#anyway sam said he wouldn’t do the same for Dean and I’m going to be honest. I DON’T BELIEVE HIM | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marvelfanfn2187a113 · 1 month

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A Father’s Love?

Sam Winchester & daughter!reader, Dean Winchester & niece!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You (9-10) are left alone with your dad, who currently is missing his soul, and it doesn’t go well

Update: part 2 is here

“Uncle De, please don’t go.” Your voice was low as you tried to keep your dad—who was in the bathroom—from hearing. “I-I don’t wanna be alone with him.”

Dean felt awful for leaving you like this, but he had no choice. You hadn’t been comfortable with Sam since the moment you’d found out he was back—the same time Dean did. You’d been living with Dean, Lisa, and Ben, and when Sam revealed that he’d been back all along, you instantly didn’t trust him. Dean had been angry, sure, but somehow he just hadn’t seen what you had—that your dad wasn’t really himself.

Of course, eventually the three of you—including Sam, who hadn’t been sure what was wrong with him—discovered the truth: he was soulless. As soon as Dean find out, he felt horrible for not understanding your hesitance before. Now that he knew, he tried to avoid leaving you alone with Sam whenever possible, especially since he didn’t really trust Sam without a soul.

But sometimes it was unavoidable.

“Kiddo, you know I don’t have a choice,” Dean said.

“I don’t like it here with him,” you insisted, refusing to let go of Dean’s sleeve. “He-he’s like daddy’s evil twin or something.”

Dean swallowed. “Sweetheart, he’s not evil, ok? He’s just a little weird right now.”

“Daddy’s weird,” you argued. “This guy is bad.”

Dean ran a hand over his face.

“Baby, please. You know I have to go. He’s gonna be good, I promise, and soon enough he’s gonna be back to regular-old dad, I swear.”

Dean left without another word, and the silence that hung in the motel room was deafening.

“Dean left?” Sam asked as he exited the bathroom. You ignored his question—he didn’t actually care, after all—and you went to sit on your bed. You could feel Sam’s eyes on you as you went. The motel stayed the worst kind of silence as you pretended to read while Sam just stared at you.

“What do you want?” You demanded finally, dropping the book. Your voice was nowhere near as firm as you wanted it to be.

“You hate me.” It wasn’t a question.

“You hated me first.” Unlike Sam, you couldn’t look at him while you accused him. Even without looking at the shell that used to be your dad, you could feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes as you waited for him to speak.

“I don’t hate you,” he huffed. “I mean, I don’t particularly care about you, but I don’t hate you.”

Somehow, apathy was even worse.

“Just leave me alone,” you mumbled. You shouldn’t have been surprised when Sam shrugged and obeyed. You felt your eyes drifting to him as he pulled a beer from the fridge and took it to his bed. His eyes caught yours and he frowned.

“What? You said leave you alone.”

“Dad wouldn’t have listened,” you mumbled, but Sam heard you anyway.

“Well, I’m not your dad,” Sam shrugged. “I’m not Sam, not anymore.”

“Ok.” You turned to face away from him. “Now I mean it. Leave me be.”

But Sam was suddenly intrigued, and he ignored your request.

“You and Dean wanted me to stop pretending to be him. This is just me not pretending.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like you,” you said, your eyes downcast.

“Exactly, and I don’t like you either. I mean, you’re kind of a brat.”

“I told you to leave me alone,” you said, finally looking up.

“You beg Dean to keep you with him all the time like I’m gonna hurt you or something, it’s pathetic.” Sam seemed to be getting a real kick out of finally saying all that he’d been thinking over the past few weeks.

“I said leave me alone!” You yelled at him, but he didn’t listen.

“I mean, I remember caring about you when I was that other guy, I just…I just can’t remember why.”

“Go away! Leave me be!” You were on your feet now, shoving and pushing at Sam, but the giant man didn’t even flinch.

“I mean your just a little pest!”

“Stop it! Just go away!”

Crying, overwhelmed, and so unbelievably hurt, you started to slap at the guy who used to be your dad, smacking his neck, his face, whatever you could reach. Suddenly, Sam wasn’t having so much fun anymore.

“Hey!” Though your slaps had little effect on him, one harsh blow from Sam had you flat on your back, dazed and breathing hard. You could still feel the impact of his palm against your cheek, and you couldn’t scramble away from him fast enough.

“If you’re gonna give it out, you should be prepared to take it,” Sam muttered gruffly.

You were on your feet in an instant, and you were out the door before you’d even made the decision to leave.

“Hey!” You could hear your dad—no, not your dad—following after you, and you barely made it five steps out of the room before his arms were around you and dragging you back in.

“Stop it!” You were crying now, and you couldn’t remember when you’d started. “Let me go!”

“If I lose you, Dean’s never gonna help me,” Sam grunted, shoving you back into the room and closing the door behind him. “So how about we all just calm down here.” It wasn’t a request; it was a command. “You don’t hit me, I won’t hit you.”

That would’ve sounded reasonable enough, if not for one thing—your desperate smacks to his skin had done nothing to him, they hadn’t even hurt, but you could already feel the side of your face swelling where he’d hit you. But you didn’t argue with Sam. You didn’t even speak. You just sat on your bed and turned your back on him, pulling your legs up to your chest and burying your face in your knees so you could cry in peace.

Sam left you alone for several minutes, but his sudden hand on your shoulder had you flinching back violently and scrambling away from him.

“Would you calm down?” Sam huffed as he let go. He was holding out a frozen bag of peas. “Put this on it.”

You took it hesitantly and slowly pressed the cold bag to your face.

“Look…” Sam’s hand was back on your shoulder, only now his giant fingers were right at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, and they were squeezing way too hard. “Dean would kill me if he figured out what happened, ok? And he certainly wouldn’t be helping me anymore. So maybe…maybe you just tell him you fell in the shower or something, ok?” He said it like a question, but the grip on your shoulder and the ice in his eyes told the truth; he expected you to lie to Uncle Dean, and you didn’t know what he’d do if you didn’t.

“Ok,” you whispered, and his hand was gone in an instant.

“Ok,” he said firmly.

Then he turned his back on you and left you alone to cry.

…

The swelling was down by the time Dean returned, but you’d looked in the mirror long enough to see a black and purple bruise forming along almost one whole side of your face.

You resisted the urge to run to your uncle the moment he stepped in the door—if you acted scared, he would figure it out, and Sam would be mad. Instead, you stayed where you were with your head down, your hair covering most of the bruise.

“Hey,” Dean greeted. “You guys ok?”

“We’re fine,” Sam said simply. You’d been hoping that he would lie for you, so you didn’t have to, but he seemed content to leave things quiet.

“You sure?” Dean was watching you now, noticing your uncharacteristic silence.

“I’m ok,” your voice was hoarse from crying, and Dean wasn’t fooled.

“What’s wrong?” Dean was in front of you in an instant, brushing your hair behind your ears. His hand recoiled when he saw the bruise. “What happened?”

“I—“ you looked up to face Dean, and your voice caught in your throat when you saw Sam staring daggers at you from behind your uncle’s shoulder. “I f-fell.”

“Fell?” Dean frowned.

You nodded. “In-in the shower.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was dangerously quiet. “Out. Now.”

“Me?” When had Sam become such a good actor? He looked as innocent as ever. “What did I do?”

Despite his acting, Dean wasn’t buying it for a minute.

“Get out! I need to talk to her alone.”

The moment Sam was out the door, Dean was tilting your chin up with a feather-light hand at your chin.

“He hit you, didn’t he.” Dean wasn’t asking.

“I fell,” you lied, the tears in your eyes giving you away.

“Don’t lie for him,” Dean pleaded. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t kick him out,” you pleaded. “We-we have to help him get his soul back. This isn’t him, Uncle Dean.”

“I know it’s not,” Dean sighed. “But I need you to be safe.”

“I’ll be safe when my dad is back.”

…

“You stay away from her.” Dean didn’t give Sam a chance to speak when he let him back into the room.

“Fine.” Sam was done lying—it hadn’t done any good.

“And if you ever touch her again, you’re gone, understand?”

Sam didn’t look happy, but he couldn’t argue.

“I understand.”

…

You slept in Dean’s bed that night—you hadn’t shared a bed with your father since he came back soulless—and Sam went out to do whatever it was that he did while you guys slept. Apparently being soulless meant you didn’t sleep.

“Are you ok?” Dean asked. “And don’t lie to me.”

“It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore,” you mumbled. “I just…I just miss him.”

Dens pulled you into his arms as you started to cry.

“I know, sweetheart. I miss him too. We’re gonna get him back, ok? I promise.”

“Ok Uncle Dean.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

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green-typewriterz · 22 days

Note

hey there :) ! fun idea: cowboy/sheriff sam winchester in some southern town, maybe the reader could be a bandit and they repeatedly run into each other (maybe sam lets them get away at times, like it’s half rivalry half admiration) but there’s some creature around that forces them to work together ? fluffy end too bc I’m a sucker for riding into the sunset endings

Raise Hell

Cowboy!Sam Winchester x Bandit!Fem!reader

summary: 1800s AU - you’re a bandit, Sam’s what the Sheriff would call ‘a demon hunter’, they just happen to come by your camp

Warnings: injury, mentions of guns, demons, its the 1800s…so…, timeline may be weird, no specific season

Author Notes: this was much longer than I intended but enjoy. Also i know this is u H, i recognise your typing style

word count: 4046

You sighed as you walked past the third wanted poster with your face on it that morning, tearing it down while whispering a, “they never get my nose right.” To yourself. You continued on your journey, assuring yourself and your horse, Songbird, that there wasn’t that much longer to go.

After hours of travel, you set up camp a ways out of a town, staying in the shrouds of the shadows. You didn’t need any townsfolk spotting you and handing you in. You were sitting at the fire, eyes watching the skyline as the wood spit ash onto the floor by your feet, almost like a warning.

There would be a passerby every now and then, but no one important enough that you noted anything particular about them.

“Evening Ma’am.” A voice called, tone harsh and strong like the old folk singers. You looked up, but kept your hat low on your head, covering your face in the same deep blue of the sky.

Two men stood in front of you, broad shoulders and polite smiles. You knew who they were, of course you did. The Winchester name was well known across most of America, though you were never sure how much of it was legend. You decided not to take any chances. You nod to them silently, not sharing the same courtesy to smile back.

Sam spoke next, sounding a lot less irritated than his counterpart. “You wouldn’t mind if we rested with you for the evening would you? Our horses are tired and so are we.”

There was silence for a moment as you thought. You should say no - it was in your best interest to do so. But they hadn’t seemed to recognise you yet, and, with the bandanna you had quickly pulled over your mouth, they shouldn’t for the rest of the evening. You nodded once more.

Dean sighed at your silence but sat anyway, opposite the fire from you so he could try and see your face better - something you were trying your hardest to not let happen - while Sam went and hitched their horses next to yours.

”She’s beautiful.” Sam said to you, gesturing to your horse. Songbird was a full black shire horse with a large white strip along the nose. She was certainly flashier than was wise for a bandit, but you got her when you were young and you’d rather die than part with her.

You smiled and stood, heading over to the three horses. “She’s smart as hell, my best judge of character.” Sam laughed gently, looking over at you as he petted the blonde horse in front of him. You tried not to speak too much - though you weren’t sure how recognisable your voice was, you didn’t want to risk it. Sam stared at your hands, noticing how a large scar pulled its way along your palm - unusual in shape.

”Same with my Riot, he’s an Arabian so he’s pretty judgmental. Dean’s is the worst though, Baby’s so temperamental it’s almost impossible to get anything done” You smiled and looked over at the sleek black Hanoverian - you noted how well kept it was.

You both made your way back to the fire and sat, refastening the clasps of your boots to save you doing nothing.

The sun had fully set by now and night bit at the fire, causing it to settle into embers. Sam leaned against a tree, and you assumed he was sleeping while Dean sat opposite, his eyes still trained on you as if you would draw your gun.

It seemed as though he had planned to calm down when a series of cheers echoed across the valley. Both of you looked up, eyes sharp. You’d recognise the voices anywhere and you’d wager that the boys would too. Dean ran for his horse, not bothering to wait for his brother and rode after them.

You woke Sam quickly and headed for Songbird, apologising to her for the loud noises. The two of you rode after the older officer, but soon realised that you were being circled by the gang. You signalled to Sam to take a different route, but he was too focused on his brother and was quickly knocked off his horse by a bullet to his arm. You pulled to a stop and got out your pistol, Shooting at the bandits as they passed. They didn’t want you, nor Sam really - they just wanted to cause chaos.

Your shots rang as a warning and the gang cleared out, leaving you, two scared horses and a bleeding officer who would most likely arrest you given the chance. “Dean.” Sam called out but you silenced him, putting pressure on his arm.

