten at all, and he’s only asking the question for one reason; to tease the living fuck out of him. 

“Urm, at the college library,” Y/N replies softly, clearing her throat and offering his brother a polite smile as she reaches for her glass of wine. 

“Of course you did,” Dean chuckles, “so you’re one of these brainy young professors too?” 

“Urr…” Y/N glances nervously at him, and Sam knows it’s his turn to step in and save her. 

“No, actually, Y/N is a student,” Sam needlessly reminds his brother, unashamedly. 

The smirk instantly curls over Dean’s lips as he chuckles, shaking his head. “A student, Sammy? You’ve been working there for two months and you’re already sleeping with the students, why am I not surprised?” 

Sam’s brow instantly pulls into a frown as he shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that, De,” he protests, looking over to see Y/N is also confused by Dean’s comment. 

“What does he mean?” she asks, blinking at him. 

“Nothing,” Sam insists. “He’s just being an ass.” 

Dean continues to chuckle, reaching for his beer and taking a long swig before swallowing hard and licking his lips. “Listen, we can just address the elephant in the room, okay?” he grins, looking between them. 

“Dean, no,” Sam warns, hoping his brother will realise he is barking up the wrong tree completely right now and will back off. 

“Oh c’mon, Sammy, we shared a bedroom wall long enough for me to know what you’re into. You’re hardly shy about it. And we’re all adults here… at least…” his eyes land back on Y/N, and Sam’s jaw clenches. 

“Jesus, Dean, she’s more than legal,” Sam grunts, wishing his legs were just a few inches longer so he could kick his brother under the table. 

“Relax, I’m teasing you both,” Dean laughs easily, lounging back in his chair with his beer in hand. 

Sam glares over at his older brother for a moment, before looking across at Y/N to make sure she’s okay. She seems a little flustered, but before he can reach out to take her hand in hopes of relaxing her a little, she rises to her feet and softly excuses herself. Sam watches her leave, heading towards the bathroom, and then turns his attentions back to his brother. 

“Seriously, dude?” he huffs. “Now she probably thinks I’m some pervert.” 

“Well, from what I’ve heard–” 

“Dean, I’m serious,” Sam interrupts. 

“Oh, c’mon Sammy, you’re not exactly quiet about your… tastes,” Dean argues, smirking slightly. “I’m just saying that she’s exactly the kind of girl I thought you’d date.” 

“It’s not like that, De,” Sam protests, “not with her.” 

Dean cocks an eyebrow as if he doesn’t believe him. “So you’re telling me you’re not dating a younger woman who’s all quiet and reserved because she’s exactly the kind of girl who obeys your every command?” he mocks. 

“She’s not like that,” Sam continues to argue, and he thinks maybe Dean is finally believing him, because a small frown pulls on his brow.

“Wait… really? This isn’t one of your… kinky things?” 

“No, Dean,” Sam scoffs, still amused by Dean’s naivety even after all this time. Sam’s tried on more than one occasion to educate his brother on the lifestyle, but Dean couldn’t be further from Sam when it comes to things like this. “We’re actually dating, she’s actually my girlfriend,” he explains. “My very inexperienced girlfriend you’ve probably completely freaked out, so thanks for that.” 

“Inexperienced?” Dean blinks, but then another cheeky smile lights up his face. “Sammy, you dirty dog!” 

“Dean–” 

“Well, in my defense, dude, you don’t date much.” 

“You didn’t think it was weird I’d asked you to meet her?” Sam questions. 

“I don’t know what happens between you and these girls,” Dean protests, shrugging. He’s quiet for a moment, but then he seems to get a little more serious, playing with his beer bottle. “So, is she open to what you like, or…”

Sam can tell that it’s a genuine question, so he doesn’t roll his eyes or complain, instead he takes a deep breath and decides to answer honestly. “I doubt it, we’ve never talked about it.” 

“So you’d pack it all in for her?” he asks next. “Do you like her enough to do that?”

“Yeah, I think I would,” Sam nods honestly. 

“Well then, I’m sorry dude, didn’t mean to freak her out.” 

Sam looks towards the door leading down the hallway towards the bathroom and takes a deep breath. “I’m sure she’s fine,” he tells his brother, realising he’s only trying to convince himself more than Dean. 

Y/N has been even more quiet than usual as they clean up after dinner. With Dean now gone, Sam was hoping she’d be a little more confident, like he’d noticed her becoming in the recent weeks, but she doesn’t say much as she clears away plates and carries them out into the kitchen, placing them alongside the sink. He watches her begin to run the hot tap, filling the sink up with warm, soapy water, and leans in the doorway just observing for a moment or two, wondering how he’s going to approach this. 

“Hey, let me do that, it’s my place,” he protests, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle. 

“It’s fine,” she insists softly. Sam places a soft kiss to the back of her head, and he watches as her movements slow and she clears her throat. “Sam, what did your brother mean when he said he’s not surprised that I’m a student?” 

“Nothing,” Sam half lies. “He was just being an older brother and trying to embarrass me.” 

“So you’ve not been with other students?” she checks, turning herself around and stepping out of his embrace to face him. 

“No, not since I was a student myself,” he tells her honestly this time. 

“Students your own age?” she asks next, almost challengingly. 

“Pretty much,” he nods. “Y/N, I’m not into young girls or anything,” he laughs awkwardly. “There’s not even ten years between us, it’s not about that for me. Look… can we just forget the whole dinner, please?” he pleads, already exasperated. 

She’s been spooked enough for one night, she doesn’t need to hear all about Sam’s twisted, kinky fetishes too. He’s kept those a secret for a reason. He didn’t know it when he first started dating her, but Y/N had been a virgin before they met, and he could still count on one hand how many times they’ve had sex. If he was ever going to show her that side of him, it wouldn’t be now. 

“So you’re not into young virgin girls?” she asks bluntly, blinking at him. 

“No, absolutely not,” Sam protests immediately, the very implication making his skin crawl. “Firstly, I didn’t even know you were a virgin when we met. Secondly, you’re twenty two, you’re not even a teenager anymore–” 

“Okay,” Y/N interrupts. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to accuse you of being a perv or anything, I just… when Dean said he knows what you’re into…” 

“He didn’t mean that,” Sam tries to explain. 

“Then what did he mean?” she presses, blinking at him again. 

Sam sighs heavily, not sure he can answer that honestly if he wants to keep her in the dark about his fantasies and desires. 

“Is it bad? Is that why you won’t tell me?” she implores. 

“No, it’s not bad,” he argues weakly, shaking his head. “I just don’t wanna freak you out, I know you’re new to all this.” 

“Maybe physically, but one of the perks to being late in the game means I’ve done a lot of research,” Y/N admits coyly. “So I’m not as naive as you think.” Sam’s eyebrows rise at her implication. “Just tell me, Sam, please?” she begs softly, a lot more seriously than before. 

Sam huffs a breath and licks his lips for a second, gathering his thoughts. 

“Usually, I like a certain… dynamic in the bedroom,” he tries to explain briefly. “But, I would never expect that from you, so I’ve never brought it up. I’m fine with the way things are between us,” he rushes to add for reassurance. 

“What kind of dynamic?” Y/N asks, seeming to ignore the second half of his comment. 

“Urm… me in charge… in control… y’know, pain for pleasure kind of thing,” he admits, feeling his cheeks heating up at his admission. Normally he’s a lot more sure of  himself, oozing confidence as he explains exactly how he expects it to go down between him and the girl he’s about to fuck. But Y/N is different, and he doesn’t want her running for the hills because of this. 

“So BDSM stuff?” she clarifies, biting her bottom lip. 

“Yeah, that stuff,” he nods. “So are you freaked out?” he asks, unable to stop himself. 

Y/N doesn’t answer at first, she just stares at him and swallows hard, and Sam’s pretty sure she’s about to break up with him, leave and never come back. But what actually happens takes him off guard, as his eyes follow her as she drops to her knees at his feet and settles into a kneeling position, looking up at him through her lashes. 

“What… What are you doing?” he stammers out, afraid that maybe she feels like she has to do this for him. 

“Something like this?” she checks. 

“You don’t have to–” 

“You don’t think I don’t know exactly what you want… Sir?” she asks softly, a tiny smirk beginning to spread over her lips. 

Instantly Sam’s cock begins to harden behind his jeans. It’s been a while since he’s seen a girl on her knees at his feet, and while he hears people call him Sir a lot thanks to his job, it feels so different hearing it come from her lips in that tone. 

“A-are you sure?” Sam checks sincerely for a moment. 

She doesn’t reply to begin with, she just reaches out, softly running her hand up his leg, over his thigh and towards the now obvious bulge in his pants. 

“Like I said, I’ve done my research, I know what I like the look of,” she explains, her hand now cupping his cock through the denim, making Sam’s head a little foggier. “I wanna know if it’s as good as it looks, I want you to teach me,” she purrs, blinking at him seductively. “Just go easy on me?” 

Sam reaches forward, cupping the side of her face. “I’ve got you, baby girl,” he confirms, feeling her lean into his touch. “I’ll guide you through it.” 

Your POV

Holy fuck. 

Sam’s teeth drag down your throat, his large hands finally releasing your wrists above your head, smoothing down your arms. 

“Leave them there,” he growls against your skin, his hands now finding your breasts, fondling them for a moment or two before reaching around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You moan, arching your back into him, your hands finding his long hair so you can card your fingers through it. “I said, leave them there,” Sam growls, instantly pinning your hands above your head once more. “Don’t make me tie them up.” 

Just the very thought of him tying you to the bed, making you completely at his mercy makes your insides flutter with even more arousal that pools between your bare legs. 

“Please do,” you find yourself gasping, your brain foggy with arousal and desperation. 

“You’d like that, hm?” he smirks, leaning back to look at you. “You’d like me tying you up, using you however I want?” You instantly nod, desperate for just that. “Use your words, baby girl… always use your words with me,” he commands. 

“Y-yes I want that,” you confirm verbally. 

“Sir,” he adds for you. 

“Sir,” you also add, breathlessly. You’d always liked the idea of calling a guy Sir in the bedroom, but you never thought it would be this much of a turn on.

You watch him climb off of you, now standing at the foot of his bed as he reaches down for his jeans on the floor, and without taking his eyes off of you, he grabs the belt still in the loops and pulls it free. The sight is near enough orgasmic as you once again arch your back and moan, desperate for some attention between your legs. 

Sam uses the tail of his belt to trail up your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake as you squirm underneath him. 

“Maybe one day we can use this for something a little more entertaining,” he ponders, a wicked smirk curling over his lips. “But for now, we can make good use of it in other ways.” 

You feel him wrap the leather around both your wrists, and with only a few tugs, you find yourself bound to the headboard, unable to move your hands very far; unable to touch him anymore. And suddenly, you want nothing more. His cock is hard and practically dripping with precum on your thigh, and you want to wrap your hand around it, to give him some relief. But he seems unfazed by the lack of attention it’s receiving, instead focused on your body, and the way it’s writhing underneath him. 

His hazel eyes scan over what feels like every single inch, and he hums in appreciation, his hands beginning to ghost over your skin. When his touch begins to trail lower than your belly button, you find your legs widening as if to encourage him between them. He seems to oblige without any further teasing, which you’re grateful for, because you’re not sure how much longer you can take this. Your head feels like it’s going to explode. Being at someone’s mercy is so much better than it had been in your head all those times you’d gotten yourself off to the fantasy, or touched yourself to those videos you used to be so ashamed about liking. 

“Someone’s wet,” he notes, a smug grin on his lips at the fact. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” 

You nod desperately, bucking your hips against his fingers, feeling him rub your clit as you begin to moan. 

“Yes, Sir,” you rush to confirm, just about mustering enough sanity to remember to use your words like he’d commanded. 

“If you like this, wait until I train you to be the perfect little slut for me,” he growls, and you gasp for air as his fingers push inside you with his words, your head spinning with the mixture of the sensation and the very thought of his words. “This body is perfect, and it’s all mine, isn’t it?” he asks, his eyes landing on yours. 

“All yours, Sir,” you confirm, breathlessly. “Please… please fuck me,” you find yourself begging, unable to take much more. You just want to feel him inside you; it’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, and you only wish you’d have met him sooner. 

“That’s not how you beg,” Sam growls, curling his fingers and making you cry out in pleasure. “Ask nicely, or I won’t fuck you at all.” 

“Please, Sir. Please will you fuck me? I need you to fuck me, please.” 

“That’s better,” Sam hums, removing his fingers and stroking his cock, slicking it with your juices from his fingers. “Such a good girl, I can tell you’re going to do so well,” he praises. 

He leans over you, teasing the tip of his cock through your arousal, softly pressing against your opening as he chuckles at your desperation. You buck your hips in hopes that he’ll slide deeper, but he holds back, smirking almost evilly down at you, clearly relishing in just what he’s driven you to. 

“Please, Sir,” you beg one last time, barely audible through your gasps for breath. 

Sam leans down, bringing his mouth close to your ear, his cock still only just inside you. “I love the way that sounds on your lips,” he breathes out, his cock throbbing as if to prove his point. “I can’t wait to show you exactly how I like it.” And just the thought of this getting even better, has you on the edge.

[fanfictionalraven]

Dream Warriors Chapter 7

Title: Dream Warriors Chapter 7

Summary: The story jumps back a few days. The pieces fall into place.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, other original characters

Word Count: 2,438

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Author’s Note: I didn't realize how short this one was. I hope things make sense.

Read Chapter 6 here.

*Three Days Earlier* 

You step out of the steamy shower and grab the nearby towel, drying your arms and legs off quickly. You, Dean, and Sam had just gotten back to the bunker after a long hunt and the shower had been the perfect remedy for your achy, tense muscles. Wrapping the towel around yourself tight, you step out into the hallway. Normally, you wouldn’t have risked a towel-clad run through the halls of the bunker but you’d been in such a rush to get under the hot water you hadn’t bothered to grab your clothes. You round a corner and run smack into a plaid covered chest. Dean’s arm catches you at the waist quickly. 

“Whoa, Sweetheart,” he says, looking down at you. The two of you stand there for a moment before Dean clears his throat and lets you go. You tighten your grip on the towel as you take an awkward step away from your best friend. “I, ugh…I was just coming to find you actually.” 

“What’s up?” You ask. 

“Sammy found a case,” he says. You blink and shake your head slightly. 

“Another one? We just got back,” you tell him. He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Says it’s a witch and he already knows who it is. Quickie,” he says with a wink. You let out a laugh and nod. “You don’t have to go. You took a pretty big hit on this last one. Rest up and we should be back by the end of the night.” 

“Hell, no, Winchester,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “You two don’t get to have all the fun around here. Now, let me go get dressed. I don’t like the way you’re leering at me.” 

“I don’t leer,” Dean says, stepping aside. Winking at him, you rush past and down to your bedroom. 

You throw on the first set of clothes you find before taking care of your wet head. A few minutes later, you meet Sam and Dean in the garage. Both are leaned against the Impala waiting. Dean laughs and shakes his head. 

“You gotta quit raiding my closet when I’m not home,” he says. You raise an eyebrow at him. 

“What?” You ask. 

“That’s my shirt,” he says, pointing to the oversized plaid shirt you’re wearing. You look at it then back at him and shrug. 

“Is that a problem?” You ask, crossing your arms. He smirks as he looks you over. 

“Not even remotely,” he says. Sam rolls his eyes and turns to get in the car, mumbling something about being disgusted. 

“You’re leering again, Winchester,” you tell him before going around to the backdoor of the car. Dean rolls his eyes as he gets in as well. 

It’s only about an hour drive to their possible witch’s house. You and Dean spend the drive annoying Sam by singing obnoxiously to Dean’s old cassettes. Dean parks the car across the street from the house and Sam quickly shuts the radio off. 

“That was my favorite song!” You protest. Sam shoots a look back at you before pointing to the house. 

“Kaylee Morgan,” he says. 

“And why do we think she’s our witch?” Dean asks, pulling his gun out. Sam glances at him. 

“Well, she hasn’t exactly been hiding her feelings about a couple of strange deaths in town,” he explains. You nod slightly as you look at the house. 

“Okay. Well…that doesn’t mean she’s behind it,” you object. Sam nods and pulls his phone out. 

“I went through her social media, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter,” he starts, scrolling. “Two weeks ago, she checked in at a bookstore. A weird, old bookstore with weird, old books. She posted this picture.” He shows the two of you a picture of a book. 

“Weird and old. Sure,” you say, nodding. Sam switches screens on his phone. 

“It’s an old witchcraft book. Like…worse than the Grimoire we have,” he explains. “A few days later, she literally tagged both of the victims in a post telling them to watch out.” 

“Did the cops check her out?” Dean asks. Sam nods. 

“They did but there wasn’t anything to link her to the crimes so they cleared her. But their deaths were definitely…witchy. Called the medical examiner and guess what he found on each of the two bodies?” 

“Hex bags?” You ask. 

“Hex bags,” Sam says, smiling. Dean nods then shrugs his shoulders. 

“Well this should be easy enough. What do you say we waste the bitch then go hit that diner we passed on the way in?” He asks, holding his gun up. 

“We still need to make sure,” you tell Dean, leaning over the front seat. You pop open the glove box and dig around briefly before pulling a badge out. You check the ID quickly to make sure it’s one of yours then fall back into the seat. “I’ll go in. Talk to her. See what I can get.” 

“What? By yourself?” Dean asks. You shrug and pull your phone out. 

“I’ll leave you on speaker. If you hear anything, come running,” you tell them as you call Dean. He takes his phone out and puts it on speaker before muting it. 

“Y/N,” he says as you open the door. You look back at him and he’s frowning. “Be careful.” 

“Always,” you say with a wink before getting out quickly. Glancing down the street, you rush across to the house. You knock on the door and look around the porch as you wait. It opens a moment later and you smile at the petite blonde behind it. “Ms. Morgan?” 

“Yes?” She asks, eyeing you skeptically. You pull the ID from your pocket and show it to her through the crack. 

“FBI. Agent Prince. Can I have a word with you?” You ask. She frowns as she looks at it then back at you. 

“I already talked to the police. They let me go,” she says. You smile and nod, pocketing the ID once again. 

“I understand. This is just a follow-up. Won’t take long. I promise,” you assure her. She watches you for a moment before sighing and pulling the door open all the way. Stepping inside, you look around. The house is decorated simply enough, nothing seemingly suspicious. “I like your hair,” you comment on her blue and green streaks as you follow her into the living room. She looks back at you as she takes a seat in a chair. 

“Can we skip the fake pleasantries and get on with it?” She asks. You force a smile and nod, sitting on the sofa across from her. 

“Sure. You knew the victims?” You ask. She shrugs her shoulders, crossing her arms. 

“We graduated together. They were a-holes,” she tells you. You nod slightly. 

“What? Bullies?” You ask. She shrugs her shoulders once again. “Why did you threaten them?” 

“I didn’t,” she says. 

“You tagged them…” 

“In one little post telling them they needed to be careful who they piss off, sure. But there was no threat,” she argues. You nod once as you watch her. “Besides, how would I have done it? I’m a college dropout. Didn’t their hearts explode or something?” 

“Well, it doesn’t take a college degree to Google something or…I don’t know…read a book,” you say. She tenses up slightly and you smile. “Anything sounding familiar?” 

“No. I don’t think so. Excuse me,” she says, standing suddenly. You watch as she leaves the living room quickly. You take your phone out and hold it closer. “She’s definitely hiding something,” you say quietly. 

“We’re coming up,” Dean says before ending the call. You rise to your feet and start to walk around the living room, casually looking for clues. 

“Are your friends coming?” Kaylee asks, suddenly behind you again. You spin around and raise an eyebrow at her. 

“Pardon?” You ask. 

“You’re a hunter, right? Your friends out in that old junker. You tell them I’m a witch?” She asks. Your eyes narrow and you take a swing, hitting her square in the jaw. She stumbles back and grabs a nearby vase, smashing it against your head. Your ears begin to ring and you blink as you take a step away. The door opens and Sam and Dean come rushing into the house. 

