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enigmalynne · 5 months
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Reblog if you are a fic writer who welcomes moodboards, playlists, remixes, art and any other type of gift based on your stories.
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enigmalynne · 5 months
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Oh, Hai.
After being gone for like, forever and a day, I'm back and I'm writing again. I'm actually working on a bunch of stuff right now too.
Stuff for SPN, of course.... but also for NCIS, Marvel, and maybe some Chicago Fire. And you'll see that too, if I get the confidence to post it.
But for sure the SPN stuff. I've gone one piece done and it needs to be edited before posting, I've got three other work in progress', and one piece outlined out (which I never do, but it's a complicated one).
Until I get those posted, I've updated my Masterlist so you can see all of my pieces in one spot: https://enigmalynne.tumblr.com/writing
In case anyone is here and is still curious that is.
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enigmalynne · 6 months
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be kind to the writers on tumblr.
we have lives too.
writing in our inbox anonymously with comments of pure hate or irritation because we’re not writing or publishing fast enough for you is absolutely unacceptable. not to mention cowardly since you’re hiding behind your screen.
some of us are broke college students with busy schedules. we don’t get much free time between classes, exams, studying, homework, etc. plus the students who still have to work in order to pay for our school.
some of us are adults with full time jobs. who get up every morning at the ass crack of dawn to go work a 7+ hour shift. and then get home just to work some more and then finally collapse into our beds because our bodies NEED the rest. and then we wake up, rinse and repeat the next day.
some of us have families that we have to take care of.
sometimes we get sick.
sometimes we get depressed.
sometimes we get anxiety.
sometimes we just don’t have the motivation to write.
sometimes we are human. just like you are.
we write because we love to. we write because we know that you love to read our works.
we will continue to write for you guys. but please be patient and remember that we are human beings with lives just like yours. so please be kind to us.
just be fucking kind.
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enigmalynne · 2 years
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Reblog if you are a fic writer who welcomes moodboards, playlists, remixes, art and any other type of gift based on your stories.
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enigmalynne · 2 years
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Something to be Thankful For - Masterlist
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Jensen Ackles’ life changes when he walks into his favorite coffee shop and meets Y/N, a Florida girl making a new start in Austin, Texas, as a Sheriff’s Deputy with the help of her sister. The two hit it off and quickly become an item that even the tabloids can’t tear apart. Jensen is excited to show his girl off at Thanksgiving dinner with his family, but she has to work the parade that morning first. What starts out as a normal event filled with balloons, clowns, and cheery faces soon turns deadly as one of the floats explodes and gunfire fills the air. Soon, Y/N is in a fight for her life as she and the rest of the deputies fight back against whoever is trying to take over Downtown Austin.
Is Jensen doomed to watch the woman who brought love back into his life perish in a tragic mass attack, or will he have Something to be Thankful For after all?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
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enigmalynne · 2 years
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SPN FanFic: Mending the Hunter
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Pairings: Sam/Reader, Dean Word Count: 7,924 Warnings: Cursing, good chance of epically wrong medical facts, arguing brothers Winchester and Beyond Bingo Square Filled: Sick Fic
When Dean comes back from Purgatory, he's pissed at Sam for not looking for him. But Dean doesn't know the truth, despite Y/N urging Sam to explain everything. When an accident happens that causes Sam to end up in the hospital, Y/N punishes Dean, and Sam finally steps up to put an end to all of the misunderstandings.
“You quit hunting for a year, Sam. I can take a weekend off and go out,” Dean asked, his voice dripping with haughty disdain. Sam frowned, looking up at Dean from his laptop. He watched warily as he packed his bag.
“You’re leaving?” he questioned quietly. Dean scoffed as he aggressively shoved his bathroom kit into his bag and zipped his duffle.
“Yeah,” he retorted bitterly. “I’ll be back sometime on Monday. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Y/N should be back sometime tomorrow, and I know she’d like to see you…” Sam said sadly. Dean froze, his hand on the doorknob. He hadn’t seen her since he got back from Purgatory. She had kept hunting, he thought disgustedly. He twisted the knob and opened the door roughly.
“Then she’ll see me when I get back,” Dean snapped, as he stepped over the threshold. Sam watched his older brother sadly.
 “Be safe,” he said so quietly Dean wasn’t certain he even heard it. He merely glanced at his brother as he slammed the door shut, refusing to let those puppy dog eyes affect him. Instead, he threw his back into the trunk of the Impala and slid into the front seat. Firing up the engine, he grinned wickedly and rubbed his hand over the dashboard lovingly.
 “I missed you too, baby,” he cooed at the machine. Moments later he was driving down the open road, leaving his worries and his little brother behind in a cloud of dust.
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“The fuck do you mean, he just left you there by yourself? You told him what’s going on right?” Y/N asked over the phone as she drove to where Sam was now waiting for her, alone. Sam remained silent. “Sam? You told him right?”
“He’s got enough going on. He doesn’t need this on his shoulders, too,” Sam said sadly. Y/N had to forcibly restrain herself from chewing her husband out. She loved the man with her entire heart and soul, but sometimes he just didn’t think.
“Sammy, this is like… life-altering information,” she said carefully. Sam snorted indignantly on the other end.
“Yeah, I’m aware of that, Y/N,” he responded indignantly, a sarcastic touch to his typically gentle voice. Y/N rolled her eyes.
“What I mean is it’s more than we eloped while he was gone. He needs to know about the medical stuff too,” she explained gently. She heard Sam sigh on the other end and instantly pressed her foot a little harder on the gas pedal.
 “I know. I know. It’s just he’s been so angry since he got back, and we didn’t look for him,” he started but Y/N interrupted him.
“I did look for him. I swear I did. But, you were in a coma for months, Sammy. I thought you were gonna die. I thought he already was dead. I had my hands full, and I’m sorry if my head wasn’t on straight,” she snapped defensively.
“Hey,” Sam said gently. “No one’s blaming you.”
Y/N instantly swallowed the rest of her defensiveness. Dean’s blaming me. And he’s blaming you. And I want to tear his throat out because of it.
“If Dean knew what happened, maybe he would be a bit more understanding,” she said with an exaggerated calm, keeping her rage to herself as she had been doing for almost a year now.
“I know, honey,” Sam said reassuringly. And he did know. Y/N took the brunt of everything that happened after they blew up the laboratory. She was the one who found Sam bleeding and unresponsive, got him to the hospital, and waited eagerly by his side. This, while trying to find out what happened to Dean and Castiel. She was the one who meticulously researched everything while sitting next to him as he lay in a coma for months on end, going back to the ruined lab to see if she could learn anything new, then finally accepting the idea that Dean and Cas were dead. She was the one who prayed to whoever was actively listening to let Sam live so she could at least have one of the brothers still in her life.
When he finally woke up all those months later and looked at her, he was relieved to see her sitting there next to him. But when Y/N saw him awake, she burst into exhausted sobs that left him confused and bereft. It was another month after that before Sam could properly speak and asked about Dean. It was another two months after that before he could stand up and walk out of the hospital.
Sam was now armed with a new diagnosis and a medication regimen that left him restricted from various things he used to do like driving them around and hunting things that go bump in the night.
The elopement was his idea. She didn’t think it was necessary, but given the new medical circumstances, Sam didn’t want to take any chances. He needed someone to be able to legally be able to take care of him if he was ever incapacitated again.
“You don’t want to marry me?” Sam had asked sadly, gently wrapping his arms around her. Y/N pressed a hard kiss to his mouth before resting her forehead on his.
“Of course, I want to marry you, dumbass. I just don’t want it to be because of…”
“It’s not,” Sam eagerly interrupted her. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, just never had the balls to really ask you. Then this all happened and… Well. I don’t want to go another day without you as my gorgeous wife.”
They went to the local courthouse the next day. She wore a thrift store dress of white satin; he was in his FBI suit and Dean’s tie. There were no witnesses, no family, no friends. Just them and the judge. It was bittersweet.
Y/N had voluntarily stopped hunting for a while to make sure Sam was stable with the proper medications and the new things he had to monitor. He had just convinced Y/N that she could go and take care of a small hunt a few states away when Dean showed back up.
A lot had yet to be discussed.
“Sorry. I know you know. And you know I know you know. We just have to get Dean-o on the same page,” Y/N said on a heavy exhale. Sam smiled knowingly on his end of the phone. Hearing delighted laughter outside his room, he stood up and looked out the window of the hotel room. It was just starting to get dark and already there were local kids dressed up in costumes walking around.
“Hey, Y/N. You know what today is, right?” he asked her, smiling at a particularly adorable pumpkin that walked by holding the hand of her smiling father. He chuckled at her exasperated groan on the other end of the call.
“Don’t remind me. I hate this holiday. The only thing it’s good for is the amazing access to candy,” Y/N said. Sam laughed out loud this time.
“That’s bullshit,” Sam said knowingly. “You genuinely love Halloween.”
 “I do love Halloween. Please tell me you have a bag of Twix there waiting for me,” Y/N said with a smile in her voice.
  “I have it right here, along with the other candy you asked for,” he said, picking up the bag. Y/N instantly heard it rustle on the other end and she smiled widely.
“You spoil me. I’ll be there in about an hour. I love you, Sammy,” she said quietly.
 “I love you too. Drive safely,” he replied before hanging up. He sighed heavily as he looked wistfully around the hotel room. Dean may have been angry and left him alone, but at least he had Y/N coming home to him. She really was his lifesaver, in more ways than one.
Deciding he wanted to have some sodas in the room before she got in, he grabbed his wallet and pulled out a few dollar bills. He snagged the key to the room, walked out, and headed down the stairs to the vending machines. He knew he should have said something to Dean about them getting a room on the ground floor at this motel, but that would have meant a conversation longer than just a few sentences. Dean wasn’t having that with his baby brother right then.
  Sam shook his head dejectedly. He knew things were tough between them because of all the unspoken words, but it wasn’t like Dean was making it easy to open up to him. Dean was angry and hurting, and Sam wasn’t about to add to that mess with his issues… especially when the anger and hurt were because of Sam.
Selecting three different sodas, Sam carried them back up the stairs. Halfway up, he started to feel something come over him. There was a weird numbness spreading across his chest and a metallic taste forming in his mouth. Oh, God, he thought miserably. Please not now.
He tried moving faster to get to the top of the stairs, but it was then the worst possible thing happened. His vision tunneled, his arms lost their rigidity, and before he could say anything, his jaw locked shut.
The last thing he was aware of was the helpless feeling of falling.
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The doors to the emergency room slammed open, causing everyone in the small waiting room to jump in fright. In such a quiet town, the last thing they expected was someone to be rushed frantically into the small hospital.
“Male, mid-thirties, definitely has a concussion, broken right arm, possibly a few broken ribs,” the EMT shouted furiously at the nurses who ran up to them. Sam looked pale on the gurney, blood matting his disheveled hair against his head and seeping into the gauze resting at the back of his neck.
“He was allegedly seizing for at least seven minutes when we got there according to the guest who saw him fall,” a different medical tech said, desperately trying to take his blood pressure again. “Looks like he fell down the stairs when the seizure started.”
“Make a hole!” a nurse shouted frantically to the unaware people standing nearby. They darted nervously out of the way, anxiously watching with wide eyes as the team rushed by him. As soon as they got into an open room, a flurry of urgent actions happened at once. One nurse was attaching leads to his chest to track his heart rate as another was cutting open his shirt and pulling it out of the way; a third taking his vitals; a fourth was getting information from the paramedics. A male doctor walked in pulling his stethoscope over his head.
“Said his name was Sam Winchester when we were able to get him awake for a few minutes, but no other information,” a paramedic shouted before walking out of the room. The doctor nodded his head at them as he checked the patient’s pupils. The sluggish reaction made him frown.
“Yeah, we definitely got a concussion here,” he said grimly. “Someone get me his medical records! We need to know what we are dealing with!”
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Y/N stormed into the local emergency room with wide, scared eyes. She stalked up to the desk causing the nurse sitting there to look up at her expectantly.
“I got a call from this hospital that my husband was brought in. Sam Winchester?” she asked eagerly, her voice shaky. The nurse immediately nodded her head and stood, gesturing for Y/N to follow her. Y/N instantly followed the nurse down the private hallway to where the private rooms were.
“Yes, Mrs. Winchester. He was brought in about two hours ago after falling down some stairs at the motel you are staying at when he started having a complex seizure,” the nurse carefully explained, leading her down to a room. Y/N gently shook her head.
“He hasn’t had a violent seizure in three months,” she said fearfully. The nurse shrugged.
“I don’t know what to tell you, ma’am. His room is right here if you want to wait. I’ll go and get his doctor, so he can answer your questions,” she said before promptly turning and walking away. Y/N nodded then stopped her.
“Wait! Did you call his brother? Dean?” she asked tentatively. The nurse paused and turned to look at Y/N. The expression on her face was regretful. “What?”
“I did call his brother. He didn’t seem very concerned. He said he’d get here when he could,” the nurse said gently. Y/N’s face slowly went from concerned to thunderous and cold.
 “If he shows up,” she said stonily, “don’t let him in the room.” The nurse nodded, then turned and walked off to find the doctor. Y/N watched her walk away and tried to control her fury. It was one thing for Dean to be a dick to Sam. However, acting like his brother being in the hospital was nothing more than a grave inconvenience was unacceptable. She took a deep breath before walking cautiously into Sam’s room.
He was laying in the hospital bed watching television, his broken arm in a cast and sling. He looked over at her when she walked in, an embarrassed grin on his exhausted face. Y/N exhaled a heavy sigh and gently shook her head at him, blinking tears away.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m okay.” Y/N scoffed and shook her head again.
“Your arm is in a cast. How is that okay?” she asked incredulously, sniffling. Sam waved her over, scooting over on the bed.
“It’s better than last time,” he gently explained. Y/N sat down on the hospital bed next to him. He leaned over and carefully pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I could tell it was coming. I just… I was just walking up the stairs when it happened.”
“The stairs?” she exclaimed in horror. “What the hell were you doing on stairs? Sammy, we talked about this.” She looked down, and took his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers. She intentionally kept her eyes on their joined hands, so he didn’t see how upset she was, how worried she had been. Not that it would matter, he’d know just by hearing her speak.
“I know we did, but Dean got a room on the second floor…” he started, trailing off when she looked up with a fierce glare.
“Don’t talk to me about Dean,” she growled viciously. Sam’s mild expression changed to one of confusion but before he could ask what the issue was, the doctor walked in.
“Hello, Mrs. Winchester. I see you have found your husband,” he said. “I’m Doctor Wyatt.” Y/N forced a smile on her face and turned to look at the doctor.
“Yes, I have. Tell me, what’s the damage?”
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“Who the hell said I can’t see my brother?” Dean demanded loudly. He was at a bar when he got the call that his brother was admitted to the hospital, but when they said it wasn’t anything too serious he figured the kid could sit there and stew in it for a little while. Punishment for all that he did while Dean was gone, he thought. Now that he was there, trying to see the kid, he was being denied. The nurse at the station looked back at the screen and typed a few lines.
“Mrs. Y/N Winchester. She said no one other than her is allowed in the room to see Sam. I’m sorry, but as his spouse, we have to honor her wishes,” the nurse said with a shrug, missing the look of complete shock on Dean’s face. “By law, there is nothing we can do.”
“Mrs. Winchester?” he asked, his voice stunned. A noise distracted him, and he looked left only to see Y/N herself standing in the hallway talking to a man in a white lab coat. She had her arms wrapped around herself as if she were physically holding herself together, having what looked like a very intense discussion with the doctor. Without even thinking about it, Dean’s feet started moving him in that direction.
“It’s imperative that we manage his stress levels and get his blood pressure back down to a more stable level,” Dean heard the doctor say to Y/N as he walked up. “Or else this could very well become a regular occurrence, and we’ll have to change his meds again.”