”Shut it. You’re brother’s probably alive.” You spoke quickly, helping him to stand. Using a mix of his own strength and yours, he climbed onto the back of your horse and held his arm tight around your waist. You gripped the loose rein of Riot’s leash and headed back to your camp, quickly and quietly.

When you returned, you found your camp ransacked. Food was missing from your bags and small smoke clouds trailed from the now put out fire. They didn’t want you to find it again, which most likely meant they’d be returning for the rest. You’d have to be gone by the next evening.

Sam was pale and his eyes were fluttering every so often. You were warm and it was hard to breathe so with a sigh you pulled the bandana from your face and wrapped it around his arm, securing the wound and partially stopping the blood flow. Luckily, the bandits hadn’t had time to go into the packs in your tent and you smiled in relief when you pulled a large bottle of whisky from it. You poured some over the injury then took a large swig, wincing at the bite of the alcohol.

You’d let Sam sleep for now. He could get proper medical care when he returned to the sheriff's station, hopefully without you in handcuffs.

Sam was lucky in the sense that he got sleep that evening, something you weren’t so blessed with. Fatigue pulled at you and you found yourself playing with the remaining hot embers to stay awake - though they were dwindling by the minute. Eventually, Sam woke and sat up, his brows furrowing in confusion.

”Morning.” You said simply, sending a nod his way. He groaned in pain and turned to face you, good hand pushing his hair from his eyes. Now your bandana was off, Sam had a good chance to look at you.

His eyes narrowed, taking in your features. “I know you from somewhere.” He said gently, voice raw from pain and sleep. He wasn’t wrong.

1870

You were standing still behind a wall, one hand inching toward your pistol and the other holding money you were currently attempting to steal. It would’ve been an easy escape, you could’ve ran, called your horse and been clear of the town before anyone noticed but the new ‘specialist’ that had been travelling through Texas had to get in the way.

He tackled you to the ground, pulling the money from your hand and pinning you with minimal force. “Ow.” You said with annoyance, trying to move your hand so you could reach your blade that hid in your waistband.

The man’s gaze was stern as he kept you pinned against the hot sandy floor. “What are you doing?” He asked, voice harsh with suspicion. You sighed and turned your head to the side so you could actually breathe and rolled your eyes.

“Is it any of your business?”

“Ow.” He replied, mocking you. You stared at him, finding it unusual how a man of his profession had such long hair, which was cut into a small fringe and was falling slightly over his eyes. He eventually relents and allows you to stand, hand resting on his pistol as he places cuffs on your hands.

He took in your outfit, noticing how you wore dark denim and black leather, the only thing standing out was a red bandana. You certainly looked like a bandit.

You sighed and held up your hands, looking at the handcuffs in annoyance. “Seriously? You’re gonna cuff me? How are you so sure I’m a criminal?” You asked, voice bored - this had happened far too often to be entertaining at this point. He went to reply, when a deep voice yelled his name.

Sam.

He turned, breaking into a sprint and leaving you cuffed there. “You’re not gonna-” You began but sighed, realising he wasn't coming back and walked grumpily toward the abandoned blacksmith’s saw - not a good idea in retrospect, but it got you free.

1872

Sam walked idly into the sheriff’s office, hand reaching up to remove his Stetson when he saw you, sat in the gaol with your arms leaning on the bars. You were wearing a lighter shade now, mostly donning browns and blues, though the red bandana was still safely tied around your neck.

“You don’t seem very good at your job.” He said, smirking as he walked closer. You looked up at the man, sighing when you saw him. His hair had grown longer, sitting gently by his chin.

You leaned back in the seat and the cuffs on your feet clink, “I’ve been a bandit since ‘65…and I’ve been caught twice - though I’m not counting the first since you didn’t technically arrest me.” You replied, staring with boredom at the dirt under your nails. He nodded in response, reasonably impressed at you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, him watching you with tired but amused eyes and you fiddling with the cuffs around your ankles. Sam’s eyes were drawn to your hands, seeing the large red scar that ripped over it, shining slightly on your palm.

Suddenly, a loud gunshot rang through the sheriff’s range and the both of you sat up straight. A large group had planned an organised attack on the station and, much to your luck, it gave you a proper chance to escape (one which you accepted gratefully). Sam had seen you climbing quickly onto your horse, but he had more pressing matters at hand - at least that’s what he told himself.

1876

He sat in the bar, head in his hand as he played with the whisky glass in his palm - the ice creating a cold film over his fingers.

It was like something from a novel, the way you stood in the doorway, a perfect silhouette. You stepped into the light, looking overly annoyed at nothing in particular and Sam almost didn’t recognise you. The lace gloves on your hands looked as though they itched and he was surprised you could breathe in the corset,, but you looked…different, all the same. It seemed as though you didn’t recognise him either as you took a seat next to him at the bar, signalling for something (anything) to drink.

“Bandit?” He asked, eyes stuck on you. You turned slowly, recognising the voice. He had certainly changed, in fact, he almost resembled a man, though his face was still slightly too young for this to be true.

You smiled, sipping your drink. “Sam. And it’s Y/n.” you replied, sending a nod his way. Sam replied with the same courtesy and furrowed his brows, looking at the amount of skirts and ruffles that you wore. You took notice and sighed, fiddling with the outer lace. “Not my choice, too difficult to run in - but my brother chose the dress code for his wedding and the jacket wasn’t acceptable.” You complained, voice tired.

He laughed, though noted to himself that you had kept the bandanna around your face - no doubt the pistol was still hidden somewhere.

The two of you drank for a long while, sharing short stories (you trying to keep the more illegal details out) and talking about your brothers. However, it seemed as though all of your meetings would be short-lived.

“Ma’am.” A voice called, stern and unwelcoming. It was a voice you recognised (you had taught yourself to remember every voice of every Sheriff in the state…for your own convenience). You shared a look with Sam, you’d been recognised.

You sighed and agreed, standing and leaving the bar. “I don’t doubt we’ll see each other again, Sam.” You said simply, heading back toward the wedding.

1883

“Hello.”

Sam turned, smiling as he recognised you. You were back in the usual attire, red bandanna seeming more red than usual…if that were possible. You were standing, leaning against the wall with one hand lazily resting on your belt.

He found himself smiling. “I should technically arrest you,” He stated, standing in place by his horse. You grinned in reply, moving closer to him with a simple smile.

“Who cares about technicalities?”

You kept your hand on your holster, the other by your side, mirroring his pose. Your eyes moved to his hand, noticing how his fingers twitched in some sort of anticipation (though you weren’t sure whether he was going to arrest you or something much more exciting). Sam’s head cocked to the side, following your every movement with an unreadable expression, then he almost whispered, “wasn’t it fun though, me putting you in handcuffs?”

Sam had aged rather drastically in your few years apart, his jaw was harsh and square and his hair flicked, slowly but surely nearing his shoulders. He was broader too - before he had been young and as lean as a six foot four man could be but now he was all muscle, large shoulders and strong arms. He looked built for the job now. Sam’s scarred hands played over his belt buckle and your eyes flitted over it, seeing a small star sigil with a circle wrapping around it - something you recognised.

A smile played on your lips and you moved away again, fingers tucked through the loops of your jeans. “Smooth,” you spoke lazily, then turned just before you reached your horse, adding on, “but yes, it wasn’t too bad.” He laughed gently and you climbed onto Songbird, leaving him staring after you yet again.

1884

“Bandit.”

You smiled, nodding your head lazily. “Is my name so hard to forget?” You replied almost snarkily, a hint of something else hidden in your tone. You leaned down, wrapping any spare cloths you had found around his injury - you knew better than to remove the bullet.

Sam laughed gently, voice slightly weak. You looked up, brows furrowed in confusion as he spoke. “I just find it a funny sight…a bandit fixing up a ranger.”

You smiled too, now, shaking your head gently - you tried to ignore his wince as you tightened the scraps around his shaking arm. “You’re not really a bull though, are you?” He shook his head in response, sitting up slightly as if it would be a task to explain what he does.

”No. I’m more of a…specialist?”

”Oh, so a hunter.”

Sam went silent, almost in a state of shock - he wasn’t sure how to reply so instead he resorted to a simple nod and you went back to bandaging him, talking absentmindedly. “I am too, technically. I’m just more… illegal about it.” You spoke and he laughed, nodding once more in agreement.

You finally leaned away from his arm and sat by the completely extinguished fire, eyes stuck to him. “How about we go searching for your brother?” You asked, arms crossing. He moved closer to you and began to set up the fire once more, prompting a confused look from you.

”We’ll go in the morning, it’s not safe to travel now. I wouldn’t be able to fight in case anything happened.” He replied, adding, “a days more rest.” You nodded and leaned back against a large rock, eyes lidded as they flitted over to the slowly growing fire.

The night had grown dark, flurries of rain filtering through the deep blue sky. You were still awake, running your hands through your hair softly. Sam was sleeping, as soundly as you could with the annoying, spitting type of rain running down your face. It picked up after a while and under the harsh cover of night you could swear you heard the beating and repetitive sounds of hooves against wet sand.

You were, unfortunately, proven right and the very same bandits from two nights ago stormed you, coming back for what they had left. You knew you couldn’t leave Sam behind and resorted to a good old fashioned knife fight. If any gunshots were heard, they didn’t wake Sam - this type of noise was far too familiar in Texas.

You managed to fend them off until they gave up, but garnered a few nasty cuts on your arms. It was something you’d handle later on. Rain beat down now, choking you and you’re not sure what’s water and what’s blood in the dark.

The sun rose again - as it had always done - and your role of tending the fire dwindled to watching it die as Sam awoke beside you. “You’re hurt. How?” He asked, leaning close. Both yours and his wounds seeped in unison, weeping at each other for retribution.

”It’s usually the job description of a bandit to be hurt.” You replied, declaring to both him and yourself that it was no one's business. He didn’t relent.

He drew nearer, hands twitching in want - to help you as you had for him. Though, Sam couldn’t find it in himself to speak on the matter and moved on to something much more pressing. “Dean is alive. Back in town I’d wager.” You looked over, glad he had moved on.

You raised a brow. “And you’re sure how?” He allowed your confusion, offering a sort of explanation for the matter.

”His horse, if he had been hurt, Baby would ride straight back here.”

“What if Baby’s dead.”

Silence. No one had ever offered the idea. No one liked to think their pet would die. “That damn horse is invincible. Keeps on going. It’s been two days, they’re back in town.” Sam assured, watching you poke idly at the sand.

You nod and stand, brushing the dirt off of your knees. “Let's go meet him then.” You said simply, heading over to your horse. The knife wound on your thigh tugged at your movements and you tried to brush it off, hoping the limp wasn’t too visible.

The air was heavy and humid, ripping air from your lungs and sitting hot against your skin. “What happened?” He asked gently as the two of you headed in the direction of the town. Sam’s eyes lingered on your skin, tracing over where sweat stuck your clothes to you.

”It was nothing, a few of the bandits came back. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” You replied, pulling your collar away from your neck in irritation. The heat had risen with impossible speed and for once you were happy that your bandanna wasn’t secured around her neck. You leaned against Songbird as you rode, skin damp.

Sam watched from beside you, noticing how quiet and calm you seemed. “And you’re not bleeding out? I can help-“

You shook your head. “No need. I don’t want you to return any favours,” You looked at him with a smirk, “I might need a ‘get out of jail’ pass some day.” He laughed, turning back to the open path.

As if sent from the heavens, the wind picked up and cooled your skin, blowing warm air across your body - though you would’ve appreciated a cold breeze, this’d have to do. The morning had become midday, sun high in the sky and air foul with an uncomfortable smell, when Sam stopped still, both him and Riot seemingly staring off at nothing.

You came to a stop too, listening. Watching. “What?” You whispered, but then you saw it, so far away it could’ve been a speck. The breeze, the smells. It was a demon. There was a quick nod shared then the both of you took off toward the old barn. It was the only thing for miles and you were both sure that no human could live out here without supernatural assistance.

Sam usually would’ve taken time to plan, but he had been hunting this thing for far too long and irritation had whittled his patience down. He took the blade from his belt and pressed his back hard against a half-ruined wall while you went around the back, a bottle of holy water you kept in your pocket securely in your hand.

Of course, it had been expecting you, and your ambush was more of a self-sacrifice. Your back hit the barn wall harshly and you hit the ground, the holy water falling a ways away. Sam was next to fall, blade being ripped from his grasp. You sat up, groaning in pain and looked over. It was a man, one who had clearly been a bandit.

Pain ripped through your thigh and you looked down, seeing the stab wound tearing wider than it had before. You turned your head to the side, seeing the demon fighting Sam. He certainly had the mis advantage however and was moments away from his own knife entering his chest.