“Y/N!!” Dean calls out. Kaylee looks over as Dean and Sam step into the room. 

“Time to go,” she says. “Somnium clipeum!” She throws a handful of powder at you and everything goes black as you fall to the floor. Dean’s eyes widen as he looks around. 

“Y/N!!” He rushes to your side and drops to his knees, checking your pulse. “She’s alive. Where the hell did that witch go?” 

“I don’t know. She…she literally disappeared,” Sam says before running into the next room. 

“Y/N,” Dean says, shaking you slightly. “Y/N, you gotta wake up, Sweetheart.” Sam comes back into the room and shakes his head. 

“She’s just gone,” he says. Dean frowns and moves to lift your body into his arms. 

“She hit Y/N with something. We gotta get her to a hospital,” he tells his brother. Sam nods and rushes to the front door.

They get your body out to the car and Dean gets into the backseat, holding you close. “Come on, Y/N, please.” He pleads and begs constantly the entire drive to the hospital, trying to wake you up. Sam pulls the car into the parking lot of a local hospital. The two brothers get you into the emergency room and a couple of nurses jump up from the desk. One runs down the hall as the other approaches. 

“What happened?” She asks, checking your pulse quickly. Dean shakes his head. 

“She just fell out,” he says. The second nurse returns with a stretcher and Dean lays you on it. They begin to push you back and Dean starts to follow before the nurse stops him. 

“You need to wait here,” she tells him. Sam touches his brother’s shoulder and the two move into the waiting room together. Dean falls into a chair and runs his hands over his face. 

“I shouldn’t have let her go in alone,” he says. Sam sighs and shakes his head. 

“Dean, we didn’t know. We didn’t think she’d be in that much danger,” he tries to comfort his brother. 

A few minutes later, the first nurse comes back into the waiting room. Dean jumps up and rushes over to her, Sam right behind him. She smiles at them, reassuringly. 

“We don’t have anything yet. They’re still working on her. I need you to fill out the paperwork though,” she says, handing Dean a clipboard. He nods slightly as he takes it. 

“Right…right,” he says before returning to his seat. Sam sits next to him and watches over his shoulder as Dean begins to fill out the paper. He raises an eyebrow as he writes a name. 

“Y/N Winchester?” He asks. Dean shrugs slightly. 

“If they think I’m her husband, they’ll let me go back and see her more easily,” Dean says, not looking up. Sam watches with amazement as Dean moves through the paperwork quickly and easily, not having to think about a single answer. 

“She’s allergic to Tylenol?” He asks. Dean looks at him and nods. 

“Yea? You didn’t know that?” He asks. Sam shakes his head slightly. 

“Why would I know that?” He asks. Dean shrugs and looks back at the paper. He checks to make sure everything is filled out before going back to the desk. 

“My wife’s paperwork,” he says, handing it to the nurse. She smiles and thanks him. 

The two sit. They pace. They wait. Four hours later, a doctor comes into the waiting room and looks around. 

“Winchester?” He asks. Dean, who had been standing at a window, rushes over. 

“My wife. Is she awake??” He asks quickly. The doctor frowns and shakes his head. Sam sighs as he walks over as well. 

“We have no idea what is going on. Everything seems perfectly normal. By all accounts, she should be awake,” he says. Dean stares at him and shakes his head. 

“So…you’ve got nothing?” He asks. 

“I’m sorry. You two can go back to her. Talk to her, it might help,” he says. Dean runs a hand over his jaw and nods. 

“Yea, okay,” he says.

The doctor leads the two Winchesters down the hall to the room where you’re lying, still unconscious. Dean frowns as he takes in the tubes and wires, connected to you, keeping you alive. Sam pats his older brother on the shoulder before walking around to the other side of the bed. 

“Ugh…hey, Y/N. I don’t know if you can hear us but…we really need you to come back,” he says, reaching out and touching your arm. He stays there for a moment before clearing his throat and looking up. “I think…I’m gonna go back to that house. See if I can find the book and what spell she used.” Dean nods once and Sam leaves the room quickly. The older brother walks over to the bed slowly and falls into a chair next to you. He sits and watches you for a moment before reaching over and taking your hand. 

“Y/N,” he says before shaking his head and looking away. “This is stupid.” 

“I’ve seen it work before,” a woman says from the door. Dean turns and looks to find a nurse. She smiles at him as she walks over. “Sorry. Just came to check her IV.” She picks up the chart at the edge of the bed before looking at the machine. “It does seem a bit ridiculous. Talking to someone who can’t talk back. You aren’t sure if she can hear you or not. But…surprisingly, it does work.” 

“What do I say?” He asks, shaking his head. She smiles and shrugs. 

“Anything. Tell her about your day. Tell her you love her. Do you have kids?” She asks. Dean lets out a small laugh and shakes his head. “Maybe don’t talk about the kids then.” 

“Thank you,” he tells her. She nods and leaves the room. Dean looks back at you and sighs. “Look, don’t kick my ass over the whole wife thing when you wake up. It was just so I could be here without any questions.” He pauses and swallows back tears. “You gotta come back to me, Y/N. You gotta. I can’t…I can’t fight this fight without you. You’re…everything. My best friend. My rock. You’re the only reason I have any hope these days. Please, come back.” 

Read Chapter 8 here.

Forever Tags: @roseblue373

Jensen Tags: @call-me-mrs-winchester

Dream Warriors: @aylacavebear @winharry @djs8891 @suckitands33 @rickgrimeswifeu @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @foxyjwls007 @alisycsa @lailawinchesterr @urinternetmom @justrealizedimmascifygurl @kr804573 @thej2report @just-levyy @snowayumi @deans-baby-momma @demons-eats-pie-too @brightlilith @kazsmr67 @onlyangel444

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean

Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam is haunted by a vision of a woman trapped in his childhood house

Warning: cannon violence, tension/ minor flirting, slight angst and comfort, mentions of death, mentions of a dead parent, the use of witchcraft that isn't exactly apart of Supernatural lore but does have ties to many folklore's interpretations of a witches capability from European Folklore to Appalachian Folk Magic and many more (i used a mix of different lore to create my own interpretation) this took so long to research, l also was testing things out in my apartment so i'd be able to write it properly- literally rearranging furniture for it

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld ,

@okayiamkassandra, @fablerose , @ada--44

Word Count: 12,947

Home

(Master list, Previous Ch., Next Ch.)

I stumble into the boys motel room, stifling a yawn from passing through my lips. Did I wake up two hours ago and refuse to get out of the stiff motel bed instead of coming to meet my lovely friends in their room?

Yes!

“Good morning my little stabby hunters” I greet cheerfully, closing and locking the door behind me. Sam mumbles some incoherent version of a greeting from where he sat on his bed while Dean looks up from Sam’s laptop, “Mornin’ sweetheart”

I walk up to each boy individually giving their hair a nice ruffle before shuffling my way to sit criss-cross applesauce on the unoccupied bed. “You had perfect timing ‘cause I think I found a few candidates for our next gig.”

“Oooh how fun” I half sarcastically say, “read ‘em out!”

“Alright we got a fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali” I nod pretending to know what a ‘trawler’ is, “ –-its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.” Dean lists out looking up every now and then for a reaction, “Hey. Sammy.” He calls out to his brother who’s sat drawing something on a little notepad.

Sam looks up, giving Dean an annoyed look waiting for what he has to say. Dean leans back in his chair, “Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”

“No. I’m listening. Keep going.” Sam declares, going right back to his drawing. He was in fact not paying attention.

“And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times.” He stops speaking again, waving his hand in the air intended to get his brother's attention, “Any of these things blowin’ up your skirt, pal?”

Sam suddenly sits up fully, “Wait. I’ve seen this.”

“Seen what?” I ask, Dean and I sharing a confused look. But Sam doesn't answer, he just crosses the room towards his duffel bag, searching for something. “What are you doing?” Dean asks. Again Sam doesn't answer, finally finding whatever he was looking for he pauses studying the two things in his hands, he swiftly turns around “I know where we have to go next.”

“Where?” Dean muses, asking the question were both thinking.

“Back home –- back to Kansas” Sam breathes, a hint of panic in his eyes.

“Okay, random. Where’d that come from?”

Sam shows the thing he took out of his bag, a photo, to his brother, I get up to view it too. “All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?” Sam asks, looking between the sort of family photo taken in front of their house and his brother.

“Yeah.” Dean answers plainly.

“And it didn’t burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?” Sam asks further.

“Yeah it took ‘em a while to, I think it was mostly out of respect because no one ever moved in after you either, as far as I know.” I answer only knowing because I lived in town even after they moved away.

“Okay, well, someone lives there now…and, I, uh, look, this is gonna sound crazy but….the people who live in our old house –- I think they might be in danger.” Sam stammers

“Why would you think that?” Dean asks the obvious question. “Uh…it’s just, um….look, just trust me on this, okay?” He starts to walk away to the other side of the room, Dean following suit, “Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?”

The fighting begins, I think to myself as I chew on the inside of my cheek. I knew Dean would probably act harsher then he meant to, his mom—his old house being a very rough topic for him.

Now it’s Sam’s turn to answer simply, “Yeah.”

“Come on, man, that’s weak. You gotta give me a little bit more than that.” Dean raises his voice slightly.

“I can’t really explain it is all” Sam says looking around the room instead of making eye contact.

“Well, tough. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you do” Dean crosses his arms waiting expectantly.

Sam sighs, “I have these nightmares.”

“I’ve noticed” Dean says while nodding and I want to step in and lecture him for coming off so mean, but I bite my tongue.

“And sometimes…” Sam pauses for a while before continuing, “…they come true.” This time I don’t bite my tongue, the word slipping out of my lips out of pure shock, “Sam” I gasp. “Come again?” Dean says almost at the same time as my gasp.

“Look….I dreamt about Jessica’s death –- for days before it happened.” Sam tries to explain further, nearly getting cut off by his brother, “Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” I know Dean doesn't want to believe it, I know he’s scared of what this could mean. But I can’t help but feel this is like the argument Dean had started on my twelfth birthday, all those years ago. It felt especially silly to feel this way now, not when I never held a grudge against him because of it. Maybe I should have but I could never find it within myself to do so.

Dean sits down on one of the beds and it’s clear he doesn't know what to do with himself. Sam begins to explain himself more, which I hate the fact he has to, “No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it. And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”

“I don’t know.” Dean huffs out. It’s clear he’s overwhelmed, which is a significantly better reaction than what I got to his whole realization of what I really was—a witch—despite the fact he already knew that. I want to respect their relationship and not speak when it’s not my right to, and yet if it comes down to it I know I will. I won’t let their relationship fall apart because of this, I won’t let a hatred form between them. Let alone like how Dean had hated me for months and I had hated myself too.

“I-it can mean something. There's a lot of cultures that believe that dreams are capable of showing the future as a guidance or even as a warning. Egyptians, Romans, and Greeks, they all believed in this; it's,um, called oneiromancy.” I pipe in quietly as if scared that saying it too loud would shatter the delicate atmosphere. Sam was looking at me with big eyes like he was hanging on to each word I spoke, nodding along.

“All right, just slow down, would ya?” Dean stands abruptly beginning to pace the carpeted floor, “I mean, first you tell me that you’ve got the Shining? And then you tell me that I’ve gotta go back home? Especially when….”

“When what?” Sam asks carefully.

Dean sounds on the verge of tears, probably the most vulnerable he’s been in a long time, “When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?” The air, the atmosphere itself, felt fragile then too as if something so palpable had to be careful of where it stood

Sam begins softly, his eyes scrunched in a mix of worry and sympathy, “Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure.”

“I know we do.” Dean nods, his head hung low.

The Impala pulls up in front of the old Winchester house, the cute little two story green house standing there simply. I can’t help but wonder if in a hundred years these people who lived in Lawrence would know what happened here? The family that was lost here? Maybe not physically but you can trace everything back to this simple house, where these boys lost a piece of themselves no matter how young they were. You can still feel it in the air now, in this car with Dean's head hung low as he peers up at his old house, the only and last house he’s ever had.

“You gonna be all right, man?” Sam asks, trying to catch his brother's eyes. Dean swallow’s thickly, “Let me get back to you on that.” We exit the safety of the car and with each step forward the weight of this settles on our shoulders, the realness of this all. I know this isn’t about me, but if I let my mind stop focusing on the task at hand I know that it will wisp away to my old house. Just on the other side of town, to every moment I spent wandering the streets with no where particular in mind-

A sharp knocking on the front door snaps me out of my mind. A pretty blonde opens the door, her eyebrows scrunched in what seems like stress, “Yes?” she answers.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal—“ Dean begins his lie getting cut off by his brother, “I’m Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Dean, and our friend Y/N. My brother and I, uh, we used to live here. You know, we were just drivin’ by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.”

“Winchester. Yeah, that’s so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night.” She laughs lightly. Dean's face drops a little, a mix of curiosity and longing on his face that if I hadn’t seen it before, hadn’t known him so well I wouldn’t have recognized it. “You did?” he asks, and I'd have to think it was a look of longing for his life back then, before he lost his mom, to a life that was so simple and child-like because that might have been the only time he really was a child.

She nods and steps aside, “Come on in.” The inside of the house wasn’t so much different from what I’ve been told about it, she shuts and locks the door behind us and we wait for her to lead us further in before moving. “I’m Jenny by the way” she says moving past us. She leads us into the big kitchen, a young girl doing homework at the table while an adorable jumpy toddler bounces in his little playpen, I can’t help the smile that creeps up on my face at the sight.

“Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!” The toddler chants, bouncing as he speaks.

“That’s Ritchie. He’s kind of a juice junkie.” She introduces going over to the fridge, taking out a sippy cup and handing it to the bouncy baby. “He has good taste” I laugh, the kid being just so freaking adorable.

Jenny walks over to her daughter, “Sari, this is Sam and Dean, they used to live here. And that’s their friend Y/n.” I smile at the girl who greets us with a small “Hi.” Dean for some reason waved awkwardly at the child, as if he doesn't know how to act around kids when that’s so far from the truth.

“Hey, Sari.” Sam smiles before allowing her to get back to her homework.

“So, you just moved in?” Dean asks, jumping right to it. “Yeah, from Wichita.” Jenny answers, referring to a different part of Kansas.

“You got family here, or….?” Dean continues to ask, and honestly it’s kind of a creepy question. She answers a little hesitantly, “No. I just, uh….needed a fresh start, that’s all. So, new town, new job –- I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.”

“Do you like it here?” I ask genuinely. “Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home” She starts looking at the boys as she speaks, “…I mean, I’m sure you had lots of happy memories here…but this place has its issues.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks almost a little too quickly.

Jenny sighs, “Well, it’s just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly.”

“I think that’s an easy fix” I try to remain hopeful, it’s not like we can just tell her ‘oh yeah that’s ‘cause your house is probably haunted by a demon or something.’ And under the assumption that it was just faulty wiring, I really wasn’t sure if it was an easy fix. I mean I am no electrician.

“Anything else?” Dean adds in.

“Um…sink’s backed up, there’s rats in the basement.” She lists off before pausing for a beat, looking between us nervously, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.” Dean looks a little taken back by this concern, because what was written on his face was far from offense, “No. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?”

“It’s just the scratching, actually.” She answers.

“Mom?” Sari calls out lightly, Jenny kneels down to her daughter waiting for her to continue, “Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”

“What, Sari?” Sam asks, confused.

“The thing in my closet.” She answers weakly, and I swear my heart broke a little at the way in which she said it.

“Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets.” Jenny answers softly, reminding me of my mothers soft tone when she spoke to us. Jenny looks up at the boys, “Right?”

Sam stumbles over his words as he answers, “Right. No, no, of course not.”

“She had a nightmare the other night.” Jenny explains, a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

Sari shakes her head, “I wasn’t dreaming. It came into my bedroom –- and it was on fire.”