“We are not changing his medications again. The last time we did, the side effects caused severe damage to his blood sugar, and he had to be on insulin for a month,” Y/N said frustrated. The doctor looked pointedly at her.
“Then I suggest whatever matter has him this strung out gets handled soon,” he said gently. Dean stepped up to the two of them furiously, causing them to turn and look at him.
 “Since when are you Mrs. Winchester, Y/N?” he sneered, his breath reeking of alcohol. Y/N’s expression went from distressed to cold in seconds when she looked at the older Winchester brother.
“You’re drunk?!” Y/N growled, the doctor looking on in concern. “You came to the hospital, to see your brother, drunk?”
“Answer my question!” Dean shouted. The doctor turned and called for security.
“Get out of here, Dean. Talk to me when you sober up,” Y/N said with a shake of her head, turning to walk into Sam’s room.
 “Hey! I’m talking to you!” Dean snapped, grabbing Y/N’s arm. In a flash, Y/N turned and punched Dean in the face. Not expecting the hit, Dean’s head snapped to the left and he went sprawling to the floor as two orderlies walked up on the scene. The doctor was shouting at them. Y/N shook her hand, wincing. Dean touched his face with his fingers, pulling them away to see blood from his nose, then looked up at Y/N in surprise.
“Get out. You’re not seeing Sam,” Y/N said lowly before turning and walking into the room. The orderlies helped Dean to stand, but he shrugged them off, glared at the room, then stormed out of the hospital. They didn’t want him there. Fine. He’d take off. Let her handle it.
But something in the back of his head, the part that used to remember how to be Sammy’s big brother, told him he was missing something. Something big was happening here, and he missed it. Dean climbed into the Impala and waited.
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It was two and a half hours later he saw Y/N walk out. She had a hand full of paperwork and a small bag of what looked like to be prescriptions in her hand. He watched as she walked over to her midnight blue Shelby, looking over the paperwork in her hand. As she approached the car, he watched as she let her tough exterior crack for a moment.
She had to think she was alone because there was no way she’d have let either of the brothers see this otherwise. Y/N leaned against the door to her car and just… wilted. Her entire body looked like it caved in on itself with the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. Her usual confident expression melted away to vulnerability and exhaustion that he rarely saw on Y/N. 
Then she did something he had only seen her do three times his entire life: she started to cry. Dean felt his heart pick up in his chest. What the hell is going on?
Just then, his cell phone started ringing. He glanced at the caller ID before answering it. 
Sam.
“Sam…” Dean answered his eyes back on Y/N. 
“Hey, Dean. I know they called you from the hospital,” Sam said, his voice showing his dejection. Dean smirked viciously.
“Yeah well, your wife refused to let me in,” he sneered. Sam sighed. 
“So, you know about that…” he said carefully. Dean watched as Y/N took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and straightened. 
“Is there more that I don’t know?” Dean asked defensively. 
“Yeah. We need to talk, Dean. I know you want to go spend the weekend away from me, but…” Sam said, and that’s when Dean heard it. The hesitancy, the underlying sadness, the wariness. Sam’s acting as if he already knows Dean will say no. He looked back at Y/N and saw she was unlocking her car and getting in.
“Give me a couple of hours, Sam. I’ll meet you at the motel,” Dean said distractedly.
 “Really?” Sam asked, surprise coloring his tone. Dean watched as Y/N drove her car around, pulled up to the front doors of the emergency room, and parked. She got out of her car and opened the passenger door. 
“Yeah, see you soon,” he said, hanging up. He then watched as a nurse pushed a wheelchair out with Sam in it to Y/N’s car. Sam, with his arm in a sling, went to stand up but Y/N seemed to stop him. Sam looked at her with fond exasperation and waited as she did something in her car first, then stepped back out and nodded. Moving gingerly, Sam pushed himself into a standing position and shook the hand of the nurse before moving into Y/N’s car. Once he was settled, Y/N shut the door and turned to the nurse. The two spoke for a few moments before the nurse held out a pamphlet of some kind to her. Y/N took it with a slow nod. She looked at the pamphlet while walking back to the driver’s side and getting in. 
Dean felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment between his brother and his wife as he watched the two interact after she got into the car. Y/N sat in the car for a few moments, just staring at the steering wheel before looking over at Sam with a small smile. Sam took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, changing the smile on Y/N’s face to something much more tender and loving. Y/N then leaned her head down onto their intertwined hands for a moment, causing Sam to lean over and kiss her on the top of her head. 
Yeah, they did need to talk. 
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Dean knocked on the door to the new room Sam had texted him about a few hours later. It had given him some time to calm down and get his head on straight. He wasn’t sure what he was walking into or what he was about to learn but he knew he had to do better than he had.
When the door opened, he came face to face with Y/N.
“What do you want?” she snapped at him. Before he could even open his mouth, Sam answered for him. 
“I asked him to come,” Sam said. Y/N turned around and looked at the man lying on the bed. Dean looked at him as well, really looked at him. He looked pale. And thin. Dean could tell he was in some pain by the slight squint of his eyes, and there was a slight tremor in his hand. 
“You did,” Y/N said, deadpanned. Sam just looked at Y/N and she sighed heavily, stepping back to let Dean in the room. He walked in and shoved his hands into his pockets. 
“Why did you switch rooms?” Dean asked. 
“Because he never should have been on the second floor in the first place,” Y/N growled under her breath. Dean threw a sharp look her way, but again, Sam said something before he could. 
“He didn’t know, Y/N,” he said calmly. 
“Yeah, well, whose fault is that?” Y/N snapped at him. Sam simply frowned at her. The two brothers watched as Y/N ran her fingers through her hair in a fidgety way. She refused to look at either of them. 
“Y/N/N,” Sam whispered, causing her to shake her head slightly. Dean once again felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment between the two of them. He watched as Y/N’s eyes filled slightly, her lower lip trembled just barely, and her arms crossed again to hold herself together. Finally, she shifted her eyes to look at Sam. 
“Do you want to talk to him alone?” she asked quietly, sniffling. Sam nodded slightly. 
“Are you okay with that?” he questioned; his voice just as quiet. She stared at him for a long moment, then released another heavy sigh. 
“Yeah, okay,” she whispered. Dean remained standing where he was and watched as Y/N moved to get Sam a bottle of water and one of the three bottles of medication that sat atop the dresser. She reached inside the mini fridge and pulled out a red apple and carried the items over to the nightstand near Sam. She sat down on the bed next to him.
“You need to eat this,” she said quietly, holding the apple out to him. Sam took it silently. “Your next dose is in two hours. If you are still talking and I’m not here. Two pills, Sam. The entire bottle of water. I set the alarm on your phone already.”
“I know, Y/N,” Sam said softly. She stared at the man she called her husband with no expression on her face. Sam tried again. “I know.” 
“Yeah,” she said, setting the items on the nightstand. She stood and made to move away but Sam caught her wrist, stopping her. Y/N closed her eyes against the emotion there and sat back down. 
“I love you. You know that, right?” Sam said quietly. Y/N stared at Sam for a good 15 seconds before nodding her head. She leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and stood up to walk away again. She walked over to where her bag was, pulled out her cell phone and her cigarettes, then turned to the boys. 
“I’ll be at the park across the street. Call me if you need anything,” she said. She turned her expressionless eyes to Dean. “You have two hours before I come back and check on him unless I hear from you that y’all are okay. You cause him any more pain, I swear to God, I will fuck you up, Dean.” 
“Is that a threat?” Dean asked, turning his body to face her, his hands on her hips. 
“It’s a God damn promise,” she swore. Dean’s eyes narrowed. 
“I don’t think you remember who you’re talking to,” Dean practically growled out. 
“Fucking try me,” she bit out. Silence filled the room, Y/N’s threat hanging in the air. Dean studied her and he realized he believed her. He didn’t know what was going on, but if he did something stupid again… yeah, she would tear him apart. He watched as she leaned over and grabbed Sam’s hoodie before turning toward the door. 
“Two hours,” she reminded them, before closing the door behind her. Dean watched her walk out the door and turned to his brother with a frown. 
“I thought she quit smoking,” he asked. Sam shook his head. 
“Yeah, well, you might want to pick up a vice or two again after I fill you in on everything yourself. You uh… want to sit down?” Sam said quietly. Dean watched him carefully and then made his way over to the side of the bed. 
“How are you feeling?” Dean asked distantly. Sam looked at his brother, trying to read if he meant the question or not. When his brother cocked an eyebrow at him impatiently, Sam sighed and shrugged. 
“I’m fine, Dean,” he replied dejectedly. “I just had a small incident that got a little out of hand.” 
“Uh-huh. A small incident includes a broken arm?” Sam mumbled something that Dean didn’t catch, his eyes on the piece of fruit in his hand. “Want to try that again a little louder?” Sam sighed. 
“I said it’s just a fracture from trying to catch myself on the stairs when I fell,” he muttered. Dean blinked in surprise. 
“Okay, Sam. I’m gonna need you to explain a few things. I get a call from a hospital and am told I need to come to get you, only to get there and get told by your wife that I’m not allowed to see you. Since when is Y/N your wife? And why were you in the hospital to begin with? Actually, yeah, let’s start with that. What the fuck is actually going on here,” Dean said firmly. Sam nodded. 
“Okay. Well… After you and Cas disappeared, we still had to blow up the building… and I guess we didn’t do everything correctly or something,” Sam explained. He was quiet for a long moment before his face scrunched up in confusion, shaking his head slowly. “I still don’t really remember this part, actually.” 
“What do you mean you don’t remember?” he asked. Sam opened his mouth to say something but hesitated and filled the time by taking a bite of the sweet fruit he promised Y/N he’d eat. Once he swallowed the bite, he answered quietly. 
“I remember setting the fuse for the explosion… and then waking up in the hospital and seeing Y/N sleeping. I hadn’t known what had happened or how long I had been out. When I tried to speak to her, I… I couldn’t,” Sam explained. He lifted his wounded eyes to his brother. Loss and sadness were so deeply etched there, Dean found himself swallowing back his own emotions. “It was like I forgot how to. She had to explain to me what happened… That when the building exploded, we were thrown away. Somehow she cleared the area and made it out with just a busted ankle and a slight concussion. Me? I landed on top of the Impala. My head landed on the roof, but my body landed on the windshield and it snapped my head back. They thought I had broken two or three of the vertebrae and was paralyzed because I wasn’t reacting to any stimuli in my limbs.”
Dean stared at his brother in shock, his eyes wide. “Fuck, Sammy…” 
Tears suddenly sprang to Sam’s eyes at the sound of that name coming from his big brother’s mouth, not realizing how much he missed it. He kept his eyes down so Dean wouldn’t see how hearing the age-old nickname made him feel. Clearing his throat of the tears that clogged it, he continued. 
“I landed on the car so hard, I uh… I cracked my skull. Caused a brain bleed. They had to put a tube into my skull to drain the fluid when my brain swelled too much,” Sam said quietly. Dean gaped at his brother at a loss for what to say. Sam took another bite of the apple, keeping his sad eyes averted. After he swallowed, a self-deprecating smirk played on his lips. 
“You can still feel the scar on the back of my head,” he said, grabbing Dean’s hand. He pressed his brother’s fingers to the back of his head and moved them around until they found the raised flesh. Dean’s expression changed to one of panic as his fingers traced the line that showed where the doctors had his baby brother’s head open. 
“Oh, my God…” 
“I was in a coma for months as the bone healed, I guess. Y/N said I was out for at least 6 months. It took me a while to relearn how to speak again, even longer to stand and walk again. But it was a few days after I woke up that the second scare happened and I had my first seizure,” Sam explained. 
“Wait… a seizure? You had a seizure?” Dean asked in surprise. Sam shook his head, taking a deep breath. Pulling on all the strength he could, he looked up and right into Dean’s eyes.  
“Have. I have seizures,” he said softly. “I just had my first one then. Dean stared at his brother blankly for almost a full minute before he shook his head. 
“I don’t understand.”
“Thanks to the swelling in my brain and the damage that happened when my skull cracked, something happened. I got some kind of brain damage or something and now… now I have seizures,” Sam explained, looking down at the apple in his hand. “It took a long time for us to figure out how to get them under control with medication and diet and lifestyle changes and whatever but…”   
Sam shrugged and tried to smile. It failed and when he lifted his eyes to see Dean, his hazel eyes were filled with sadness and pain. Dean stared back, stricken, and horrified. 
“The blow to my head did a lot of damage, and it’s something I have to live with.” 
The brothers fell into silence, both lost in thought. Sam started to eat the apple again as he let Dean think about what he said. It was a long time before anyone spoke again.
“That’s why you married Y/N,” Dean said. Sammy nodded slowly. 
“I was planning on marrying her anyway, you know that,” he said with a smile. “This just moved up the timeframe. I needed someone who could make medical decisions for me and we thought you were dead and in heaven…” 
“Wait. You thought I was dead?”
“Well… yeah. Dean, she couldn’t find you, had no leads on where you were. When I was in the coma, Y/N spent half her time trying to figure out what happened to you and the other half of her time waiting on me to wake up. She tried to talk to everyone, even tracked down Crowley,” Sam explained.  
“Crowley? Why would she go to him?” Dean asked. 
“To find answers. Y/N said she had run out of ideas and when she talked to Crowley, he had no ideas either. The thought of purgatory never even entered our minds. She said you had to have died and your body incinerated. It was the only explanation for us not being able to find you,” Sam said. “We know now that wasn’t true, but you have to look at it from her point of view. She had me laid up in the hospital in a coma, you and Cas were gone, and she was alone and devastated. You need to cut her some slack.” Dean shook his head, thinking about what Y/N must have gone through. It certainly explained her current hostility.
He clearly read the situation wrong. 
The two continued their conversation until Sam’s phone alarm went off. He stopped it, sent a text to Y/N, took his meds, and finished the bottle of water. The brothers then continued to talk about everything that happened in the year that Dean was missing. The older Winchester learned a lot about what had happened while he was gone, giving him a new perspective. 
He kept that in mind when he made his way to the park to speak to Y/N.
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Y/N had her headphones on, with the music turned up loud enough to block out everything around her. She sat comfortably in one of the reclined Adirondack chairs surrounding the fountain, eyes trained on the water being thrown into the air and falling back down into the cement pond. Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of the hoodie she stole from Sam, legs crossed in front of her, cigarettes long gone. 
When she got the text from the boys saying they were still talking, she started a new playlist and forced herself to remain calm. Sam needed this, she reminded herself. He needs time with his brother, to reconcile and hopefully find some peace between them.
A surge of guilt rushed through her, heavy and familiar as it stole her breath. She tried for so long to find Dean and Castiel while Sam lay unconscious in a hospital bed. She drove back and forth between the hospital and countless leads trying to determine what happened only to turn up empty-handed each time. It was after three months that she finally had to accept Dean and Cas were gone and she needed to focus her energy on the one living Winchester she had left. 
She snorted wetly, lifting a hand to wipe at the moisture filling her eyes with a sleeve. Living. If you could have called what Sam was doing living. The doctors weren’t very optimistic and were trying to convince her to say her final goodbye when she finally lost it on them. The emotional meltdown she had was something Sam didn’t know about, but it included sedation and a couple of sessions with a shrink from the psych ward. 
When the doctor asked about stress, Y/N explained to the good doctor how the accident Sam was in had already taken his brother and his best friend. She wouldn’t be giving up on the man she loved if she could help it. They talked about the sleepless nights, the skipped meals, the loneliness, the guilt. The guilt was the hardest part. She mourned the loss of Cas and Dean, the wound their loss created never really healing because she knew once Sam woke up she had to explain that they were gone to him. 
It took a while, but the good doctor finally got Y/N to admit a little help wouldn’t hurt. She had just finished her first month on the antidepressants when Sam opened his eyes. She keeps the antidepressants hidden in her box of tampons, away from Sam’s prying eyes. He has enough to worry about. She calls the good doctor every month to check in and to give the location of the nearest pharmacy so she can get her refill. 