”Hey!” You yelled, standing up again. The demon. You wiped the sweat from your brow and pulled the colt from your waistband. “Christo, bitch.” You pulled the trigger and the demon crumpled to the floor, a mess of sinew, blood and demon ash.

Sam stood, wiping the sweat and blood from his brow. “Nice shot.” You nodded at him and walked back out the barn, your limp much more pronounced - something you could’ve expected.

——

The both of you reached town, ugly stains of red littering your clothes and skin. Dean was standing on the porch of the Sheriff's station with bruises of his own - though his weren’t as frequent and had nearly healed. He pulled his brother into a fierce hug, hand pushing the back of Sam’s head into Dean’s shoulder (if he had seen Sam wince he didn’t take note of it).

You watched from a distance, leaning next to your horse tiredly. Before you could turn to leave, cuffs were placed around your hands, guiding you away from Songbird. You looked up at the Sheriff with angry eyes, voice harsh and raw from fatigue, “I just saved your boy’s life. Multiple times.”

Sam looked over, brows furrowing as he saw you being led inside. He would’ve followed - he had all intention to - but Dean held him back with a harsh grip against his palm. “Sam. She’s a criminal.” There was a wager in his mind: he wanted to do the right thing - to free you, but a more guilty part of him won. He didn’t want to disappoint his brother. Sam turned away and your eyes tracked him in disappointment, though you know you shouldn’t have expected much.

Night fell fast, and the usual heat of Texas was replaced with splintered wooden floors, a sticky yet icy breeze and cold metal bars. You picked at your nails, trying to clean any remaining dirt out from underneath. Your weapons had been seized and without both them and your bandana you felt exposed.

You were just warming up to the idea of getting comfortable when a shadow covered the moon light that streamed through the windows, one with broad shoulders and a Stetson. The door of the cell swung open slowly, quietly and the shadow stepped to the side. “Go to your horse and leave.” The shadow whispered.

Sam.

A rough hand placed a piece of red cloth into your palm and a soft breath tickled against your ear. “Think of it as me returning the favour.” Through the filtered moonlight you could see Sam’s face, the old bottle windows scattering the night scene across his features like glitter. You smiled gently and leaned forward, placing a kiss to his lips. It was something slow and gentle, something memorable.

But then, you were gone, leaving no trace that you had been in the cell except the opened handcuffs and the sharp, yet fleeting smell of cherries and tobacco. Sam found himself smiling.

#fic #fanfic #one shot #writing #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x you #angst #sam winchester x fem!reader #supernatural #hurt/comfort #fluff #happy ending #if you squint #supernatural fic

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spnhunter4life · 1 year

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Familiar Chapter 3

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Here it is! The third and final chapter! It's a little bit of a shorter one, but I hope everyone will still enjoy it!

Part 1 Part 2

Masterlist

Dean was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes. He was looking at me with what seemed to be a mixture of smugness and anticipation. He had a small, barely contained smile on his face, and his eyes were bright. I also detected a hint of fondness that softened his features. I looked at Sam next. His face was set in a careful mask of indifference. He may as well have been holding a sign that said, ‘I’m having a very strong emotion right now, but you’re not allowed to see it and you can’t know why.’ I knew trying to ask him questions would get me nowhere.

“Well? Did we figure out what happened?” I asked since no one else seemed inclined to speak.

“Yeah, we did,” Sam answered. “Dean will obviously have more information, but I’m fairly certain we’ve also solved the case we came to town for in the first place.”

I looked to Dean for confirmation.

“Yeah,” he said. “It was the same people. I’ll explain when we get back to the motel.”

“Ok,” I agreed and then turned to Annabelle. “Um. Thanks for your help, I guess?” I said. I was being sincere, but it felt weird to thank someone when you couldn’t actually remember what you were thanking them for.

“How much do we owe you?” Sam asked.

“It’s on the house,” she smiled. “Call it the hunter’s discount.”

“Thank you,” Dean said. “We really appreciate it.”

Annabelle’s soft, friendly smile turned into a teasing smirk.

“No problem. I know you got more than you bargained for, so I hope you take advantage of that information.”

“We will,” I said. “We were already after them anyway. Apparently. Solving two things in one makes our lives easier.”

Annabelle and Sam shared a look and Dean tried to hide a small smile.

“What? What am I missing?” I asked. Dean opened his mouth to answer, but Sam quickly interrupted him.

“Nothing. Let’s get back to the motel and Dean can fill us both in.”

Weird.

“Ok,” I agreed.

We said our goodbyes and then climbed into the car, heading back to the motel.

~~~~~

Sam’s POV

The drive was made in relative silence. Y/N tried to start a conversation a couple of times, but gave up when both attempts fell flat. I did feel bad. I’m sure she was dying to know what happened. I was practically on the edge of my seat wanting to know more, and I at least had enough visual details to have a fairly clear picture in my head.

But I could see the wheels in Dean’s head spinning, processing everything he’d seen. I couldn’t blame him. I’d promised Y/N I wouldn’t say anything so I’d never talked to him about it, but I knew how much he liked her. If I’d seen what Dean just saw in the head of the girl I loved, I’d probably take a while to process too.

Although, judging by the last comments Dean had made during the trance, he probably wasn’t so much processing as planning. Deciding the best way to use this information. Going over everything again and learning what he could about Y/N’s inner thoughts. Figuring out how he would approach the subject.

He was the picture of confidence. He’d just found out the girl of his dreams was within his reach. There was no doubt about that. All that was left was actually doing something about it.

Back at the motel, we all walked into our room. I got as far as locking the door behind us when Y/N’s patience finally snapped.

“Can someone explain what’s going on now?” She asked.

“Yeah. We should talk,” Dean said.

Was he really going to start that conversation now?

“Dean, can I talk to you for a second?” I quickly interjected. He looked at me, confused by the urgency in my tone.

“Ok…” he agreed.

“Sorry, Y/N. We’ll be right back,” I promised.

I unlocked the door and we stepped back outside. When I turned around to face Dean, he was standing there expectantly with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Ok, what was that about?” He asked.

“Listen Dean. I know that you two have been pining after each other for forever now and now that you know she feels the same you want to let her know. And believe me, I’ve been waiting for this to happen for a while too. I’m so excited for you and frankly, if you don’t say something to her soon, I will. But do you really think that’s a discussion to be having right now? Shouldn’t we track down that boy and the woman first?”

“How big of an idiot do you think I am?” He asked. “Obviously we’ll take care of the case first. You really think the first thing I was planning to say to her was that I saw about twenty different dreams she had of us kissing?”

“Well. Maybe not quite so bluntly, but-”

“Sam, I’ve been doing this a long time. I know that the job always comes first.”

He took the couple steps it took to reach the door and I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey. I’m sorry,” I told him. “I wasn’t trying to imply that you don’t know what you’re doing or that you were more concerned with yourself than anyone else. I don’t know. I guess I just…” I trailed off, trying to find the right explanation. “Obviously we don’t have a lot to be happy or excited about. I guess I just figured, of course that’s what you would want to talk about. And I wouldn’t blame you. But I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s fine, Sam. I get it. I probably would have assumed the same thing if the situations were reversed.” Then, probably deciding this was too much of a chick-flick moment, he turned to his patented devil-may-care, cocky attitude and smirked at me. “I didn’t know you felt that way about her.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“You said if I didn’t tell her, you would. I didn’t know you were interested in her.”

“You know that’s not-”

“Sorry, Sam,” he teased. “Looks like the better brother won. The more handsome brother too.”

Ignoring my protests that he knew perfectly well what I meant, he opened the door and stepped back inside. Older brothers. Sometimes they really were the worst.

~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

I was absently wandering around the room, wondering what Sam’s interruption had been about, when the door opened and the boys walked back in.

“Everything alright?” I asked.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” Dean assured me.

“Ok. Well, great! Do I get an explanation now, then? What happened to me and how does it connect to the vics from the article?”

“When you were walking past the alley of the music store, you overheard the witch who’s been killing people in the middle of another murder.”

Dean explained what happened, Sam occasionally pitching in a visual detail that he thought might be helpful.

“Ok,” I said when they were finished. “So I guess the good news of this whole situation is it makes tracking down our killer significantly easier. We know what the mother and son look like and have a first name. That narrows things down a lot.”

“Yeah. That would be the good news,” Dean agreed. Sam turned away to hide a smile. “There is bad news though.”

“What?”

Dean sighed.

“I hate to say it because I know you liked him, but we have to consider the very real possibility that this is the piano guy’s family. The woman said it was stupid to be killing people right outside his father’s store.”

“You think he might be involved?” I asked, feeling a pit in my stomach at the idea. I’d spent very little time with the man, but Dean was right. I liked him. He was so friendly and passionate about his work. He was one of those people you just instantly liked.

“No. It was pretty clear that, whoever the father is, he’s unaware that his wife and son are witches. Or that magic is even real,” Dean said.

“Well… that’s good at least.” It made it better knowing I wouldn’t have to be killing the kind man. But the thought that it might very well be his family we were getting rid of… well somehow that almost seemed worse. He’d be left devastated and with no understanding of why.

“You don’t look like you feel any better about it,” Sam said. I sighed.

“It’s just… we’re going to be destroying this guy’s world. Is that really any better? Don’t get me wrong. They’re killing people and they have to go. I get that. I just feel bad for the guy. I mean it’s hard to feel good about saving lives when you know you’re ruining someone else’s in the process.”

“You can sit this one out if you want,” Dean offered.

“What? No, I can’t do that. I just need to focus more on the stopping a murderer side of things. I’ll be fine.”

“Hang on. Can we just- can we just talk about this a little more? I mean, are we really sure we should be killing anybody?” Sam asked. Dean gave him an incredulous look.

“He’s killed five people, Sam. He has to be stopped,” he answered.

“Yes, obviously he has to be stopped. I’m not arguing that. But does stopping him really have to mean killing him? It sounds like his mother has it under control. Maybe we just talk to him, warn him what would happen if it ever did happen again.”

“Under control? Killers don’t stop being killers just because their mommy yelled at them. And we know for sure he’s already killed at least one person after being told to stop. If he’s got that kind of temper and if that’s the way he handles his problems, there’s no way he’s not going to kill again,” Dean argued.

“Yes, but-”

“He tried to kill Y/N,” Dean snapped. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Sam looked over to where I was quietly listening to them. His features softened a little and he sighed.

“What about the mother? She didn’t technically do anything.”

“She covered it up. As far as I’m concerned, that’s just as bad as if she’d killed them herself.”

“Alright, fine. They’ve both gotta go,” Sam relented. “I guess we should go track them down then.”

It only took about twenty minutes of asking around to track down the two witches. To my immense relief, they turned out not to be the family of the music store owner. The boy’s father owned the store next door, the one right next to the alley.

It was easy enough to lure them out. I simply walked into the store, asking after a boy named Thomas. I explained that I was having some trouble remembering events from yesterday, but that I was certain I remembered him being there. As expected, both the boy and his mother followed me out to the alley, right into firing range of the waiting hunter brothers.

~~~~~

A couple days later I found myself alone with Dean. He had parked the car on the side of an old, rarely traveled backroad. We had a great view of a small pond, ducks floating lazily across the water, and miles of endless grass and flowers. This is something we did on occasion. When the weather was nice and the view was good, sometimes it was nice to just stop, take a moment to breathe in the fresh air and relax.

I was currently sitting on the hood of the car. Dean walked around the front, a beer in each hand. He gave one to me and then hopped up to sit beside me.

“What was all that about?” I asked him. As soon as Dean pulled over, Sam had told us he wanted to go for a walk and stretch his legs. Sam wanting to exercise wasn’t unusual. But at this time? This was usually a kind of bonding time for all of us. A way for us all to unwind together.

“All what?” Dean questioned.

“With Sam. Going for a walk. That was weird. Actually, you’ve both been acting weird the past couple of days. What’s going on?”

“I haven’t been acting weird,” he denied. I gave him a disapproving look and he chuckled. “Alright, fine. I’ve been different, I’ll give you that. And maybe to you it seems weird, but it’s actually pretty typical behavior on my part. You’re just not used to me acting that way with you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. He sighed.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about. About when you were in that trance. I’ve just been waiting for the right moment,” he said.

My stomach dropped. What had he seen? It could be any number of things – private things – that I didn’t want him, or anyone else to see. This is why nobody should be allowed to dig around other people’s heads. And since I was blissfully unable to remember anything, I was content to pretend it never happened and assume nothing private had been found. This seemed to contradict that assumption though.

“Ok…” I said warily.

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad,” he assured me, noting my discomfort. “I obviously got a really detailed, unfiltered view of things in your head. Private things that you maybe wouldn’t have wanted me to know, but that you couldn’t exactly hide from me when I was seeing everything you were,” he started. I didn’t like the sound of that. I took a sip of my beer.