Uh oh.

~~~~~~~~

“You hear that? A figure on fire.” Sam whisper-shouts, mainly to his brother who was walking a little too quickly then necessary to his car. The man in question turns around swiftly, “And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?”

“Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit.” Sam bites back.

“Yeah, well, I’m just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin’ true.” Dean snaps.

Sam’s eyes were wide with panic, “Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it’s the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?”

“I don’t know!” Dean snaps.

Back and forth they fight like two dogs having a barking match from just over the fence. “Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?” Sam starts again.

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely, Sam, we don’t know yet.��

“Well, those people are in danger, Dean. We have to get ‘em out of that house.”

“And we will.”

“No, I mean now.”

“And how you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she’s gonna believe?”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“Both of you, stop!” I nearly shout, both boys going quiet, “Look” I sigh. “I get this is scary and all but you two bickering isn’t going to get us anywhere! And if we want to help that nice family we have to think logically. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, maybe it’s something else or maybe we have to prepare ourselves for the fact that it is that monster.

Either way we can’t just run into this with assumptions or lead on feeling alone, okay? ‘Cause that’s how we mess up and wind up dead and I don’t know ‘bout you boys but i’m not quite craving the taste of death just yet.” I take a deep breath before continuing, “So, let’s pretend this is any ol’ case, any other hunt. What do we do first?”

“Research” Dean mumbles as if he was a kid who got caught doing something wrong, which arguably isn’t so far from the truth.

“Check our bases, dig into the history” Sam adds.

“Exactly” I smile, “Good job”

Dean opens the driver seat door, getting in as he speaks, “Except this time, we already know what happened.”

Sam and I followed suit, “Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?” he asks. Dean looks around a little uncomfortable, “About that night, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Not much. I remember the fire…the heat.” He pauses, “And then I carried you out the front door.”

“You did?” Sam asks surprised.

Dean scuffs, starting the car and pulling out of the spot, “Yeah, what, you never knew that?”

Sam shakes his head, “No.”

Dean continues, “And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do. Mom was….was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?” Sam questions further, and up until now I didn’t realize how much he was kept in the dark about such a significant moment in his life.

Dean shrugs, “If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.” Sam starts again, “Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s goin’ on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing.”

Dean again looks around uncomfortably, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, “Yeah. We’ll talk to Dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

Sam notices this obvious movement like I did and pauses for a moment, you could see the gears turning in his head, “Does this feel like just another job to you?” Dean clears his throat, suddenly jerking the car off to the left side of the road right up to the curb, the car poorly parked, “I’ll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom.” The second he finishes his sentence he’s out of the car and walking away into some local business that I couldn’t quite see the name of.

“I- I don’t understand him” Sam suddenly says as he watches his brother leave, turning in the passenger seat to talk to me properly, “It would be so much easier if he just…” He sighs, “talked to me.”

“I… don’t want to excuse his actions because you are right, but at the same time you know he was never taught how to be vulnerable.” I try to explain, carefully choosing my words knowing there were eggshells surrounding our feet. He then mumbles something incoherently about their childhood, he looks back up at me, “you know, you don’t really talk about your childhood either.”

“Maybe it’s just something about Kansas” I joke, he laughs lowly, “But I ,uh, I would like to tell you about it…someday…” I offer shyly, trying to offer him something in a moment where he has nothing

“I’d like that, at least I could get closer to one of you” Sam smiles, sadly.

“Hey and maybe it will open the door to encourage Dean to speak up” I say.

“Yeah you know that’s not gonna happen” He scuffs.

“Well, I was trying to be a little optimistic.”

When Dean came back to the car he was dead quiet, his eyes were glossy but he refused to talk. It wasn’t uncommon for him, not one bit.

Sitting in the back of the Impala, I watched the buildings and trees pass by. All blocks I was familiar with even if it was far from where I had actually lived, but when you're lonely you tend to find walking for an eternity isn’t so bad. Funnily enough, sitting in the back of this car felt eerily similar to when I was a child, my dad as quiet as an owl, a then changed man having lost his world. Only, he had forgotten my brother and I had lost her too, and that we were still around to begin with.

Dean stared at the road like my dad had all those years ago, so deeply as if they were to look away it would disappear right beneath them. Then Sam sat in the passenger seat looking between his brother and out the window not knowing what to say, like my brother always did. And I of course still played the same role because some things never change, some feelings never do fully leave.

Dean suddenly clears his throat, “Alright, up ahead is an old pal of dads.” Just as suddenly as he said it, he also hadn’t given us time to say anything before pulling over once more, this time in front of a mechanic's place. A sign reading “Guenther’s Auto Repair” in big red letters hung above a large garage unit. The smell of metal and grease breeze by my nose as I exit the car, following after the two taller men with what I thought was a forgotten sadness now back. I can’t imagine how they must feel, how Dean must feel.

They effortlessly found and began a discussion with the owner, easily lying about being cops which felt especially wrong today. It felt wrong to lie to anyone from the town I pretty much grew up in, even if I never knew any of them.

“So you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?” Dean asks the older man. I knew their father was a mechanic but hadn’t known he had his own garage and partner.

“Yeah, we used to, a long time ago. Matter of fact, it must be, uh…twenty years since John disappeared. So why the cops interested all of a sudden?” He says, whipping his dirty hands on a rag stained with car grease.

“Oh, we’re re-opening some of our unsolved cases, and the Winchester disappearance is one of ‘em.” Dean answers smoothly, and I guess it isn’t technically a lie either. He accepts the answer with no further, visible, speculation, “Oh, well, what do you wanna know about John?”

“Well, whatever you remember, you know, whatever sticks out in your mind.” Dean suggests.

“Well…he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that.” He laughs. “And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It’s that whole Marine thing. But, oh, he sure loved Mary. And he doted on those kids.” To that I have to stop myself from reacting, for some reason I can’t picture John being anything less of what he is now, in terms of strictness and toughness.

“But that was before the fire?” Sam points out.

He nods, “That’s right.”

“He ever talk about that night?” Sam adds. He seems to think for a moment, “No, not at first. I think he was in shock.”

“Right. But eventually? What did he say about it?” Sam clarifies.

“Oh, he wasn’t thinkin’ straight. He said somethin’ caused that fire and killed Mary.”

“He ever say what did it?” Dean asks this time.

“Nothin’ did it. It was an accident –- an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or somethin’. I begged him to get some help, but….” He explains.

“But what?”

“Oh, he just got worse and worse.” He answered, sympathy written all over his face.

“How?” Dean asks carefully.

“He started readin’ these strange ol’ books. He started goin’ to see this palm reader in town.” He says, suddenly catching my attention, an air of familiarity surrounding it.

“Palm reader? Uh, do you have a name?” Dean questions. I scrunch my eyebrows together trying to remember why this was familiar.

He responds at the same time it suddenly hits me, “No” he scuffs.

The name leaves my mouth in quiet thought, “Missouri Moseley.”

All three of them look at me strangely, before Dean grabs hold of my upper arm, throwing the man a smile and a “Excuse us.” He begins pulling me away from the garage and back to the car, his brother following after us after he had thanked the man.

“Where’d you get that name from?” Dean asks me sternly, looking down at me with sharp curious eyes, his grip on my arm never faulting.

I look up at him, his green eyes piercing mine, expectantly, but I find myself at a loss for words. Each syllable ready to be spoken but dying on my tongue, all in the fault of once more feeling like my younger self. Sam reaches for his brother's shoulder, almost pulling him away from me, “Ease up, Dean.” He shakes his brother off, but listens, releasing my arm and swallowing thickly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay” I cut him off quickly. I wasn’t scared of him at that moment, but of the past and I knew he was too. We all were.

“I remember your dad came over and mentioned that name, along with her being the real deal. I just don’t remember what the conversation was about, I mean it had to be years ago…” I feel my eyebrows scrunch together again as I try to recall more, glimpses of the memory popping up. Our dads sitting on the long vintage couches my mom had bought for the house while me and my brother ran outside to play, “It was at the original house, m-maybe a year before we moved to Kansas.”

“So three years after mom died” Sam nods.

“Yeah that seems about right, but I’m not sure if that encounter was like right after your dad met this Missouri or some time after.” I add

“It sounds familiar. '' Dean breathed out before rounding the car to the trunk, digging through it before pulling out the journal. “In Dad’s journal…here, look at this.” He flips it open, handing it off to his brother, “First page, first sentence, read that.”

Sam takes the book, reading the sentence out loud, “I went to Missouri and I learned the truth.”

“I always thought he meant the state.” Deans shrugs.

Missouri’s house was a cute little two story place. I admire the light brown wood paneling and stained glass windows, something I knew my mom would have loved. Dean and Sam sat squished together on a small couch, all of us waiting for her to be finished with her client. I choose to stand, not only to see them both quietly fight to sit on the couch but also to slightly look around the place without wandering around.

A round faced, warm brown skinned lady with big curly hair tied back in a ponytail escorts a man out of her house, “All right, there. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.” She tells him, her voice a natural soft and sweet tone, accompanied with a southern accent.

She closes the front door behind him, turning to face us, “Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.” Her sweet voice does nothing to soften her blunt statement, my eyes go wide with the comment.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Dean asks her,

“People don’t come here for the truth. They come for good news.” She answers simply, causing the room to fall quiet for a beat, “Well? Y/n, Sam and Dean, come on already, I ain’t got all day.” She leaves the room, I follow after her only pausing when I realize the boys weren’t following. I turn back towards them waving them over, they share a look before getting up and following.

“Well, lemme look at ya.” She laughs, “Oh, you boys grew up handsome.” She points a finger at Dean, “And you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.” A burst of laughter slips through my lips before I can control myself, his face falls and he glares at her.

Her gaze turns to me, my laughter dying out but a permanent smile left on my face, “Oh, you never lost your beauty” She smiles.

“You knew me when I was younger?” I ask, confused.

“Well of course, I knew your mother. Bless her soul” She answers, only leaving me more confused ‘cause my mom never mentioned her and I would sure remember such a sweet and funny woman.

“We helped each other out back then”, she explains, “She would always show me pictures of you and your brother. You were always a smiley girl, it’s good to see you didn’t lose that. Your mother would be glad too.” A warmth blossoms in my heart at that, my smile softens with me and it was like something I didn’t even know was within was fulfilled. It was hard to find new memories of my mom when I really didn’t know anyone who had known her, other than our family, to ask. Missouri hadn’t given me a full in depth memory and yet, it was enough. Enough to know someone else clearly adored my mom and had seen her in the same light I did. I don’t know why my mom never told us about her, but for some reason I didn’t feel the need to ask.

She gives me one last smile before giving her attention to Sam, she grabs his hand, her face falling, “Oh, honey…I’m sorry about your girlfriend.” A wave of shock clearly passes over the boys face, “And your father –- he’s missin’?” she continued.

“How’d you know all that?” Sam asks, clearly forgetting she is a psychic.

“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now.” She explains.

“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean rapidly spews out.

She half shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know? Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?” He snaps back, far too hostile.

She gives him a weird look, “Boy, you see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air.” A laugh passes through my lips before I could stop myself, I nudge Dean's shoulder who glares sharply at me before turning that look to Missouri, only furthering my spits of giggles that I try to bite back.

Her demeanor changes back to gentle, “Sit, please.” We listen to her, I took a seat beside Sam so that I wasn’t squished between both boys. Missouri suddenly snaps at Dean, “Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon!”

“I didn’t do anything.” Dean argues, his voice seemingly an octave higher- like a child.

“But you were thinkin’ about it.” She answers.

“Oh, I like you” I say through my laughter, it was quite the breath of fresh air to see someone put gruff ‘macho man’ Dean in his place.

Sam gets back on topic, whipping the smile that formed on his face, “Okay. So, our dad –- when did you first meet him?”

“He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say…I drew back the curtains for him.” She responds.

“What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?” Dean asks.

“A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin’ I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing” She explains.

“And could you?” Sam asks

She shakes her head, “I…”

“What was it?”

She answers softly, “I don’t know. Oh, but it was evil.”, She pauses for a beat, “So…you think somethin’ is back in that house?”

“Definitely” Sam breathes.

She shakes her head again, “I don’t understand.”

“What?” Sam asks.

“I haven’t been back inside, but I’ve been keepin’ an eye on the place, and it’s been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin’ up now?” She explains.

“I don’t know. But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once –- it just feels like something’s starting.” Sam says, eyebrows scrunched in worry.

“That’s a comforting thought.” Dean mumbles.

~~~~~~~~~

The ride back to the Winchesters house was the light in this complex time. The entire ride Missouri lectured Dean on his driving saying he was just a little too reckless and was gonna get us all killed despite it being a generally short one. They bickered back and forth a while until Dean gave up grumbling something below his breath, causing another snap response from the woman herself.

When we finally arrived Dean quickly got out of the car before anyone else could even register being parked, I genuinely don’t think I've ever seen him happy to be out of Baby. He had very obviously, and purposefully, positioned himself so that he was standing next to me away from Missouri, in fact two people away as she stood on the other side of Sammy. I searched for Dean's hand, my fingers brushed against his larger rougher hand. I clasped it gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze to hopefully ease his tension, caused by the beef he had with the nice lady that was helping us to begin with, even though I most definitely found the whole thing hilarious. Just as Sam knocked on the door I released Dean's hand, bringing both my hands to clasp in front of me. A peak of nervousness rests in my gut as I feel his gaze on me, I ignore it, focusing my eyes forward while I rock on the balls of my feet.

Jenny answers the door, her blond hair messy and clear stress present in the crinkled corner of her eyes and worry etched into her pupils. She holds her baby, Ritchie, close to her chest, “Sam, Dean, Y/N. What are you doing here?”

Sam smiles at the blond, “Hey, Jenny. This is our friend, Missouri.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house. You know, for old time’s sake” Dean chimes in.

She scrunches her nose, “You know, this isn’t a good time. I’m kind of busy.”

“Listen, Jenny, it’s important.” Dean tries to explain before Missouri smacks him hard on the back of the head, far harder than I ever do, “Ow!” He yelps, turning around swiftly towards the shorter woman, “How did you-!” He nearly yells holding the back of his head. He looks at her with big wild eyes, his yelling coming from the fact she was able to quietly get behind Sam and I to hit him.

Missouri cuts him off, “Give the poor girl a break, can’t you see she’s upset?” She then turns to Jenny, “Forgive this boy, he means well, he’s just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out.” Dean looks further stunned.

“About what?” Jenny asks, adjusting her hold on her kid.

“About this house.” Missouri answers.

“What are you talking about?” Jenny looks between us all, nervously.

“I think you know what I’m talking about. You think there’s something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?” Missouri says.

“Who are you?” Jenny asks just above a whisper.

“We’re people who can help, who can stop this thing. But you’re gonna have to trust us, just a little.” Missouri smiles comfortingly but even so Jenny looks unsure.

She seems to go over it in her head before finally sighing, “Alright.”

The four of us stand in Sari’s bedroom, Jenny having given us room to do what we need to while she waits downstairs with her kids. Sari’s room was a dark blue, a contrast to her pink and white furniture and toys.

“If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it.” Missouri states, looking around the room carefully from where she stood.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.” She answers, looking around the room. Dean pulls out his DIY EMF from the inside of his coat pocket, “That an EMF?” Missouri asks.

“Yeah.” Dean smiles smugly.

“Amateur.” Missouri says lowly, I don’t know why she was targeting Dean specifically but his reaction to her was too amusing to really ponder it.

The EMF beeps frantically, “I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain’t the thing that took your mom.” Missouri announces.

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam asks frantically, getting a confident nod, “How do you know?”

“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s somethin’ different.” She answers, pausing for a beat before adding, “Can you feel it Y/N?”

My eyes widened in shock, “I’m sorry what?”

“You still got a lot to learn ‘bout your abilities'' She responds waving me over, “c’mere, you might be able to sense the energy.”

I hesitantly place my bag down before slowly walking over to her, she either senses my nervousness or reads my mind because she explains what she means, “Witches tend to have the best intuition and connection to the natural world, you should be able to sense energies especially spiritual ones with a second sight.”

She situates me in front of her with my back towards her, her hands clasp my arms tightly as they rest at my side. “Close your eyes, and just like meditation let everythin’ else fall away.”

I follow her instructions, my eyes fluttering shut reluctantly. I feel incredibly silly as I take a deep breath, the sage-y perfume of the woman behind me filling my nose. I breathe out slowly, forcing my mind to shut out the real world, which isn’t as hard as it should be with the quiet room and my nearly regular meditating. Complete darkness surrounds me as if the room itself had fallen away with all the people in it too, just me floating in an abyss.

I focused more closely on the house itself, extending my awareness far out to the block and then as if a dark fog hugged it I zeroed in on the house. Using my conscious self I pictured what it was like to walk through the house this time with a deep focus and new eyes.

With each step I ventured further into the house cautiously, a buzzing feeling rang through the house like when two strong magnets fight for equilibrium with a clatter. But despite the buzzing a physical warm glow emitted from the home's edges and like a hand reaching out it tried to conquer more of the house, yet it couldn’t. A force I couldn't quite tell held it back. The hair on the back of my neck stood tall, a cold chill running down my spine, I shrugged it off as I walked back up the stairs and down the hall to my physical self.

My foot only breached the doorway when a dreadful feeling filled the halls as if rooted beneath the wallpaper, a twinge of fear made its home in my stomach. I had never done this before, never went into my mind to feel the very things I hunt. I have no experience here, this is not my domain. They must know that as hushed murmurs fluttered around me with voices I couldn’t detect but knew they didn’t belong to anyone in the room. They wouldn’t be able to talk to me here so normally, maybe Missouri but certainly not Sam or Dean.

The murmurs became louder, each whisper jumbled over the next, talking over each other to the point of no recognition. My back hits the hard archway of the door's entrance, the sheer loudness of combined voices knocking me off balance. I braced myself against the door, nails biting into wood, my eyes shut tightly in effort to focus even further.

An unfamiliar cold hand brushes my forearm dragging its fingers up to my elbow as if standing beside me, I swiftly turn around backing up a few feet to see nothing near me. Another brush touches me, this time the back of my neck accompanied by a hot breath fanning by my ear. I don’t move away. this is not my domain, but it will be, and I will not show fear now. Latin spews from its mouth flowing right into my ear, a simple teasing statement, “Another toy.”

My eyes shoot open, pupils blown wide as my eyes adjust to the lighting as well as my mind being back in focus of the physical realm. My heart beats harshly against my chest, my lungs heaving with adrenaline.

A large hand clasps around my upper arm tightly, I nearly stumble back a step before my mind finally catches up with the present. “What is it?” Dean spews out quickly, his green eyes nearly crazed with worry.

I open my mouth to answer only to have Missouri answer for me instead, “You saw them.”

“F-felt more like” I stammer the feeling of its touch still lingering.

“What are they doing here?” Dean asks, looking between Missouri and I for answers, his hand still on my arm. Thing is I don’t have an answer, all that creepy spirit touching and I still don’t know everything.

But of course Missouri does, “They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected.”

“This house buzzes with energy, literally you can feel it attracting paranormal energy. There’s two here right now…ones in the room. My head turns towards the closet, “A poltergeist. I’m not sure if it sees it as a game or what but I think it wants Jenny and her kids dead.” I know I’m right when Missouri nods her head.

“You both said there was more than one spirit.”

“There is. I just can’t quite make out the second one.” Missouri answers before adding, “You pick up anythin’”

“Only that it felt…good, if that makes sense. It was very different from the other. It was like this warmth trying to consume the house or really rid the house of its evil.” I answer by trying to make sense of everything that I have experienced.

“You’re sure of this?” Dean asks me, gaining my attention again by squeezing my arm before finally letting go.

“Yes.” I breathe simply, failing to explain that my only other hunch was the fact that it hadn’t been bothering me or I suppose terrorizing me like the poltergeist had with its touching.

A hard determined look sharpens on Dean's face, “Well, one thing’s for damn sure –- nobody’s dyin’ in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

“We’re gonna cleanse the house” Missouri answers simply, “Y/N, what you have in that bag of yours?”

A devilish smirk stretches itself on my face, “You wanna do purifying bags?” I ask back instead of answering. I walk back over to my discarded bag picking it up and swinging it over my shoulder, “Let’s do this downstairs, don’t want to make a mess in the kids room” Missouri says, answering my question without really answering it.

“Copy” I smile, taking the lead as we exit the room. With a sudden need for my specialty I found a new pep in my step as I quickly descended the stairs beelining for the nearest table. I carefully placed my bag down on the dining room table, pulling out my spell book marked and written in along with small corked glass bottles of different roots and herbs I carry. “When did you put all of this in your bag?” Sam asks, picking up a vial of crossroad dirt.

“Before I left with Dean to come get you, ‘cause you never know when you're gonna have to put together a spell or a potion of sorts” I answer, pulling out a couple empty small brown pouches.

“So you’ve been carrying this ‘round with you this whole time?” Dean asks this time.

“Mhm” I hum as I sit getting right to work.

With a little bag in front of me I put in each ‘ingredient’, for lack of a better word, not needing to look at my book for the right amount in each.

“Well don’t be lazy, help the girl!” Missouri lectures hitting Dean on the back of the head again. He grumbles no longer snapping back with something, he sits down next to me looking for direction.

With the feeling of his gaze on the side of my face I swirl my finger towards my spell book, a purple haze floating through the air turning the pages of my book to the right section for him to follow without me having to stop my work. He doesn't say anything as he takes off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, putting his forearms on display as he picks up bits of root, unfortunately catching my attention enough to pause my work and stare at him.

His eyes move from my book to the bag he was working on, his eyes sharp and focus as it passes across the words on the page. He moves his hand to the book using a finger to drag across the page underneath each word, the veins in his hand bulging as he does so. His eyebrows scrunch and his jaw ticks as he asks, “What is this stuff anyway?”

“That’s angelica root your holding” I mentioned first, referring to the fuzzy green plant in his hand. “And that’s van van oil, crossroad dirt, sage” I point to each bottle, naming off each ingredient we’re using.

He nods as I speak, his eyes still holding the same level of focus. From his listening to the gentle touch he used as he handled each bottle, all I could feel was pure endearment. The sudden quietness in the room made me painfully aware of the fact that we were the only ones left in said room and that Missouri along with Sam had left at some point, most likely to talk to Jenny.

“What are we supposed to do with it?” Dean questioned, knocking his knee into mine to get my attention once more. A bashful smile breaks its way onto my face at his touch, “We put them inside the walls of each corner of each floor of the house, north, south, east, west.”

“We’ll be punchin’ holes in the dry wall. Jenny’s gonna love that.” Dean points out.

My lips formed a tight line, cringing, “Yeah…this is just how this goes but to be fair some holes in the walls are better than evil spirits.”

He huffed a laugh, “And this will destroy the spirits?”

“It should, it's supposed to purify the house completely, we’ll probably each take a floor but we do have to work quickly because when they catch on to what we’re doing, they get seriously pissed.” I answered

“Won’t they catch on with us doing it here?”

“You would think that but spirits don’t always know until it’s actually happening like when we make the holes then it’s a big deal.” I inform, tying off another bag.

“Huh” He replies as he continues to work.

Soon silence falls upon us while we work, our arms brushing against each other every now and then.

“Are holes in drywall a hard fix?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence, worried that the spirits won’t be the only pissed ones.

A deep chuckle passes through his lips, “That depends, sweetheart, but it should be.” He went on to explain the logistics of it, and while it wasn’t something I really cared to know about I didn’t stop him from explaining.

By the time his explanation of spackles and walls was over our purifying bags were done too.

Missouri and Sam walk back into the room, the floor creaking slightly underneath them. “You guys almost done?” Sam asked

“Yup” I hummed, “The bags are all done just gotta finish cleaning up”

“Good. Jenny and her kids just left, they’ll be back in an hour or two” Sam explained, placing a bunch of heavy items on the table. “I brought these in from the car, take your pick.”

I look up at the heavy mass, a hammer, a small ax, and two crowbars lay on the table. Though it is an odd collection of weapons as long as it is capable of making a hole in the wall it doesn't really matter, Sam picks up the hammer testing the weight of it in his hand.

With every part of the plan settled I throw the rest of the vials and leftover bags in my bag worrying about organization later, gently tucking my thick spell book into my bag I turn swiftly around, “Let’s get it done.”