Feeling eyes on her, Y/N turned her head to the right and saw Dean slowly walking toward her with two paper cups in his hands. She watched him move slowly toward him, studying his face. Gone was the underlying fury that was permanently etched there and in replacement, she found… sadness. Guilt. Understanding. Dare she say it, pride. 
Confusion colored her expression before she could school her features as she reached up and pulled her earbuds from her ears, stuffing them into her pocket. Dean walked up to her and sat down in the chair next to her, offering one of the paper cups over. She accepted it, taking a careful sip. Y/N looked over at him with a raised brow. 
“A year in purgatory and you remembered my coffee order?” she asked quietly. Dean shrugged, settling back into the reclined wooden chair. The two turned their eyes to the fountain and got lost in the sound of moving water. Y/N snuggled down into the chair, holding her coffee with both hands. The warmth from the cup felt good against her cooled skin. Dean sipped his drink from one hand, the other one tapping out a staccato on the armrest of the chair. 
“I owe you either an epic apology or a major thank you. Probably both,” Dean said after a long period of silence. Y/N thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. 
“Or neither,” she muttered emotionlessly. Dean shook his head and looked over at her. 
“No. You took care of Sammy that whole time. You’re taking care of Sammy now. Something I’ve failed to do as of late. I didn’t even realize there was a problem, let alone give him a chance to tell me about one,” Dean said. Y/N nodded slowly. 
“Yeah, you’ve been kind of a dick since you’ve gotten back,” Y/N admitted, taking a sip of her coffee. Dean side-eyed her venomously, causing Y/N to look back at him with a raised brow. “Tell me I’m wrong.” The two fell silent once again. Y/N looked over at Dean and watched him as he looked down at the paper cup in his hand with a frown. An olive branch, then, she thought. 
“I didn’t know how to tell him you were gone when he woke up,” she said so quietly, Dean was almost certain she didn’t say it at all. He turned and looked at her to find Y/N staring at him with eyes that held so much pain. “He was unconscious for so long, and the first thing he always does when he wakes up hurt or sick is look for you. And this time I had to tell him you weren’t there. You were gone, missing. I couldn’t find you anywhere. And I looked everywhere.” 
Dean watched Y/N as she swallowed emotions she didn’t want to be expressing down with a gulp of bitter coffee. She cleared her throat and sniffled, turning her eyes back to the fountain. 
“I called in chits, summoned demons, even tracked down a few assholes from a few lives ago,” she explained with a shake of her head. “No one had any ideas. Thought you had died or something then. It was the only option, y’know? We both figured that’s what happened. He mourned you and was devastated. Inconsolable. I had to keep reminding him you were in heaven and happy.” 
Y/N shook her head, sniffling again. She wiped the tears out of her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and laughed bitterly. 
“Imagine my surprise and guilt when Sam called me, said you showed up alive and well. Told me it was Purgatory and nothing I looked into would have put me in that direction.” 
“You felt guilty?” Dean asked cautiously. Y/N shot him a dark look. 
“I told Sam you were dead and gone, then months later you come waltzing back into his life without a scratch on you, a chip on your shoulder and a bad attitude… when I’m gone, no less… and I’m not supposed to feel guilty?” Y/N asked condescendingly.  
“Where were you anyway?” Dean asked. Y/N shook her head. 
“Got a call about a hunt a state away. Ghost attached to a journal someone had kept as a keepsake. Wasn’t going to take it for obvious reasons, but Sam insisted I go and take care of it since we were closest,” Y/N explained. She frowned, her eyes dropping. “Three people had already died. Was a quick and easy job.” 
“Did you get it?” Dean asked. Y/N gave him another look. Dean raised his hand in surrender. 
“When Sam told me you were back, I told him he had to explain the epilepsy to you. He needed to do it right away,” she continued. She shook her head with an angry smile on her lips. “Of course, he said it wasn’t the right time, you were angry, and he couldn’t bother you with his issues. His focus shouldn’t have been on your needs, but we both know that’s not how Sam operates.”
“Y/N, if I had known about everything before…” Dean started. 
“That’s the thing, Dean. You didn’t. You didn’t because you had a wild hair up your ass about Sam not looking for you. Didn’t matter why he didn’t look for you, just that he didn’t. And Sam wasn’t going to fight you on it,” Y/N bit out. Dean fell silent again. Y/N sat up and turned to face Dean, her eyes wet with tears and furious.
“And you know what? He isn’t even the one you should be fucking pissed at. If anything, I’m the one who said you were dead and gone. I’m the one who fucked up and couldn’t find you. He was in a God-damned coma. If anything, you should be pissed at me.”
Dean stared at Y/N’s face and felt her fury and pain. Now that he knew what really happened, he understood why she reacted the way she did at the hospital… both when she didn’t know he was watching and when he showed up late and furious. Y/N shook her head and leaned back into the chair and sniffled. 
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Dean muttered. 
“Sam wore your tie at our courthouse wedding. And your socks,” she said quietly. Dean watched as Y/N pulled out her phone and scrolled through it. She found what she was looking for and handed her phone over to him. The photo was of the two of them in front of a judge. Sam was dressed in his FBI suit, wearing Dean’s red tie. It was clearly too short for him, but the sentiment meant more to him than anything else. Y/N was beautiful in a lovely white sundress, her hair down over her shoulders. 
“He asked me if it would be okay if he wore your ring as his wedding band,” she explained, causing Dean to look up at her in surprise. “The silver one you used to wear all the time. At least that’s what he said. If you scroll through the photos, you’ll see it.” 
Dean scrolled through the photos and spotted the photo she was talking about. The two of them were kissing and their hands were close to the camera. Y/N was wearing a thin silver band on her finger and there – on Sam’s finger – was Dean’s ring. He stared at the photo with tears filling his eyes. 
“I wish I could have been there,” he whispered.
“We wanted you there,” Y/N said just as quietly. “He really missed you. He’d sit outside and talk to the stars when we thought you were in Heaven. He prayed to you and Castiel every night.” Dean looked up at her with a broken expression. Y/N stared at him for a long moment, then gave him a small smile.
“There’s a lot of anger between us, but I think we can work that out in time,” she started. “What I need you to realize is how much Sam still needs you. He missed you so much, and he still needs his big brother… I’m not taking him away from you, Dean. If anything, he needs you more now than he ever needed you.”  
It was another hour before Y/N and Dean made their way back to the hotel room. They entered quietly, uncertain if Sam was awake or asleep. Sam was sitting up in the bed, watching some brainless television and waiting on them. 
“Hey,” he said warily, watching them come in. “You two okay?” Y/N smiled as she walked over to him, placing a gentle kiss on his mouth. 
“We will be. How are you? You hungry?” she asked. Sam shrugged, smiling at her. 
“I could eat,” he answered, his hand slipping under the sweatshirt and gripping her waist gently. Y/N nodded, looking over her shoulder at Dean. 
“What about you? Hungry for dinner?” 
“I’m always hungry. What are you thinking? Pizza or Chinese?” Dean asked, pulling out his phone. Y/N turned to look at Sam, who shrugged. 
“Pizza?” he asked. Y/N nodded. 
“Sounds like a plan. You order, I’m gonna grab a shower,” Y/N said. She went to her bag and grabbed her toiletries and a change of clothes before slipping into the shower. A quick 20 minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom with wet hair and in warm pajamas to find Sam and Dean laying on the same bed together, fast asleep. The smile that came to her face was sweet and genuine. 
Moving quickly, she dropped her things in her bag and snagged her phone, snapping a photo of the brothers together. Just then, someone knocked at the door. She moved to answer it with a glance at the boys, who were not moving on the bed. Accepting the pizza, she set it on the table, pulled a slice out, and started to eat it while watching the brother’s nap.  
Well, she thought, maybe we’ll get through this yet.
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enigmalynne · 2 years
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The SPN fandom has been a bit less active since the show ended (which is understandable) so thank you for the quality content! Sam is such a comfort character of mine lol
Thank you so much! You just made my day.
I don't post as frequently as some people do because I want to take the time to really put out good pieces. I enjoy writing detailed, in-depth pieces that make you think. :)
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enigmalynne · 2 years
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GREAT job at Mending the Hunter, didn't saw the word count when I started reading but I didn't even noticed I was reading for a while until it ended
I'm not the biggest on angst stuff but sometimes is interesting to see some dangerous actions actually have consequences
Keep it up! 🐰
Thank you so much for your kind words! That totally made my night. :D
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enigmalynne · 2 years
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SPN FanFic: Mending the Hunter
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Pairings: Sam/Reader, Dean Word Count: 7,924 Warnings: Cursing, good chance of epically wrong medical facts, arguing brothers Winchester and Beyond Bingo Square Filled: Sick Fic
When Dean comes back from Purgatory, he's pissed at Sam for not looking for him. But Dean doesn't know the truth, despite Y/N urging Sam to explain everything. When an accident happens that causes Sam to end up in the hospital, Y/N punishes Dean, and Sam finally steps up to put an end to all of the misunderstandings.
AN: Didn't realize how many stupid little errors there were in here when I first posted. I went through and corrected as many as I found. Apparently, the two different grammar/spelling scans didn't catch as much as I thought! Sorry!
“You quit hunting for a year, Sam. I can take a weekend off and go out,” Dean asked, his voice dripping with haughty disdain. Sam frowned, looking up at Dean from his laptop. He watched warily as he packed his bag.
“You’re leaving?” he questioned quietly. Dean scoffed as he aggressively shoved his bathroom kit into his bag and zipped his duffle.
“Yeah,” he retorted bitterly. “I’ll be back sometime on Monday. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Y/N should be back sometime tomorrow, and I know she’d like to see you…” Sam said softly. Dean froze, his hand on the doorknob. He hadn’t seen her since he got back from Purgatory. She had kept hunting, he thought disgustedly. He twisted the knob and opened the door roughly.
“Then she’ll see me when I get back,” Dean snapped, as he stepped over the threshold. Sam watched his older brother with guilt in his eyes.
“Be safe,” he said so quietly Dean wasn’t certain he even heard it. He merely glanced at his brother as he slammed the door shut, refusing to let those puppy dog eyes affect him. Instead, he threw his bag into the trunk of the Impala and slid into the front seat. Firing up the engine, he grinned wickedly and rubbed his hand over the dashboard lovingly.
“I missed you too, baby,” he cooed at the machine. Moments later he was driving down the open road, leaving his worries and his little brother behind in a cloud of dust.
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“The fuck do you mean, he just left you there by yourself? You told him what’s going on right?” Y/N asked over the phone as she drove to where Sam was now waiting for her, alone. Sam remained silent. “Sam? You told him right?”
“He’s got enough going on. He doesn’t need this on his shoulders, too,” Sam said dejectedly. Y/N had to restrain herself from chewing her husband out. She loved the man with her entire heart and soul, but sometimes he just didn’t think.
“Sammy, this is like… life-altering information,” she said carefully. Sam snorted indignantly on the other end.
“Yeah, I’m aware of that, Y/N,” he responded, a sarcastic touch to his typically gentle voice. Y/N rolled her eyes.
“What I mean is it’s more than we eloped while he was gone. He needs to know about the medical stuff too,” she explained gently. She heard Sam sigh on the other end and it caused her to press her foot a little harder on the gas pedal.
 “I know. I know. It’s just he’s been so angry since he got back, and we didn’t look for him,” he started but Y/N interrupted him.
“I did look for him. I swear I did. But, you were in a coma for months, Sammy. I thought you were gonna die. I thought he already was dead. I had my hands full, and I’m sorry if my head wasn’t on straight,” she snapped defensively.
“Hey,” Sam said gently. “No one’s blaming you.”
Y/N swallowed the rest of her defensiveness. Dean’s blaming me. And he’s blaming you. And I want to tear his throat out because of it.
“If Dean knew what happened, maybe he would be a bit more understanding,” she said with an exaggerated calm, keeping her rage to herself as she had been doing for almost a year now.
“I know, honey,” Sam said reassuringly. And he did know. Y/N took the brunt of everything that happened after they blew up the laboratory. She was the one who found Sam bleeding and unresponsive, got him to the hospital, and waited eagerly by his side. This, while trying to find out what happened to Dean and Castiel. She was the one who meticulously researched everything while sitting next to him as he lay in a coma for months on end, going back to the ruined lab to see if she could learn anything new, then finally accepting the idea that Dean and Cas were dead. She was the one who prayed to whoever was actively listening to let Sam live so she could at least have one of the brothers still in her life.
When he finally woke up all those months later and looked at her, he was relieved to see her sitting there next to him. But when Y/N saw him awake, she burst into exhausted sobs that left him confused and bereft. It was another month after that before Sam could properly speak and asked about Dean. It was another two months after that before he could stand up and walk out of the hospital.
Sam was now armed with a new diagnosis and a medication regimen that left him restricted from various things he used to do like driving them around and hunting things that go bump in the night.
The elopement was his idea. She didn’t think it was necessary, but given the new medical circumstances, Sam didn’t want to take any chances. He needed someone to be able to legally take care of him if he was ever incapacitated again.
“You don’t want to marry me?” Sam had asked sadly, gently wrapping his arms around her. Y/N pressed a hard kiss to his mouth before resting her forehead on his.
“Of course, I want to marry you, dumbass. I just don’t want it to be because of…”
“It’s not,” Sam eagerly interrupted her. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, just never had the balls to really ask you. Then this all happened and… Well. I don’t want to go another day without you as my gorgeous wife.”
They went to the local courthouse the next day. She wore a thrift store dress of white satin; he was in his FBI suit and Dean’s tie. There were no witnesses, no family, no friends. Just them and the judge. It was bittersweet.
Y/N had voluntarily stopped hunting for a while to make sure Sam was stable with the proper medications and the new things he had to monitor. He had just convinced Y/N that she could go and take care of a small hunt a state away when Dean showed back up.
A lot had yet to be discussed.
“Sorry. I know you know. And you know I know you know. We just have to get Dean-o on the same page,” Y/N said on a heavy exhale. Sam smiled knowingly on his end of the phone. Hearing delighted laughter outside his room, he stood up and looked out the window of the hotel room. It was just starting to get dark and already there were local kids dressed up in costumes walking around.
“Hey, Y/N. You know what today is, right?” he asked her, smiling at a particularly adorable pumpkin that walked by holding the hand of her smiling father. He chuckled at her exasperated groan on the other end of the call.
“Don’t remind me. I hate this holiday. The only thing it’s good for is the amazing access to candy,” Y/N said. Sam laughed out loud this time.
“That’s bullshit,” Sam said knowingly. “You genuinely love Halloween.”
“I do love Halloween. Please tell me you have a bag of Twix there waiting for me,” Y/N said with a smile in her voice.
“I have it right here, along with the other candy you asked for,” he said, picking up the bag. Y/N instantly heard it rustle on the other end and she smiled widely.
“You spoil me. I’ll be there in about an hour. I love you, Sammy,” she said quietly.
“I love you too. Drive safely,” he replied before hanging up. He sighed heavily as he looked wistfully around the hotel room. Dean may have been angry and left him alone, but at least he had Y/N coming home to him. She really was his lifesaver, in more ways than one.
Deciding he wanted to have some sodas in the room before she got in, he grabbed his wallet and pulled out a few dollar bills. He snagged the key to the room, walked out, and headed down the stairs to the vending machines. He knew he should have said something to Dean about them getting a room on the ground floor at this motel, but that would have meant a conversation longer than just a few sentences. Dean wasn’t having that with his baby brother right then.
Sam shook his head dejectedly. He knew things were tough between them because of all the unspoken words, but it wasn’t like Dean was making it easy to open up to him. Dean was angry and hurting, and Sam wasn’t about to add to that mess with his issues… especially when the anger and hurt were because of Sam.