“So I want to even the playing field a little. Tell you a few private things that I never intended for you to know.” He took a sip of his own beer before continuing. “Did you know that I couldn’t believe my luck when you came up to me that day we started hunting together? I thought you were easily one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, and here I was with the perfect excuse to spend time with you.

“Truth is, I would have tried to take you home that night if circumstances had been different. But then we just clicked so well, I knew it would be foolish of me to ruin things between us by hitting on you. It was a much smarter move for me to ask you to stay with me. I needed a hunting partner, you were on your own, and I can’t deny that I couldn’t stand the thought of letting you go and maybe never seeing you again.

“I always intended to ask you out eventually, once things were more stable between us and I was sure it wouldn’t mess things up. But as time went on, it seemed better to just let that idea go. I wasn’t getting any hints of particular interest from you, and by then our friendship was too important to me to risk losing.”

He paused to take another sip of his beer.

“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this,” I said. But I thought I did know why. If he was evening the playing field as he said, then why choose this particular topic to share with me? He could’ve given me any number of private thoughts. If he was telling me this now, I could only assume he’d seen something of my feelings for him and wanted to let me know it was reciprocated. I was beyond giddy at his revelation, of course. But I was also a little scared to know what exactly he’d seen in my head.

“I’m telling you this,” he said with a self-satisfied smile, “because I witnessed enough of your dreams about the two of us together to assume that the feeling must be mutual.”

I doubted I’d ever blushed so hard in my entire life.

“Could you be a little more specific about what you saw?” I asked, taking a big gulp of my beer.

He shrugged and looked out towards the pond.

“A little bit of us out on dates. A little bit of us dancing. A little bit of us curled up together in bed.” He turned to me and smiled. “And a lot of this.”

He reached over, cupping my cheek in his hand and leaning in to kiss me. I responded to his kiss immediately, embarrassment fading away. If this was the result I got from showing him my dreams, I’d show them to him ten times over.

It came as no surprise that he was a good kisser. But that didn’t mean I was prepared for just how good he was. This is what I’d been missing for the past three years? I’d been even more deprived than I realized.

Then something occurred to me. I broke away from Dean’s intoxicating kiss.

“Son of a bitch,” I mumbled. “This is why Sam left? Oh, I can’t believe he saw all of that,” I groaned. “No wonder he’s been so weird!”

“Are you really thinking about my brother right now?” Dean complained.

“No,” I denied. It wasn’t exactly a lie. It’s not like I’d been thinking about Sam while we were kissing. It was just one of those intrusive thoughts that forced its way into the front of my mind, giving me no option of ignoring it.

“Sorry,” I apologized anyway. “I mean, it’s not like he didn’t know. But there’s a difference between knowing and seeing. Damn. I mean, you seeing is one thing. But Sam…”

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘it’s not like he didn’t know’?”

“He knew I liked you. He’s known for a couple of months. Wouldn’t leave me alone about it, actually,” I told him.

“Well why did you tell Sam that you liked me, but not me?”

“I didn’t tell him! He just found out.”

Dean looked at me expectantly. I sighed. This was a story I really didn’t want to tell him. It would only piss him off. I wanted to enjoy our moment.

“I’ll tell you some other time,” I promised.

“Why not now?” He asked.

“Would you rather talk about Sam, or enjoy being alone together?”

“Hmm. Tough choice.”

I shoved his shoulder and he laughed, putting an arm around me and pulling me close. We sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the view and the feeling of being so close.

I looked up at Dean, just admiring his stupidly perfect face. Now I was allowed to look and appreciate in a way I never could before. He took another sip of his beer before turning to meet my gaze. He leaned in and connected our lips again.

After a few minutes of this, Dean grabbed my beer, setting it and his own on the ground out of the way. He pulled me with him as he scooted back further on the hood of the Impala and leaned against the windshield so he was in a half seated, half laying position. I turned onto my side so I could reach his mouth easier.

This wasn’t the most comfortable position though – not to mention we didn’t exactly know when Sam would be back and I felt like he’d seen enough of my personal life regarding Dean as it was – so I broke the kiss and instead curled up into his side. He immediately put his arm back around me.

I let out a content sigh.

“I could get used to this,” I told him. I could easily picture the smile on his face when he answered.

“As good as you dreamed it would be?” He teased. I smiled into his chest.

“Better.”

Tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28

Tags for Familiar: @applepie2479 @lacilou

#familiar #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #reader insert #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x platonic!reader

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meganlpie · 1 month

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Sleeping Knight...Of Hell?!

Based on this request: : Would it be possible to do a spn Cain x Winchester reader fluffy, where cain gets cursed by a witch well helping the Winchester take down a witch. Ends up getting sleeping beauty and won’t wake up in till the reader kisses him from @sirlsplayland

Here you are, lovely! I apologize for the wait! I do not own ANY SPN characters. They are the property of the creators/writers!

Warnings: Angst-ish? Sleeping Beauty AU. Fluff.

Pairings: Cain x Winchester!reader

Under normal circumstances, you and your brothers would not want to work with a demon, even Cain. No matter how kind and fair he could be. But with you currently unable to hunt and no one else available, your two brothers reached out to Cain. The demon seemed to have a soft spot for you so he agreed to help until another hunter became available.

"You guys be careful. Call me if anything goes wrong. Broken arm or not, I will haul ass," you said as the boys and Cain prepared to leave. Dean rolled his eyes while Sam chuckled. You turned to Cain. "Same goes for you." His blue eyes didn't betray the surprise he felt at your words. He hadn't known his safety was so important to you. Cain gave a quick nod before all three headed out, leaving you alone and bored out of your mind.

Your boredom didn't last long, however. Too soon, the boys reappeared in the bunker along with Cas and an unconscious Cain. "What happened to him?" you asked, worry creeping into your tone without your permission. "We think he was hit with a spell, but we don't know what and we can't wake him up," Sam explained. Dean nodded along with Sam. "Cas tried and we ganked the witch, but Cain's still not waking up. But he's breathing so I guess he's still alive. For now anyway."

You helped your brothers get Cain to a bed in the infirmary before beginning the long and difficult task of research. All the while, in the back of your mind, you worried for Cain. What if he never woke up? For some reason, the very thought made your insides churn unpleasantly. You made it your sole mission to figure out a way to wake him and soon.

*time skip*

Weeks. You lost count of how many weeks it had been since your brothers returned to the bunker with Cain. You'd tried everything you could possibly think of to wake him. You'd even called in Rowena, who offered to go through every spellbook she could to help. Mostly because she didn’t want to be on the bad side of the Knight of Hell should he wake and partly because you told her that you’d owe her. She was very much like her son in that way. And it was Rowena’s son who would crack the case wide open.

Crowley sat with you, your brothers, Cas, and Rowena as you explained to him what was happening. While Crowley didn’t care much for Cain, he did respect him. “So you’ve had no luck waking Sleeping Beauty.” Sam shook his head, but you stared at Crowley as if he’d just said the most brilliant thing of the century.

“Rowena?” you asked after a moment, prompting the redhead to look at you. “Are there any spells that can copy fairytales? Like…a sleeping curse?” Rowena’s brows furrowed as she thought. “I suppose there might. After all, your human fairytales have a basis in fact. It’s quite possible, but if so, I’m afraid Cain is going to sleep forever, dearie. True love’s kiss doesn’t exist.” You nodded solemnly before standing and leaving the room. All you could think about was poor Cain being asleep until the end of time.

You weren’t paying attention to where you were walking and soon found yourself in the infirmary where Cain was. With a sigh, you pulled a chair up next to his cot and sat down. “I’m so sorry, Cain,” you said softly even though no one else was around, “If I hadn’t gotten hurt, you wouldn’t be in this mess. And I have no idea how to help you. Rowena thinks you’ll be stuck like this forever.” You reached over and took Cain’s hand, repeating how sorry you were.

You remained like that until Sam appeared in the doorway to let you know they were heading out on a supply run. “Hang on, I need to come too. There are a few things I need.” Sam nodded and turned away before speaking over his shoulder, “Alright. We’ll meet you at the car.

Once Sam was gone, you glanced at Cain again. “Come back, Cain.” You stood and leaned over him. “Come back to me,” you whispered as you leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. You straightened up all the way. However, as you turned to leave, you felt something tugging on your hand. You looked down and were surprised to find Cain’s eyes open as he stared at you in amazement. “Cain,” you whispered, unable to fight back the sound of tears in your voice.

Cain slowly sat up, his blue eyes never leaving your face. “You…” he began, “You brought me back.” Your brows drew together and you started to shake your head, but Cain stopped you. “Yes you did. I heard everything. I was trapped in my own mind, unable to move or speak, but I heard it all. It was your determination, your kiss, your…love that woke me, Y/N.”

Your eyes widened. The idea you’d gotten from Crowley had been right. It was a sleeping curse. And just like the fairytales, it was true love’s kiss that broke the spell. But that meant-

“Cain? Only a kiss of true love could have worked, if my theory was right.” A brow rose on Cain’s forehead. “Yes,” he confirmed, “Ask the question that’s on the tip of your tongue, Y/N. You already know the answer. You only need to ask the right question.”

“Does this mean that you-that you love me?” A rare, soft smile made its way onto Cain’s lips. “And you love me.” You stared at him and he stared back, an amused smile still on his lips. For a while, neither of you said anything. But the silence was soon broken by Dean. “Hey, I thought you-” You looked back at Dean, whose mouth was open in surprise. “Sonovabitch,” he muttered before turning on his heel, probably on his way to tell Sam what was happening. When he was out of sight, you couldn’t help but laugh a bit. You looked back to Cain to find him still looking at you. His hand came up and rested on your cheek. “May I?” he asked, quietly. You swallowed thickly, but agreed. Cain’s lips met yours in a moment later in a soft, sweet kiss.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @sirkekselord @aikibriarrose @lady-of-lies @motleymoose @esoltis280 @stories-by-shanna-p @dark-angel-is-back @supernatural4life2022 @asgards-princess-of-mischief

SPN Tags: @jotink78

#supernatural #spn #cain #cain x reader #sleeping beauty au

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narrynukezankielover · 4 months

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Again these are my personal opinions or what I personally see or think as someone seeing these episodes for the first time.

To begin with the episode where Dean and Sam die and go to heaven. I love when someone else talks about Cas and only looks at Dean. The angel told Dean and Sam that god had done a lot for them but he was looking directly at Dean while saying that god had saved him, put them on a plane and brought Cas back for you. Then turned to Sam to say after everything he’s done. That sounds like god brought Cas back because he knows how much Cas means to Dean. Otherwise he would’ve been looking between the two of them.

Then the necklace. Up until now that necklace was a brotherly connection between Dean and Sam. Like I think Dean didn’t want to give it to Cas in the first place because Sam gave it to him. It’s special to him but once he gave it to Cas it meant hope. Hope that god would help. Then when they found out god didn’t really care yes it hurt Dean but what I think hurt Dean more was that Cas lost his faith in god. It’s like as long as Cas has hope Dean has hope. Then when Dean threw away the necklace the look on Sams face was like “you’re seriously throwing that out? I gave that to you.”

To me Becky represents the Jared or the J2 fans. The ones that think Jared is everything. Even the ones that ship Dean and Sam. I’m not going to lie the scene where she’s writing a sexual fan fic about them makes me want to throw up. They’re brothers fake brothers in a tv show but it’s still disgusting. Then Cas expresses how much he hates Sams voice and tells him not to ask stupid questions. It made me bust out laughing but it felt like Cas represents the other side of the fandom. I just had to put that in there because I love Cas honesty with that stuff and I had to agree with him.

So far my fave’s 2 episodes are the Jimmy episode and season 5 episode 18 which I believe is also the 100th episode. There is soooo much Destiel in it. I knew about these scenes I just didn’t realize they were all in the same episode.

Dean telling Cas to blow him got him this look. Cas kept this look for a few seconds. It’s like wait that’s a sexual thing right? Did you really just say that? The guy is really confused.

The “not for nothing Cas but last time someone looked at me like that I got laid” scene. HOLY SHIT. That was clearly flirting not a joke. Sam even gave Dean a “are you seriously flirting right now” look.

(Sorry about the stuff in that picture I took it while I was watching the episode and clearly forgot to take it off). Then Dean gave Cas this smirk and a wink which looks like it might’ve been Jensen trying to make Misha laugh which could be why Cas look became even more intense. Could’ve been Misha trying hard to stay in character. Either way that’s some serious flirting.