“I’ll take this floor” Dean says, picking up his four bags, “Sammy you take upstairs, and you two can take the basement.”

“And remember you need to put a bag in each corner, north, south, east, west.” I order as everyone has the right amount of bags and a weapon of choice.

A collective nod was all we needed to spring into action, with the cold heavy crowbar in my hand I took the lead down the basement Missouri following closely after me. Without any words needed, we split up her heading to the west side of the floor and me to the east.

A chill runs up my spine, an uncomfortable feeling floating in the air, I roll my shoulders trying to rid myself of the feeling. My knees hit the floor, the coldness seeping through my pants. I knock on the wall in an attempt to hear a hollow part, Dean having mentioned before that would be the easiest way to make a hole. My knuckles hit the wall in at least ten separate spots before it no longer sounds solid. I stand back up for better leverage before changing my hold on the crowbar to be horizontal, bashing the end of it into the wall repeatedly until it cracks.

A heavy sliding noise shuffles behind me, I snap my head to the sound of a large dark table moving across the floor right into Missouri. My mouth opens to scream her name in warning but just as the first syllable leaves my mouth a nail comes flying at my face. Out of reflex alone I send the nail flying to the left, the invisible force of my power altering its trajectory. My eyes follow where the nail came from, an open red tool box, more nails come flying my way and each time I knock them away. Knowing it wouldn’t stop I gripped the crowbar harder using only a glimpse back at the wall to know where I was aiming for. While I used one hand and half my focus on changing the direction of the nails I used my other to slam the crowbars end into the already cracked wall but only when it sounded like it broke through enough did I glimpse back again. With another look forward at the coming nails, only one more left, I waited until it got closer, the old nail zooming toward my eye. Just as it got but an inch away I dropped to the floor, turning my body as I went, throwing the purification bag in.

I got up quickly, dropping my crowbar, almost tripping over my other foot as I ran to Missouri, pushing the table away from her, throwing another bag into the hole she had already made before she got attacked. She breathes heavily, a hand on her chest. “You okay?” I ask, putting a hand on her shoulder and leading her away from the table. She nods her head, handing me her two bags, wordlessly telling me to finish the floor.

I grip the bags in one hand as I pick up my discarded crowbar, seeing the nails that flew at me sticking out of the walls. I head over to the undisturbed wall slamming the crowbar into the wall, not even attempting to do the knocking at this point. While I threw in the third bag, worry consumed me at the realization that the spirits must be attacking the boys too. Without wasting any more time I go to the last undisturbed wall, again slamming the crowbar into it. Call it paranoia or instinct that made me turn so that my shoulder was facing the wall instead of my face to see if another attack would be coming. Either way it was that alone that saved me from the poltergeist throwing a wooden chair at my head. I duck again just in time for the chair to smash into pieces above me, wood undoubtedly falling into my hair.

“Stop throwing stuff!” I yell at the air itself or really the incredibly annoying poltergeist. With a huff I throw in the last bag, all the activity silencing on this floor. I get up walking over to Missouri as I pick out chunks of wood from my hair, as soon as I get close enough she reaches up and takes a particularly large piece of chair out of my hair showing it to me with a laugh before tossing it somewhere on the floor.

“Y/N!” A voice yells with a strain, clearly coming from a distance away. Right away I recognize the voice, Deans, I go running climbing up the stairs two at a time. Forget about my hair, forget about leaving Missouri behind (no offense).

The ground floor is practically untouched other than the clear mess that is peeking out from the kitchen, I look around quickly and see no one, “Dean?!” I shout back evident fear in my voice, getting an immediate “Up here.” Slight relief hits me as I again sprint up the stairs, twirling around the banister the second I reach the second floor seeing the closest open door. Forgetting about precautions I immediately approach the door, my hand on the archway when I see Dean on the floor cradling a hurt-limp Sam.

“Wha-“ I begin saying only to lose my train of thought.

“Let’s get him up” Missouri suddenly says from behind me, very calmly. She nudges past me heading straight for the boys, but neither of them move. She leans down beside Sam pressing two fingers to the side of his neck, “He’s still alive, he’ll be just fine.”

He gives her a curt nod before leaning back on his feet and standing, dragging his brother up with him, just as he does so Sam comes to. His eyes fluttering open and close, “It’s okay Sammy, just gonna bring you downstairs” Dean tells him, putting his brother's arm around his shoulder.

Carefully he walks his brother downstairs, Sam grumbling something halfway through before going limp again. Finally they reach the living room, Dean carefully lays his brother on the couch then moves to sit on the coffee table right across from him.

“He’ll be alright” I say softly, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder.

“I know” he replies.

“Were you able to finish the floor?” I ask even though maybe it wasn’t the proper time to.

“No. I was hurled with knives the second I made the hole, then I heard something upstairs and ran to see if Sammy was okay…I don’t think he finished either” He explains, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“It’s okay, i’ll go finish it and you guys can stay here, watch over him” I say, giving his shoulder a little squeeze before moving my hand away.

“Are you crazy?! That’s dangerous. Did you not just see what happened to Sam?!” Dean shoots back, not quite yelling but his voice is definitely louder than needed.

I smiled at him sweetly knowing this was coming from a place of worry and not an incompetent sort of deal, “Don’t worry I can take care of myself just fine, I did so down stairs when we finished up. Got some nails thrown at me, a chair and a table, you know just the usual playing house with the ghost.”

“That’s not the point. I’m coming with you.” He stands up abruptly and I swear I saw his jaw tick.

“Okay. I’m not gonna argue with you” I respond with humor in my voice. “But. If you did want to stay behind to watch your brother I wouldn't fault you for it either.”

He looks at me strangely with those beautiful green eyes before diverting them just past me, “I’m coming with you.”

“Right.” I smile “‘You got the bags?”

He answers by shuffling through his jacket pockets and pulling out a bag from each, he holds them up in an almost teasing way. I take a half step forward, grabbing a bag right out of his hand, only then realizing how close my small step puts us, having to lean my head back far enough to look up at him comfortably. But I don’t move away as I ask him, “What about your axe?”

He tilts his head down slightly towards me, his breathe hot on my face, “Dropped it in the kitchen”

“Good.” I say, nearly and pathetically getting distracted by our closeness…and his eyes… and his lips. “ ‘Cause I have no idea where I left that crowbar”

He laughs and steps away, his shoulder brushing mine as he walks away to the kitchen. Before I can turn to follow him Missouri meets my eyes, giving me a pointed-knowing look about what just happened. ‘Shut up’ I playfully mouth.

Finally I turn around following after the man in question. He comes out of the kitchen holding the small axe but just behind him is a mess. The kitchen looks like a tornado went through it with draws and cabinets open, utensils on the floor, broken dishes scattered around, the table turned over with knives sticking out of it (a tornado could not do that but the point of the mess still stands.) I look back at Dean then behind him repeatedly, “Did you have fun?” I remark sarcastically.

“Oh, not as much fun as you had” He replies gruffly, reaching up to my hair, his fingers sinking in as he ruffles out small chips of wood. My cheeks feel warm at the small contact and even more so when he pulls away and gives me that smirk. Then he walks away towards the back of the house with a cocky look in his eye like he knew exactly what he had done. I take a short deep breath before following him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later every purifying bag is put in place and Sammy is conscious and now we stand in the disaster that is the kitchen, broken cabinets and chair bits on the floor as well as a collection of utensils, all just to see the bunt of the fight.

“‘You sure this is over?” Sam questions, his voice a little rough.

“I’m sure. Why? Why do you ask?” Missouri answers.

“Never mind.” He sighs, “It’s nothin’, I guess.”

The front door opens followed by footsteps, “Hello? We’re home.” Jenny calls out before finding us in the kitchen pure shock written on her face, “What happened?”

“Hi, sorry. Um, we’ll pay for all of this.” Sam word vomits, the words spilling out quickly and anxiously. Both Dean and I’s heads snap towards him, I seriously want to ask him ‘with what money???’ But before anyone can fathom a word Missouri beat us to it, “Don’t you worry. Dean’s gonna clean up this mess.” Again with her (maybe) uncalled targeting I have to bite back a smirk, meanwhile Dean stands unmoving his eyebrows scrunched looking at the shorter woman with a total bewildered expression.

“Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop.” She adds, and I don’t know how she has this much power but he listens and begins to walk away or really shuffle away, “And don’t cuss at me!” She lectures.

Laughter slips through my lips as he mutters under his breath, Sam joining in on the hilarious nature that is his brother being bossed around.

Wiping a tear out of the corner of my eye I touch Sam’s shoulder, “I’m gonna go get him and fix this up…” I twirl my finger slightly to signal I mean magically, “Bring Jenny inside somewhere.” He nods, “Okay but you should really let him suffer”

I laugh again, rolling my eyes as I move away.

I find Dean standing in front of a broom closet trying to balance several cleaning objects in his hands at once. I admire his effort but there’s just no way anyone could clean that kitchen when it’s quite literally just destroyed. I grabbed a broom from him that was seconds away from falling, “Not to ruin your fun but I figured it would be easier to use magic on the kitchen than a mop.”

“Thank god” He sighs, shoving everything back in the closet including the broom I held.

Back in the kitchen I try not to get stressed at just how bad it is. Taking a calming breath I walk over to the kitchen counters, closing my eyes, I feel my hair move around me slightly from a small drift in the room, my body stands completely still as I let my hands feel the cool counter below me and the steadiness of it all. As my body relaxes and my shoulders drop, relieving its tension I become a conduit for magic, a dance of ethereal threads weaving through me. The energy flowed from my core to my fingertips, the flow gracefully extending to every nook and cranny. As if tracing an intricate pattern, it embraced the room, coaxing broken shards and scattered pieces back into harmony. The air felt electric with the essence of restoration, and the kitchen hummed with the soothing melody of enchantment.

When I open my eyes again, I feel a gaze on me. I turn my whole body, so that I was standing sideways, to it and of course it’s Dean, he meets my eyes, his mouth just slightly agape and I can only imagine what the swirling of purple energy around the room fixing items must have looked like. His green eyes are slightly glossy with what is maybe curiousity or amazement, either way it was a weird look. Before I could question him I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a tall familiar figure. Sam stands by the kitchen archway waving his hand, signaling it was time to go.

Hours later darkness consumes the Impala. After dropping Missouri back home Sam insisted we came back to the house for a stakeout. It was hard to argue with someone who had a bad feeling over something that is quite literally life or death, so we stayed. We’d been in here so long in fact that I’d taken to lying down flat in the backseat, my legs propped up on the seats (shoes off so Dean wouldn’t complain but at least I got to showcase my cute dragonfly socks).

I stare up at the beige-ish interior roof, my hands laying across my chest. I breathe in and out evenly, but with the prospect of being bored, memories of my life here swarm my head and suddenly I miss my mom more than I've had in a long time. If I focus hard enough on the roof I can still hear the remnants of her laughter and I could see her smile, the one I inherited, on her soft face. That old longing, that old sadness that I thought I was over fills my heart, its hands creep up on it clasping it tightly. It’s been years. So many years since she’s been gone and yet still this feeling—this rawness in my chest, this endless longing is home in my body just as it was the first time around.

I miss my mom.

I want to cry and I want her back, tears threaten my eyes and that stupid tightness in my throat prevails almost like it’s choking me, a tightness that’s so painful I want to rip my throat out. I swallow forcefully, I hate this feeling and I hate death and I hate that I'm feeling this in the back of the car with my best friends just right up front. It’s too vulnerable, it’s too open, too close to home…I want to go home.

I want to go home.

I shut my eyes tightly trying to erase these feelings to move them back in the dusty box they had sat in. But it isn’t that easy and I know it isn’t so instead I breathe deeply and choose to listen to Dean and Sam talk, focusing on the up and down of their words and the softness of each syllable.

“All right, so, tell me again, what are we still doin’ here?” Dean asks, impatience clear on his tongue.

“I don’t know. I just…” Sam sighs, “…still have a bad feeling.”

“Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.” Dean explains.

“Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that’s all.” Sam answers.

“Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now.” Dean responds and I hear him slide down his seat, probably closing his eyes in the process, “Like Y/N back there” he adds, softer, and even with my eyes closed a smile produces itself on my face. The small warmth that spreads in my chest fends off the grief, at least enough for it not to be at the forefront of my mind.

The quiet peace that falls over the Impala is short lived, Sam suddenly yelling, “Guys. Look” My eyes shoot open, “Dean!” He hits his brother's shoulder.

I sit up quickly catching a glimpse of Jenny yelling by her window, with nothing more to be said- we jump out of the car. I shuffled to the car door, leaving my shoes behind, the second I’m out and the door is slammed shut I run after the boys who were only two paces ahead. “You two grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny.” Dean commands as Sam tries the door which of course is locked. Dean pushes him slightly to the side, he takes a step back lifting his leg and kicking in the door. Broken pieces of wood stick out from the side of it.

The dark wooden floors are cold beneath my sock-covered feet, each step up the staircase seems far too long even as we reach the top. At the top Dean stops at a door close to the stairs but I don’t use any more focus to take anything else as Sam and I run down the hall, “Get Sari! I’ll get the baby!” I yell after him. Stopping at the closest door I swing it open only to reveal a bathroom, I curse underneath my breath before spinning around to the door right across the hall. Once more I swing it open, this time revealing a baby room with a white crib in the middle of it. I rush over only slowing to not scare Richie as I approach, somehow he’s still asleep wrapped up in his little blanket.

Carefully I reach in the crib scooping him up from underneath his upper back, my other arm going for his legs. Once in my arms I rearrange him so my dominant hand rests on his lower back while the crook of my other arm cradles his little head, just like holding a baby doll except this one is way cuter and also very alive. Standing back at my full height I fix his blanket around him before exiting the room. I know Sam can handle himself so I head towards the stairs, the baby had to be the priority right now. I quickly descend the stairs, only half way down when I feel Sam close behind, a relief hitting me.

My feet only just hit the ground level when Sam calls my name, swiftly I turn towards him Sari in his arms.

“Y/N, you need to take the kids and go outside.” He orders, placing Sari on the floor.

“Okay, what about you aren’t you coming?” I rushed out, cradling Richie in one arm so I could take hold of Sari’s hand.

Panic is written all over his face and something else lies in his eyes, “Take them. Don’t look back” And before I can argue any further he’s nudging me forward, reluctantly I go only because I know I can’t help with two kids in my arms. I run towards the door at this point, pulling Sari along with me, just behind me I hear a slam to the floor and I know it’s Sam- relief gone. But even so I rush forward.

The chill breeze of the night hits me hard. Jenny and Dean stand on the edge of the grass line. Only a few paces from them Sari lets go of my hand and runs to her mom, Jenny leaning down to catch her and hold her tightly. “Sam’s inside you have to go now” I speak quickly, my words jumbling over itself. Dean's eyes widen and pure fear fills them, on top of being scared guilt fills me now too. He runs to the front door and I hear it slam loudly. I hand Richie back over to his mom who is very obviously relieved to have him again.

Dean runs back to the Impala pulling out a shotgun and an ax, going right back to the door. I know I could open the door for him, it would be easy and I wouldn’t even break a sweat. Yet, my feet remain planted to the grown, the chaos of it all—the guilt. My purifying bags didn’t work, it nearly got a whole family killed and Sam’s now in trouble too. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.

My feet won’t move, my body won’t react, I can't even redeem myself. I don’t want to lose anyone else, I don’t want to. I can’t.

Move.

Move. Please move, I beg myself— my very being to do something anything but be helpless. I hate being helpless and yet I’m here doing nothing, anxiety and fear encasing me to this spot. I hear Dean hacking away at the door, faint grunts leaving his mouth as he does so but still I can’t move. Sari begins to cry latching on to her moms legs only waking up Ritchie in the process who then begins to cry too. The loud crying rings in my ears, only making my heart beat faster.

Jenny, visibly overwhelmed, wrestles with the challenge of consoling both kids, her distress mirrored in her eyes. Without conscious thought, my arms extend, offering to hold Ritchie. To my surprise, she entrusts the baby to me, planting a tender kiss on his forehead before gathering Sari into her embrace. Sari's legs encircle her mother's waist, a protective hand cradling the back of her head.

Richie moving in my arms breaks me out of my panic, if only because someone in need was right there, someone who surely couldn’t help themselves. I begin to rock him, moving my weight from one foot to another but my stress and worry is still there and he must feel it too because it does barely anything to help. I look back up, Dean is still hacking away at the door, not enough progress has been made. I rearrange the baby, using my free arm I lift up a hand my palm facing towards the direction of the door, with barely any thought needed the door slams open. Dean looks back at me for only a second before running in.

Richie's cries persist as I rock him, murmuring reassurances, "It's okay, everything will be okay." I desperately rack my mind for any calming measures, when I suddenly recall my mother singing me lullabies. But still I struggle to remember any of them, the memory too distant to be anything more than a hymn, instead I decide to softly sing "A Lullaby" by Dear Nora – even though it came out way after my mothers passing it always reminded me of her. And I had always kept a small hope that one day if I were to have kids that I would sing it to them too.

As I move a strand of hair from Richie's face, he begins to settle. My voice trembles with fear, but it seems to have a soothing effect anyways. Richie stops crying, and I meet Jenny's gaze. She offers a sad smile while holding her daughter close.

Both boys came out of that house. Relief had hit me like a ton of bricks, my knees felt wobbly with it. At first they could barely speak, shocked at what they saw but then the police and firefighters came and it was all the usual.

It was hours later until everything was resolved, and it wasn’t until Missouri came over that they actually spilt what happened. Their mom was there, she was the good spirit that I had felt, the one that was fighting off the evil and she did exactly that when it had attacked Sam. Somehow, she was still at the house after all these years protecting it. She had used the last of her abilities to say…sorry.

It’s morning now, Missouri cleared the house for real this time no spirit was left in there. The kids were sleeping still, Jenny was giving the photos she found to Dean and Sam sat with Missouri on the steps talking.

I had nothing to say to anyone in particular so I sat in the Impala, my legs outside the car, digging through my bag, when I finally pulled out my spell book I turned to the purifying page, I looked it over again trying to see if we did something wrong and messed up the amounts. But no. We did it right, but for some reason it didn’t work—it didn’t work and people could have died. Holding the book on my lap I reach up to the top of it, my hand holding the single page ready to tear it out when it’s suddenly taken from my grasp “Hey, what are you doing?!” Dean yells, holding it out of reach.

“It didn’t work. It needs to go, please give it back.” I answered, my jaw clenched.

“This was your moms, you’d hate yourself if you ripped it up.” Dean lectures.

“No I wouldn't, give it back. I need to make sure this never happens again.” I shoot up from my seat reaching up to grab it back but his arm shoots down behind his back.

“Yeah, you would. Sorry to break it to you sweetheart but I know you pretty damn well.”

I don’t care if he’s right. I don’t. That page needs to go, I can’t make this mistake again. I won’t. I reach for it again behind his back but again he moves it, “Dean. I’m not joking around give it back.” I don’t often get angry, but I am.

He looks down at me, his eyes scrunched in confusion and concern, “What’s going on with you?”

I huff, frustrated, “What’s going on is I messed up. Badly. They could have died and don’t try to say I don’t know that for sure because I do. And I know you do too, so I don’t need any comforting lies”

"We screw up, sweetheart. It's part of the gig. But we fixed it. They're alive and kickin', okay?" His words carried that gruff reassurance he always had, even when he was being a bit of a hypocrite. Book at his side, guard lowered just a bit, it was my chance to snag it back. "Not this," I jabbed a finger at the book. "I'm good at this. I don't mess up on this."

"I don't care that you're all emotional right now. You're not trashing your spell book." Arms crossed in front of his chest, he held his ground.

My chest heaved, my eyes scrunched in frustration as I looked up at him, my free hand in a tight fist my nails digging into my palm. “But, it needs to—“ I say back, weakly, already my fight was crumbling, being replaced with something else. Suddenly his arms were around me and my face was buried in his chest. His arms held my upper back tightly, his hands going up to cup my head, his fingers entangled into my hair a little while his chin rested on top of my head. With each breath I took, inhaling his smell of something woody and some sort of spice mixed into one, any resolve I had left was gone.