Selecting three different sodas, Sam carried them back up the stairs. Halfway up, he started to feel something come over him. There was a weird numbness spreading across his chest and a metallic taste forming in his mouth. Oh, God, he thought miserably. Please not now.
He tried moving faster to get to the top of the stairs, but it was then the worst possible thing happened. His vision tunneled, his arms lost their rigidity, and before he could say anything, his jaw locked shut.
The last thing he was aware of was the helpless feeling of falling.
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The doors to the emergency room slammed open, causing everyone in the small waiting room to jump in fright. In such a quiet town, the last thing they expected was someone to be rushed frantically into the small hospital.
“Male, mid-thirties, definitely has a concussion, broken right arm, possibly a few broken ribs,” the EMT shouted furiously at the nurses who ran up to them. Sam looked pale on the gurney, blood matting his disheveled hair against his head and seeping into the gauze resting at the back of his neck.
“He was allegedly seizing for at least seven minutes when we got there according to the guest who saw him fall,” a different medical tech said, desperately trying to take his blood pressure again. “Looks like he fell down the stairs when the seizure started.”
“Make a hole!” a nurse shouted frantically to the unaware people standing nearby. They darted nervously out of the way, anxiously watching with wide eyes as the team rushed by him. As soon as they got into an open room, a flurry of urgent actions happened at once. One nurse was attaching leads to his chest to track his heart rate as another was cutting open his shirt and pulling it out of the way; a third taking his vitals; a fourth was getting information from the paramedics. A male doctor walked in pulling his stethoscope over his head.
“Said his name was Sam Winchester when we were able to get him awake for a few minutes, but no other information,” a paramedic shouted before walking out of the room. The doctor nodded his head at them as he checked the patient’s pupils. The sluggish reaction made him frown.
“Yeah, we definitely got a concussion here,” he said grimly.
“Someone get me his medical records! We need to know what we are dealing with!”
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Y/N stormed into the local emergency room with wide, scared eyes. She stalked up to the desk causing the nurse sitting there to look up at her expectantly.
“I got a call from this hospital that my husband was brought in. Sam Winchester?” she asked eagerly, her voice shaky. The nurse immediately nodded her head and stood, gesturing for Y/N to follow her. Y/N instantly followed the nurse down the private hallway to where the private rooms were.
“Yes, Mrs. Winchester. He was brought in about two hours ago after falling down some stairs at the motel you are staying at when he started having a complex seizure,” the nurse carefully explained, leading her down to a room. Y/N gently shook her head.
“He hasn’t had a violent seizure in three months,” she said fearfully. The nurse shrugged.
“I don’t know what to tell you, ma’am. His room is right here if you want to wait. I’ll go and get his doctor, so he can answer your questions,” she said before promptly turning and walking away. Y/N nodded then stopped her.
“Wait! Did you call his brother? Dean?” she asked tentatively. The nurse paused and turned to look at Y/N. The expression on her face was regretful. “What?”
“I did call his brother. He didn’t seem very concerned. He said he’d get here when he could,” the nurse said gently. Y/N’s face slowly went from concerned to thunderous and cold.
“If he shows up,” she said stonily, “don’t let him in the room.” The nurse nodded, then turned and walked off to find the doctor. Y/N watched her walk away and tried to control her fury. It was one thing for Dean to be a dick to Sam. However, acting like his brother being in the hospital was nothing more than a grave inconvenience was unacceptable. She took a deep breath before walking cautiously into Sam’s room.
He was laying in the hospital bed watching television, his broken arm in a cast and sling. He looked over at her when she walked in, an embarrassed grin on his exhausted face. Y/N exhaled a heavy sigh and gently shook her head at him, blinking tears away.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m okay.” Y/N scoffed and shook her head again.
“Your arm is in a cast. How is that okay?” she asked incredulously, sniffling. Sam waved her over, scooting over on the bed.
“It’s better than last time,” he gently explained. Y/N sat down on the hospital bed next to him. He leaned over and carefully pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I could tell it was coming. I just… I was just walking up the stairs when it happened.”
“The stairs?” she exclaimed in horror. “What the hell were you doing on stairs? Sammy, we talked about this.” She looked down, and took his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers. She intentionally kept her eyes on their joined hands, so he didn’t see how upset she was, how worried she had been. Not that it would matter, he’d know just by hearing her speak.
“I know we did, but Dean got a room on the second floor…” he started, trailing off when she looked up with a fierce glare.
“Don’t talk to me about Dean,” she growled viciously. Sam’s mild expression changed to one of confusion but before he could ask what the issue was, the doctor walked in.
“Hello, Mrs. Winchester. I see you have found your husband,” he said. “I’m Doctor Wyatt.” Y/N forced a smile on her face and turned to look at the doctor.
“Yes, I have. Tell me, what’s the damage?”
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“Who the hell said I can’t see my brother?” Dean demanded loudly. He was at a bar when he got the call that his brother was admitted to the hospital, but when they said it wasn’t anything too serious he figured the kid could sit there and stew in it for a little while. Punishment for all that he did while Dean was gone, he thought. Now that he was there, trying to see the kid, he was being denied. The nurse at the station looked back at the screen and typed a few lines.
“Mrs. Y/N Winchester. She said no one other than her is allowed in the room to see Sam. I’m sorry, but as his spouse, we have to honor her wishes,” the nurse said with a shrug, missing the look of complete shock on Dean’s face. “By law, there is nothing we can do.”
“Mrs. Winchester?” he asked, his voice stunned. A noise distracted him, and he looked left only to see Y/N herself standing in the hallway talking to a man in a white lab coat. She had her arms wrapped around herself as if she were physically holding herself together, having what looked like a very intense discussion with the doctor. Without even thinking about it, Dean’s feet started moving him in that direction.
“It’s imperative that we manage his stress levels and get his blood pressure back down to a more stable level,” Dean heard the doctor say to Y/N as he walked up. “Or else this could very well become a regular occurrence, and we’ll have to change his meds again.”
“We are not changing his medications again. The last time we did, the side effects caused severe damage to his blood sugar, and he had to be on insulin for a month,” Y/N said frustrated. The doctor looked pointedly at her.
“Then I suggest whatever matter has him this strung out gets handled soon,” he said gently. Dean stepped up to the two of them furiously, causing them to turn and look at him.
 “Since when are you Mrs. Winchester, Y/N?” he sneered, his breath reeking of alcohol. Y/N’s expression went from distressed to cold in seconds when she looked at the older Winchester brother.
“You’re drunk?!” Y/N growled, the doctor looking on in concern. “You came to the hospital, to see your brother, drunk?”
“Answer my question!” Dean shouted. The doctor turned and called for security.
“Get out of here, Dean. Talk to me when you sober up,” Y/N said with a shake of her head, turning to walk into Sam’s room.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!” Dean snapped, grabbing Y/N’s arm. In a flash, Y/N turned and punched Dean in the face. Not expecting the hit, Dean’s head snapped to the left and he went sprawling to the floor as two orderlies walked up on the scene. The doctor was shouting at them. Y/N shook her hand, wincing. Dean touched his face with his fingers, pulling them away to see blood from his nose, then looked up at Y/N in surprise.
“Get out. You’re not seeing Sam,” Y/N said lowly before turning and walking into the room. The orderlies helped Dean to stand, but he shrugged them off, glared at the room, then stormed out of the hospital. They didn’t want him there. Fine. He’d take off. Let her handle it.
But something in the back of his head, the part that used to remember how to be Sammy’s big brother, told him he was missing something. Something big was happening here, and he missed it. Dean climbed into the Impala and waited.
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It was two and a half hours later he saw Y/N walk out. She had a hand full of paperwork and a small bag of what looked like to be prescriptions in her hand. He watched as she walked over to her midnight blue Shelby, looking over the paperwork in her hand. As she approached the car, he watched as she let her tough exterior crack for a moment.
She had to think she was alone because there was no way she’d have let either of the brothers see this otherwise. Y/N leaned against the door to her car and just… wilted. Her entire body looked like it caved in on itself with the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. Her usual confident expression melted away to vulnerability and exhaustion that he rarely saw on Y/N. 
Then she did something he had only seen her do three times his entire life: she started to cry. Dean felt his heart pick up in his chest. What the hell is going on?
Just then, his cell phone started ringing. He glanced at the caller ID before answering it. 
Sam.
“Sam…” Dean answered his eyes back on Y/N. 
“Hey, Dean. I know they called you from the hospital,” Sam said, his voice showing his dejection. Dean smirked viciously.
“Yeah well, your wife refused to let me in,” he sneered. Sam sighed. 
“So, you know about that…” he said carefully. Dean watched as Y/N took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and straightened. 
“Is there more that I don’t know?” Dean asked defensively. 
“Yeah. We need to talk, Dean. I know you want to go spend the weekend away from me, but…” Sam said, and that’s when Dean heard it. The hesitancy, the underlying sadness, the wariness. Sam’s acting as if he already knows Dean will say no. He looked back at Y/N and saw she was unlocking her car and getting in.
“Give me a couple of hours, Sam. I’ll meet you at the motel,” Dean said distractedly.
“Really?” Sam asked, surprise coloring his tone. Dean watched as Y/N drove her car around, pulled up to the front doors of the emergency room, and parked. She got out of her car and opened the passenger door. 
“Yeah, see you soon,” he said, hanging up. He then watched as a nurse pushed a wheelchair out with Sam in it to Y/N’s car. Sam, with his arm in a sling, went to stand up but Y/N seemed to stop him. Sam looked at her with fond exasperation and waited as she did something in her car first, then stepped back out and nodded. Moving gingerly, Sam pushed himself into a standing position and shook the hand of the nurse before moving into Y/N’s car. Once he was settled, Y/N shut the door and turned to the nurse. The two spoke for a few moments before the nurse held out a pamphlet of some kind to her. Y/N took it with a slow nod. She looked at the pamphlet while walking back to the driver’s side and getting in. 
Dean felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment between his brother and his wife as he watched the two interact after she got into the car. Y/N sat in the car for a few moments, just staring at the steering wheel before looking over at Sam with a small smile. Sam took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, changing the smile on Y/N’s face to something much more tender and loving. Y/N then leaned her head down onto their intertwined hands for a moment, causing Sam to lean over and kiss her on the top of her head. 
Yeah, they did need to talk. 
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Dean knocked on the door to the new room Sam had texted him about a few hours later. It had given him some time to calm down and get his head on straight. He wasn’t sure what he was walking into or what he was about to learn but he knew he had to do better than he had.
When the door opened, he came face to face with Y/N.
“What do you want?” she snapped at him. Before he could even open his mouth, Sam answered for him. 
“I asked him to come,” Sam said. Y/N turned around and looked at the man lying on the bed. Dean looked at him as well, really looked at him. He looked pale. And thin. Dean could tell he was in some pain by the slight squint of his eyes, and there was a slight tremor in his hand. 
“You did,” Y/N said, deadpanned. Sam just looked at Y/N and she sighed heavily, stepping back to let Dean in the room. He walked in and shoved his hands into his pockets. 
“Why did you switch rooms?” Dean asked. 
“Because he never should have been on the second floor in the first place,” Y/N growled under her breath. Dean threw a sharp look her way, but again, Sam said something before he could. 
“He didn’t know, Y/N,” he said calmly. 
“And whose fault is that?” Y/N snapped at him. Sam simply frowned at her. The two brothers watched as Y/N ran her fingers through her hair in a fidgety way. She refused to look at either of them. 
“Y/N/N,” Sam whispered, causing her to shake her head slightly. Dean once again felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment between the two of them. He watched as Y/N’s eyes filled slightly, her lower lip trembled just barely, and her arms crossed again to hold herself together. Finally, she shifted her eyes to look at Sam. 
“Do you want to talk to him alone?” she asked quietly, sniffling. Sam nodded slightly. 
“Are you okay with that?” he questioned; his voice just as quiet. She stared at him for a long moment, then released another heavy sigh. 
“Yeah, okay,” she whispered. Dean remained standing where he was and watched as Y/N moved to get Sam a bottle of water and one of the three bottles of medication that sat atop the dresser. She reached inside the mini fridge and pulled out a red apple and carried the items over to the nightstand near Sam. She sat down on the bed next to him.
“You need to eat this,” she said quietly, holding the apple out to him. Sam took it silently. “Your next dose is in two hours. If you are still talking and I’m not here. Two pills, Sam. The entire bottle of water. I set the alarm on your phone already.”
“I know, Y/N,” Sam said softly. She stared at the man she called her husband with no expression on her face. Sam tried again. “I know.” 
“Yeah,” she said, setting the items on the nightstand. She stood and made to move away but Sam caught her wrist, stopping her. Y/N closed her eyes against the emotion there and sat back down. 
“I love you. You know that, right?” Sam said quietly. Y/N stared at Sam for a good 15 seconds before nodding her head. She leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and stood up to walk away again. She walked over to where her bag was, pulled out her cell phone and her cigarettes, then turned to the boys. 
“I’ll be at the park across the street. Call me if you need anything,” she said. She turned her expressionless eyes to Dean. “You have two hours before I come back and check on him unless I hear from you that y’all are okay. You cause him any more pain, I swear to God, I will fuck you up, Dean.” 
“Is that a threat?” Dean asked, turning his body to face her, his hands on his hips. 
“It’s a God damn promise,” she swore. Dean’s eyes narrowed. 
“I don’t think you remember who you’re talking to,” Dean practically growled out. 
“Fucking try me,” she bit out. Silence filled the room, Y/N’s threat hanging in the air. Dean studied her and he realized he believed her. He didn’t know what was going on, but if he did something stupid again… yeah, she would tear him apart. He watched as she leaned over and grabbed Sam’s hoodie before turning toward the door. 
“Two hours,” she reminded them, before closing the door behind her. Dean watched her walk out the door and turned to his brother with a frown. 
“I thought she quit smoking,” he asked. Sam shook his head. 
“Yeah, well, you might want to pick up a vice or two again after I fill you in on everything yourself. You uh… want to sit down?” Sam said quietly. Dean watched him carefully and then made his way over to the side of the bed. 
“How are you feeling?” Dean asked distantly. Sam looked at his brother, trying to read if he meant the question or not. When his brother cocked an eyebrow at him impatiently, Sam sighed and shrugged. 
“I’m fine, Dean,” he replied dejectedly. “I just had a small incident that got a little out of hand.” 
“Uh-huh. A small incident includes a broken arm?” Sam mumbled something that Dean didn’t catch, his eyes on the piece of fruit in his hand. “Want to try that again a little louder?” Sam sighed. 
“I said it’s just a fracture from trying to catch myself on the stairs when I fell,” he muttered. Dean blinked in surprise. 
“Okay, Sam. I’m gonna need you to explain a few things. I get a call from a hospital and am told I need to come to get you, only to get there and get told by your wife that I’m not allowed to see you. Since when is Y/N your wife? And why were you in the hospital to begin with? Actually, yeah, let’s start with that. What the fuck is actually going on here,” Dean said firmly. Sam nodded. 
“Okay. Well… After you and Cas disappeared, we still had to blow up the building… and I guess we didn’t do everything correctly or something,” Sam explained. He was quiet for a long moment before his face scrunched up in confusion, shaking his head slowly. “I still don’t really remember this part, actually.” 
“What do you mean you don’t remember?” Dean asked. Sam opened his mouth to say something but hesitated and filled the time by taking a bite of the sweet fruit he promised Y/N he’d eat. Once he swallowed the bite, he answered quietly. 
“I remember setting the fuse for the explosion… and then waking up in the hospital and seeing Y/N sleeping. I hadn’t known what had happened or how long I had been out. When I tried to speak to her, I… I couldn’t,” Sam explained. He lifted his wounded eyes to his brother. Loss and sadness were so deeply etched there, Dean found himself swallowing back his own emotions. “It was like I forgot how to. She had to explain to me what happened… That when the building exploded, we were thrown away. Somehow she cleared the area and made it out with just a busted ankle and a slight concussion. Me? I landed on top of the Impala. My head landed on the roof, but my body landed on the windshield and it snapped my head back. They thought I had broken two or three of the vertebrae and was paralyzed because I wasn’t reacting to any stimuli in my limbs.”