Later Cas got worried about Dean and what I love is that when he heard something inside the room he opened the eye door but when he couldn’t see Dean he got really worried and had to go in. If it was anyone else in there Cas would’ve said it was a trap and left them alone but he couldn’t take that chance with Dean. I’m still trying to figure out tho how Sam left to find Dean a few seconds later yet Cas found him in no time (how did Cas know where to find Dean? Suppose it could’ve been he just went to the closest religious person. I love Cas honesty here telling the guy he prays too loudly) and Sam was back at Bobbys house when Cas and Dean got back. He didn’t spend much time looking for Dean.

It’s not a sexual scene but it sure looks like it. Cas pushing Dean around telling him yet again how much he’s pissed that he rebelled for Dean so he wouldn’t have to say yes to Michael but yet here he is going to do it anyway. Dean didn’t even try to fight back. Don’t know if he knew Cas is a lot stronger than him and didn’t see the point in fighting back but knowing Dean I can’t see that being it. Or if what Cas was saying was finally getting through to his head and maybe thought he deserved what was happening and let Cas make the decision in this moment that he wasn’t saying yes right now.

I know the last episode of season 5 was supposed to be the last episode but some of it is just weird. Dean looked back at Cas sleeping and said “ain’t he a little angel.” Dean sounds so cute when he said that. It reminds me of in Good Omens Crowley calls Aziraphale angel all the time. At first it was because Aziraphale is an actual angel but over time it became a cute nickname like sweetie or honey. In this scene it felt like a cute nickname instead of just that Cas is an angel. Of course Sam ruined the moment when he said “angels don’t sleep.” Dean then looked confused and worried. The thing that pisses me off is that Sam made Dean promise to go to Lisa and have a life with her. It pisses me off because Dean didn’t say he wanted that life plus you just heard Dean saying something sweet about Cas and he thought it was a good time to bring this up. Really makes me want to punch Sam. Sam wants that life but he pushed that life on Dean in a promise. When they were in heaven Deans heaven was being with Sam but Sam’s heaven was being away from his actual family but being with a family. They really were going to let the show end with Dean liveing Sams happy ending. I’m trying to forget that shit happened but the fact that Dean didn’t want it makes it a bit easier. At least they didn’t try to say it was Deans idea.

#castiel #cockles #dean winchester #dean x castiel #destiel #ineffable husbands #crowley x arizaphale #aziracrow

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perplexedflower · 2 years

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SPN Drabbles - 12/14: Beers And Rock

Fandom: Supernatural.

Category: F/M.

Relationship: Dean Winchester x Female Reader.

Type: Drabble.

Words: 550.

Chronology: Season 2.

~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm going to pretend those words never came out of your mouth."

"Aw, c'mon sweetheart." The man chuckled, visibly amused. "What's wrong with wanting to buy a pretty girl a beer?"

"God..." I sighed as I rolled my eyes.

I pressed one of my hands on my forehead before turning my head to him.

"You know what? Actually, I wouldn't mind you buying me a drink. That way I'll have something to smash on your head if you keep on being a jerk."

The man scoffed and, surprisingly, smiled. I stared into his eyes for a few seconds before smiling faintly and shaking my head slowly.

"Forget I said anything. For all I know, you might even be into that."

His face expressed sudden surprise, but I could tell by the glimpse in his eyes that my supposition was correct. I looked over my shoulder before turning back around to the freckles-riddled face sitting next to me.

"Anyway." I started while taking a sip from my drink. "Since you're taking the liberty of being personal with me, allow me to do the same: that buddy of yours, who's he?"

A few tables behind us sat a young man with shaggy brown hair, seemingly very busy working on some kinds of newspapers and sheets. I pointed at him with my thumb and the man sitting to my right looked in his direction, before turning back to me.

"How d'you know he's with me?" He asked, somewhat confused.

"Well, he looks like he's very focused on... whatever it is he's doing right now." I said, giving him quick glances over my shoulder. "But apparently, not focused enough not to help himself from looking up from his work and staring at us every two minutes or so."

Still looking at the man behind us, my green-eyed friend sitting beside me sighed, before giving him a look from afar.

"He's my brother." He said, turning back around. "His name is Sam. I'm Dean, by the way."

"Well, Dean, your brother seems like the type who likes to watch."

"No, it's not like that. He just-"

"He just doesn't understand how you can keep on hitting on so many girls all the time?" I finished his sentence with a raised eyebrow.

He gave his brother one last look before turning his back to him completely.

"Yeah, something like that."

Dean had just finished speaking when a familiar guitar solo suddenly resonated throughout the bar.

"Oh, hell yeah." He chuckled with a smile as he looked behind him at the jukebox.

I tried my best to control myself, not wanting Dean to know, but it was too strong for me to hold it in, and I began tapping my fingers on the counter to the beat of AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long". When he turned back around, his smile widened even more the second he noticed I was into the song. He stared into my eyes with an electrifying feeling, before softly hitting my arm with his elbow.

"I think you and I might have more in common than I thought. Say, tell me a bit about yourself."

Still looking into his eyes, I smiled from one corner of my mouth.

"Buy me that beer you offered earlier, and you've got yourself a deal."

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfictions #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester drabbles #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester imagines #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfictions #supernatural drabble #supernatural drabbles #supernatural imagine #supernatural imagines #spn #female reader #perplexedflower

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ipromiseimlying-blog1 · 4 months

Text

Excerpt from my fic: "The Soul Burns Brighter Than The Sun" (on ao3)

Dean musters up the courage and finally opens his mouth, “What would it be like?”

Dean internally cringes at how choked up his voice sounds, but he asks it anyway because he’s a piece of shit who likes to have his cake and taste it without eating it at all. He’s a coward, but he’s a coward who wishes he wasn’t.

“What would what be like?” Cas asks.

“You and me.”

Cas takes a second to respond, and Dean scrubs at the casserole dish with his sponge like he’s not waiting for world-shattering news.

“It would be good.” Cas finally says, voice confident and scared at the same time. “It would be right.”

“How so?” Dean asks.

The sound of Cas’s footsteps tell Dean that the angel is waking over, but slowly. So slowly like he’s worried he’ll startle Dean into running away. They come to a halt just behind where Dean’s washing the dishes, elbows in the suds, fingers pruned from the water. He can feel the few feet of space between them like a physical ache.

“It wouldn’t be any different,” Cas says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, to love. “Than how we are right now. Nothing would change.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean whispers, his voice weak.

“It means…” Cas starts. “I’d be there for you when you wake up, and I’d be there for you during your nightmares, making sure that none dare to haunt you. We’ll go on hunts whenever you want and take care of them together. We’ll watch movies in your room or in the Dean Cave.” Dean hears the twitch in Cas’s lips as they turn to a small smile. “Maybe even go for long walks on the beach.”

Dean snorts, but it comes out choked. He doesn’t know what to say so he scrubs the casserole dish.

“If nothing changed physically between us, I’d be content. But I’d love to kiss you when you asked me to, make love to you when you ask for it, and–-” Cas’s voice drops, but Dean knows it’s not for effect, it’s just the way the words leave Cas’s mouth that make them darker. “Fuck you when you need me to.”

Dean inhales sharply, and continues washing the dish he’s holding. “That’s a lot, Cas.”

He hears a soft shifting of clothing, likely a shrug, something human that Cas has picked up from Dean. “I used to try not to… fantasize about things that could never happen, but I’ve realized it might be a lot closer than I think, and I’d like to be prepared.”

“Buddy, it’s not–”

“Is it?” Cas says, and there’s two more step falls and then he’s pressed along Dean’s back, not hard, just there. One of Cas’s hands grips the counter with–-what Dean thinks–-is enough force to dent it, but his other hand is gentle against Dean’s hip.

Dean’s hands stutter over the dish, and he almost drops it. “It’s not happening man. I–It can’t.”

Cas hums, and Dean feels his breath ghost over his neck, feels the sound reverberate in Cas’s chest against his back. “Tell me to stop then.”

Stop, Dean thinks. Don’t stop. Never stop touching me. I can’t take it when you leave.

“Cas–” His hands shake, and he puts the dish down in the sink so he won’t break it. The glass clatters against the metal of the sink bottom and Dean raises his eyes to the ceiling. “We can’t.”

“Give me a reason.”

“It wouldn’t work. We drive each other crazy, and I can’t–you can’t leave. I can’t take it when you do.”

“Then I won’t leave.”

Dean wants to laugh. He feels six years old again, begging their dad to stay a little longer with them while Sammy’s sick, because Dean gets grossed out when he has to clean up his brother’s puke.

It’s time to grow up, Dean. John had said. You know why I need to go. Pick up the slack while I’m gone.

He feels like his twenty-two year old self, seeing Sam’s Stanford acceptance letter, knowing there’s nothing he can do to make him stay. Watching John grow red, to blue, to purple in the face, screaming and yelling at Sammy. You walk out that door there, don’t bother coming back.

At the time, Dean didn’t know if he was gonna see Sam again, so he drove his kid brother to the bus station. Sam had always been the soft one, talking back and not following John’s orders, and Dean sat there in silence as Sam pretended he wasn’t tearing up.

Dean had watched his little brother walk away, seeing the duffle bag filled with clothes and weapons and books that looked too heavy for him to carry. Sammy! Dean yelled.

Sam had turned, his eyes rimmed with red.

Dean charged him and wrapped him in a bear hug. Watch out for yourself, bitch.

Sam choked out a laugh, holding on tight, hands balled into fists against Dean’s back, holding him there like he didn’t know if he’d ever get a hug like this again. Jerk.

Dean’s always had people leave him, and he’s always let them go.

“You say that, Cas, but you’re always leaving.” Dean chokes. Cas is warm where he’s pressed against Dean’s back, and Dean can’t help himself as he leans into the feeling.

Cas’s thumb rubs against Dean’s hip, at the denim and flannel wrapped around his body. “You’ve never asked me to stay before.”

“I wanted to–” Dean rushes out like word vomit, like the truth he’s been meaning to say for years. “I should’ve.”

“Ask me then.”

“No, you asshole.”

“I’m not leaving, Dean, so long as you want me here.”

“I–”

But then Cas kisses his shoulder, and Dean’s whole body is lit on fire by the simple press of skin to the cotton of his flanneled shoulder.

“So the first problem is negated, I won’t leave. Problem solved.” Cas continues their conversation like he never interrupted it by kissing Dean’s shoulder in the first place. In fact, Dean doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed on his shoulder before. Before he can shove that thought away, his brain wraps its arms around the feeling of Cas behind him, his lips pressing to Dean’s clothed skin, and files it away for safekeeping. “What are the other reasons?”

Dean knows there are more reasons, but goddamn he can’t think of any. Cas is warm against his back, and Cas’s chin rests on Dean’s shoulder, right over where he kissed it.

“Uhm,” Dean’s brain helpfully supplies. It’s too busy cradling it’s new favorite memory close to his chest. “You’re a guy.”

“Hmm. How much of a problem is that?”

Not very much, Dean’s dick supplies. Dean tells his dick to shut up.

“It’s a problem.” Is what he says instead.

Cas doesn’t miss a beat though. “I could be in a female vessel if you prefer, although I’ve grown so fond of this one. It feels more like my body than anything else has.”

And that breaks Dean’s heart because Cas has lived through millennia, seen continents move and civilizations come and go, but this body, the one that Dean stabbed when they first met, is the one that Cas feels at home in.

“No.” Dean interjects. “I don’t want you to have a different vessel.”

Cas presses his lips to Dean’s shoulder again, not a kiss though, this time, Dean feels Cas’s lips spread into a shy smile. “So how much of a problem is it, then?”

“It’s–it’s not.”

Cas hums, and the hand resting against Dean’s hip skates upward and under Dean’s shirt, just touching the warm skin there, like Cas is stealing whatever he can get away with. “Alright, so what else?”

Dean’s brain grasps at straws. He had a list. Where the hell is it?

“We drive each other crazy.” Dean blurts out. “And you listen to shitty music.”

“Ah, right. You did mention that we drive each other crazy.” Cas murmurs, and he leans forward so that his lips whisper against Dean’s ear, and goosebumps spread along Dean’s skin. “Think about how that would translate into sex, then.”

Dean swallows.

“As for the music.” Cas continues. “I think I can come up with ways to make it up to you.”

And then Cas fucking kisses his neck, right below Dean’s ear, on his pulse point like a bullseye. Like maybe Cas was scouting that spot out for a while. Like maybe Cas fantasized about doing exactly that. Like maybe Dean kinda wanted him to do it too, because Dean’s lit up from head to toe like a fucking teenager from one little kiss on the neck from his best friend.

Dean audibly gasps, and he feels Cas smile against his neck. Cas’s hand presses more firmly against Dean’s ribs, the very ribs Cas rebuilt and then carved sigils into.

“Don’t think that I didn’t notice–” Cas says huskily. “That not one of your reasons was that you don’t return my feelings.”