I wanted to keep fighting, I wanted to tell him he was wrong but he held me so close and so gentle that I couldn’t. If that in itself had made me weak then so be it. I wrap my arms around his center, even with my book in my hand. It had to be seconds later when he must have felt the tension leaving my shoulders when he pulled away, his hands dropped down to the crook of my arm holding me a short distance away. His green eyes locked with mine in a silent agreement.

I pull away fully when Sam and Missouri approach, quickly whipping my eyes just in case and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. We each exchange hugs with her, even Dean who surprisingly gets no comment this time.

Missouri smiles, “Don’t you be strangers.”

“We won’t.” Dean nods as he rounds the car.

[raes-writing-space]

Childhood Friend!Reader x DogDay (Finding DogDay Hung Up)

Warnings: Mentions of gore and blood, abuse including manipulation, depression, death, cursing, DogDay does NOT get saved in the end, heavy bittersweet/angst warning, etc.

Viewer discretion is advised!

Summary/Notes: (Y/N) was one of the orphans at Playtime Co, reader is said to have been VERY smart and observant child, and found out about the Bigger Bodies Initiative at a very young age (around 8). This happened to affect their relationships with the other orphans, including an orphan name Samson "Sam" who was their best friend, who would later be turned into DogDay. Feeling guilt, they go back to the Playtime Co. after escaping "The Hour of Joy", and hoping to save those left, they find DogDay and imagine what life would have been like if things were different.

Word Count: Roughly 2,250 words? I use Obsidian as my writing doc.

Romantic or Platonic?: Could be read as platonic or romantic, but it may seem like it leans more towards romantic.

A/N: This is heavily based off an OC of mine and an AU I have for Poppy Playtime, but I really wanted to share some DogDay content since I've been scouring the tag for weeks now and need more content. If you'd like me to post my notes about the different AU's I have, let me know!

Since this is a writing from my OC, it originally has she/her and feminine descriptors/titles, however I did my best to change them to try and make it more gender neutral, if you happen to see anything I've missed please let me know!

(Y/N) was lead into a prison that seemed underneath the Playhouse, a place they didn't know about from their time at Playcare. They had assumed that was possibly where CatNap had to have been held, when he wasn't interacting with the children. They hated how isolating it already felt, despite the "childish" nature, nothing about a prison was childish. (Y/N) didn't even know what they were looking for at this point, just another way out - away from all these poor starving toys trying to eat them alive. That was when they saw the scene, it took them a moment to really process it all. DogDay, Sam, their first childhood friend they ever had. The friend that was picked for the Bigger Bodies Initiative when Harley Sawyer found out about (Y/N)'s knowledge about the project. That was a guilt they never could find themselves to forgive themselves for. They knew that truly, it was the adults that betrayed them both, but how could they simply still leave him here after all this time? DogDay was hung up by the arms, belts and straps tied to pieces of the cell. Even worse, his legs were missing, only a tightened belt around his waist was keeping his organs from falling out of his body. How long had he been like this? Had those toys been eating him alive as a last resort?

"Sammy?" (Y/N)'s voice called out, in the moment they sounded so small, just like a child again.

As if it was instinct at hearing the nickname, his head seemed to pick up, silent for a moment, as if processing if this was in fact real or not.

"Angel?" He questioned, voice box even sounding ragged.

Even the voice box has aged… (Y/N) knew that they were never really supposed to sound like themselves after the procedure, but things were so different now. Before (Y/N) could linger on it for too long, his voice brought them back to the harsh reality they were both in.

"There's nothing left to save… not here… A million pairs of eyes are on you now. Watching, waiting, hungry. They want nothing more than to crawl-" "Shh… Sam, shh… I know… I know… Let's not think about it for now…" (Y/N) moved closer to him, resting a gentle hand on his cheek for a moment, before a shaky hand goes to wrap around his torso, as another hand goes to undo the straps on one arm. "What-What are you- Angel, listen to me, please, you need to get out of this place, you need to live. You and Poppy can fix this. End this madness, the torment, please, just leave me." He started rambling quickly, especially as he could feel one arm become free. "I…" (Y/N)'s voice became shaky, as he immediately noticed the tears well in her eyes, "I know… I know I'll have to… just… Just let me have this moment… Please, I'm just tired and want to sit for a moment and talk to an old friend…"

There was a silence for a moment, a small grunt when they had done their best to keep him supported as they released the other straps, as the two of them slid down the wall of the cell for a moment. There was no way for him to be truly comfortable, but they tried for him anyway. The two sat side by side for a moment, before (Y/N) closed their eyes and leaned their head against his shoulder. DogDay must have been hung up for a long time, almost unaware that he could move his arms again. He seemed to then move his arm a little, before rotating his hand to be palm up. (Y/N), in their paranoid state since arriving, had noticed the small movements immediately, before they put their hand in his. Maybe it was the effects of the poppy gas finally getting the best of them, even after how hard they had been trying to fight it. Maybe they really were just tired, tired of running, of fighting for their life, of seeing their friends suffering, of all of it.

"CatNap will be coming for the both of us if he knew you released me… Angel, please… you have to go…" DogDay attempted again. "No… I'm sure he knows… And I'm sure he knows the power he already holds… Before the Hour of Joy… CatNap helped me speak with the Prototype. The Prototype was trying to plan something with me, and I was just… too far gone in my sadness to listen… The Prototype had even warned me about the event and how I should escape from it all…" (Y/N) trailed off, and DogDay seemed to turn to them, almost as if in shock that they had known this whole time, alongside the rest of the monstrous toys. "CatNap knows that I'm just trying to find answers, I don't know if Poppy is right, or if the Prototype is right, but I at least want to come to that decision on my own… So, CatNap knows… as you said, there's a million eyes watching… so, just let them watch, and listen… for now…" (Y/N) spoke again, as they rubbed their thumb against the palm of his hand, it was always much too big compared to theirs.

"We were best friends before you were chosen for the Bigger Bodies…" "I always knew there was something special about you…" DogDay tried to sound lighthearted, attempting to find the peace they were yearning for. "Theo… CatNap… knew the Prototype before his procedure too… He tried to help Theo escape, but then something happened, and the Prototype risked capture to save him… That's why he treats the Prototype like a God, for him, that is his savior." (Y/N) attempted to explain, hopefully giving him some more clarity, despite it not meaning much now in these final moments. "I like to think… before your procedure, maybe our friendship was on your mind… Maybe that's selfish of me, but as much as it hurt to see you become DogDay, when I heard how happy you were to see me… How you called me Angel and thought I was special… It gave me some peace of mind that you weren't angry with me, for not being able to say goodbye…" (Y/N) trailed off.

"You weren't there?" DogDay seemed to question, as if trying to recollect a memory that felt so distant to him that it almost never existed in the first place. "No… the fucker, Harley Sawyer, the doctor who created the Bigger Bodies Initiative, told me I would be spending the day with him… Purposely made me anxious, and kept me past curfew so I wouldn't get to say goodbye or see you go… Before he told me that you were chosen for testing, but that of course, the orphans at Playcare would be excited to hear you were being adopted… He wanted to break me down, so that I wouldn't somehow speak about the initiative, and… it worked…" (Y/N) answered. "He saw in my files that I once told a counselor that DogDay was my favorite toy and character, because so many people thought I was a sunny leader, like him…" Tears started to well up again, as they could hear him let out a deep disappointing sigh.

"And then they conditioned me to cheer up any kid who looked sad, knowing that out of all the kids, you would be the worst." DogDay pieced together, as (Y/N) simply nodded. "I was used as your reminder… Those sick… Why did you not push me away? You could have-" "No… I never could do that… Yes, you were a reminder of one of the worst days of my life… but Sam you gave me so many days that I consider the best days of my life… I would never trade those days in for anything…" (Y/N) looked at him, tears streaming down their face, as his gentle and slow hand attempted to wipe the tears away. "I only wish I could have given you more days like that… God, after I left… I started to imagine this… alternate world where everything was different… That we really were just kids at an orphanage who would be able to grow together, and maybe get adopted by kind loving families, and hope that we'd find and see each other again, and that… somehow we did, we always did…" "I imagine what life would have been like for us… If we would have told each other about our first crushes, or would get too embarrassed because maybe the truth was that we had crushes on each other… A typical stupid teenaged life, where we'd make mistakes, and learn, and be awkward, and fall in love or out of love, and things would just be easy…" "That we could just be kids or teens or adults just laying in a patch of grass and enjoying the real life sun against our skin… and that even despite all our real world problems, we'd know that it'll all be okay in the end because we had each other…" (Y/N) couldn't help but ramble on about this idealistic dream they'd had for so long, a motivating factor to keep going just one more day… Caught in a world that they knew would never exist, but made them feel genuine happiness as if it did.

"That's sounds like a wonderful world to be in…" DogDay couldn't help but finding himself imagining it, a sweeter dream than the nightmare he's lived in for so long. "I've lost myself in that reality far more than I'd like to admit… I've gone down so many routes, but refused to think about anything that wasn't a happy ending of some kind." "What was the happy ending you imagined the most?" DogDay questioned them genuinely, his body slumping a bit more, finally finding some semblance of peace. "We'd grow old together… It didn't matter how, if we were married, or had kids of our own, or were just best friends until the very end… But I imagined us having a picnic on top of this, gorgeous hill… That our old bones would have taken a while to climb, but we'd leave early, to watch the sun rise… And talk about life until we watched the sun set…" "I would thank you for… helping me understand what any semblance of love would feel like despite no adult ever showing us or teaching us how to love someone… I would thank you for being the closest thing I ever had to a family, for always being there for me just when I needed it… just like right now… I would make sure you knew just how much you meant to me, what you meant to my life, and in the end… all I would want is to make sure that I made you feel just as loved and appreciated as you've made me feel…" "You have. You always have." DogDay is quick to respond, never wanting them to doubt once for a second that he didn't appreciate his time with her too.

(Y/N) then started to shuffle themselves up, tears never ceasing as they knew this would be goodbye, there wouldn't be a way to save him, and there wouldn't be an easy way to bring him along, not when things could be more difficult from here… They knew they needed to leave him with something to dream about, on the happiest note they could really give him, and hope that he would forgive her for having to leave him once again. "Then I would kiss your forehead…" (Y/N) trailed off, getting on their knees and leaning forward to give a long and lingering kiss on his forehead, just as they had said, "And a big hug, that I wouldn't ever want to let go from, but knew I'd have to…" arms wrapped around his bloodied "fur" that had become his body, as they felt his arms wrap around them in return, also not wanting to let go, knowing this would be the last time he ever saw his Angel again. "And I'd tell you to close your eyes…" DogDay listened, closing his eyes as best as he could, knowing there would only be hungry monsters awaiting him once they left. "And let the sun feel warm on your skin…" He started to imagine it, so deeply and vividly that he could almost convince himself that he did feel a warmth… and maybe he did in some way… "And finally, thank you for spending your life with me… I wouldn't say goodbye, I couldn't… Because I know that one day, maybe in a different life, or an afterlife, that we'd meet again, like we always do… So instead I would just say… I love you, good night, and sweet dreams, I'll see you later Sammy."

"I'll see you later, my Angel… Thank you… I love you too…" DogDay trailed off, sighing as he let himself get lost in his imagination and not in the sound of their footsteps retreating from him.

(Y/N) suddenly found another pathway, they assume CatNap must have opened it for them at some point. They attempted to wipe their tears and breathe deeply, despite the circumstances, as they let themselves get lost in the fantasy again themself, ignoring the quieted groans of what they assumed must be the final outcome of DogDay's fate. They hated having to leave, they hated knowing as much as they did, but as much as they could linger on the negative, and let it drown them again…

Instead, they decided to take a note from DogDay, the symbol of optimism for his friends, and chose to only think about the good, even if they're just distant memories.

[winchester-girl67]

Wild Hearts (Part 2)

Summary: Dean steals his father's car to give Y/N a ride home. The next day Y/N tags along to the dunes for sand surfing. 

Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader 

Word Count: 3,771 

Warnings: underage, age gap (reader is 16, Dean is 20 but closer to 21), mentions of physical abuse by a parent, past injury (bruising/scars), mentions of death and alcoholism, John is an asshole in this one, underage drinking, angst, language, slow burn, mutual pining, a hint of jealousy, a bit of fluff 

A/N: Sand surfing looks really fun. Didn’t think I’d get this finished before the new year. Happy holidays! 

_____ 

Dean grabbed your hand every time the headlights of a car came into view and pulled you off more to the side of the road. Placing himself between you so the car would have to go through him to hit you. The last time he did it you held onto his hand and he didn't let go. Until you came up to a driveway that led to a small ranch style house sitting amongst the evergreens. 

You spotted a cherry-condition, black muscle car sitting in the driveway, "No way! Is this your car?" 

"Uh- yeah," he smiled, "-I mean, no. It's my dad's but yeah that's what we're taking." He stumbled out his words as if he was nervous. 

You trailed your finger up the hood of the car, "Sixty-seven?" 

"You know your cars." He smirked. 

"My dad used to drag me to every car show he could when I was younger. On those days he did get off work." You said, admiring the freshly waxed black paint. "And as a result, I developed a thing for pre-seventies muscle." 

"Baby's the only thing my father has ever loved." Dean said and you frowned, "Aside from my mother. She passed away when Sammy was born."

"Baby?"

"It's what he calls the car." 

You nodded. "Who's Sammy?" 

"My little brother," he explained with an edge of protectiveness, "He's sixteen, too." He bit the split in his lip until it bled and kicked the front tire with a glare. "He's probably passed out by now," and somehow you knew he was talking about his father again, "But you better wait out here." He said, pushing you off to the side of the house so you blended with the shadows of the trees lining it. "Y/N, if you hear anything... Do not come inside." 

Then he turned around and headed for the door, leaving you with a sinking feeling in your gut. The way he spoke about his father, loving four wheels and engine more than his sons. Dean looked pained at the thought and his eyes greener when they glided over his father's Impala. 

Then it hit you, his warning. His father wasn't a good man. 

You left the shadowed tree line and peered through one of Baby’s windows. Fast food bags littered the front bench seat and a half a bottle of liquor lay on the floor. Your skin started to crawl at the thought of Dean's father coming home half-pissed and taking his day out on his sons. No doubt Dean only stuck around for his little brother. You wondered if Sam had endured the same type of injuries or if Dean always stood between them. Somehow you already knew the answer. 

The screen door shut with an audible creak and Dean reappeared on the porch, "Y/N?" He whisper shouted as he scanned the area you were supposed to wait. "Y/N." 

"Over here," you matched his tone. 

"Got 'em." He jingled the keys for you to see. "Let's push her out onto the street before we start her though." He opened the driver's door, "Here, you steer, I'll push." 

"You're not gonna get in trouble, are you?" You hesitated, you didn't think you could bear to see more bruises on him, or worse. 

He gave you a cocky smile, "I'm not gonna get caught." 

You slid in behind the wheel and shifted into neutral, taking a moment to appreciate Baby's beauty despite the mess of trash in the front seat. Meanwhile Dean ran around to the bumper and started pushing the car down the driveway. You braked when you got to the edge of the street, throwing open the door and letting Dean take over as you slid over to the passenger side. 

The car grinded to a stop as he pulled up in front of your house. It was a beautiful car but the whole ride felt like a tin can rolling over bumps in the road and the muffler rattled against the undercarriage the entire time. His father didn’t seem like the type to put his time or money into anything that couldn’t give back to him. Which apparently included keeping up maintenance on Baby. 

"For someone who's supposed to love this car," you flicked a used ketchup packet onto the floor and wiped your sticky fingers on your jeans, "He's shit at taking care of it." 

"Imagine if he didn't love her." Dean's eyes were lost on the dashboard, deep in some solitary thought. "He didn't deserve her and he doesn't deserve this car." For a moment you thought he must've been talking about his mother. You wondered if the abuse started before or after her passing. You didn't ask. "Are you busy tomorrow?" 

"Um."

"It's fine if you didn't mean it. About being my friend. But I was gonna go sand surfing and I thought that might be something you'd like to do. Something friends do." He shrugged. "I-I'm not trying to be creepy. Just friends." 

"I don't think you're creepy," you shook your head and met his sad smile, "I'd love to go, sand surfing? What is that?" 

He laughed, "It's like snowboarding but down a sand dune. It's easy, I'll teach you. Fall's the best time for it because the sand won't burn you." 

"That sounds fun." 

"Good, I'll pick you up," he said and then added, "My friend's driving. There'll be others there too, but they're not like your brother's friends." 

"I don't like my brother's friends." 

"These are good people," he smiled, the bruised part of his face hidden in the shadows of the car and you almost forgot about it. He had a nice smile, he didn't show too many teeth or too much gums. "I'll give you my number, in case you decide to cancel." 

You laughed silently but let him enter his phone number into your cell. Then you texted him so he'd have yours, too. 

"Thanks for the ride, Dean." You reached over and gave him a quick side hug. He didn't even have a chance to react but stared at the dash again and nodded when you pulled away. "Text me when you get home or I'll worry." 

"You don't have to worry about me, Y/N, I'm not a child." He said cordially. 

He'd obviously picked up on you putting the pieces of his home life together, his injuries, his father, how much he was risking by stealing Baby tonight. Dean was tall and built enough to protect himself, but nobody should stand alone and clearly his father was still bigger and stronger. 

"People worry about you in every stage of life, Dean. At least they should. I will." He looked over at you and matched your frown. 

"But you only just met me." 

His words echoed in your ears well after you showered and crawled into bed. Dean brought about so many feelings in you that you didn't know which to follow. You felt butterflies, and mutual affection like you'd known each other longer than you did, and an untethered desire to protect him, which was absurd because although he was skinny, he could toss you over his shoulder and spin you around if he wanted to. His bruises and scars made you feel helpless, but his smile made you happy because you could tell he felt lighter, too. 

You checked your phone and found a message from him. 

Dean: Mission impossible accomplished. See you tomorrow. 

Y/N: Thanks for texting. Goodnight, Dean. 

Dean: Night, Y/N. 

You'd be lying if you said you weren't developing a crush. You sighed and rolled over in bed. What could you do, nothing. He'd get into a lot more trouble than you. 

Sleep did not come easy after that and you woke up before you thought you'd even fallen asleep. You groaned and rolled over in bed when you heard your phone buzz. 

Dean: Good morning, Y/N. 

Y/N: Geez, you wake up early. What time is it? 

Dean: You're literally looking at your phone. 

Y/N: Omg! It's 6am, what is wrong with you?! 

Dean: You know the saying, early bird... 

Y/N: The sun isn't even awake yet, Dean. 

Dean: You're grumpy in the morning. 

Dean: Just wanted to let you know we'll pick you up around noon. 

Dean: Y/N? You still wanna come, right? 

Y/N: Yeah! Sorry, I'm tired. 

Dean: Awesome. Just one question before you pass out on me. Benny's bringing a grill, so we're making hotdogs for lunch. You're not a vegetarian are you? 

Y/N: Yeah...

Y/N: I'm joking. No, I'm not. 

Dean: Good, our friendship might've ended right there. 

Dean: Just kidding. Go back to sleep. 

You smiled at your phone a little too long before you locked it and went back to sleep for a few hours. 

"Hey, sweetie. You're awake early." Your mother said when you walked into the kitchen around ten. It was early compared to your typical Sunday morning. "Have fun last night?" 

You nodded, not wanting to get into the events of your brother or his friends from the bonfire. Your mom seemed to accept the answer and you assumed your brother made it home at some point without her noticing the hour. 

You got along with your parents well enough. You never really got into any trouble and you weren’t sure they even knew how to ground you if you did. Besides, your dad wasn’t around much lately, it seemed his new promotion kept him at the office longer than necessary. Which was where he was now. On a Sunday, at ten A.M. 

You didn't know what you wanted to do when you grew up, but you knew you wanted to have balance in your life. Something you thought your dad didn't understand. You couldn't remember the last time he brought you to a car show, you couldn't remember the last time you'd asked him to bring you either. 