Dean stared at his brother in shock, his eyes wide. “Fuck, Sammy…” 
Tears suddenly sprang to Sam’s eyes at the sound of that name coming from his big brother’s mouth, not realizing how much he missed it. He kept his eyes down so Dean wouldn’t see how hearing the age-old nickname made him feel. Clearing his throat of the tears that clogged it, he continued. 
“I landed on the car so hard, I uh… I cracked my skull. Caused a brain bleed. They had to put a tube into my skull to drain the fluid when my brain swelled too much,” Sam said quietly. Dean gaped at his brother at a loss for what to say. Sam took another bite of the apple, keeping his sad eyes averted. After he swallowed, a self-deprecating smirk played on his lips. 
“You can still feel the scar on the back of my head,” he said, grabbing Dean’s hand. He pressed his brother’s fingers to the back of his head and moved them around until they found the raised flesh. Dean’s expression changed to one of panic as his fingers traced the line that showed where the doctors had his baby brother’s head open. 
“Oh, my God…” 
“I was in a coma for months as the bone healed, I guess. Y/N said I was out for at least 6 months. It took me a while to relearn how to speak again, even longer to stand and walk again. But it was a few days after I woke up that the second scare happened and I had my first seizure,” Sam explained. 
“Wait… a seizure? You had a seizure?” Dean asked in surprise. Sam shook his head, taking a deep breath. Pulling on all the strength he could, he looked up and right into Dean’s eyes.  
“Have. I have seizures,” he said softly. “I just had my first one then. Dean stared at his brother blankly for almost a full minute before he shook his head. 
“I don’t understand.”
“Thanks to the swelling in my brain and the damage that happened when my skull cracked, something happened. I got some kind of brain damage or something and now… now I have seizures,” Sam explained, looking down at the apple in his hand. “It took a long time for us to figure out how to get them under control with medication and diet and lifestyle changes and whatever but…”   
Sam shrugged and tried to smile. It failed and when he lifted his eyes to see Dean, his hazel eyes were filled with sadness and pain. Dean stared back, stricken, and horrified. 
“The blow to my head did a lot of damage, and now it’s something I have to live with.” 
The brothers fell into silence, both lost in thought. Sam started to eat the apple again as he let Dean think about what he said. It was a long time before anyone spoke again.
“That’s why you married Y/N,” Dean said. Sammy nodded slowly. 
“I was planning on marrying her anyway, you know that,” he said with a smile. “This just moved up the timeframe. I needed someone who could make medical decisions for me and we thought you were dead and in heaven…” 
“Wait. You thought I was dead?”
“Well… yeah. Dean, she couldn’t find you, had no leads on where you were. When I was in the coma, Y/N spent half her time trying to figure out what happened to you and the other half of her time waiting on me to wake up. She tried to talk to everyone, even tracked down Crowley,” Sam explained.  
“Crowley? Why would she go to him?” Dean asked. 
“To find answers. Y/N said she had run out of ideas and when she talked to Crowley, he had no ideas either. The thought of purgatory never even entered our minds. She said you had to have died and your body incinerated. It was the only explanation for us not being able to find you,” Sam said. “We know now that wasn’t true, but you have to look at it from her point of view. She had me laid up in the hospital in a coma, you and Cas were gone, and she was alone and devastated. You need to cut her some slack.” Dean shook his head, thinking about what Y/N must have gone through. It certainly explained her current hostility.
He clearly read the situation wrong. 
The two continued their conversation until Sam’s phone alarm went off. He stopped it, sent a text to Y/N, took his meds, and finished the bottle of water. The brothers then continued to talk about everything that happened in the year that Dean was missing. The older Winchester learned a lot about what had happened while he was gone, giving him a new perspective. 
He kept that in mind when he made his way to the park to speak to Y/N.
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Y/N had her headphones on, with the music turned up loud enough to block out everything around her. She sat comfortably in one of the reclined Adirondack chairs surrounding the fountain, eyes trained on the water being thrown into the air and falling back down into the cement pond. Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of the hoodie she stole from Sam, legs crossed in front of her, cigarettes long gone. 
When she got the text from the boys saying they were still talking, she started a new playlist and forced herself to remain calm. Sam needed this, she reminded herself. He needs time with his brother, to reconcile and hopefully find some peace between them.
A surge of guilt rushed through her, heavy and familiar as it stole her breath. She tried for so long to find Dean and Castiel while Sam lay unconscious in a hospital bed. She drove back and forth between the hospital and countless leads trying to determine what happened only to turn up empty-handed each time. It was after three months that she finally had to accept Dean and Cas were gone and she needed to focus her energy on the one living Winchester she had left. 
She snorted wetly, lifting a hand to wipe at the moisture filling her eyes with a sleeve. Living. If you could have called what Sam was doing living. The doctors weren’t very optimistic and were trying to convince her to say her final goodbye when she finally lost it on them. The emotional meltdown she had was something Sam didn’t know about, but it included sedation and a couple of sessions with a shrink from the psych ward. 
When the doctor asked about stress, Y/N explained to the good doctor how the accident Sam was in had already taken his brother and his best friend. She wouldn’t be giving up on the man she loved if she could help it. They talked about the sleepless nights, the skipped meals, the loneliness, the guilt. The guilt was the hardest part. She mourned the loss of Cas and Dean, the wound their loss created never really healing because she knew once Sam woke up she had to explain that they were gone to him. 
It took a while, but the good doctor finally got Y/N to admit a little help wouldn’t hurt. She had just finished her first month on the antidepressants when Sam opened his eyes. She keeps the antidepressants hidden in her box of tampons, away from Sam’s prying eyes. He has enough to worry about. She calls the good doctor every month to check in and to give the location of the nearest pharmacy so she can get her refill. 
Feeling eyes on her, Y/N turned her head to the right and saw Dean slowly walking toward her with two paper cups in his hands. She watched him move slowly toward him, studying his face. Gone was the underlying fury that was permanently etched there and in replacement, she found… sadness. Guilt. Understanding. Dare she say it, pride. 
Confusion colored her expression before she could school her features as she reached up and pulled her earbuds from her ears, stuffing them into her pocket. Dean walked up to her and sat down in the chair next to her, offering one of the paper cups over. She accepted it, taking a careful sip. Y/N looked over at him with a raised brow. 
“A year in purgatory and you remembered my coffee order?” she asked quietly. Dean shrugged, settling back into the reclined wooden chair. The two turned their eyes to the fountain and got lost in the sound of moving water. Y/N snuggled down into the chair, holding her coffee with both hands. The warmth from the cup felt good against her cooled skin. Dean sipped his drink from one hand, the other one tapping out a staccato on the armrest of the chair. 
“I owe you either an epic apology or a major thank you. Probably both,” Dean said after a long period of silence. Y/N thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. 
“Or neither,” she muttered emotionlessly. Dean shook his head and looked over at her. 
“No. You took care of Sammy that whole time. You’re taking care of Sammy now. Something I’ve failed to do as of late. I didn’t even realize there was a problem, let alone give him a chance to tell me about one,” Dean said. Y/N nodded slowly. 
“Yeah, you’ve been kind of a dick since you’ve gotten back,” Y/N admitted, taking a sip of her coffee. Dean side-eyed her venomously, causing Y/N to look back at him with a raised brow. “Tell me I’m wrong.” The two fell silent once again. Y/N looked over at Dean and watched him as he looked down at the paper cup in his hand with a frown. An olive branch, then, she thought. 
“I didn’t know how to tell him you were gone when he woke up,” she said so quietly, Dean was almost certain she didn’t say it at all. He turned and looked at her to find Y/N staring at him with eyes that held so much pain. “He was unconscious for so long, and the first thing he always does when he wakes up hurt or sick is look for you. And this time I had to tell him you weren’t there. You were gone, missing. I couldn’t find you anywhere. And I looked everywhere.” 
Dean watched Y/N as she swallowed emotions she didn’t want to be expressing down with a gulp of bitter coffee. She cleared her throat and sniffled, turning her eyes back to the fountain. 
“I called in chits, summoned demons, even tracked down a few assholes from a few lives ago,” she explained with a shake of her head. “No one had any ideas. Thought you had died or something then. It was the only option, y’know? We both figured that’s what happened. He mourned you and was devastated. Inconsolable. I had to keep reminding him you were in heaven and happy.” 
Y/N shook her head, sniffling again. She wiped the tears out of her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and laughed bitterly. 
“Imagine my surprise and guilt when Sam called me, said you showed up alive and well. Told me it was Purgatory and nothing I looked into would have put me in that direction.” 
“You felt guilty?” Dean asked cautiously. Y/N shot him a dark look. 
“I told Sam you were dead and gone, then months later you come waltzing back into his life without a scratch on you, a chip on your shoulder and a bad attitude… when I’m gone, no less… and I’m not supposed to feel guilty?” Y/N asked condescendingly.  
“Where were you anyway?” Dean asked. Y/N shook her head. 
“Got a call about a hunt a state away. Ghost attached to a journal someone had kept as a keepsake. Wasn’t going to take it for obvious reasons, but Sam insisted I go and take care of it since we were closest,” Y/N explained. She frowned, her eyes dropping. “Three people had already died. Was a quick and easy job.” 
“Did you get it?” Dean asked. Y/N gave him another look. Dean raised his hand in surrender. 
“When Sam told me you were back, I told him he had to explain the epilepsy to you. He needed to do it right away,” she continued. She shook her head with an angry smile on her lips. “Of course, he said it wasn’t the right time, you were angry, and he couldn’t bother you with his issues. His focus shouldn’t have been on your needs, but we both know that’s not how Sam operates.”
“Y/N, if I had known about everything before…” Dean started. 
“That’s the thing, Dean. You didn’t. You didn’t because you had a wild hair up your ass about Sam not looking for you. Didn’t matter why he didn’t look for you, just that he didn’t. And Sam wasn’t going to fight you on it,” Y/N bit out. Dean fell silent again. Y/N sat up and turned to face Dean, her eyes wet with tears and furious.
“And you know what? He isn’t even the one you should be fucking pissed at. If anything, I’m the one who said you were dead and gone. I’m the one who fucked up and couldn’t find you. He was in a God-damned coma. If anything, you should be pissed at me.”
Dean stared at Y/N’s face and felt her fury and pain. Now that he knew what really happened, he understood why she reacted the way she did at the hospital… both when she didn’t know he was watching and when he showed up late and furious. Y/N shook her head and leaned back into the chair and sniffled. 
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Dean muttered. 
“Sam wore your tie at our courthouse wedding. And your socks,” she said quietly. Dean watched as Y/N pulled out her phone and scrolled through it. She found what she was looking for and handed her phone over to him. The photo was of the two of them in front of a judge. Sam was dressed in his FBI suit, wearing Dean’s red tie. It was clearly too short for him, but the sentiment meant more to him than anything else. Y/N was beautiful in a lovely white sundress, her hair down over her shoulders. 
“He asked me if it would be okay if he wore your ring as his wedding band,” she explained, causing Dean to look up at her in surprise. “The silver one you used to wear all the time. At least that’s what he said. If you scroll through the photos, you’ll see it.” 
Dean scrolled through the photos and spotted the photo she was talking about. The two of them were kissing and their hands were close to the camera. Y/N was wearing a thin silver band on her finger and there – on Sam’s finger – was Dean’s ring. He stared at the photo with tears filling his eyes. 
“I wish I could have been there,” he whispered.
“We wanted you there,” Y/N said just as quietly. “He really missed you. He’d sit outside and talk to the stars when we thought you were in Heaven. He prayed to you and Castiel every night.” Dean looked up at her with a broken expression. Y/N stared at him for a long moment, then gave him a small smile.
“There’s a lot of anger between us, but I think we can work that out in time,” she started. “What I need you to realize is how much Sam still needs you. He missed you so much, and he still needs his big brother… I’m not taking him away from you, Dean. If anything, he needs you more now than he ever needed you.”  
It was another hour before Y/N and Dean made their way back to the hotel room. They entered quietly, uncertain if Sam was awake or asleep. Sam was sitting up in the bed, watching some brainless television and waiting on them. 
“Hey,” he said warily, watching them come in. “You two okay?” Y/N smiled as she walked over to him, placing a gentle kiss on his mouth. 
“We will be. How are you? You hungry?” she asked. Sam shrugged, smiling at her. 
“I could eat,” he answered, his hand slipping under the sweatshirt and gripping her waist gently. Y/N nodded, looking over her shoulder at Dean. 
“What about you? Hungry for dinner?” 
“I’m always hungry. What are you thinking? Pizza or Chinese?” Dean asked, pulling out his phone. Y/N turned to look at Sam, who shrugged. 
“Pizza?” he asked. Y/N nodded. 
“Sounds like a plan. You order, I’m gonna grab a shower,” Y/N said. She went to her bag and grabbed her toiletries and a change of clothes before slipping into the shower. A quick 20 minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom with wet hair and in warm pajamas to find Sam and Dean laying on the same bed together, fast asleep. The smile that came to her face was sweet and genuine. 
Moving quickly, she dropped her things in her bag and snagged her phone, snapping a photo of the brothers together. Just then, someone knocked at the door. She moved to answer it with a glance at the boys, who were not moving on the bed. Accepting the pizza, she set it on the table, pulled a slice out, and started to eat it while watching the brother’s nap.  
Well, she thought, maybe we’ll get through this yet.
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enigmalynne · 2 years
Text
(SPECIAL) Children Are Our Future - An SPN FanFic
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Title – (Special) Children Are Our Future Pairings – Friendship Word Count – 3,398 Warnings – gun violence, physical violence, cursing, and arguing.
You promised to meet in one of three places if the apocalypse happened. You already went to two, and are now at the third.
You sniffled slightly, the freezing cold air causing your eyes to burn and your nose to run.
The first safe house was empty when you arrived. You stayed there for a week, utilizing the firewood to keep warm and cook the food stored in the old cabinets. Taking advantage of the security the private cabin provided, you spent your time catching up on sleep and healing some wounds from a hunt gone bad. When a week passed and he didn’t show, you carefully packed up your things and got ready to move on.
On a whim, you called his number. When the voicemail picked up for the hundredth time, you left a message:
Hey, it’s me. I’m at the safe house in Montana and have been here for a week. You didn’t show up, so I’m packing up and heading to the next one on the list. If you get this message, meet me there okay? Call me. You’re making me nervous with this radio silence.
You left a note behind letting him know you were there and where you were headed next in case he showed up after you already left.
You loaded up your car, a decade-old Mustang, and headed out with the loud rock music blaring to distract your anxious thoughts. Your cell phone remained strangely silent the entire 4-day drive.
Once you reached Wisconsin, you made your way to the safe house. The one in Montana was a cabin, but the one in Wisconsin was less luxurious. The dilapidated building should have been condemned years ago. Infested with God only knew what and in dire need of an extensive renovation, the old house was an eyesore in the poor neighborhood. That’s what made it the perfect place to hide out.
You grabbed the key from under the dead plant that rested on the back porch with a heartbroken sigh. If the key was there, it meant he wasn’t. Unlocking the door was almost a joke when the door came unhinged when you touched it. You left your belongings on the porch, pulled out your Glock, and did a search of the house. Aside from some roaches and a couple of petrified raccoons at seeing someone inside the building, it was empty.
You made yourself at home in one of the bedrooms, taking time to clean up as best you could. With no electricity and no running water, you ran up to the convenience store nearby to grab a bottled water and some dry goods for what could constitute a meal. It was during your short walk you promptly decided you were going to only stay one night in this shithole of a safe house. It was late fall, and the cold air was biting already. You made sure to bundle up as warm as you could in the freezing house to genuinely try and stave off pneumonia.