Cas’s hand leaves his skin, and there’s a shocking wash of cold, as if somebody’s dumped an ice bucket on his back once Cas steps away from him and walks out of the kitchen.

Dean stands there for five whole minutes, his heart racing and breathing hard until he calms down enough to close his eyes and relax. He picks up the casserole dish and finishes washing it.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #ao3 #supernatural #november fifth #ao3 fanfic #supernatural season 16

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luwritesomething · 1 year

Text

Dean Winchester x Reader: worrying chronicles.

Warnings: Swearing (probably), angsty?? but not really. John Winchester mentioned throughout the whole thing.

Tags: a bit angsty but with happy/fluffy ending, childhood friends, can be read as romantic, romantic coded, hunter!reader, reader has known sam and dean since kids, season 1, pre-season 1, can be read as black reader, can be read as plus size reader.

Reader pronouns: Non stated.

Word count: 1036

Summary: Dean calls reader and tells them he’s going to Stanford to get Sam. Reader wants him to rest.

Author’s note: I rarely ever write for Dean! Not because I don’t like him (I LOVE HIM), but because since I haven’t finished the show (i’m on season 8) the requests have to be either pre-show or within those seasons. Anyways, Dean and Sam Winchester requests are open, but with those conditions !! love my boys <3 graphic made by me (CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW PRETTY HE IS?)

You weren’t doing anything special when Dean called, you were planning foods and cooking weeks in advance. The hunter life you had led all your life had taught you enough to know homemade foods were a privilege, and that new hunts would always come into your life without a warning, wrecking all your plans. So, after those terrible, almost death experiences you liked to call a work well done, it was nice to go back home and find your fridge full of frozen food you could just heat up and eat.

It was the ringing of the phone that made you lift your gaze up from the vegetables you were cutting so carefully, your movements coming to a halt in order to not lose a finger without it being in a worthy battle. You didn’t let go of the knife as your hand, after slightly cleaning it against your jeans, came to grab the cell phone on the counter. Barely glancing at the name from whom the call was, you pressed the device against your ear and continued with your work.

“It’s me.” You answered quickly, hearing the background noise from the other side of the line. It was easily recognizable, considering you were able to recognize the noises Dean’s Impala made even in your deepest sleep. Perks of being friends. “Y’know, you shouldn’t make phone calls while driving.”

“I can do two things at once.” Dean said with a little huff, and even though you were probably a good amount of miles apart, you noticed the way his voice didn’t sound the same. He had never been good with masking his worry, and you had never been good at not worrying about him.

You stopped cutting slowly and moved away from the counter. If something had happened, you couldn’t have your attention split in two. “Yeah, you tell that to the cops… Is everything alright?”

A beat of silence, which Dean used to avoid your question. “I’m driving to Stanford to go get Sam.”

“What?”

The silence let you know Dean wouldn’t be repeating himself, but thankfully enough he stayed on the line, waiting for your amazement to reduce. You had known the Winchesters for years — Hell, you three had practically grown together. It had been some long time ago, but you still remembered like it was yesterday the phone call you received from Dean to tell you that Sam had given up on the hunter life and basically left home after a big argument with their dad, John Winchester. You also remembered Sam’s call, after Dean’s, telling you the news. It hadn’t hurt from Sam’s part, knowing that was what was best for him, but it had from Dean’s, since he hadn’t been able to accept that his brother leaving had nothing to do with him.

You wanted to tell Dean that dragging Sam back into a life he did not want was not what he was supposed to do as a brother, but your mind went into another direction, knowing he wouldn’t accept that lesson from you; or anyone. All these years, Dean had been working wonderfully with his father, or so he made it look like — if he needed Sam, something bigger was happening, and he wasn’t completely avoiding telling you.

“Why?” You asked finally, your hand coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose. Was a headache coming your way already?

“My dad’s on a hunting trip.” He replied quickly, and something in the way he said it told you he had rehearsed those same words a lot. Not because of being untrue, though, you knew John had gone on a big trip on his own for some reason Dean either didn’t want to tell you or didn’t know about. “He hasn’t called, he hasn’t said anything. I don’t know crap about him.”

That was bad. John could be an asshole, but his rules during a lone hunt were unbreakable, and those included informing constantly about his whereabouts. “Have you asked Bobby? Maybe he—”

“No one knows anything.” Dean interrupted you, rather abruptly. He was truly worried, and you just hoped he wouldn’t lose sight of the road ahead of him. “Nothing, none, nada. I’m getting Sam, and we're going to find where the hell he is.”

“Dean, wait.” Your glance shifted to the clock in your kitchen, your hand closing in a nervous fist. “It’s too late. You should rest tonight and go tomorrow morning, early.”

You could almost see him shaking his head. “We can’t lose time.”

“What is going to change if you arrive tonight at Stanford?” You insisted, rolling your eyes at how strong headed he was. Years together, and you still were amazed at how little he listened. “Dean, you’re in no condition to drive. You’re tired and nervous, just drive to my place, and then tomorrow—”

He called out your name rather harshly, to make you stop. “I have to find him.”

“And you will. Just come and rest, De.”

Your eyes glanced again at the clock when silence and the noises from the road were the only thing you could hear. Dean was really good with his car and he didn’t drive badly, but when he was worried things changed — you had been in enough almost accidents for you to have good reasons to not want him so late in the road. And he knew you were right, but the decision was on his hands, and it couldn’t help but irk you slightly.

You could still push it, though. “Please?” You murmured, loudly enough for him to hear it but also low enough to be able to be lost in the distance between you.

Dean clicked his tongue, and then sighed. “I’m fifty miles away. Don’t wait for me, I’ll climb through your window or something.”

“I’ll wait.” You retorted, with that voice you used to show you were completely adamant about your decision. It wasn’t difficult to hear the little huffed chuckle he let out, and it made you ease up, to know he was finally slowing down and rationalizing things. “Don’t run too much, dickhead.”

With a little scoff, Dean hung up and you found yourself smiling at nothing at all.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #supernatural #supernautral season 1 #season 1 #supernatural pre-season 1 #pre-season 1 #sam winchester #writing #my writing #lu writes #i love dean winchester with my whole heart #childhood friends #jensen ackles #jensen ackles supernatural

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marjorie189 · 5 months

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🌸 V Party games (truth or dare etc) - with Sam Winchester🥰🥰

Thank you for the request anon!

I've been wanting to write for someone new in a really long time! So, here it goes hope you enjoy!

Y/N’s POV:

There had been a couple of unexplainable back to back deaths in a small town in Louisiana.

It sparked our attention when, all the papers could come up with was “a small town mystery.” After the same exact incident happened various times.

“So we know that in all four times the deaths occurred at night, with these kids all around the same age, and their bodies have all been nearly torn apart like animal attacks…” I spoke aloud the facts and what we know so far to Sam.

“Which is near impossible because it all happened while they were asleep. It’s not like a wild life animal could go into a house, specifically into their rooms without being noticed,” Sam responded.

I then say, “And once any sort of noise would cause someone to think there was something in the house, it would be too late because they were already dead.” We reinform, to one another.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Sam huffed, letting his head fall down into his hands. Rummaging his fingers through his hair.

“Maybe a vengeful spirit?” I spit out.

“But who is the question, if that is the case?” Sam asks, clearly at the edge of his seat. “All four victims have had it the same. Why would it start? Who would want to hurt them? It doesn’t make sense…” Sam trailed.

“Well let’s take a break. Let’s see what Dean comes back with and then we’ll all play back again. Sound like a deal?” I say. Closing our journals/books and putting away the crime scene photos that clearly showcased the puncture wounds on the neck and deep clear stroken tears all over the victims chests.

“Yeah, okay, let’s clear our heads.” Sam said, closing his laptop.

Sam leaned back against his chair and I could feel myself under his gaze.

“How about we play a game?” Sam smiled.

“Ok, like what?” I let out a giggle.

“Truth or dare.” He declared.

“What, like we’re a group of kids sitting around a campfire?” I smile, letting out a laugh.

I look at his brown orbs and our laughter sync together.

“But go on, I’m waiting,” I swiftly move my hand, indicating for him to start.

“Truth or Dare.” He asks the infamous questions.

“Hm. Truth,” I announce, waiting patiently for his response.

“If you would have to choose one hunter to be partners with for the rest of your life, who would you choose? Me or Dean?” Sam questioned, always curious.

“What?! What kind of question is that? Both of you bring unique qualities to this hunting life and I wouldn’t be able to pick between one or the other. Like who would be out there speaking to families, while we’re here doing research, if I only had to choose one of you guys? Well, it would probably be one of us if it was a two-man job, but that would mean more work for a duo. So my answer would be both of you guys, because we have a system that works for us,” I manage to explain.

“Ok, I’ll accept that offer. Makes sense. Now your turn,” Sam smiles.

“How do you feel now that I’ve joined you Winchesters? Do you like it? Pros? Cons? Do you hate it? Because I can leave if one of you doesn't like it,” I ask curiously.

“Well, you didn’t even ask ‘truth or dare’” Sam teased.

I instantly feel my cheeks warming up and a shy smile forming.

Sam let out a laugh, as I softly kicked him under the table.

“I was going to pick truth anyway.” He chuckled.

“I think you’re a great fit for us because sometimes Dean and I need someone apart from him and I to talk to and spend time with because we’ve spent our whole lives together. And let's just say we can get on each other's nerves sometimes. Your personality also goes really well with ours because you can easily slide into our conversations and understand our humor. Or when things are getting too deep or serious you know how to meddle your way to help us. You just know us so well. It’s not like with a stranger or with someone we don’t feel comfortable with, we’d tend to keep to ourselves or be someone we’re not. With you we can be us and we don’t have to hide. I don’t think we’d be able to do another hunt without you anymore. You’re great with book research, hands on research, and combat. You’re not just an extra set of hands, you’re family!” Sam sweetly ended his answer.

“Aww, You’re going to make me cry.” I say, slightly tearing up.

“Oh and that! You balance us out because you’re a woman. Well you already know we grew up in a household of men, so we never got female treatment throughout our lives. So that’s nice. Talks about crying and being sensitive. Dean is more open to that now that you’ve been here. Also the cooking is amazing! Or when we’re sick, you somehow know what to do. It’s nice to have that because we always grew up without any of it. So thank you. Also just to reiterate, women aren’t just that, you’ve brought much more than that but having a woman in our circle has been healing in a way I never thought we needed!” Sam expressed.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of help,” I grin, knowing how appreciative they were.

“Ok, truth or dare?” Sam asks.

“I'll choose dare, to switch it up a little,” I smile.

“Yes! Ok, perfect. When we go out to eat later with Dean, I dare you to add hot sauce under his pie!” Sam smirks.

My mouth opened wide once I heard the dare.

“Do you want him to kill me?!” I yell from across the motel’s small table.

Sam laughs loudly.

“Oh I hate you!” I say rolling my eyes. “We’re not playing this game anymore!” I grunted.

“Ok fine, I’m ok with that. As long as you do the dare I’m happy!” Sam jokes.

“We can play another game. Kiss, Marry, Kill!” I say.

“Ok, Leonardo DiCaprio, Henry Cavill, or Pedro Pascal,” Sam inquired.

“I’ll kiss 90’s Leo, kill Pedro, and marry Henry!” I easily answered. “Your turn, Shakira, Anne Hathaway, and Emma Watson,”

“Oh, that’s hard! That’s a tough one.” Sam remarks, deep in thought when the phone rang.

I answered Dean’s phone call, while Sam decided on an answer.

I put him on speaker.

“Hey Dean, how did it go?”

“Ok I was talking to one of the families and they mentioned the name Dana Wilson. Apparently it was one of their friends that died in a woods accident. I talked to one of the friends that are still alive and it turns out they left Dana in the woods as a joke and she got attacked by wolves or bears. They kids weren’t sure, so they left the body.” Dean exclaimed.

“Vengeful spirit!” Both Sam and I said as we looked at each other.

I really enjoyed writing for Supernatural! I'd love to write more for this fandom!

Don't forget to like and follow!

I'd love for you to request! Thank you <3

taglist: @annab-nana @hoodpankow @alaynahope714 @jeyramarie @lemur46 @taylathornton @hoelesslyt

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam wichester oneshot #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester one shot #sam and dean winchester

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 9 months

Text

Family

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You’re the Winchester’s little sister, but you don’t look anything like them, which causes some problems occasionally

“Just one room.”

“She legal?” The motel clerk glanced at you, then frowned at Sam and Dean.

“She’s our sister,” Dean said, disgusted, while Sam scowled at the guy.

The man scoffed.

“Your sister? Right, do I look stupid?”