"Your dad said he'd be home for dinner and your brother probably won't be up until mid-afternoon. What time did you two get in last night?" She asked, sipping on her coffee. 

You didn't have a curfew because you never had the need for one and your parents oddly trusted you. You didn't do crazy shit to make them worry about you but sometimes you wanted to, if only just for the attention. So you knew she was just curious when she asked. 

"I dunno," you shrugged, not wanting to get into why you didn't know and that you didn't come home with your brother. "I'm going out with some friends for lunch." 

"That sounds fun," you weren't sure if she was even listening anymore or just saying that. 

Your family had gotten better at not actually listening to each other lately. But you ignored that fact yourself and grabbed a bowl of cereal for breakfast. 

At eleven-thirty, you threw on a pair of high-rise jeans and an oversized t-shirt that you knotted at the waist. You also pulled on a flannel shirt in case it got chilly which was the way the weather was turning lately. Then you texted Dean. 

Y/N: Text when you get here, I'll come out and meet you. 

You wanted to avoid an awkward interaction with your mother. Especially since your brother was awake now and slamming the kitchen cupboards. He wouldn't really care but he was nosey and would start something if he saw how much older Dean was. And you doubted a few hours would've helped much with the bruising on his face. That wouldn't be fair to make Dean explain how he'd got them to complete strangers. Especially since you were pretty sure you knew how he'd gotten them. 

Dean: We're here. 

You shouted a 'Bye' as you ran out of the house, hearing your brother ask your mom where you were headed before the door slammed shut behind you. You shoved your phone into your back pocket and ran down the driveway to where a red Jeep waited. Dean stood outside, leaning against the door. 

He smiled when he saw you run up, "Hey." 

"Hi." You said, noticing his face falling, "What's wrong?" 

"I feel like we're sneaking around," he glanced back at your house as if he expected someone to come running out after you. "Feels wrong." 

"I just didn't want you to have to deal with the inevitable questions about, you know," you pointed to the left side of his face. "But if you want I can introduce you before we go... Or you could come over Friday for family dinner and give that a little more time to heal." 

He stared at you for half a second then shoved his hands in his pockets, "Family dinner sounds nice." 

"Great, I'll set it up tonight!" You smiled brightly and touched his arm, "Feel better?" 

He swallowed and nodded and you heard someone shout impatiently from inside the Jeep. Dean opened the backdoor for you and climbed in after you. You sat in the middle next to a guy with black hair and blue eyes who looked about the same age as Dean. 

"Hey, I'm Cas." The guy greeted you as you settled in. 

As soon as the door was closed the Jeep pulled out onto the road with a bounce from a pothole the tire hit. 

A small brunette in the middle front seat turned around and waved, "I'm Ruby, Sam's girlfriend," she pointed to a lanky guy with long brown hair next to her who offered you a smile. 

They looked about the same age as you, at least you knew Sam was. You noticed right away Sam didn't have any bruises or obvious scars. You felt a bit proud of Dean for that and also a little sorry that he didn't have someone like himself to have his back. 

"That's Benny," Dean said, pointing to the guy driving. "Benny say ‘Hi’."

"Hi." He glanced in the rearview mirror. 

"He's quiet until you get to know him." Dean explained. 

Benny, by far, looked the oldest of the bunch. Maybe it was because he hadn't shaved in a couple of days or maybe it was because he was built like a linebacker. But either way he didn't seem to like you. It was just a vibe you got in the split second your eyes connected. It practically radiated off him and you wondered if you were the only one picking up on it. 

"So, Y/N, how come I never see you at school?" Ruby asked, spinning around in her seat to face you completely and bumping into Benny who growled. Maybe it wasn't just you. "You're not home schooled are you?" 

"No, I go to one near my dad's work." You explained quickly, not really wanting to talk about school. 

"Where does your dad work?" Sam asked this time. 

“At Sandover Bridge and Iron. He’s the Director of Sales and Marketing.” You bounced your eyebrows. Really all that means is he’s barely around anymore. 

"That's cool," he said, shifting his eyes to Dean for a second. 

"Oh," Ruby’s brown eyes widened for a second and you knew what she was thinking. 

"Yeah."

"Am I missing something?" Dean asked, glancing between the two of you. 

"It’s a private school." You explained and it seemed to dawn on him. "What are you smirking at?" 

"You have to wear a uniform, don't you?" He smiled so wide the split in his lip threatened to pull again. 

"If you must know, yes, and it is the bane of my existence." You rolled your eyes dramatically to make your point. 

"So, like a plaid skirt with those long socks?" 

"Careful, Dean. We're friends, remember?" You whispered to him and he opened his mouth to respond, but then snapped it shut and turned to stare out the window. 

Ruby pouted, resting her chin on the back of the seat, "That's too bad. You could've sat with us at lunch and I would've shown you around. Dean says you're new." 

"Yeah," you sighed. That would've been nice to know someone in school. You had begged your parents to let you go to a public school this time, but they insisted. "Too bad." 

Dean had gotten really quiet and you nudged him with your elbow. He turned to smile and swallow thickly before turning a cold-shoulder and staring out the window again. You had only been teasing, but you didn't want him getting any ideas that would only result in him getting in trouble. 

"How do you guys know Dean?" You asked, directing the question at Cas since Benny didn't seem to be much of a talker. 

"We grew up together. Well, me and Dean did." Cas explained, "Benny just kind of showed up one day and we couldn't get rid of him." Benny growled and Cas winked in the rearview mirror. "He really is a teddy bear once you get to know him." 

Once you got to the beach Benny didn't park in the parking lot, instead he drove out onto the beach and down the shore for a long time until you were surrounded by only dunes of sand. It would've taken forever to walk there. He parked at the top of the dunes and everyone filtered out of the Jeep. The guys grabbed the boards from the trunk and Benny got to setting up his grill. You guessed he wasn't really into sand surfing. 

Dean said he was going to teach how to surf, but he was already halfway down the dune with Cas when you looked. And Sam and Ruby were flirting as they carried their boards over to join them and you didn't feel like third wheeling it today, so you hung back with Benny. 

"Need a hand?" Your voice was softer than you'd like it to be but you found him intimidating, even if he wasn't nearly as tall as Dean or Sam who was a moose at sixteen and probably still growing.

"Thought you came for that," he pointed at the dune where the others had run off to and you saw a couple extra boards stuck in the sand at the top. But you still didn't know how to surf, never even been snowboarding. And those surfboards looked a lot more like snowboards. You'd hurt yourself for sure without knowing how to turn or stop. "I hope you know what you're doing with him." 

Your eyes snapped back to Benny's and you squinted, "Excuse me." 

He raised his hands and his eyebrows, "His home life is... undesirable. I know you know what I mean. Last thing he needs is your parents on top of his own." 

You didn't think your parents would bat an eye at Dean. Mainly because they were wrapped up in their own lives and didn’t pay you much attention. But if they did notice, you wondered if they would dislike Dean enough to turn what you have with him into something wrong and indecent. You'd like to think they wouldn't because it wasn't. But it's a parent's job to be protective of their child.

"We're just friends." 

"Not the way he looks at you." Benny cocked his head and started setting up the foldable stand for the grill. "He's not thinking when he's around you. And don't get me wrong, I like seeing him happy, he's been there for me more times than I can count, but- Do you have any idea what his father would've done if he knew Dean took that car out last night. If that's the way he looks after spilling paint in the garage..." You didn't know what to say and opened your mouth like a fish out of water before he continued. "Dean's never done anything like that before. I'm just asking you to be careful with him. He has two years left and then he and Sam can get the hell out of there." 

"Why two years?" That's all you could manage to ask. 

"Dean's tried to get custody of Sam since he turned eighteen but the lawyers always tell him the same thing. He's too young himself, with no steady income and no decent living quarters. Going through courts takes time and money and Sam would likely age out before that time." He explained as you fiddled with the knot in your t-shirt. 

"How'd you know about the car?" 

"I live next door, I helped him push it back up the driveway so his father wouldn't wake up and hear the engine." 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. I mean, I kind of knew but I guess I believed him when he said it would be fine." You watched your shoes and tried to still your bottom lip. "Just so you know, I'm not trying to cause him any more pain. We just kind of connected last night and I like him. I'm not gonna do anything that'll get him in trouble though. I promise." 

"Kid, I'm not worried about you doing the dumb shit. I'm worried about him." He scratched his slight beard. "It's not fair to ask you to think for the both of you." 

"It's not fair to ask me to not be his friend either." 

"I couldn't ask that of you." 

You kind of missed quiet Benny and the afternoon was starting to feel a lot like last night with your brother's friends. You wiped a tear threatening to fall down your cheek when you were sure Benny wasn't looking; everyone else taking a second run down the dune after climbing back up. You stood around and kicked at the sand until you could feel grains in your shoe. 

"Hey, cher, can you grab me the hotdogs from the cooler?" Benny asked and nodded towards the cooler next to the Jeep. 

You didn't bother digging around and just brought him the whole cooler. He split open the pack of hotdogs and started grilling. Then pulled a can of beer from the cooler and opened it. He handed it to you and grabbed his own. You wondered if you actually had to drink it, but he clearly saw that you were upset and it was a peace offering of sorts. So you took a sip. 

The fifth sip wasn't so bad and the seventh went down even easier. But it still tasted gross and you still didn't see the point. Maybe just a little warmth in your cheeks. 

Sam and Ruby were the first to run back over when Benny rang the dinner bell. Followed by Cas and Dean. Dean eyed the beer can in your hand and you took another sip before you grabbed a hotdog and walked away.

_________________________

Part 3

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

Wild Hearts: @justrealizedimmascifygurl @evieluvsjamie @kimberkingrivers

[call-me-mrs-winchester]

𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character

STORY SUMMARY : in series masterlist

CHAPTER WARNINGS : age-gap. playful teasing. a bit of angst. protective reader.

A/N : i love this gif! unfortunately, i saved it so long ago, i can't remember who to give credit to so if y'all know, feel free to tag them in the comments. don't forget to check out the story masterlist if you missed previous chapters. thanks for the love guys, it never goes unnoticed or unappreciated!

Maricela's POV

"Abaddon? Seriously?" Dean asks rhetorically, staring angrily at Sam as we walk to the Impala. "Thought you Kentucky Fried that meat suit."

"I did, Dean." Sam counters, his hands raised slightly, trying to resist an argument in public.

"You—Well, then, how did she get it back?" He questioned before thanking the officer who raised the crime tape to let us off the scene. "And why's she playing G. I. Joe?"

Sam answers back, just as annoyed as his brother. "No clue. Why don't you ask her when we find her?"

"Oh, I will. Then I'm gonna chop her freakin' head off—again."

We enter the car, and then it hits me. Abaddon. I swear I've heard that name before.

"Wait—isn't she the Knight of Hell who tried killing you and your grandfather a few months ago?" I ask, making sure we're talking about the same monster.

Dean starts the engine, answering, "Yeah."

"I thought you guys chopped her up and scattered her remains. But you just said Sam burned her vessel. I-I'm confused." I confess, unable to put the pieces together.

Having needed a demon to cure, they had reassembled Abaddon's vessel for the final trial. Before they could use her as a test subject, they stepped away to take a phone call, and when they returned, she had escaped. Having previous knowledge of the Devil's Trap bullet, her unattached hands pried it from her skull so she could get away. She used her freedom to track Crowley down, and when she found him at the abandoned church, she attempted to kill him for the throne. Before she could ruin the trial, Sam doused her meat suit in holy oil and set it ablaze. So, the big question remains: How is she back and in her old vessel?

Darkness fell upon us as we drove towards the bunker. Sam's phone began to chime over the music. Leaning over, he reached into his dress pants to retrieve his phone. Dean and I peeked over, wondering who would be calling at this hour. It was none other than our very own prophet.

Sam puts the call on speaker, greeting, "Hey, Kev. What's up?"

"A lady called Dean's other phone. I answered, but she expected to speak to a Winchester. So instead, she told me to give you a message: She has something you might want." He spoke in a rushed and shaky voice.

"Kevin, wait. Wait. Wait. Slow down." says Sam.

Ignoring, he continues, "She gave me these coordinates—44.053051 by -123.127860— and two names, Irv Franklin and Tracy Bell."

I type the numbers into the notes app on my phone before copying and pasting them into Google.

"Irv's a friend. Don't know Tracy." Dean replies.

"All right, the lady said they were hunters and that if you didn't go save them, that she would kill them."

"Yeah, I've heard that song before." The oldest hunter shakes his head, unamused.

"Dean, who was she?"

"She's the bad guy," he admits. "All right, new job. Dig up everything Men of Letters have on Knights of Hell."

"Knights of Hell?" With some hesitation, Kevin complies, "Sure."

"You find a way to kill one—I mean permanently—drop a dime," Dean mentions.

"Thanks, Kevin," Sam says before ending the call.

I zoom in on the digital map before presenting, "The numbers point to a spot on the outskirts of Eugene, Oregon."

"You know this is a trap, right?" Sam stares at his brother.

"Yep," he answers unfazed.

Scoffing, Sammy asks, "And we're just gonna walk right into it?"

"Guns blazing," he says fearlessly before glancing at his little brother. "You with me?"

Sam chuckles before shifting his gaze on the road ahead. "You know it."

Dean looks into the rearview mirror, locking eyes with me. "What about you, sweetheart, you with me?"

A flutter of familiarity tickled my stomach as I softly smiled back at him. He held my gaze until I answered, "Always."

Before arriving, Dean stopped at a gas station so we could change. As we neared the designated coordinates, my heart quickened its pace. No matter how many times I fought alongside the Winchesters—or alone—my anxiety crept in, going over all the things that could go wrong. When we arrived at the gated part of town, I suppressed the negative thoughts and replaced them with positive ones. However, with the history behind this area, it became difficult to sustain a sense of optimism.

A chain fence had enclosed the abandoned buildings. Sam hopped out of the car and pushed open the sliding gate so the Impala could fit through. After Dean parked, Sam and I walked a few yards into the vacant town. Graffiti painted the stone structures while weeds grew on or around the buildings. A large, rusted sign was posted near the fence, reading: DANGER. HAZARDOUS WASTE AREA. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

"The hell happened here?" Dean asked, halting beside me with the army green duffle bag in hand as we stared at the crumbling buildings.

"A local chemical plant sprung a leak years ago. They evacuated three square blocks." I answer, visually searching the windows for any sign of life.

"Guess it's still contaminated," Sam adds.

"Wait, so this whole place is poison?" Dean questions uneasily, turning his attention toward Sam and me.

Replying in unison, we answer, "Yeah."

Dean moves his left hand to shield his nether region, attempting to protect his prized appendage against the toxicity lingering in the air. His eyebrows furrowed, undoubtedly debating if this mission was worth risking his manhood. I stifle a giggle, finding his action both cute and silly. Sam judgingly watches his brother's action, staring him up and down.

"That's not gonna help." He remarks before walking away, leading the venture further into town.

"It doesn't hurt," Dean mutters.

My giggle slips this time, attracting the older Winchester's attention. I nudge his arm before nodding in Sam's direction. "C'mon, big boy."

We walk towards the younger Winchester while taking in our surroundings. Birds caw in the distance, disrupting the vicinity's silence. We begin to pass Ozzy O's Diner when we hear a loud thud come from within. Concomitantly, Sam and I reach for our waistbands and take out our loaded guns. With our firearms raised, we ascend the few concrete stairs. Standing before the door, Sam glances in my direction, giving me a look. A look that silently asked if I was ready, to which I nodded with confidence.

Sam kicks the door open before storming inside with me on his tail. The sun's rays poured into the diner, illuminating its light upon two bound individuals. The man and woman were bound together while pieces of cloth muffled their cries for help. Sam and I step aside as he beckons Dean over. He strides in and makes a beeline for the older man.

"Irv? Hey." Dean's gruff voice fills the quiet diner as Sam shuts the door. He pulls Irv's gag down before asking, "Where's Abaddon?"

"Abaddon's been torturing hunters. She's trying to get intel on you boys." The older man confesses breathlessly.

"Do you know why?" Sam inquires.

"I seriously doubt she wants to add you to her Christmas card list. Now, do you want to make with the rescue or what?"

"Right after you take a shot of holy water, huh?" says Dean.

Sam retrieves his flask from the inner pocket of his jacket and approaches the girl. His fingers unscrewed the cap before tugging the cloth she involuntarily fashioned off as I put my gun away. She opens her lips to welcome the demon test. He fountains the holy water into her mouth and cups her chin to catch any excess water. He steps away, waiting to see if she flinched. Instead, she swallowed without hesitation.

"Happy?" She asks rhetorically, looking between Sam and me.

"Sorry about that," Dean utters.

Irv responds with understanding, "Don't worry about it. Last thing you need is us popping black eyes."

Dean reaches in between the hostages and breaks their restraints.

As the girl stands, I ask, "You're Tracy, right?"

She—and just about anyone else over five foot two—towers over me. Her eyes glimpse over my appearance from head to toe before answering my question with a nod.

"I'm Maricela Coca." I introduced myself before the Jolly Green Giant did.

"And I'm Sam Winchester."

Tracy glances at him like she did with me and responds with noticeable disinterest, saying, "Good for you."

Silence fell upon the room, startled at her curt reply. In that unexpected moment, I instinctively whipped my head towards the source of her disdainful glares. My eyes widened with shock, and my mouth hung open in disbelief. I was left dumbfounded. Did she just talk to you like that?! I shouted at Sammy in my head. He meets my eyes and shakes his head, advising me to let it go. My mouth began to twitch, wanting to say something just as crude. Just as I was going to allow my tactless opinions to emit, Irv began to advocate for her.

"She's new. We did a shifter job in Sacramento together. Smart, but got a mouth on her."

She scoffs but doesn't deny his comment. Dean's deep chuckle immediately catches my ear. Giving in to curiosity, I turned and gave him my full attention. His charmingly crooked smile gleamed in the dimly lit diner. All eyes were on Chuckles as we awaited an explanation for his laughter.

"Sounds like our Mari," He jokes, lightening the mood.

My lips part to say a witty remark, but Sam's snicker stops me. Instead, I roll my eyes and decide to move on. "Let's gear up."

Dean picks up the bag of weapons from the floor and moves it onto the countertop. I leave Sammy's side and walk over to his brother. He begins to splay the reminisce of the bag across the dusty surface. Sam perches on the edge of a table near the window to keep an eye on any demons.

"All right, we got Jesus Juice," Dean places his flask of holy water on the counter before continuing the rundown on the weapons he brought. "Guns loaded with Devil's trap bullets. Shoot a demon, put him on lockdown. The Angel Blade works—"

A distant clatter came from outside the diner, capturing everyone's attention. Sam gets up and moves toward the window. He peeks through the dirty blinds, confirming, "They're coming."

"Good," Dean responds confidently.

"They've got assault rifles," Sam mentions, dampening his brother's enthusiasm.

"Okay, less good," I add.

Dean shifts his focus to the weapons, searching for a plan.

"So, what's the play?" Irv asks.

Dean quickly explains a way to distract the demons. After he finished, I helped sweep the contents back into the duffle before he swung the sack over his shoulder. He nods at Sam, gesturing for him to lead everyone to the rear exit. I maneuver to the front of the group and quietly open the door, searching for demons nearby. After ensuring the coast was clear, I raised my hand and waved. We advance to the edge of the building to survey the area. Nada.

Sam's large hand covers my shoulder, offering me comfort. A reassuring nod is shared between us before we shift our gaze back to Irv and Tracy. Capturing their attention, Sam points to another spot where we could discreetly escape. Following their confirmation, we run like hell and wait for Dean. The distant sound of the diner's front door being forcefully opened echoes through our surroundings. Dean walks around the corner where we hid before telling us the other half of his plan.

"All right. We got to flank seal them douche in there, so, uh, Irv, you and me will go left. Sam, you, Mari, and Tracy go right." He orders.

"Okay. Let's move," says Sam as we walk in our assigned direction.

His hands grab our forearms, making sure we stay close. Suddenly, Tracy spins on her heel and pushes him away, maintaining a safe distance between them by extending her arm.