The next morning you left another voicemail from the safety of your well-heated car.
It’s me again. I’m in Wisconsin and the safe house is falling apart, if you can even call it that anymore. I’m leaving here and headed to the third one on the list. I’m not staying here more than one night. I think sharing a bed with a family of raccoons for one night is more than enough. Listen… if you can’t call me, I understand, but maybe you could shoot me a text? Let me know you’re alive? Anyway. Heading out and moving to the third one. Please be there.
It took another four days to get to Kansas. The safe house was a small, abandoned lake house from the 1950s. By the time you pulled up to the old building, it had invariably started to snow.
Empty. A sob was stuck in your throat as you carefully pulled your car to the far side of the house, realizing he wasn’t there. Your hands clenched the steering wheel tightly, and you rested your head back as you tried to get a grip on your emotions. Maybe he just wasn’t there yet, you thought.
The inside of the lake house was cold but clean. The cabinets in the communal kitchen were stocked with both dry and can goods. The small refrigerator had bottled water and some beer that looked to be at least four months old. Seeing the beer triggered a thought in your mind, and you looked in the mud room closet. There, liquor bottles rested on the top shelf. You grabbed a bottle of whiskey and brought it back to the kitchen.
Moving mechanically, you pulled out a box of matches from a drawer in the kitchen and went to light the oil lanterns that were scattered across the house. Once the house was aglow with warm light, your next job was to get a fire going. The giant fireplace that sat in the center of the house had some logs sitting next to it, but more would be needed to get through the next few days.
Once a fire was started, you dug out the old ax that rested in the mud room closet. Heading out to the stack of wood near the house, you got to cutting. A couple of hours later, there was a stack of firewood inside the house that would keep the fire going all night and into the morning. Soon, the house was warm enough for you to take off your heavy jacket. Heading into the kitchen, you got started making a dinner of red beans and rice while coffee bubbled in a steel pot next to the fire.
It wasn’t until much later that night, while sitting curled up on the couch and watching the snow fall outside the frosted glass doors, that you heard it. Cautious footsteps crunching on the icy snow outside the front door. Turning to face the front door, the blanket you had wrapped around yourself was slowly shoved off your shoulders. You reached over and grabbed your loaded gun from the coffee table resting in front of you and slowly turned toward the front door as the handle starts to jiggle. Moving swiftly, you made your way to the other side of the door.
After a few more moments, the front door crept carefully open and hands with a gun slipped through the opening. You took a deep breath to calm your rapidly beating heart and moved. You slam the door as hard as you could against the extended arms, causing the hands to drop the gun. You crouch and eagerly snatch the gun up while roughly kicking the door against the person once again. A soft yelp is heard on the other side of the door before you kick it open and point a gun at each face: one covered by a hand gently holding a now bleeding nose and the other with a gun extended toward you.
“Shit! The hell, Dean! You said she was cool!” Sam shouted at his brother. You glare sharply at them, sharply waving them inside the house with the gun. Dean placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and guided him inside the house, keeping his gun trained on you. Once they are inside, you kick the door closed to keep the heat inside.
“Now, let’s just calm down here, sweetheart,” Dean said soothingly, Sam grumbling next to him. You just adjusted your grip on the weapons and narrowed your eyes a little sharper. Dean held his gun up, showing he wasn’t a threat before sliding it back into his waistband. “It’s me. I swear.”
You didn’t move, staring through narrowed eyes at the man in front of you with cold eyes. It looked like Dean and sounded like Dean… but you learned the hard way that it doesn’t always mean it’s them.
“Prove it,” you muttered darkly. Dean held his hands up and moved slowly to pull out a flask from his jacket pocket and took a generous swig of the contents. He then poured a bit of it on Sam’s head, earning him a sound of frustrated disgust from his baby brother. Your eyes followed the movements sharply.
“On the arm,” you said quietly. “And don’t try anything. I have an itchy trigger finger and won’t hesitate.”
“Oh, I remember,” Dean muttered with a snort as he reached forward and dumped some of the water content onto your wrist. The water simply rolled off without causing a reaction. Sam huffed as he watched the interaction, using his sleeve to cover his nose.
“And the blade,” you said. Dean rolled his eyes.
“Look,” he started but you raised the guns in your hands a little bit, causing him to instantly back off.
“Okay, okay… Sammy…”
Sam reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a short, shiny silver blade. Removing it from its protected sheath, he carefully pulled the blade across his forearm, making a hiss at the pain. He then handed the blade to his brother. Dean did the same thing, then
Moving slowly, you lower your gun and use your thumb to put the safety on before slipping it into the back pocket of your jeans. You then reach your arm out toward Dean, keeping the gun in your other hand on Sam. Dean stepped forward and made a small incision on your forearm, causing you to simply wince at the sharp pain. The two of you stared at each other for a long moment, but you broke first. The arm holding the gun dropped as your face morphed from cold fury to complete heartbreak.
“Y/N…” Dean whispered sadly, stepping forward and immediately wrapping you up in his arms, holding you close to his chest. You wrapped your arms back around him, gun resting on his back.
“Where the hell have you been?” you asked in a whimper before your voice gained strength. “And why didn’t you call me? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for weeks!”
“It’s a long story,” Dean muttered, pressing a kiss to your hair. He pulled back a bit and cradled your face in his hands, studying you. “I’m just glad you’re okay, and we’re here now.”
“Well, I’m not okay,” Sam said, his voice muffled. Horror filled you suddenly as you looked over to the other man in the room, still holding the sleeve of his jacket to his face.
“Fuck. I’m so sorry. Come on, the bathroom is over here, and you can clean up there. I’ll grab you a bag of snow to put on your face to keep the swelling down,” you said as you pulled away from Dean’s embrace. You gently took Sam’s arm and guided him to the bathroom down the short hallway toward the bedrooms, grabbing a lit lantern along the way.
“I’ll get our gear from the car,” Dean shouted at you before turning to walk back into the cold.
“There’s running water, but it will be cold. There isn’t much power turned on here. I’ll put some water on the fire to warm it up for you,” you said quietly, setting the lantern down on the counter. You raised the cotton fibers inside the glass, and the light grew to fill the small bathroom with a warm glow. You started turning away, then looked back. “Oh, and uh… here’s your gun.”
Sam accepted the weapon and nodded his head before turning into the bathroom, closing the door in your face. You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to not let your hurt show on your face. You did smash the door in his face, so he was entitled to his disdain. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you made your way back into the living space. You headed to the kitchen, eyes watching the door for Dean to come back into the house. Minutes later, the man walked in carrying two bags in one hand and a third over his shoulder.
“It’s colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra out there,” he muttered, stomping his feet to get the snow off. You smirked slightly at his comment, digging out a plastic grocery bag from one of the drawers. “Which room did you claim, so I can put our stuff down?”
“I didn’t,” you muttered quietly. “Take whichever you want, and we can start a fire in the stove there to warm things up.” Dean nodded and headed back down the hallway. You open the front door and brave the snowy wind to fill the bag up with snow, tying it up in a makeshift ice pack for Sam. Walking back into the house, the door slamming behind you, you spy Dean adding wood to the fire in the living space. Sam rested on the couch you were sitting on.
You walked over and handed the bag of snow over to Sam, shame coloring your expression. He nodded his thanks, taking it from you. Sam eyed you as he pressed the snow to his face, the cold feeling good against his hurting face.
“By the way, I’m Y/N,” you said quietly, waving a hand at him. “How do you know Dean?” Sam gave Y/N a bitchface with a raised brow.
“I’m his brother, Sam,” he said flatly. Your eyes go wide, then slam shut, your entire body wilting with shame. When you open your eyes again to look at him, they are filled with apology.
“I’m so sorry. I knew he had a brother but…”
“Yeah, that’s my fault. I didn’t warn Sammy about your paranoia,” Dean said plopping down next to Sam on the couch.
“He didn’t tell me anything about you either, other than we needed to get to one of three safe houses to meet you,” Sam said belligerently. Dean glared at his brother.
“I told him about how we met while he was at Stanford. I told him you were important. To me. I told him we made a deal if the apocalypse were to ever happen, we would meet up and make sure to keep each other safe,” Dean said quietly. Your eyes dart between the two brothers.
“You didn’t tell him…” you started. Dean shook his head and interrupted you.
“How we met? No. I didn’t think you’d appreciate that,” he said softly. You smiled softly at Dean in appreciation before looking away from the brothers toward the fire. “But I think you’ll find Sammy would be more receptive to it than anyone.”
“No one’s been receptive to it,” you said with disdain, rolling your eyes.
“Oh, really?” Dean responded the same way with a raised brow. He then looked over at Sam and with a straight face said one word: “Alistair.”
Sam’s eyes widened as he looked over at you. You didn’t see it as you were glaring at Dean.
“You too?” he asked incredulously. You turn a confused look to Sam, who was strangely eager to talk about his psychic powers and where they came from. “What’s your power? I have premonitions, visions of the future.” You darted your eyes to Dean, who had a satisfied look on his face, before answering.
“You mean…” you started, then her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re mom.” Sam’s expression faltered before nodding.  “Wait, does this mean…”
“Yep!” Dean answered cheekily. The two looked over at him in slight confusion. “You both were fed blood from Alistair, you both have freaky psychic powers, and you both survived the super kid Olympics. You both should feel very special.”
You turn your head and look at Sam with a new understanding. Suddenly, everything started making sense.
“How old were you?” you asked suddenly, hoping like hell it was younger than she was. Sam frowned.
“I was a baby. Just a few months I think,” he answered. You sigh in relief, a slight smile coming to your lips. “Why? How old were you?”
“Two,” she whispered, causing Sam to startle.
“Two months?”
“Two years. He had trouble finding me because my dad took us off the grid. We, uh… We lived off the land, made deals with farmers, never went into a store, never spent money. It was primitive, but I just remember it being like camping,” you said quietly. A small smile came to your lips as she thought about her parents.
“My mom died on the ceiling, on fire,” Sam said. You looked back over to him, losing your smile.
“My dad died the same way,” you whispered. “My mom died trying to save him.”
“So, you’ve been on your own since you were two?”
“Sixteen. That’s when I ran away,” you answered, glancing at Dean. “Foster care isn’t exactly kind to the special kids.”
“Is that when you met Dean?” Sam asked, having caught the glance. He looked between the girl and his brother, noticing Y/N lowered her eyes to her fingers.
“No. Dean and I met when you were in college. We ended up on the same hunt together when he rescued me from a really pissed off poltergeist that had taken up residence in a butcher shop in Philadelphia.”  
Dean sat back and watched the two with a sad but satisfied smile on his face. He had wanted to tell his brother about the girl who was like his little sister a thousand times over, but the time never came up right. Now that Y/N and Sam were in front of each other, sharing sordid tales of their shared trauma, he hoped like hell they both could find some closure and peace with what happened.
           “What’s your power? Like I said, I have visions of the future and a little bit of telekinesis if I try hard enough,” Sam said, a look of wonder in his eyes.
“You ever see Star Wars?” you ask. At Sam’s nod, you smirked. “Jedi Mind Trick.”
“What?” Sam questioned, confused. A playful smirk danced on your lips as you look over at Dean, whose eyes widened as he shook his head.
“Don’t you dare,” he started, before stuttering to a stop.
“I think we need some dinner,” you said. Dean nodded.
“I think we need some dinner,” he repeated. Sam let out a surprised laugh.
“You should make us something to eat,” you replied.
“I should make us something to eat,” Dean repeated, standing, and walking into the kitchen. You looked over at Sam and winked.
“Holy shit,” Sam breathed.
“Holy shit, indeed. I can make a person answer questions they don’t want to, change their beliefs or ideas, even share thoughts with them,” you answered with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Dammit Y/N! I’m only in here making us something to eat because I’m actually hungry, not because you made me!” Dean shouted, causing them to start laughing. With a sigh, Y/N caught Sam’s eyes and stared at him with intention.
We can talk like this too if you want to share some dirt on your brother. Just think your words and I’ll hear them.
Sam startled and looked around him before looking back at Y/N with surprise. Dean huffed as he made his way out of the kitchen, a pot in his hands.
“Yeah, it was startling for me to the first time it happened. Don’t talk about me!” he muttered as he settled the pot onto the fire. “I found some dehydrated chili in there. Gonna take a while to get done, though.”
So, you can hear me right now? Sam asked, staring at Y/N.
Yep. In fact, I prefer this form of communication. You answered. I can speak to you both ways and with some concentration…
You closed your eyes and concentrated. After a few seconds, the brothers heard you quoting lines from The Secret Garden in both their heads. The brothers were startled, hearing a different person’s voice in both their heads at the same time.
“It’s really helpful in times of trouble,” you said verbally, wrapping your arms around yourself. Sam turned and glared at his brother.
“Why wasn’t she with us from the beginning?” he asked. Dean glared at him, waving a hand toward Y/N.
“Because until recently, we worked alone,” he answered. “But with the apocalypse on our shoulders now, we need all the help we can get.”
Sam looked away, chastised. You looked between the brothers with curiosity.
“Do you know what triggered it?” you asked.
Sam nodded, his expression filled with shame and hurt.
“Tell me.”
Supernatural:
@akshi8278 @vicmc624 @agirlwithdemonblood @flamencodiva @hobby27 @mimaria420 @compresshischest09 @kkrivers @deanwanddamons @lovelyrocker @mrsstevenbuchananstark @karlilarki
Jensen/Dean Taglist
@deandreamernp @siospins2 @sacriceria @sexyvixen7 @lanea-1 @nancymcl
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enigmalynne · 2 years
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(SPECIAL) Children Are Our Future - An SPN FanFic
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Title – (Special) Children Are Our Future Pairings – Friendship Word Count – 3,398 Warnings – gun violence, physical violence, cursing, and arguing.
You promised to meet in one of three places if the apocalypse happened. You already went to two, and are now at the third.
You sniffled slightly, the freezing cold air causing your eyes to burn and your nose to run.
The first safe house was empty when you arrived. You stayed there for a week, utilizing the firewood to keep warm and cook the food stored in the old cabinets. Taking advantage of the security the private cabin provided, you spent your time catching up on sleep and healing some wounds from a hunt gone bad. When a week passed and he didn’t show, you carefully packed up your things and got ready to move on.
On a whim, you called his number. When the voicemail picked up for the hundredth time, you left a message:
Hey, it’s me. I’m at the safe house in Montana and have been here for a week. You didn’t show up, so I’m packing up and heading to the next one on the list. If you get this message, meet me there okay? Call me. You’re making me nervous with this radio silence.
You left a note behind letting him know you were there and where you were headed next in case he showed up after you already left.
You loaded up your car, a decade-old Mustang, and headed out with the loud rock music blaring to distract your anxious thoughts. Your cell phone remained strangely silent the entire 4-day drive.
Once you reached Wisconsin, you made your way to the safe house. The one in Montana was a cabin, but the one in Wisconsin was less luxurious. The dilapidated building should have been condemned years ago. Infested with God only knew what and in dire need of an extensive renovation, the old house was an eyesore in the poor neighborhood. That’s what made it the perfect place to hide out.
You grabbed the key from under the dead plant that rested on the back porch with a heartbroken sigh. If the key was there, it meant he wasn’t. Unlocking the door was almost a joke when the door came unhinged when you touched it. You left your belongings on the porch, pulled out your Glock, and did a search of the house. Aside from some roaches and a couple of petrified raccoons at seeing someone inside the building, it was empty.
You made yourself at home in one of the bedrooms, taking time to clean up as best you could. With no electricity and no running water, you ran up to the convenience store nearby to grab a bottled water and some dry goods for what could constitute a meal. It was during your short walk you promptly decided you were going to only stay one night in this shithole of a safe house. It was late fall, and the cold air was biting already. You made sure to bundle up as warm as you could in the freezing house to genuinely try and stave off pneumonia.