You felt your head droop, and tried to push away the hurt that stabbed at you. You didn’t blame the guy for wondering; you were John Winchester’s daughter, but Mary wasn’t your mother. You took after your mother in looks, meaning you looked nothing like your brothers. That might not have bothered you as much, if you also hadn’t spent the first several years of your life with your mom, away from your brothers. You saw the intense bond they had, and you couldn’t help but feel like an outsider, even though you hardly remembered life before them.

Trying to compete with the years they had before you felt like an uphill battle. And it definitely didn’t help when every new person you met acted like it wasn’t anywhere near the realm of possibility that you were family.

“Just give me the dang room key,” Dean growled. The guy looked skeptical, but you figured he wasn’t paid enough to bother arguing, and he handed over the key. “Thank you,” Dean said a little too aggressively, and the three of you went to find your motel room.

“Sorry,” you weren’t sure why you mumbled an apology to Dean, and he turned to you in confusion.

“Don’t apologize, he’s an idiot,” Dean swung an arm around your shoulder as he led you to the room. “He’s going on looks alone, but blood runs deeper, little sister.”

…

“Hey, sorry, family only,” a nurse held out his hand to stop you as you tried to enter Dean’s hospital room.

“She is family,” Sam insisted, trying to lead you around the man.

“Look sir, it’s just our policy.”

Sam turned to glare at the man.

“I told you, she’s family.”

“It’s ok Sam,” you mumbled. “Just go in, Dean’s probably anxious to see you.”

“No, it’s not ok,” Sam insisted. “Sir, she’s our sister, and she’s going in that room.”

“I…excuse me, you’ll have to talk to one of my superiors,” the man slipped away, and Sam turned to you.

“Dean wants to see you, too. I’m getting you in there.”

“He’d rather see you anyway, it’s really ok.”

Sam’s head cocked to the side.

“What? What are you talking about, Dean wouldn’t-“

“Sam, please don’t lie to me,” your eyes fell to the white tile floor as you avoided Sam’s penetrating stare. “You and Dean are like-like totally inseparable, and I don’t want to get in the way anyway. If they won’t let me in, Dean will be fine, but he needs to see you.”

“That’s ridiculous!” You jumped a little at Sam’s outburst, and he lowered his voice to avoid attention. “Kid, Dean wants to see you just as much as he wants to see me. You’re his little sister, in the same way that I’m his brother. And the same goes for me,” Sam knelt on the ground so that his face invaded your lowered eyes, and you had no choice but to look at him. “Sweetheart, your family. You deserve that title every bit as much as Dean and me.”

“I’m not even a real Winchester,” you blinked rapidly as tears stung your eyes. “We don’t even have the same mom. I don’t look anything like you guys.”

“You think that matters?” Sam sounded so heartbroken. “Y/N that means nothing, ok? You’re our sister, our family. You mean every bit as much to me as Dean does, and don’t you ever forget that. Understand?”

“Alright, what seems to be the trouble here?” A woman asked as she approached you and Sam.

“No problem,” Sam insisted. “I’m taking my sister in to see our brother, if you have a problem with that, too bad.” He brushed past the woman, guiding you with a firm hand on your shoulder as the two of you entered Dean’s room.

“Sam,” you whispered before you got within earshot of Dean. Sam hummed. “I understand. Thanks.”

Sam grinned.

“Anytime, little sister.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean and sam #dean winchester x you #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural dean #the winchesters #winchesters x sister #winchesters x reader #winchester #spn sam winchester #the winchester brothers

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arwenadreamer · 7 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/arwenadreamer/733682182645792768/i-think-jensen-will-be-in-walker-season-4-its

I think there could be something to this. I’m no more in the know than anyone else, but I’ve sort of wondered if Jensen might turn up on Walker in Season 4, too. Especially as they mentioned a criminal/killer called the Jackal. It could be a nod to Jensen since Jared does call him Jackles often. Though, I don’t think Jensen's lack of hair cut is necessarily because of this. He’s grown it long between jobs before.

Of course, Jensen might not be on Walker ever, and could have changed his mind about wanting a role on there at some point, or Jared/other producers could have decided not to go that route, too. I can see reasons not to have him on from both of their career standpoints, though lots of actors do work with the same people more than once.

I know there are quite a few Walker fans who don’t want to see Jensen make an appearance, but I wouldn’t mind it. If he is on it, I have a feeling he and Jared wouldn’t share much screen time because they have both said it might hard to act together without playing Sam and Dean. (I think I remember this, anyway).

J2 certainly do seem to be up on their feels lately at cons about working together and how much fun they had. They might be thinking Supernatural revival thoughts, though.

Yes, right? The Jackal could totally have been with J. Ackles in mind. Could be a role that is fleshed out specifically for him, just like Beau Arlen in Big Sky wad.

During the big Covid hiatus Jensen grew his hair so long for Soldier Boy. During spn hiatuses (hiati? hiaty? Ah, damn it, during filming breaks) both let their hair and beards grow, because (I think) they enjoyed the opportunity to not having to shave and such. But at the recent convention I got the impression that Jensen doesn't enjoy his long hair all that much and can't wait to cut it. That's what has me thinking that he is letting it grow for a specific role. Let's just hope this role is on Walker.

I agree that from a career standpoint there could be reasons for Jensen not to work on Walker (as an actor). But I feel like even if they would consider those reasons, both J's would ultimately say "screw it, I want to do this, so I will".

If this does come true, no matter how much screen time they share, I'm sure we can expect some nice spn Easter eggs. 😊

#walker #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #walkef speculation #my asks

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spnhunter4life · 1 year

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So Long Version 2 Chapter 1

Summary: Jenna and Dean have known each other since she was 9 and he was 11. Their fathers often hunted together, so they grew up in next door motel rooms, keeping each other company and watching out for Sammy. They were inseparable until their dads inevitably fought and stopped working together. Shortly after Sam left for college, her father had been killed on a hunt and his dad had been more and more distant, so they started hunting together. In a world where everyone has a tattoo of their soulmate’s name that appears somewhere on them on their 16th birthday, it took them a ridiculous amount of time to figure things out.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: To those of you who have been following my fic So Long, this is the second version I promised. This is going to be the exact same story just written in chronological order instead of jumping around, so people can choose which way they prefer to read it.

Series Masterlist

It was the second day at this school in South Dakota. Dad and John had gotten a call from Bobby about a possible ghost problem a few towns over from Sioux Falls and so here we were. All the moving around never got any easier. Just when I started to really get to know the friend or two that I made, we had to pack up and move on again.

Ages 14 and 15

October 15, 1994

I was eating lunch with three other girls. Kristin and Liz were sitting on one side of the table and Carly was sitting next to me on the other side, the rest of the table empty. I was appreciative of the three girls who had noticed the new girl sitting by herself yesterday and come over to keep me company. This is how it usually went. As a fairly introverted person, any friends I made were the result of the other people approaching me, not the other way around.

“Can you believe the amount of homework Mr. Cohen assigned us today?” Carly was complaining. “I don’t know how I’m going to have time to get it all done!”

“No kidding,” Liz joined in. “Does he not realize that the other teachers are all giving out homework too, not just him?”

“He gave us a week to get it done,” Kristin reminded them. “You can do a little every day. It’s not like it all has to be done tonight.”

“Says the overachiever who’s never missed an assignment or gotten a grade lower than an A her whole life,” Liz teased.

“What do you think Jenna?” Carly asked me. “You said you’ve moved around a lot. Would any of the teachers at your other schools hand out this much homework at once?”

“I mean, it’s definitely a lot to be given at once, but I guess I wouldn’t say it’s too much. Like Kristin said, we do have a week to do it. So, I guess I would consider it a reasonable amount,” I concluded.

Carly and Liz both had little frowns of disagreement on their faces, but they dropped the subject, moving on to the much more exciting – in their minds, anyway – topic of Snow Queen. This new conversation had only just started, Carly asking the other two what they were going to wear when I saw Liz’s eyes widen at something over my shoulders. Then she was leaning in, excitedly whispering.

“The hot new guy you were talking about is here,” she said excitedly to Carly. “Wow, you weren’t exaggerating.”

Carly turned to look at him and I saw Kristin peering around to see who they were talking about too. I didn’t need to look. I knew who it was. I sighed and kept eating. Sure enough, Dean soon walked past my line of sight, heading towards the dwindling lunch line. The girls were chattering about him, but I wasn’t really listening. Until I heard my name.

“Come on Jenna, didn’t you see him? Isn’t he, like, the best looking guy you’ve ever seen in your life?” Carly encouraged me to join in. Of course I agreed with her, but I wasn’t about to announce it out loud.

With a small smile, I said, “Well of course you guys would think so. In a school this small, anyone new is exciting.”

Liz scoffed. “Oh please. It’s not because he’s new. You did see him didn’t you? The guy in the leather jacket?”

“I saw him.”

“And you don’t think he’s attractive? At all?” Carly asked in disbelief.

I looked for him, saw that he was a little over halfway through the line, well out of hearing range, and sighed. I made a split second decision to tell them. Why not? It was rare that I got to talk about Dean this way. I had to keep all my feelings bottled up. It would be so nice to be able to let them out, and who better to talk to about it than a group of virtual strangers who would whole-heartedly understand and agree with me?

“Alright, fine. He’s the most attractive guy I’ve ever seen.” I agreed.

Carly was watching him as he made his way through the rest of the line. “Isn’t he though?” she sighed dreamily.

“It doesn’t really matter though,” I told the girls.

“What do you mean? This school is full of girls he’s never met before. Chances are he’ll be interested in at least one of them, so why not think that any of us could be her?” Liz asked, probably thinking she was making a great argument. And maybe it was a great argument. For them. They didn’t have all the information about me though.

“Doesn’t matter for me,” I told them.

“Because you move around a lot?” Kristin asked. “Long distance relationships are a thing you know. And besides, even if he never looks at us twice, there’s nothing wrong with appreciating the view.” She turned again to watch him as she said this.

“Moving isn’t the problem,” I mumbled just as Carly squealed, “I think he’s coming over here!” and Kristin quickly spun around in her seat to face forward again.

I looked up and saw Dean just steps away from our table, as Carly had said.

“Hey, Jenna!” He greeted as he moved around the table to sit beside me.

“Hi, Dean,” I answered, blood rushing to my cheeks as the mouths of the other three girls dropped open in shock.

“Is the food at this school any good?” He asked, eyeing the chicken strips, mashed potatoes, corn, and rice krispie bar they were serving today.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” I told him.

“Great,” he replied, digging in. “So how are you ladies doing?” He asked around a mouthful of food. I elbowed him in the side. “What?” he asked innocently. He knew I hated his awful table manners, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get him to stop.

“So, uh… you guys know each other?” Kristin asked.

“Umm… surprise?” I said unsurely.

“Is it though?” Dean asked. “I mean in a school this size doesn’t everybody know when there’s a new kid or two?”

“Of course,” Carly answered.

“And nobody noticed that Jenna and I showed up at exactly the same time yesterday?” He continued.

“Well when you put it like that I guess we really should have,” Carly answered. “But no, for some reason we did not realize. I actually didn’t even see you until today.”

“Actually, now that she mentions it, I didn’t see you either. And you definitely weren’t at lunch yesterday. Where were you?” I asked him. I had initially written it off as him having a different lunch period. We often did. But this school only had one lunch period for the entire high school. He should have been there.

“I was running errands for Dad,” he responded easily. I knew that meant he was helping with the hunt in some way. I don’t know why I was just finding out.

“Your dad had you running errands instead of being in school?” I asked him, frustrated. “And you didn’t tell me.”

“Who says I wasn’t in school?” He asked, mock offended, even though he obviously hadn’t been. “Besides, not all of our dads are as insistent on a good education as yours,” he told me. “And when you didn’t see me at lunch it should have been a clue that I was busy,” he joked.

“We rarely ever have lunch at the same time. It wasn’t unusual not to see you,” I countered.

“So,” Liz interjected, looking at me meaningfully, “aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Oh. Right. Guys this is Dean. Dean this is Kristin, Liz, and Carly,” I said, gesturing to each girl as I named them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said with his patented charming grin, the one guaranteed to make girls from all around the world stop breathing while they were caught in the intensity of it.

“How do you two know each other?” Kristin asked, looking back and forth between the two of us. The other two were looking and listening intently too and I noted the curious stares of several other people in the cafeteria. I mentally rolled my eyes, resigned to this new topic that would undoubtedly continue for a while.

This is what always inevitably happened. We moved to a new school. As the new girl, people would find me mildly interesting at best. I was mostly ignored except for a select few people who made an effort to be welcoming. And then people found out that I was somehow involved with “the hot new guy” as he was usually known. Dean would wave at me or talk to me in the hall, someone would see us getting into the same car after school, or in today’s case, he sat with me at lunch. Then I became interesting. People wanted to get to know me in order to get to know him.