"Don't touch me." She barks.

Sam's eyes widen, surprised by her outburst. My rage causes me to see red, and before I know it, I push her arm off of Sam and use my strength to shove her body away. Tracy stumbles back, nearly bumping into the dumpster behind her, as I step between her and Sam. Her stunned expression flashed into anger before she charged toward me to attack. Meeting her challenge, I take a step forward, but Dean rushes over to intervene just as Sam pulls my body into his and holds me still.

"Whoa," I shrug from their restraints as I stare down the out-of-line female. Dean's eyes linger on my face before turning to Tracy, asking, "What's the problem?"

Tracy inhales before looking at the youngest Winchester and painfully confessing, "My family's dead because of him."

Taken aback, Sam asks, "What?"

"I watched a demon slaughter my parents, and the whole time, it talked about how it was celebrating. How some dumb kid let Lucifer out of his cage."

Tracy glared at Sam with intense hatred after she recounted her story. Although she had acted like an ass, I really couldn't blame her. My eyes shifted toward Sam, only to have my heart break even more as I witnessed grief consume both his mind and body. Before I could move to console him, Dean interjected.

"Okay, all right, we got to move. Uh, girls with me. Irv." He pats Sam on the chest, finishing his sentence with his gesture.

"Okay. Let's go, son." The older man tells Sam.

Sammy lingers behind me, staring sorrowfully at Tracy.

"He's going to be okay," Dean whispers in my ear after his brother follows Irv.

I nod in agreement and try to refrain from thinking of how much Sam was beating himself up. Dean marches away to play line leader as we trail behind. With our guns off safety, we cautiously move along the surrounding buildings. After rounding our last corner, the view of the diner was straight ahead. Dean peeks at the restaurant's entrance before giving further instructions.

"Okay, I think they're still inside. We wait till they come out, and we pick them off one by one." He gives us the side-eye before seizing the opportunity to address the new girl's animosity toward Sam. "Listen, for the record, Sam's not the only guy who thought he was doing right and watched it all go to crap. Okay? That's just part of being—"

"Being a hunter." Tracy finished with acerbity, not understanding the mini-lecture.

"Being human. Look, you want to be pissed off at Sam, that's fine. I get it. But if you want to go after somebody, you make sure that they got black eyes. Got to know who the real monsters are in this world, kid."

She remained silent after he finished his speech, allowing his words to marinate. The quietness was short-lived as gunfire erupted in the distance. On instinct, we raised our guns high and low, scouting every inch the barrel of our guns could see. After the shooting stopped, Dean silently motioned to move forward. Suddenly, Abaddon jumps out of her hiding place and clotheslines Dean, knocking him flat on his back.

My body wanted to run to his aid, but my brain told me to fight. I aim my handgun at Abaddon's head, but before I can pull the trigger, she telekinetically flicks it away. My hand instinctively reaches into my jacket, attempting to retrieve the angel blade I keep stashed away. The pads of my fingertips barely grazed the handle when she waved her hand, sending me into a brick wall. I heard Dean's voice call my name before everything faded to black.

Dean's POV

"Mari!" I call as she flies into the building beside her.

Her head hits the aged bricks, knocking her out cold. Before I could get to her, Tracy fired an entire round into the Knight of Hell. I swiftly move from the path of danger, instinctively protecting my face by covering it with my arms. Once the clip was empty, my eyes instantly scanned Mari's body, checking to see if she was free of any ricochet. Thankfully—other than the injury that she-demon caused—she was okay.

"Nice grouping." Abaddon mocks, lifting her black shirt to reveal her bulletproof vest. "Kelvar. Beats magic bullets. I love the future."

While the demon was distracted, I stealthily grabbed my flask from my jacket. I silently unscrewed the cap before flinging the holy water at the Knight of Hell. She gasped in pain as the purified water burned her vessel. As she stumbled away, I rushed to my feet and reached into my jeans pocket for my keys. After fishing them out, I grasp Tracy's hand and place the keys in it.

"Listen, my car is three blocks over. Go get more bullets, more holy water—get everything."

"No, no, b-but what about you guys?" She stutters.

I push her away, yelling, "Just go! Go! Now!"

Tracy listens to my order and runs away. Immediately, I fall to my knees next to Maricela before scooping her delicate frame up from the dusty ground. Carefully, I release her from my embrace, settling her against the wall. I cast a glance at Abaddon and see her recovering from holy water. Gentle but urgently, I shake her shoulder and leg simultaneously, attempting to wake the Sleeping Beauty. When she doesn't move, my hands anxiously cradle her wounded head. Blood seeped from her hair, running along her temple and onto my hand, painting it red.

"Come on, princess," I beg, worry filling every cell in my body. "Wake up."

Not having enough time to check for a pulse, I force myself away from her, fearing the worst. Protectively, I stand tall in front of Mari and face Abaddon. She brushes her hair out of her face and smiles wickedly. Her red lipstick mirrored the anger that was boiling inside me. My muscles ached with pain as I waited for the right moment to wipe the smirk off of her face.

She briefly glances at Maricela before returning her gaze to me. "Alone at last."

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[holylulusworld]

Boredom

Summary: You’re bored.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Warnings: boredom, fun, crack, pranks

A/N: A random drabble.

With no hunt in sight, you’re bored.

After folding your clothes and sorting all your books, you are running out of things to do. 

Going for a walk distracted you for a while, but now you are bored again.

“Dean? Where are you?” You huff as you walk toward the kitchen to get a snack. “Do you know where Sam is hiding that huge and boring book he was talking about the other day?”

“In here,” Dean calls from inside the kitchen. I cleaned out the kitchen and now—” he huffs. “I’ll clean the rest of the kitchen.”

“There you are!” Walking inside the kitchen you earn a growl from Dean. “Hey, don’t growl at me!”

“You are walking over the freshly wiped floor, Y/N,” he glares in your direction. “I won’t clean in here again if you get it dirty all the time.”

“Man, you must be bored to hell and back,” you snicker. “So, did you see the book? I need it. I found some pretty wildflowers and want to press them.”

“You better not use Sammy’s beloved books to press flowers,” he smirks. “He will scold you and you won’t be allowed in the library for the time being if he finds out.”

You huff. “I’m bored, is all.”

“Same,” Dean looks around the now clean kitchen. “At least the kitchen is clean. How about you lend me a hand and help me clean the bathroom? I need to iron our shirts too.”

“We could iron Sammy’s shirts with beer again,” you wiggle your eyebrows. “I know he’ll love it. Booze and softener. A deadly combination.”

“You mean beer,” Dean corrects. “We won’t use my favorite poison to iron Sammy’s shirts. But…we could use something smellier…”

“What do you have in mind,” you scoot closer to Dean to conspire with him against Sam. “Toilet water maybe…”

“Let’s have a look around the bunker. I bet we can find something nice,” he chuckles darkly. “He will love his new fragrance…”

“Wait—” you grab Dean’s hand. “What about toilet water mixed with garlic and a hint of beer.”

Dean’s grin widens. He chuckles and wraps one arm around your shoulders. “You’re an evil mastermind. You and I will prank Sammy so hard he’ll start to cry. We will think back to this moment and always remember the day we joined forces to ruin Sam’s shirts.”

Tag in reblog.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— BRO, ASHLEY’S HERE

SUMMARY : dean goes all the way to make this slumber party magical, especially for his kids.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : bruce, wanda, and mavis again as oc children, sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : angst, fluff, swearing, lots of teasing from little kids, kissing

WORD COUNT : 1.2K

A/N : except the reader’s name is definitely not ashley, it’s just a song by attack attack! that has nothing to do with the story, but it’s still a good song. I tried to copy WandaVision when I wrote this, that’s why one of the kids is named after her. and then I just liked Mavis when I was looking up random names online. I was in my feels, I don’t remember when I wrote this, lmao. x

Dean looked at Wanda and Mavis lovingly. Mavis adorably tried to put her colourful butterfly hair clips in his hair. It was longer now, so it wasn’t too hard, but he could tell that Mavis was trying to be gentle when the clips would snap shut between his locks of hair. Some butterfly clips were glittery, some were clear, others were simply different colours and she even had some in her own hair, in the pigtails Dean did an amazing job on. 

Wanda giggled as she traced Dean’s lips with some of Y/N’ lip tint, careful not to overstrain his mouth or spill some of it on his and Y/N’ bed. Wanda carefully closed the bottle and grabbed some eyeshadow Y/N bought for them to play around with.

Meanwhile, Bruce was laughing at Dean while wearing his Batman pyjamas, insisting on being named Bruce Wayne as Dean had planned. Bruce was still participating by choosing the colours for the eyeshadow Wanda wanted to apply. Dean laughed with him too, letting Mavis’ baby fingers brush through his hair and put his honey hair into the smallest pigtails that almost matched hers. 

“You’re so pretty, daddy,” Mavis told him happily, finished with her work. 

“Thanks, honey,” Dean chuckled. Mavis pressed a sloppy kiss on his beard before she sat back on her legs and watched Wanda try her best in blending the lavender and baby blue eyeshadow in his eyelids. She blew softly on some of the extra dust just as Sam and Y/N’ voices echoed through the hallway of the bunker. Bruce was careful not to mess up Wanda as he got up excitedly to greet his mother and uncle.

“Hey, there Bee,” Y/N exclaimed happily. He patiently waited to hug her and instead offered to help her with the massive amount of snacks in her arms. “Thanks, sweetie,” she murmured, handing him a few bags of food as Sam laughed with amusement when he saw Dean.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Sammy,” Dean grumbled, his face content despite his tone of voice.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Y/N giggled, she dumped the snacks on the bed and Sam placed the bottled drinks on Dean’s empty desk. Bruce copied Y/N and let the snacks fall onto the bed unceremoniously. 

“I know, I look sexy, you wanna marry me again,” he flirted, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She smiled and rolled her eyes, Wanda and Mavis both scrambled towards the snacks with Bruce to choose their favourites. Sam started to load the Disney+ app on the television as Y/N kissed Dean’s tinted lips. 

“You look lovely,” she whispered against his lips. Her thumb swiped across his freckled cheekbone, and she smiled at him lovingly, a look he easily returned when he took her wrist and kissed it gently.

“I look ridiculous,” he whispered back. He was still grateful and flattered by her words, like always, and she mimicked the kiss he placed on her wrist. She took his own hand and kissed his wrist softly, knowing how much he loved the tenderness of her affection. 

“You look like the most incredible father in the entire universe,” she murmured against his sunny and freckled skin. He knew he couldn’t argue with that and he smiled, watching her pull away, dazed and enchanted. She twirled his tiny pigtail with her finger and laughed, watching Sam, Mavis, Wanda, and Bruce picking their snacks and drinks, leaving her and Dean to choose last. 

Since it was the winter holiday and the kids had two weeks off, Dean and Y/N compromised to let the kids stay awake a bit late, the most they could do is midnight. It was seven twenty-five, so there was plenty of time to get the Marvel movie marathon going for the rest of the two weeks at night. They’d start in order, with Captain America: The First Avenger which was PG-13 anyway, safe for the kids. Not that they were safe from Dean’s potty mouth. 

Eileen was busy, so Sam spent his time with his nieces and nephew without her. Y/N was happy for them, especially now that they've won. Y/N remembered helping Jack taking the variants of Sam and Dean that were in Rio back to their universe and saving Cas from the Empty, but he wasn't quite ready to face his family. Dean was desperate for his best friend. Y/N tried making him understand that Cas needed some time and he’d make his way back to them. 

Sometimes Dean was happily caught up in the fact that they were married or pregnant, but sometimes losing the man he considered his brother and best friend was too much. Cas saved him from Hell, Cas was his only best friend. Dean didn’t have one like him before, in all his life, never this deep, this real. Cas was kind to him and he loved Dean, just because. Just like Y/N. Just like Sam. Dean loved him. 

Sam squeezed himself into a blue bean bag, massive enough to hold him and Bruce copied him, plopping down on the black one right next to him. He sunk into it, and shimmied playfully before relaxing, and Y/N smiled. She turned off the lights, letting Sam control the settings on the television. Wanda and Mavis laid down on their stomachs at the foot of the bed and Dean went back to where he was, settled against the pillows. She joined him, smiling affectionately, completely amused as he rubbed off some of the makeup.

All of them remained warm in their pyjamas, happily resting in Dean's darkened room, the light of Marvel’s intro illuminating the room and they all felt content. Even Dean, who’d been working on getting used to everything, freedom from all the strings that had controlled him his whole life like a puppet. With Y/N, his kids, Sam and Eileen, it was easier, it was amazing, like a dream. A dream he didn’t doubt anymore. For the first time, he wasn’t afraid, he wasn't worried or stressed, hurt or frustrated.

He looked around the room, watching Sam toast his Coke with Bruce’s Sprite, a little smile grew on his face. His eyes trailed to Wanda and Mavis who giggled quietly, giddy, sharing their snacks and asking if they liked it. His eyes watered because it was real and it was his. He gazed over at Y/N, watching her excited eyes analyse every part of the scene where Red Skull was trying to get the Tesseract. A block of Cadbury chocolate pressed against her lips, invested more in the movie than her melting snack, he wiped his eyes subtly to admire the coruscating rings on her finger, the endless and eternal promise of their love. 

She turned to look at him, but he didn’t look away, even though he was crying. And she seemed to know exactly why. Because she gazed around the room quickly, looking for what had stirred these feelings in him, and then she looked back at him before quietly wrapping her arms around him, whispering loving words against his neck until he pulled away. 

He kissed her. To him, it was a checkpoint, an affirmation that no one was going anywhere, that he was safe, that they were all safe. Her love was as endless as the universe. He understood it now, how it grew, how it never ended, how ancient and forever it was, and he adored her for it.

taglist

@rominaszh @livingdeadmak @lanassmarty @murdockscumsock @zepskies @candy-coated-misery0731 @the-achievementhunter @kellynickelss @stxrgazer03 @epsilonsagittarii @lyarr24 @spnfamily-j2 @jessllianaquilesrolonworld @globetrotter28 @deansbbyx @lickmybawls (don't change it, it's iconic)

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DEANBRAINROTWRITINGS 

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[samanddean76]

A Fistful Of Sammy's

An ancient grimoire has been searching for the man that is destined to wield it for the good of all.  With the power that was imbued upon it, Lux gained sentience and hid herself away, appearing as nothing more than a smoothly polished rock.  Now she waits.  The problem?  The Stanford-Era Sam Winchester that the grimoire meets is not the only Sam searching for it.  And thanks to a little time travel the list of those seeking her is growing longer by the minute.  Once Soulless Sam and Demon Dean are added into the mix?  Things start to go sideways.  But then a couple of Hollywood actors trapped in Canada, who happen to look just like them and know everything about them, turn out to be crucial to Sam and Dean being able to save the day. 

Will an Apocalypse World Bobby (no, not that one) and a battle ravaged Castiel help or hinder?  Will the all-too helpful Gabriel guide Sam to the truth, or lead him astray?  And will Sam ever get the happy ending he so desperately deserves? 

Come along on a wild ride, with Metallica as the soundtrack, and an ending that hinges on one impossible choice.

Fandoms: Supernatural and Supernatural RPF

Rated: Explicit | Word Count: 33.6K (and climbing)

This is what happens when you have four Sam's, four Dean's, two Castiel's, two Jared and Jensen's, one Gabriel, one John, and one Jack in the same story.

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Demon Dean/Soulless Sam, Sam Winchester/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, John Winchester/Sam Winchester

Major Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Additional Tags: AU, Time Travel, Will Reference Events From All Seasons Plus Prior To Series, Jared & Jensen from Season 6 - The French Mistake, Stanford Era Sam, Dean, & John, Soulless Sam, Demon Dean, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Dubious Consent, Non-Graphic Violence, Unorthodox Demon Healing, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sam & Dean Being The Best Of Brothers, Castiel Gets A Power Up, Sam Gets A Power Up, An OC For The Ages, Literally

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight on AO3

Hey! How about we turn it into The Samstraveganza Verse? Mmmm, okay, I'm sold.

Tell Me Something I Don't Know - Soulless Sam/Demon Dean one-shot on AO3

Excerpt from Chapter Six under the break....

Sam could see himself through Dean’s eyes.  From the moment he was the baby lying in the maternity ward.  Later when he played in his crib in the nursery of his only real home.  How scared Dean felt as he raced out the front door with his little Sammy held tight.  Through more dingy motel rooms and abandoned houses than either of them ever wanted to think about.  On the first day of middle school, when Sam had been so scared, Dean had looked down at him with pride, assuring his kid brother that he was going to be better than any of his classmates.  Helping Sam to get ready for his first dance, pinning on the boutonniere that he had stolen from the flower shop.  Wishing how it would have been him to escort his Sammy. 

“I would have danced with you, at least once.  Spun my big brother around the floor.”  The words echoed across his mind, and when Dean tried to deepen the kiss that they were sharing, Sam knew that he’d heard it, and shared the sentiment.  He thrust harder into the willing flesh before him, finding untold joy as each thrust was matched by Dean pushing back with his own hips.  Trying to help Sam sink in even deeper. 

[sammygender]

saw your post about fic rec lists. do you have any spn fic recs? 5 spn fics to read before you die? or sam-centric fics, especially set in the first 5 seasons/pre-canon? (that last is just me telling on my own preferences, lol)

literally 95% of the supernatural fic i read is pre-canon and almost all of it is, if not sam-centric, then sam-heavy. so. not all of the fics r necessarily 100% my interpretation, especially in regards to john takes, but theyre all really excellent

The Very First Stone by road_rhythm. LOVE this one so much. read if you want excellent characterisation of all 3 winchesters, gorgeous writing and a genuinely gripping narrative. set one summer when sam and dean are teenagers, feels the most like an actual novel of any of the fics on this list. also really like the john in this

Run Aground by themegalosaurus. devastatingly good casefic set just before sam leaves for stanford

Ways We Stay Alive by yet_intrepid. read if you dont mind a particularly awful john - this ones emotionally tough, heed tags. training exercise fic!

Emergency On Planet Earth by EudociaCovert. SO obsessed with this concept and little kid sammy. tldr sam is worried john's a serial killer

is it cheating if i rec my own fics? whatever, i will anyway - my fic series is all precanon and often sam-centric, the most sam-centric ones are probably waiting for the day they escape, a perfect body, a perfect soul, and my personal favourite something soon, where sam keeps having dreams about patricide.

im also really fond of

8 early drafts of Sam Winchester's college application essay and the one he sent to Stanford (the sweet little blonde jam) . oneshot, is what it says on the tin. love their relationship in this

Wound and Unwound by fascra - love this fic soo much. if you want to get into the mind of fucked up teenage sam, this is for you. careful on the tws on this one it delves into eating disorders very heavily

No Child Left Behind by Zeke21 - more dean-centric but has really excellent sam too, beautifully written and feels very real and grounded, heed tags though.

Terrible Liars by panfriedeggs. stanford era jess pov, dean comes to stay.

Nickel and Dime by Linden - outsider pov, CPS gets called on the winchesters. love this one. tagged sam/dean but its just gen

The Prettiest Princess - set after its a very spn christmas (the precanon part). both very cute and very upsetting, perfect recipe for precanon

MRSA . Dean's cut gets badly infected.

and, cheating, because this is an AU and therefore not technically pre-canon, but i loooove it: the body and the boneyard by hellsreluctantheir

may add more if i think of them later.. i read a lot of fic. feel free to send asks for anything more specific!!!

[shimmerwindow]

I Never Really

Part Ten

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Alcohol use, smut (18+)

Sexual Content: Car sex, spanking, creampie as always

Playlist | Masterlist

Tag list: @jazzyfigz @dont-go-home-without-me @poochiesworld @stardustcatcher @83rkblogs @jaketsguitar @dannys-dream @gretavanfan @do-it-jakey-baby @gvfpal @ignite-my-fire

Every class with Sam was becoming more and more difficult to sit through. You had a ritual now that avoided having to see each other outside of class, where your last half of the class would be silently exchanging your notes on the project. It’d been this way for a week or two now, maybe more or maybe less, the days were blurring together. You weren’t even sure what day of the week it was anymore, letting your feet carry you to your classes on pure muscle memory.