The next morning you left another voicemail from the safety of your well-heated car.
It’s me again. I’m in Wisconsin and the safe house is falling apart, if you can even call it that anymore. I’m leaving here and headed to the third one on the list. I’m not staying here more than one night. I think sharing a bed with a family of raccoons for one night is more than enough. Listen… if you can’t call me, I understand, but maybe you could shoot me a text? Let me know you’re alive? Anyway. Heading out and moving to the third one. Please be there.
It took another four days to get to Kansas. The safe house was a small, abandoned lake house from the 1950s. By the time you pulled up to the old building, it had invariably started to snow.
Empty. A sob was stuck in your throat as you carefully pulled your car to the far side of the house, realizing he wasn’t there. Your hands clenched the steering wheel tightly, and you rested your head back as you tried to get a grip on your emotions. Maybe he just wasn’t there yet, you thought.
The inside of the lake house was cold but clean. The cabinets in the communal kitchen were stocked with both dry and can goods. The small refrigerator had bottled water and some beer that looked to be at least four months old. Seeing the beer triggered a thought in your mind, and you looked in the mud room closet. There, liquor bottles rested on the top shelf. You grabbed a bottle of whiskey and brought it back to the kitchen.
Moving mechanically, you pulled out a box of matches from a drawer in the kitchen and went to light the oil lanterns that were scattered across the house. Once the house was aglow with warm light, your next job was to get a fire going. The giant fireplace that sat in the center of the house had some logs sitting next to it, but more would be needed to get through the next few days.
Once a fire was started, you dug out the old ax that rested in the mud room closet. Heading out to the stack of wood near the house, you got to cutting. A couple of hours later, there was a stack of firewood inside the house that would keep the fire going all night and into the morning. Soon, the house was warm enough for you to take off your heavy jacket. Heading into the kitchen, you got started making a dinner of red beans and rice while coffee bubbled in a steel pot next to the fire.
It wasn’t until much later that night, while sitting curled up on the couch and watching the snow fall outside the frosted glass doors, that you heard it. Cautious footsteps crunching on the icy snow outside the front door. Turning to face the front door, the blanket you had wrapped around yourself was slowly shoved off your shoulders. You reached over and grabbed your loaded gun from the coffee table resting in front of you and slowly turned toward the front door as the handle starts to jiggle. Moving swiftly, you made your way to the other side of the door.
After a few more moments, the front door crept carefully open and hands with a gun slipped through the opening. You took a deep breath to calm your rapidly beating heart and moved. You slam the door as hard as you could against the extended arms, causing the hands to drop the gun. You crouch and eagerly snatch the gun up while roughly kicking the door against the person once again. A soft yelp is heard on the other side of the door before you kick it open and point a gun at each face: one covered by a hand gently holding a now bleeding nose and the other with a gun extended toward you.
“Shit! The hell, Dean! You said she was cool!” Sam shouted at his brother. You glare sharply at them, sharply waving them inside the house with the gun. Dean placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and guided him inside the house, keeping his gun trained on you. Once they are inside, you kick the door closed to keep the heat inside.
“Now, let’s just calm down here, sweetheart,” Dean said soothingly, Sam grumbling next to him. You just adjusted your grip on the weapons and narrowed your eyes a little sharper. Dean held his gun up, showing he wasn’t a threat before sliding it back into his waistband. “It’s me. I swear.”
You didn’t move, staring through narrowed eyes at the man in front of you with cold eyes. It looked like Dean and sounded like Dean… but you learned the hard way that it doesn’t always mean it’s them.
“Prove it,” you muttered darkly. Dean held his hands up and moved slowly to pull out a flask from his jacket pocket and took a generous swig of the contents. He then poured a bit of it on Sam’s head, earning him a sound of frustrated disgust from his baby brother. Your eyes followed the movements sharply.
“On the arm,” you said quietly. “And don’t try anything. I have an itchy trigger finger and won’t hesitate.”
“Oh, I remember,” Dean muttered with a snort as he reached forward and dumped some of the water content onto your wrist. The water simply rolled off without causing a reaction. Sam huffed as he watched the interaction, using his sleeve to cover his nose.
“And the blade,” you said. Dean rolled his eyes.
“Look,” he started but you raised the guns in your hands a little bit, causing him to instantly back off.
“Okay, okay… Sammy…”
Sam reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a short, shiny silver blade. Removing it from its protected sheath, he carefully pulled the blade across his forearm, making a hiss at the pain. He then handed the blade to his brother. Dean did the same thing, then
Moving slowly, you lower your gun and use your thumb to put the safety on before slipping it into the back pocket of your jeans. You then reach your arm out toward Dean, keeping the gun in your other hand on Sam. Dean stepped forward and made a small incision on your forearm, causing you to simply wince at the sharp pain. The two of you stared at each other for a long moment, but you broke first. The arm holding the gun dropped as your face morphed from cold fury to complete heartbreak.
“Y/N…” Dean whispered sadly, stepping forward and immediately wrapping you up in his arms, holding you close to his chest. You wrapped your arms back around him, gun resting on his back.
“Where the hell have you been?” you asked in a whimper before your voice gained strength. “And why didn’t you call me? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for weeks!”
“It’s a long story,” Dean muttered, pressing a kiss to your hair. He pulled back a bit and cradled your face in his hands, studying you. “I’m just glad you’re okay, and we’re here now.”
“Well, I’m not okay,” Sam said, his voice muffled. Horror filled you suddenly as you looked over to the other man in the room, still holding the sleeve of his jacket to his face.
“Fuck. I’m so sorry. Come on, the bathroom is over here, and you can clean up there. I’ll grab you a bag of snow to put on your face to keep the swelling down,” you said as you pulled away from Dean’s embrace. You gently took Sam’s arm and guided him to the bathroom down the short hallway toward the bedrooms, grabbing a lit lantern along the way.
“I’ll get our gear from the car,” Dean shouted at you before turning to walk back into the cold.
“There’s running water, but it will be cold. There isn’t much power turned on here. I’ll put some water on the fire to warm it up for you,” you said quietly, setting the lantern down on the counter. You raised the cotton fibers inside the glass, and the light grew to fill the small bathroom with a warm glow. You started turning away, then looked back. “Oh, and uh… here’s your gun.”
Sam accepted the weapon and nodded his head before turning into the bathroom, closing the door in your face. You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to not let your hurt show on your face. You did smash the door in his face, so he was entitled to his disdain. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you made your way back into the living space. You headed to the kitchen, eyes watching the door for Dean to come back into the house. Minutes later, the man walked in carrying two bags in one hand and a third over his shoulder.
“It’s colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra out there,” he muttered, stomping his feet to get the snow off. You smirked slightly at his comment, digging out a plastic grocery bag from one of the drawers. “Which room did you claim, so I can put our stuff down?”
“I didn’t,” you muttered quietly. “Take whichever you want, and we can start a fire in the stove there to warm things up.” Dean nodded and headed back down the hallway. You open the front door and brave the snowy wind to fill the bag up with snow, tying it up in a makeshift ice pack for Sam. Walking back into the house, the door slamming behind you, you spy Dean adding wood to the fire in the living space. Sam rested on the couch you were sitting on.
You walked over and handed the bag of snow over to Sam, shame coloring your expression. He nodded his thanks, taking it from you. Sam eyed you as he pressed the snow to his face, the cold feeling good against his hurting face.
“By the way, I’m Y/N,” you said quietly, waving a hand at him. “How do you know Dean?” Sam gave Y/N a bitchface with a raised brow.
“I’m his brother, Sam,” he said flatly. Your eyes go wide, then slam shut, your entire body wilting with shame. When you open your eyes again to look at him, they are filled with apology.
“I’m so sorry. I knew he had a brother but…”
“Yeah, that’s my fault. I didn’t warn Sammy about your paranoia,” Dean said plopping down next to Sam on the couch.
“He didn’t tell me anything about you either, other than we needed to get to one of three safe houses to meet you,” Sam said belligerently. Dean glared at his brother.
“I told him about how we met while he was at Stanford. I told him you were important. To me. I told him we made a deal if the apocalypse were to ever happen, we would meet up and make sure to keep each other safe,” Dean said quietly. Your eyes dart between the two brothers.
“You didn’t tell him…” you started. Dean shook his head and interrupted you.
“How we met? No. I didn’t think you’d appreciate that,” he said softly. You smiled softly at Dean in appreciation before looking away from the brothers toward the fire. “But I think you’ll find Sammy would be more receptive to it than anyone.”
“No one’s been receptive to it,” you said with disdain, rolling your eyes.
“Oh, really?” Dean responded the same way with a raised brow. He then looked over at Sam and with a straight face said one word: “Alistair.”
Sam’s eyes widened as he looked over at you. You didn’t see it as you were glaring at Dean.
“You too?” he asked incredulously. You turn a confused look to Sam, who was strangely eager to talk about his psychic powers and where they came from. “What’s your power? I have premonitions, visions of the future.” You darted your eyes to Dean, who had a satisfied look on his face, before answering.
“You mean…” you started, then her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re mom.” Sam’s expression faltered before nodding.  “Wait, does this mean…”
“Yep!” Dean answered cheekily. The two looked over at him in slight confusion. “You both were fed blood from Alistair, you both have freaky psychic powers, and you both survived the super kid Olympics. You both should feel very special.”
You turn your head and look at Sam with a new understanding. Suddenly, everything started making sense.
“How old were you?” you asked suddenly, hoping like hell it was younger than she was. Sam frowned.
“I was a baby. Just a few months I think,” he answered. You sigh in relief, a slight smile coming to your lips. “Why? How old were you?”
“Two,” she whispered, causing Sam to startle.
“Two months?”
“Two years. He had trouble finding me because my dad took us off the grid. We, uh… We lived off the land, made deals with farmers, never went into a store, never spent money. It was primitive, but I just remember it being like camping,” you said quietly. A small smile came to your lips as she thought about her parents.
“My mom died on the ceiling, on fire,” Sam said. You looked back over to him, losing your smile.
“My dad died the same way,” you whispered. “My mom died trying to save him.”
“So, you’ve been on your own since you were two?”
“Sixteen. That’s when I ran away,” you answered, glancing at Dean. “Foster care isn’t exactly kind to the special kids.”
“Is that when you met Dean?” Sam asked, having caught the glance. He looked between the girl and his brother, noticing Y/N lowered her eyes to her fingers.
“No. Dean and I met when you were in college. We ended up on the same hunt together when he rescued me from a really pissed off poltergeist that had taken up residence in a butcher shop in Philadelphia.”  
Dean sat back and watched the two with a sad but satisfied smile on his face. He had wanted to tell his brother about the girl who was like his little sister a thousand times over, but the time never came up right. Now that Y/N and Sam were in front of each other, sharing sordid tales of their shared trauma, he hoped like hell they both could find some closure and peace with what happened.
           “What’s your power? Like I said, I have visions of the future and a little bit of telekinesis if I try hard enough,” Sam said, a look of wonder in his eyes.
“You ever see Star Wars?” you ask. At Sam’s nod, you smirked. “Jedi Mind Trick.”
“What?” Sam questioned, confused. A playful smirk danced on your lips as you look over at Dean, whose eyes widened as he shook his head.
“Don’t you dare,” he started, before stuttering to a stop.
“I think we need some dinner,” you said. Dean nodded.
“I think we need some dinner,” he repeated. Sam let out a surprised laugh.
“You should make us something to eat,” you replied.
“I should make us something to eat,” Dean repeated, standing, and walking into the kitchen. You looked over at Sam and winked.
“Holy shit,” Sam breathed.
“Holy shit, indeed. I can make a person answer questions they don’t want to, change their beliefs or ideas, even share thoughts with them,” you answered with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Dammit Y/N! I’m only in here making us something to eat because I’m actually hungry, not because you made me!” Dean shouted, causing them to start laughing. With a sigh, Y/N caught Sam’s eyes and stared at him with intention.
We can talk like this too if you want to share some dirt on your brother. Just think your words and I’ll hear them.
Sam startled and looked around him before looking back at Y/N with surprise. Dean huffed as he made his way out of the kitchen, a pot in his hands.
“Yeah, it was startling for me to the first time it happened. Don’t talk about me!” he muttered as he settled the pot onto the fire. “I found some dehydrated chili in there. Gonna take a while to get done, though.”
So, you can hear me right now? Sam asked, staring at Y/N.
Yep. In fact, I prefer this form of communication. You answered. I can speak to you both ways and with some concentration…
You closed your eyes and concentrated. After a few seconds, the brothers heard you quoting lines from The Secret Garden in both their heads. The brothers were startled, hearing a different person’s voice in both their heads at the same time.
“It’s really helpful in times of trouble,” you said verbally, wrapping your arms around yourself. Sam turned and glared at his brother.
“Why wasn’t she with us from the beginning?” he asked. Dean glared at him, waving a hand toward Y/N.
“Because until recently, we worked alone,” he answered. “But with the apocalypse on our shoulders now, we need all the help we can get.”
Sam looked away, chastised. You looked between the brothers with curiosity.
“Do you know what triggered it?” you asked.
Sam nodded, his expression filled with shame and hurt.
“Tell me.”
Supernatural:
@akshi8278 @vicmc624 @agirlwithdemonblood @flamencodiva @hobby27 @mimaria420 @compresshischest09 @kkrivers @deanwanddamons @lovelyrocker @mrsstevenbuchananstark @karlilarki
Jensen/Dean Taglist
@deandreamernp @siospins2 @sacriceria @sexyvixen7 @lanea-1 @nancymcl
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enigmalynne · 2 years
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(SPECIAL) Children Are Our Future - An SPN FanFic
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Title – (Special) Children Are Our Future Pairings – Friendship Word Count – 3,398 Warnings – gun violence, physical violence, cursing, and arguing.
You promised to meet in one of three places if the apocalypse happened. You already went to two, and are now at the third.
You sniffled slightly, the freezing cold air causing your eyes to burn and your nose to run.
The first safe house was empty when you arrived. You stayed there for a week, utilizing the firewood to keep warm and cook the food stored in the old cabinets. Taking advantage of the security the private cabin provided, you spent your time catching up on sleep and healing some wounds from a hunt gone bad. When a week passed and he didn’t show, you carefully packed up your things and got ready to move on.
On a whim, you called his number. When the voicemail picked up for the hundredth time, you left a message:
Hey, it’s me. I’m at the safe house in Montana and have been here for a week. You didn’t show up, so I’m packing up and heading to the next one on the list. If you get this message, meet me there okay? Call me. You’re making me nervous with this radio silence.
You left a note behind letting him know you were there and where you were headed next in case he showed up after you already left.
You loaded up your car, a decade-old Mustang, and headed out with the loud rock music blaring to distract your anxious thoughts. Your cell phone remained strangely silent the entire 4-day drive.
Once you reached Wisconsin, you made your way to the safe house. The one in Montana was a cabin, but the one in Wisconsin was less luxurious. The dilapidated building should have been condemned years ago. Infested with God only knew what and in dire need of an extensive renovation, the old house was an eyesore in the poor neighborhood. That’s what made it the perfect place to hide out.
You grabbed the key from under the dead plant that rested on the back porch with a heartbroken sigh. If the key was there, it meant he wasn’t. Unlocking the door was almost a joke when the door came unhinged when you touched it. You left your belongings on the porch, pulled out your Glock, and did a search of the house. Aside from some roaches and a couple of petrified raccoons at seeing someone inside the building, it was empty.
You made yourself at home in one of the bedrooms, taking time to clean up as best you could. With no electricity and no running water, you ran up to the convenience store nearby to grab a bottled water and some dry goods for what could constitute a meal. It was during your short walk you promptly decided you were going to only stay one night in this shithole of a safe house. It was late fall, and the cold air was biting already. You made sure to bundle up as warm as you could in the freezing house to genuinely try and stave off pneumonia.
The next morning you left another voicemail from the safety of your well-heated car.
It’s me again. I’m in Wisconsin and the safe house is falling apart, if you can even call it that anymore. I’m leaving here and headed to the third one on the list. I’m not staying here more than one night. I think sharing a bed with a family of raccoons for one night is more than enough. Listen… if you can’t call me, I understand, but maybe you could shoot me a text? Let me know you’re alive? Anyway. Heading out and moving to the third one. Please be there.
It took another four days to get to Kansas. The safe house was a small, abandoned lake house from the 1950s. By the time you pulled up to the old building, it had invariably started to snow.
Empty. A sob was stuck in your throat as you carefully pulled your car to the far side of the house, realizing he wasn’t there. Your hands clenched the steering wheel tightly, and you rested your head back as you tried to get a grip on your emotions. Maybe he just wasn’t there yet, you thought.
The inside of the lake house was cold but clean. The cabinets in the communal kitchen were stocked with both dry and can goods. The small refrigerator had bottled water and some beer that looked to be at least four months old. Seeing the beer triggered a thought in your mind, and you looked in the mud room closet. There, liquor bottles rested on the top shelf. You grabbed a bottle of whiskey and brought it back to the kitchen.
Moving mechanically, you pulled out a box of matches from a drawer in the kitchen and went to light the oil lanterns that were scattered across the house. Once the house was aglow with warm light, your next job was to get a fire going. The giant fireplace that sat in the center of the house had some logs sitting next to it, but more would be needed to get through the next few days.
Once a fire was started, you dug out the old ax that rested in the mud room closet. Heading out to the stack of wood near the house, you got to cutting. A couple of hours later, there was a stack of firewood inside the house that would keep the fire going all night and into the morning. Soon, the house was warm enough for you to take off your heavy jacket. Heading into the kitchen, you got started making a dinner of red beans and rice while coffee bubbled in a steel pot next to the fire.
It wasn’t until much later that night, while sitting curled up on the couch and watching the snow fall outside the frosted glass doors, that you heard it. Cautious footsteps crunching on the icy snow outside the front door. Turning to face the front door, the blanket you had wrapped around yourself was slowly shoved off your shoulders. You reached over and grabbed your loaded gun from the coffee table resting in front of you and slowly turned toward the front door as the handle starts to jiggle. Moving swiftly, you made your way to the other side of the door.
After a few more moments, the front door crept carefully open and hands with a gun slipped through the opening. You took a deep breath to calm your rapidly beating heart and moved. You slam the door as hard as you could against the extended arms, causing the hands to drop the gun. You crouch and eagerly snatch the gun up while roughly kicking the door against the person once again. A soft yelp is heard on the other side of the door before you kick it open and point a gun at each face: one covered by a hand gently holding a now bleeding nose and the other with a gun extended toward you.
“Shit! The hell, Dean! You said she was cool!” Sam shouted at his brother. You glare sharply at them, sharply waving them inside the house with the gun. Dean placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and guided him inside the house, keeping his gun trained on you. Once they are inside, you kick the door closed to keep the heat inside.
“Now, let’s just calm down here, sweetheart,” Dean said soothingly, Sam grumbling next to him. You just adjusted your grip on the weapons and narrowed your eyes a little sharper. Dean held his gun up, showing he wasn’t a threat before sliding it back into his waistband. “It’s me. I swear.”
You didn’t move, staring through narrowed eyes at the man in front of you with cold eyes. It looked like Dean and sounded like Dean… but you learned the hard way that it doesn’t always mean it’s them.
“Prove it,” you muttered darkly. Dean held his hands up and moved slowly to pull out a flask from his jacket pocket and took a generous swig of the contents. He then poured a bit of it on Sam’s head, earning him a sound of frustrated disgust from his baby brother. Your eyes followed the movements sharply.
“On the arm,” you said quietly. “And don’t try anything. I have an itchy trigger finger and won’t hesitate.”
“Oh, I remember,” Dean muttered with a snort as he reached forward and dumped some of the water content onto your wrist. The water simply rolled off without causing a reaction. Sam huffed as he watched the interaction, using his sleeve to cover his nose.
“And the blade,” you said. Dean rolled his eyes.
“Look,” he started but you raised the guns in your hands a little bit, causing him to instantly back off.
“Okay, okay… Sammy…”
Sam reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a short, shiny silver blade. Removing it from its protected sheath, he carefully pulled the blade across his forearm, making a hiss at the pain. He then handed the blade to his brother. Dean did the same thing, then
Moving slowly, you lower your gun and use your thumb to put the safety on before slipping it into the back pocket of your jeans. You then reach your arm out toward Dean, keeping the gun in your other hand on Sam. Dean stepped forward and made a small incision on your forearm, causing you to simply wince at the sharp pain. The two of you stared at each other for a long moment, but you broke first. The arm holding the gun dropped as your face morphed from cold fury to complete heartbreak.
“Y/N…” Dean whispered sadly, stepping forward and immediately wrapping you up in his arms, holding you close to his chest. You wrapped your arms back around him, gun resting on his back.
“Where the hell have you been?” you asked in a whimper before your voice gained strength. “And why didn’t you call me? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for weeks!”
“It’s a long story,” Dean muttered, pressing a kiss to your hair. He pulled back a bit and cradled your face in his hands, studying you. “I’m just glad you’re okay, and we’re here now.”
“Well, I’m not okay,” Sam said, his voice muffled. Horror filled you suddenly as you looked over to the other man in the room, still holding the sleeve of his jacket to his face.
“Fuck. I’m so sorry. Come on, the bathroom is over here, and you can clean up there. I’ll grab you a bag of snow to put on your face to keep the swelling down,” you said as you pulled away from Dean’s embrace. You gently took Sam’s arm and guided him to the bathroom down the short hallway toward the bedrooms, grabbing a lit lantern along the way.
“I’ll get our gear from the car,” Dean shouted at you before turning to walk back into the cold.
“There’s running water, but it will be cold. There isn’t much power turned on here. I’ll put some water on the fire to warm it up for you,” you said quietly, setting the lantern down on the counter. You raised the cotton fibers inside the glass, and the light grew to fill the small bathroom with a warm glow. You started turning away, then looked back. “Oh, and uh… here’s your gun.”
Sam accepted the weapon and nodded his head before turning into the bathroom, closing the door in your face. You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to not let your hurt show on your face. You did smash the door in his face, so he was entitled to his disdain. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you made your way back into the living space. You headed to the kitchen, eyes watching the door for Dean to come back into the house. Minutes later, the man walked in carrying two bags in one hand and a third over his shoulder.
“It’s colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra out there,” he muttered, stomping his feet to get the snow off. You smirked slightly at his comment, digging out a plastic grocery bag from one of the drawers. “Which room did you claim, so I can put our stuff down?”
“I didn’t,” you muttered quietly. “Take whichever you want, and we can start a fire in the stove there to warm things up.” Dean nodded and headed back down the hallway. You open the front door and brave the snowy wind to fill the bag up with snow, tying it up in a makeshift ice pack for Sam. Walking back into the house, the door slamming behind you, you spy Dean adding wood to the fire in the living space. Sam rested on the couch you were sitting on.
You walked over and handed the bag of snow over to Sam, shame coloring your expression. He nodded his thanks, taking it from you. Sam eyed you as he pressed the snow to his face, the cold feeling good against his hurting face.
“By the way, I’m Y/N,” you said quietly, waving a hand at him. “How do you know Dean?” Sam gave Y/N a bitchface with a raised brow.
“I’m his brother, Sam,” he said flatly. Your eyes go wide, then slam shut, your entire body wilting with shame. When you open your eyes again to look at him, they are filled with apology.
“I’m so sorry. I knew he had a brother but…”
“Yeah, that’s my fault. I didn’t warn Sammy about your paranoia,” Dean said plopping down next to Sam on the couch.
“He didn’t tell me anything about you either, other than we needed to get to one of three safe houses to meet you,” Sam said belligerently. Dean glared at his brother.
“I told him about how we met while he was at Stanford. I told him you were important. To me. I told him we made a deal if the apocalypse were to ever happen, we would meet up and make sure to keep each other safe,” Dean said quietly. Your eyes dart between the two brothers.
“You didn’t tell him…” you started. Dean shook his head and interrupted you.
“How we met? No. I didn’t think you’d appreciate that,” he said softly. You smiled softly at Dean in appreciation before looking away from the brothers toward the fire. “But I think you’ll find Sammy would be more receptive to it than anyone.”
“No one’s been receptive to it,” you said with disdain, rolling your eyes.
“Oh, really?” Dean responded the same way with a raised brow. He then looked over at Sam and with a straight face said one word: “Alistair.”
Sam’s eyes widened as he looked over at you. You didn’t see it as you were glaring at Dean.
“You too?” he asked incredulously. You turn a confused look to Sam, who was strangely eager to talk about his psychic powers and where they came from. “What’s your power? I have premonitions, visions of the future.” You darted your eyes to Dean, who had a satisfied look on his face, before answering.
“You mean…” you started, then her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re mom.” Sam’s expression faltered before nodding.  “Wait, does this mean…”
“Yep!” Dean answered cheekily. The two looked over at him in slight confusion. “You both were fed blood from Alistair, you both have freaky psychic powers, and you both survived the super kid Olympics. You both should feel very special.”
You turn your head and look at Sam with a new understanding. Suddenly, everything started making sense.
“How old were you?” you asked suddenly, hoping like hell it was younger than she was. Sam frowned.
“I was a baby. Just a few months I think,” he answered. You sigh in relief, a slight smile coming to your lips. “Why? How old were you?”
“Two,” she whispered, causing Sam to startle.
“Two months?”
“Two years. He had trouble finding me because my dad took us off the grid. We, uh… We lived off the land, made deals with farmers, never went into a store, never spent money. It was primitive, but I just remember it being like camping,” you said quietly. A small smile came to your lips as she thought about her parents.
“My mom died on the ceiling, on fire,” Sam said. You looked back over to him, losing your smile.
“My dad died the same way,” you whispered. “My mom died trying to save him.”
“So, you’ve been on your own since you were two?”
“Sixteen. That’s when I ran away,” you answered, glancing at Dean. “Foster care isn’t exactly kind to the special kids.”
“Is that when you met Dean?” Sam asked, having caught the glance. He looked between the girl and his brother, noticing Y/N lowered her eyes to her fingers.
“No. Dean and I met when you were in college. We ended up on the same hunt together when he rescued me from a really pissed off poltergeist that had taken up residence in a butcher shop in Philadelphia.”  
Dean sat back and watched the two with a sad but satisfied smile on his face. He had wanted to tell his brother about the girl who was like his little sister a thousand times over, but the time never came up right. Now that Y/N and Sam were in front of each other, sharing sordid tales of their shared trauma, he hoped like hell they both could find some closure and peace with what happened.
           “What’s your power? Like I said, I have visions of the future and a little bit of telekinesis if I try hard enough,” Sam said, a look of wonder in his eyes.
“You ever see Star Wars?” you ask. At Sam’s nod, you smirked. “Jedi Mind Trick.”
“What?” Sam questioned, confused. A playful smirk danced on your lips as you look over at Dean, whose eyes widened as he shook his head.
“Don’t you dare,” he started, before stuttering to a stop.
“I think we need some dinner,” you said. Dean nodded.
“I think we need some dinner,” he repeated. Sam let out a surprised laugh.
“You should make us something to eat,” you replied.
“I should make us something to eat,” Dean repeated, standing, and walking into the kitchen. You looked over at Sam and winked.
“Holy shit,” Sam breathed.
“Holy shit, indeed. I can make a person answer questions they don’t want to, change their beliefs or ideas, even share thoughts with them,” you answered with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Dammit Y/N! I’m only in here making us something to eat because I’m actually hungry, not because you made me!” Dean shouted, causing them to start laughing. With a sigh, Y/N caught Sam’s eyes and stared at him with intention.
We can talk like this too if you want to share some dirt on your brother. Just think your words and I’ll hear them.
Sam startled and looked around him before looking back at Y/N with surprise. Dean huffed as he made his way out of the kitchen, a pot in his hands.
“Yeah, it was startling for me to the first time it happened. Don’t talk about me!” he muttered as he settled the pot onto the fire. “I found some dehydrated chili in there. Gonna take a while to get done, though.”
So, you can hear me right now? Sam asked, staring at Y/N.
Yep. In fact, I prefer this form of communication. You answered. I can speak to you both ways and with some concentration…
You closed your eyes and concentrated. After a few seconds, the brothers heard you quoting lines from The Secret Garden in both their heads. The brothers were startled, hearing a different person’s voice in both their heads at the same time.
“It’s really helpful in times of trouble,” you said verbally, wrapping your arms around yourself. Sam turned and glared at his brother.
“Why wasn’t she with us from the beginning?” he asked. Dean glared at him, waving a hand toward Y/N.
“Because until recently, we worked alone,” he answered. “But with the apocalypse on our shoulders now, we need all the help we can get.”
Sam looked away, chastised. You looked between the brothers with curiosity.
“Do you know what triggered it?” you asked.
Sam nodded, his expression filled with shame and hurt.
“Tell me.”
Supernatural:
@akshi8278 @vicmc624 @agirlwithdemonblood @flamencodiva @hobby27 @mimaria420 @compresshischest09 @kkrivers @deanwanddamons @lovelyrocker @mrsstevenbuchananstark @karlilarki
Jensen/Dean Taglist
@deandreamernp @siospins2 @sacriceria @sexyvixen7 @lanea-1 @nancymcl
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enigmalynne · 2 years
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This just made my morning
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enigmalynne · 2 years
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You’re never too old to collect figures.
You’re never too old to be in a fandom.
You’re never too old to play video games.
You’re never too old to listen to music.
You’re never too old to enjoy things.
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enigmalynne · 2 years
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Ask and you shall receive. Behold - The Majestic Moose
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enigmalynne · 2 years
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Ways to support Ukraine 🇺🇦
More than 500,000 people have already left Ukraine due to the invasion by the Russian Federation. The European Commissioner for Humanitarian Aid and Crisis Management estimates that roughly 18 million Ukrainians will be affected by the conflict in humanitarian terms, with 7 million internally displaced and 4 million seeking refuge elsewhere. To help those still in Ukraine, as well as Ukrainian refugees, we’ve compiled this list of resources.
HelpUkraineWin.org has a collection of vetted and trusted resources, charities, and organizations to help Ukraine.
Some additional ways to donate:
Vostok SOS provides immediate evacuation support.
Malteser International provides essentials for Ukrainian refugees.
Ukraine Crisis Media Center provides fundraising links and a list of tips for sharing information.
Misinformation spreads fast on social media. It is more important than ever to share accurate, verifiable news and information. Here are some resources to learn how to identify misinformation:
This link from the nonprofit WITNESS shares tips for identifying authentic video sources (available in English, Spanish, Ukranian, Russian, and Arabic).
These visual verification tips, also from WITNESS, provide information on verifying images and videos (available in English and Spanish).
This interview with NPR contains tips for identifying fake TikToks.
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enigmalynne · 2 years
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Rock SPN Flash Fan Fic Challenge 3 Masterlist
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Here is the Masterlist of all the wonderful stories I received for my Rock SPN Flash Fanfic Challenge 3 between 4th October 2021 and 8th November 2021.
Thank you to everyone who got involved ❤️ This challenge is now closed, but if there are any outstanding fics, please send them to me and I’ll add it on.
The challenge was, send me a number via an ask between 1 and 200. I will then look at my favourite playlist on Spotify “Dean Winchesters Roadtrip Playlist” and tell you the song that matches that number. You then write a fic of 500 words or less based on that song. Here are the results: (Please note - 18+ only as some of these are NSFW.)
Keep reading
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