You’d been sure to close the roof door behind you every night since the last encounter. In all honesty to yourself, you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. You loved him, you were in too deep to not admit that to yourself at this point. But you would do nothing with those feelings, and wait for them to fade.

Every day, though, the feeling would come back all the same. He was your first thought every morning, that beautiful face plaguing your every move. Any time you heard his name, or even something that sounded like his name, you would perk up. Even walking past the guitar shop in town was difficult at this point, ever since you saw him there through the windows.

You walked out of class behind him, watching the way his pants swished around his ankles. You heard his voice.

“Hey!” In the same tone he would use to greet you. Back when you were both always happy to see each other.

There was a girl waiting at the door for him. Your blood ran ice cold, your heart feeling like it stopped in your chest for a moment. You couldn’t look at her any more than the brief glance you’d gotten. You didn’t even say goodbye to Sam as you sped away, upping your pace so you wouldn’t hear whatever he was going to say to her.

“Tonight? I’ll be around.”

You cursed him, cursed that voice of his, cursed that accent you could pick out above even the most deafening crowd. You didn’t want to hear those words.

Things felt emptier now as you braced yourself against the frigid mid-November air, the anxious waiting period between fall and winter upon the Earth. It was a time where it seemed like everything was holding its breath. Every tree clung to the last of its leaves, every squirrel buried the last of its acorns. And you, trying to bury the last of your love for Sammy, holding your breath that the tide may change and he would come around. He never would, and you knew that. You’d gotten so close, two lines fated to approach but never quite cross, like one of those math equations, the graphs, what were they called? You didn’t particularly care to remember.

Your grades had started to slip. A perfect GPA became just slightly below perfect, a tragedy in your education-obsessed mind. Though, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to give a shit when you turned in assignments half-assed and late. It just wasn’t all that important to you. You felt your phone buzz against your hand in your pocket. A text from Jake.

Haven’t heard from you in a while, hope you’re well. Want to come over tonight? Josh is here. Sam and Daniel are out.

Yeah, no shit Sam was out. Your gut reaction was to tell him no. Another night of crying in bed alone was just what the doctor ordered on a gloomy day like today. But you fought yourself, typing back a reply.

i would love to!

He messaged back saying he would pick you up around 6. Perfect.

You couldn't be bothered to make yourself look any more than half-decent after classes. When 6 finally rolled around, the light had faded from the sky, leaving only those stars you'd come to resent so much. You carried two shirts over your arm as you headed out to meet Jake at his car.

He opened the door for you, with a bow and a sweep of his arm. “Princess treatment for the angel,” he said with a smile.

You rolled your eyes at him and slinked into the passenger seat. “Thank you, sir,” you quipped back, and he pretended not to hear it.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he pulled out of the lot. “You look…very exhausted.”

You shrugged. “Finals season is coming up. Just getting a bit burnt out, that's all.”

“It’s interesting,” he cocked his head, placing a hand on your knee. “Any time you end a sentence with ‘that’s all,’ you make it rather easy to tell that’s definitely not all.”

How he’d gotten such a firm grasp of your mannerisms in such a short amount of time, you weren’t quite sure. “We can get into it later. Make me one of those fancy drinks first.”

He nodded. “Josh is already preparing the entire house as if the queen herself was coming over. I’ll fix you up something nice, angel.”

“I have your shirts, by the way.” You held them out, neatly folded.

“I figured you’d want to keep them.”

“But they’re yours.”

He let out a short laugh. “I've given you plenty of me, you can have a few shirts, if you want them. Unless you're just giving them back because they don’t smell like me anymore.”

He routinely left you dumbfounded at the way he could clock even the smallest details you would never tell him. Even things you didn’t know were true until he said them. You drew a breath to reply, but found it pointless to protest. He knew you too well.

“Need me to wear them a few times before you’ll take them back?”

“I’ll wait until I get another one from you organically. I’m sure another will be in my possession soon enough.” You smiled at him weakly.

When you pulled up, Josh greeted you at the door with a hug, rocking you side to side in a warm embrace. “So glad you’re here!” He gave you a wide smile, crossing his arms against the cold. “Are you hungry? Do you want something to drink? I got the fireplace going for us.”

“You’re interrogating the poor woman. Let her sit down first,” Jake said, holding the door open for you.

Warm light spilled out from the entryway onto the porch, which had been appropriately decorated for the season. Two vases with a gorgeous bouquet of fake flowers in shades of fall colors framed the door, and a large wreath had been hung on the door itself. Josh’s touches, you figured.

The house was warm, and emanated that familiar scent you’d come to love. It was a mixture of all of them. The fresh, earthy scent from Josh’s plants, the incense that was always burning, the wood in the fireplace, whatever cooking Jake had done that day, it all coalesced into something that made you feel at home. That was a feeling that was difficult for you to find these days, being so far away from your actual home. You were grateful to find even the smallest glimpses of it here. You curled up in the recliner, tucking your hands between your knees. The TV was on, and some cooking show droned out of it.

“What do you want to drink?” Jake asked, coming up behind you and rocking the recliner back and forth. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“Surprise me,” you smiled, looking up at him. He nodded, and whisked himself away to the kitchen.

“Anything in particular you want to do tonight?” Josh asked, plopping down in the oddly-shaped chair across the coffee table from you.

You shook your head. “Just didn’t really want to spend another night alone.”

“I haven’t seen you in weeks, and you’ve been alone this whole time?” Josh almost looked genuinely angry with you.

“Well, I wasn’t going to just invite myself over here…”

“You’re always welcome. All you have to do is ask.”

“Thank you, Josh. That’s sweet of you.” It was almost aggressive, how much he seemed to care about you. It was a good feeling. You didn’t know him all that well, but you could tell he was always ready to fight for you, and he would always be in your corner.

“And what about Sam?” Josh asked as Jake returned to the room, drink in hand for you.

There it was again, that icy feeling that came over you any time he was brought up. “What about him?”

“Why not hang out with him?” Jake asked, sitting on the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “You guys live in the same building, for god’s sake.”

“He’s…” you were caught in a corner here, and this suddenly felt more like an intervention than a hangout with friends.

“He said you’re not talking to him anymore. You still mad about that fight? I wouldn’t blame you,” Josh said.

You sighed and started nervously fidgeting, lacing your fingers together. It pissed you off a bit, that he would tell them you weren't speaking much. Although, you couldn't rightfully be angry at him for talking to his brothers. “We made up after that. I don’t know if I can really get into this.”

“It’s just us,” Jake said, holding up his hands in a shrug. “Whatever secrets you have, we’ll both happily keep them. But only talk if you want to.”

“You do look terribly exhausted. Like you’ve got no sunshine left. If something is weighing on you, we’re here.”

You looked at your hands in silence for a bit, listening to the ecstatic voice of the announcer on the TV. Counting down, yelling something about how the chefs only had one minute left. It wouldn’t hurt to tell them, right? If anyone would understand, and maybe be able to help, it was the two men sitting with you right now. You weren’t ready to tell them the entire truth of the matter – you weren’t even sure you would be able to make the words come out of your mouth anyway.

“You want me to change the subject?” Jake began. “I did get this cool new–”

“No. It’s just…” You swallowed thickly, gathering your thoughts. “It’s just, like…he’s got this– this new girl I think he’s seeing, and I don’t want to…intrude.”

“Intrude?” Josh tilted his head. “If this new girl of his gets mad at you for just being his friend, he needs to tell her to fuck off. I would tell him that myself.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Jake’s face was unreadable, something of concern and anger hiding behind his eyes.

“It’s like, we have something very special,” you continued. “Something that feels like more than friendship.”

“Twin flames!” Josh twisted two fingers together.

“Whatever that means, probably, I don’t know.”

“Don’t let him get spiritual about it,” Jake joked, shaking his head at Josh.

“Everything just feels weird between us now. And I don’t know how to fix it,” you said with a sigh.

“Maybe just talk to him.” Jake didn’t look at you when he spoke, his eyes fixed on the TV. “If you think you’re intruding on a new relationship, tell him that. He’ll tell you whether or not that’s true.”

“And I don’t think he would have seemed so sad that you’ve been avoiding him if he didn’t still want you around,” Josh added.

“I guess you’re both right. It’s just…what do I even say?”

“Speak from the heart,” Josh said, leaning towards you. “Just say whatever you need to say.”

“I’ll try, I suppose.” As much as you hated it, they were right. You’d been working so hard to run from all of your feelings, you forgot there was a real person on the end of them. Though, in your blind, irrational rage directed at him, it was hard to find a way to approach it that didn’t involve saying something you'd regret.

Josh was first to change the subject, and conversation quickly evolved through many topics. You had a pleasant buzz going, and just for now, you were able to forget all that plagued your worried mind. The fire roared, the glow and warmth a feeling you'd long forgotten in your time away from home.

Jake told you all about the strides he’d taken with getting the band off the ground, boasting about how Josh was the greatest singer they could possibly ask for. Josh had laughed at that, saying he still had a long way to go. The dynamic of the twins was something special, something you could watch for ages. At times, conversation would slow, the two of them only communicating through whatever kind of telepathy they shared.

It was nice to finally feel like you had people to turn to. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this – aimless conversation between friends. You were able to say anything in this space and you were accepted with open hearts and helpful hands. There was something so good about them, and not just the twins, the entire family. It was so right, like you’d always known them, and were just waiting to meet them your entire life.

The fire began to die, and the hour grew late. Josh looked tired, and excused himself to bed, apologizing profusely for “being such a terrible host, having to leave you.” You laughed his worries away, telling him he was always the greatest host you could ask for. Only you and Jake remained in the living room, alone with the last embers of the fire.

“Just us now.” He turned his eyes to you, a smile playing on the corners of his lips.

You suddenly felt nervous, like you needed to perform, like something was expected of you to keep him entertained.

“You wanna go for a drive?” He asked.

“To where?”

He tilted his head at you. “I know a spot.”

Oh. Your mouth opened in anticipation of words, then closed again, and you couldn’t look him in the eyes. “A spot for what?” You played dumb.

“Oh, did you want me to seduce you?” He stood, walking over to you, hands in his pockets. He stood far too close, and you had to crane your neck up to look at him. “I don’t think it’s necessary, given the way you’ve been looking at me.” He extended a hand towards you. “Come.”

You took his hand and he lifted you from the chair into his arms, your body pressed against him. God, that scent was intoxicating. Trained so perfectly to think of him, to think of the night you’d shared together not all too long ago, every time you got even the slightest hint of it.

His calloused fingers grasped your jaw, gently, tilting your face to his. It only took three words. “You want it?”

“Yes,” you breathed. He’d taught you well that first night, and you knew anything other than words would not be accepted.

The air tonight was unusually warm as he pulled you along to his car, a blessing and a curse from the Earth for what you were about to do. He barely glanced at you as you fell into the passenger seat, speeding away the second you fastened your seatbelt.

“You seemed rather eager to come over tonight. He’s really got you all twisted up, doesn't he?” He asked.

“I’m fine. I just wanted to see you, that’s all.” It was only half of a lie. You wanted to see him, of course, he was your friend now after all. But that wasn’t the only thing you wanted from him.

And he knew that. “There it is again. That's all.” He turned his eyes to you, an eyebrow raised.

“Well…” you couldn’t return his gaze. “Where are we going?” You were heading in the opposite direction of the dorms.

“Taking us somewhere nice and quiet.”

He pulled the car up to a quiet pull-off area on the side of an old road. It was one of those parking lots designed to draw tourism, long ago, before the freeway drew traffic away from this part of town. It was silent here, not another car to be seen, and you were hidden from the main road.

“Listen.” He threw the car in park and took his seat belt off, draping an arm over the back of your seat. “I’m not going to play a part in your revenge scheme.”

You stared at him, stupefied, but you weren’t about to play dumb with him. He could read your every thought, your every intention. There was no point in trying to avoid this. “There is no revenge scheme,” you said, simply.

“Don’t try to act stupid with me, angel. You’re smarter than that.”

“This isn’t about him.”

“Is that really true?” He placed a hand on your shoulder, slowly snaking it up to grip the back of your neck. “You really just want me?”

You held onto his forearm, feeling the muscles twitch with every beat of his heart. “It might look bad from your perspective, I know that. But…” you drew a shaky breath, your thighs squeezing together a bit tighter.

“But what?”

“But I knew I wanted you. From the moment I saw you.”

The tension snapped. He leaned his seat back and pushed it as far back as it would go in one quick movement, something that seemed practiced. He practically dragged you across the center console and into his lap, his teeth latching onto your neck. You both moved in a frenzy, his fingers shaking a bit with anticipation as they plunged beneath the hem of your pants.

“Please,” you whined as he dragged a finger across your panties.

“You beg so much, angel. I’ll give it to you, don’t worry.”

You gripped at his shoulders when he slipped past your panties, rubbing a few quick circles against your clit before sinking a finger into you. You were already soaked, you had been all day, your mind constantly replaying how well he’d fucked you since that night.

You searched in the dark for him, trailing your hands across his chest and down between your bodies until you found what you were looking for. You wrapped your palm around his cock through the fabric of his jeans, soliciting a soft groan from him.

“Needy tonight?” He asked with a smile. “Did I get you all worked up?

“You tend to do that.”

“Fuck.” He found that perfect spot inside you, dragging his fingers across it with precision, like he already knew all the twists and turns of your body flawlessly. With every gasp, every moan that fell from your lips, you felt his chest tighten in sync with you.

You let out a pathetic whimper, trying to undo the button on his jeans but finding no purchase at the awkward angle at which you were pressed against him.

“You want to touch it, angel?” Always so unbearably cocky.

He released his grip on your back and pushed you away a bit, his fingers still working you over. The new angle made you gasp, your hips rocking involuntarily against his palm.

Fingers trembling, you fumbled with the button on his jeans until you could finally pull the zipper down, and you hesitated. In all the frenzy of the other night, you realized you'd never actually seen his cock. Your eyes traced the outline straining against his pants. But you could wait no longer, and finished the job, finally wrapping your fingers around him and pulling it out.

No wonder you'd been sore, and no wonder he radiated confidence. The perfect length, and thick, heavy in your hand. You squeezed a bit harder than you meant to when his thumb found your clit, making his head fall back against the seat with a groan.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, watching intently as a bead of wetness rolled down the tip. Your mouth started to water at the sight of it. That would have to wait for a different time, though.

“You’ve been thinking about it a lot, haven't you?”

Your eyes met his, your free hand snaking up to grip the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. His lips were parted a bit, giving you a fine view of those perfect teeth, his mouth turned up in a smug smile. “How could I not think about you? I could barely walk the next day–” you were cut off by a gasping moan with one particularly cruel thrust of his fingers.

“Didn’t get enough the first time?”

“Nowhere near enough.”

Things were a blur as he freed you of your pants, yanking them down under your knees, just enough that you could fully straddle his lap. He didn’t bother asking if you were ready – the way you were looking at him, fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to bruise, was enough of a sign. He couldn’t be bothered to pull your panties off, too, instead simply pulling them to the side with one finger as he lined himself up with your entrance.

You were mesmerized as he mimicked the same expressions he’d done the first time. Head tilted a bit, watching as you sank down onto him. His fingers gripped at the flesh of your thighs, one hand sliding around to swiftly crack across your ass. It caught you by surprise, making you let out a shocked whimper as you buried your face into his shoulder.

He let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “God, you just tightened up like crazy. Did you like that?”

You nodded once, a quick gesture against his body. Nobody had ever done that to you before.

“More, please,” you whined.

He rocked against you, lifting your hips just a bit with each movement so that he could thrust up into you. The angle was perfect, every little movement he made resonated through your entire body.

Another blow landed square in the same spot as the last one, and all thoughts left your mind with the impact.

“You love that, huh?” He breathed.

He moved at just the right tempo, angling himself so your clit was pressed snug against his body. This angle made you feel so full, like he was taking up every inch of extra space in your body.

He really did have you worked up, your body already starting to tighten that familiar coil deep in your core. Your moans got quieter, replaced by gasping breaths as you tried to calm yourself down from a peak you were approaching far too quickly.

“Feels like you're gonna cum, angel.” He gripped your jaw with one hand, the other pushing your hips down to slow your pace. “Without permission?”

“You’re really gonna make me ask?” You whined, rocking your hips, trying to chase the sensation that was slipping away.

“Yes I am.” Judging by the way he was struggling to keep an even tempo, he was slowing down for his own benefit, too.

“I– please, Jakey–”

“Oh, so I’m Jakey now? Trying to be all sweet?” He smiled, a sinister smirk of perfect teeth. “I’m not sir anymore?”

“Which one do you prefer, sir?”

“Fuck,” he groaned, jerking himself up into you a bit harder. “Call me whatever you want, angel. They’re both my names, to you at least.”

He resumed a pace that made tears spring to the corners of your eyes, a gut-wrenching fullness encompassing you as every one of your senses abandoned you. You were almost instantly thrust back to the edge.

He got there a moment before you, and the sight of it was something to behold. The way his jaw fell slack, his eyes widening a bit before narrowing into what almost looked like a scowl. That familiar feeling washed over you as you felt him twitching and straining inside you, groans falling from both your lips as you came together.

You sat in the same position for a while, your head resting on his shoulder, both of you fighting to catch your breath.

“You alright?” He breathed against your ear.

“More than alright.”

“Better than the last time?” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I thought you were going to break me in half for a minute there.”

You felt the soft rise and fall of his chest as he laughed. “Almost did, I think.”

He slipped out of you, pulling your panties back into place and yanking your pants back up.

“Wait, I didn’t even–”

“Keep it there.” He guided you back into the passenger seat where you hiked the hem of your pants back up to normal, looking at him like he was insane.

You stared at him, dumbfounded, your head cocked to the side in confusion. “Why? That's so–”

“Endorphins. I won’t elaborate.”

You crossed your legs, and gave him a slight shrug. “You’re rather cryptic. Why is that?”

“The girls love it.”

You barely had time to stop your head from spinning before he was speeding back down the way you'd came. He seemed to know this route well. How many other girls had seen this exact view from his passenger seat?

“When you talk to him,” Jake began, sliding his hands over the steering wheel. “Will you tell him about this?” He motioned between the two of you.

“I…don't know, honestly.”

“Do you think you should?”

“I don’t think it’s any of his business.”

Jake shifted a bit, his eyes glancing over to you. “I think it is, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, he…” Jake sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong.”

There was subtext here, something that was clearly flying right over your head. If you’d only reach just a bit to grab it, it would come to you naturally. But you weren’t sure you wanted to connect whatever dots Jake was laying out for you. “I don’t want to treat you like a dirty little secret of mine, but your brother doesn’t necessarily have to know that we’re fucking.”

“My brother who routinely tells everyone about how you shine brighter than the sun.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s got someone else, and I’ve got you.” The words left a burning sting in your mouth as they crossed the threshold of your lips. And the two of you didn’t say much else for the remainder of the drive.

“Take care of yourself,” he told you when he pulled up to the dorm building.

You sat there for a moment, your eyes fixed on him. His hair was disheveled, and your fingers ached with the need to reach out and fix it, if only to touch him once again. He was truly magnetic, an irresistible force. Like he was the moon, you were a ship on the tide, you could not fight against his gravity.

“Do I have something on my face?” He asked, with a slight smirk.

“No. Sorry. I just–” you couldn’t resist. You reached out and combed your fingers through his hair gently. It had a bit of curl to it, dampened by sweat and the humidity of the car. “I just needed to fix that.”

“Thanks.” He brushed a finger over your nose, smiling at you. “Go get some sleep, angel. It’s late.”

You nodded at him, and hoisted yourself out of the car on wobbly legs, nearly collapsing back into the seat the first time you tried to stand up. You could hear Jake fighting to hold back a laugh at your struggle.

“Shut up or I’ll never come over again,” you laughed, your heart dropping at the way he immediately covered his mouth and the laughs stopped. So, it really was that serious to him.

“Take it easy,” he called out the window as you shuffled up to the front doors.