“Our dads work together,” Dean answered for me, stealing the rice krispie bar from my tray.

“Hey!” I protested.

“What? You hate these things,” Dean said. He wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah, but you could have asked instead of just taking it,” I mumbled petulantly.

“Why do I have to ask to eat something I know you’re not going to eat anyway?”

“Well it would be the polite thing to do,” I told him sternly. He just scoffed and took a bite.

“So you guys move around a lot,” Kristin started, continuing her line of questioning, “and it’s just you two and your dads?”

“And my brother Sam,” Dean replied through another mouthful of food.

“Ok, I know we were more out of the loop than we should have been with you, but I swear there isn’t a third new kid here. There’s no way we would have missed that,” Carly insisted.

“Nah, you wouldn’t have heard about him,” Dean told her. “Sammy’s in middle school.”

“Well thank goodness I haven’t lost it completely,” Carly joked.

“How long have your dads been working together?” Kristin asked.

“What’s it been? Five years now?” Dean mused, looking to me for confirmation.

“Yeah, probably pretty close to that, I’d say,” I said.

I saw Kristin open her mouth to ask another question when the five minute bell rang. We all hurried to dump our trays and get to class.

~~~~~

It was about ten minutes into art class an hour later, and I was trying to find the right mix of colors to blend together for the shade of blue I wanted. We were working on landscapes this week, using oil pastels.

I’ve found that art classes can be quite tedious or a lot of fun, depending on the teacher. I liked this one. She was pretty relaxed, giving everyone the assignment and then letting them do whatever they wanted within the parameters of the project. She was also completely fine with students talking throughout the whole class as long as they were still getting work done.

“So,” Liz started. We sat beside each other and I had been waiting for this. The questions about Dean would start now. Things he liked to do or watch or eat, what kind of girls he was usually interested in, that sort of thing.

“You and Dean seem pretty close.” She worded it as a fact, but her tone trailed off in a questioning way.

“Yeah, I suppose you could say that,” I responded warily. I’d found the correct combination of colors I wanted and started working on the sky.

“And you guys are just friends? Nothing more?” She asked, unconvinced.

“We’re just friends,” I told her, already ready for this conversation to be over with.

“But why?” She wondered out loud as she grabbed a red oil pastel from the box between us. I felt my forehead wrinkle in confusion.

“Why what?

“Why aren’t you guys together?” She explained. “I mean, you’ve known each other for years, you apparently travel around the country together, you practically live together-”

“We don’t live together,” I quickly interjected. There had been a quick conversation in the hall about our living situation when Carly asked if Dean and I lived together. Luckily the five minutes between classes left just enough time to explain the situation without having to be questioned about it too thoroughly. “We’re always in separate motel rooms. It’s more like living in the same apartment building I suppose.”

“I said practically,” Liz quipped. “And that’s not the point.”

“Then what is?” I sighed, using a paper towel to blend my sky colors together.

“The point is…” she started, pausing to find the right words. “Well, everything I already said!” She finally settled on. “You said you guys move around a lot. I imagine always being the new kids makes you even closer with the one person you actually know,” she said.

“I have Sam too,” I reminded her.

“You mean Dean’s little brother? The one in middle school?” She snorted. “Yeah, that’s exactly the same thing.”

“It is the same thing,” I insisted. “Our dads aren’t around much so we’re all pretty close.”

Liz looked at me like I was unbelievably stupid.

“I feel like we’re having two separate conversations here. Do you really not get where I’m going with this?” She asked.

“You’re trying to be absolutely sure that we’re not dating and Dean’s single, right? Well I’m telling you that we’re not dating. Can we drop it now?” I asked, irritated.

“No, we can’t drop it,” she countered. “That’s not where I’m going with this at all.” She let out a frustrated breath before continuing. “You said at lunch that he was the most attractive guy you’d ever seen.” She said pointedly.

“No I didn’t,” I denied, grabbing a white oil pastel to add in some clouds. “Carly said that.”

“And you agreed,” Liz said. “Look, I’m not trying to embarrass you,” she continued when she saw my blush. “I’m just trying to understand. I only saw you guys together for a few minutes today and it seemed pretty clear to me that you’re really close. So why aren’t you together?”

“He’s not…” I started to say, cutting myself off. Liz waited patiently for me to sort my thoughts. “He doesn’t see me that way,” I told her.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

I frowned, thinking about all the girls he was always flirting with.

“I’m sure.”

“Well… I think you might be wrong,” she said decisively. And then, before I could object, “Tell me about him.”

“What do you want to know?” I asked.

“Anything you want to tell me,” she said. “Isn’t it nice to get to talk about him like a normal teenage girl talking to her friend about the guy she likes? Not as the friend that can give other interested girls tips?”

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I shouldn’t have just assumed.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’m sure you had a reason. So? What’s he like?”

I thought about it. What was Dean like? I spent the rest of the hour-long class telling her about the wonderful guy I spent most of my time with. I started out a little hesitantly, but by the end I was excitedly answering any question she threw my way. She was right. It was almost freeing to have this discussion with her, to put my feelings out into the world instead of keeping them trapped inside. When the bell rang, signaling the end of class, I was feeling lighter than I had in a long time.

Dean’s POV

Ages 14 and 16

January 24, 1995

I stared at the ceiling, willing myself to find the energy to get out of bed. I heard Sam moving around, getting ready for school, but I couldn’t bring myself to do the same. I knew that by the end of the day I would have letters inked into my skin. Letters that spelled out my soulmate’s name. I had no illusions about my family’s lifestyle and what it would mean for my soulmate. It would be a bittersweet moment, finally learning her name, but knowing I could never allow myself to be with her, to put her in that kind of danger.

With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I rubbed my eyes before standing up and starting to get ready for the day. I had decided I wasn’t going to look for the tattoo. I would put it off for as long as I could and see it whenever I happened to stumble upon the patch of skin it showed up on.

~~~~~

It had been a pretty good morning. My anxiety had faded to the background when a smiling Jenna came into our room with bacon, eggs and toast for breakfast. It wasn’t elaborate by any means, but it was more than we usually had and the fact that she took the time to make it for us, for me, made it that much more special.

The two of them had given me the gift they picked out right away this morning when an excited Sam decided he couldn’t wait until after school. He halfway disappeared under the bed for a few seconds, wiggling his way back out with a box clutched in his hands. He proudly handed it to me and then watched in eager anticipation as I opened two new movies, Jumanji and Batman Forever.

“Now we have something to watch for movie night too!” He exclaimed. I thanked them both and then we headed to school, Jenna’s dad dropping us off.

Now I was sitting in the locker room, changing back into my regular clothes after gym class. I had opted out of a shower, not wanting to find my tattoo in this miserable place, surrounded by strangers I would have to guard my reaction around. I had my foot up on the bench I was sitting on, switching out my sweaty socks for a dry pair, lost in my thoughts when I heard someone to my left snicker and say, “Isn’t Jenna your sister?”

My head whipped around to look at Matt, the guy who had spoken. He was a sophomore like me, and while he wasn’t wildly popular, he sure thought he was something special. “What?” I snapped. My protective instincts flared up. We had only been at this school for a week, but I was well aware of how attractive Jenna was, and if this kid thought he was going to try something, he had another thing coming. “Why?” I asked, failing to keep the suspicion out of my voice.

“Didn’t the two of you show up around the same time? And I’m pretty sure I’ve seen the two of you coming to school in the same car,” he mused. “So you must be her brother. That’s gotta be pretty awkward. Unless you know another Jenna?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” I snapped.

“Dude, don’t they have different last names?” Chimed in a freshman whose name I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure if I should be grateful for or irritated by his input. “So unless they have different dads or something… I don’t think they’re related.” Irritated, I decided. He hadn’t said anything offensive, and his analysis wasn’t wrong, but I found I didn’t like the way he was obviously looking for Matt’s approval.

“Really? How do you know that?” Matt asked. Without waiting for a reply, he continued. “Well that’s a relief I suppose. It would be pretty weird if your sister was your soulmate,” he laughed. “Too bad though,” he continued, having gained the attention of most of the locker room. “She’s not half bad looking. I might ask her out anyway, see what she really thinks about her pathetic, loser soulmate.”

I clenched my jaw. Having lived in tight quarters for years, Jenna and Sam had learned to back off at this, that it meant I was seriously pissed off. Matt had the misfortune of not knowing me so well. “Leave her alone,” I warned. I had managed to keep my temper so far, but if he actually made a move on her, all bets were off.

“Don’t worry,” Matt drawled on. “I’ll test her out for you. Let you know if she’s actually worth your ti-”

Before he even realized I was moving, I had crossed the couple of steps to him, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and shoved him back into the lockers. “I don’t know what you’re even talking about,” I seethed, “but you better stay away from her or I’ll make sure that my pathetic loser face is the last thing you see before I put you in the hospital.”

I turned away from him and, after taking a step, ducked, effectively dodging the punch I had seen him getting ready to throw. I spun back around and landed a solid punch to his face before grabbing my shoes and storming out of the locker room. It wasn’t until I was sitting in the bleachers lacing up my boots that I saw it. Inked into the skin of my left ankle was her name.

JENNA

Walking down the hall with the only friend I’d made at this school in the three weeks we’d been here, I laughed at the story she was telling about her brother and his mishap with a pair of scissors and a desire for a new haircut. I was about to counter with a story about Sam and Dean’s latest prank war and a bottle of shampoo when I stopped in my tracks.

Ages 14 and 16

February 5, 1995

“What’s wrong?” Abby asked, confused. She looked to where I was staring and understanding crossed her face. “You kind of like him, right?”

That was a bit of an understatement. I ‘kind of like him’ the way an alcoholic ‘kind of likes’ their drink of choice, the way a fish ‘kind of likes’ the water.

I knew how ridiculous it was to pine for a guy who saw me as a friend at best, more likely sister, but I couldn’t seem to convince my stupid heart to get over it. I managed to close my slightly open mouth and look away from where Dean was making out with the head cheerleader.

“He turned sixteen a couple of weeks ago. You don’t think she’s…” I stopped, not able to complete that thought.

“His soulmate?” Abby finished. “I don’t know. Maybe. He didn’t tell you what her name is? You guys live together don’t you?”

“No.” I said vaguely, lost in thought.

“No… what?” she asked.

“Sorry,” I sighed, giving her my full attention. “No, he didn’t tell me what name showed up. He’s kind of private. Doesn’t like talking about anything involving feelings. And yeah, I guess we kind of live together. Our dads work together, so we end up moving to the same places a lot.”

“Well there’s really no reason to think she’s the one. Just because he has his soulmate’s name now doesn’t mean he won’t be interested in anyone else until he meets her,” she reasoned. I must not have looked convinced because she continued. “Is this typical for him? I mean, does he usually flirt and go on dates and occasionally show a little too much PDA?” She asked, wrinkling her nose as she looked in their direction again.

“All the girls are always interested in him. And he definitely notices. And likes it. So yeah, this is pretty typical I guess,” I told her.

“Ok, well then I definitely wouldn’t worry about it. If he didn’t usually do this type of thing, then I’d say there was likely a reason for the sudden change in behavior. But if it’s normal, then don’t read anything into it.”

I knew she was right, and even if she wasn’t, I had no reason to be jealous. In a year and a half, I’d get my own soulmate’s name. If I hadn’t moved on by then, hopefully that would be enough to convince my traitorous heart it wasn’t meant to be.

Chapter 2

#supernatural #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #original characters #original female character #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester x soulmate ofc #soulmates #soulmate au #so long v2

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dragonmasterkaylz · 10 months

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Let’s Talk about Metatron!!!

Well… um—

“Why are you talking about me behind my back?!”

…

…..

No!!! I know I’m talking about YOU!!! Deanmon, I choose you!!!

Anyway… I’m talking about Metatron from Good Omens. Now, if watching Supernatural has taught me ANYTHING… it’s that Angels are just as bad as Demons! They love meddling, creating wars, need I go on?! And in Good Omens, I don’t see much of a difference, especially in season two. Granted, Gabriel doesn’t have his memories so he’s just a shell of the Angel he used to be. Aziraphale’s job is to make sure that the human race is okay and that nothing bad is happening. The same is said for Crowley, but his job is to meddle in human affairs and to make them succumb to their own temptations. … Right…?

“Pretty much sweetheart”.

NO!!! NOT YOU— but you can stay. I like you~!

ANYWAY… the sudden appearance of Metatron in the sixth episode of season two made me feel very uneasy. Now, let’s just move onto Supernatural for a second. Metatron is the Scribe of God and he has a very important role— sorry… had a very important role. Eventually, he wants to control Heaven since Chuck isn’t around and causes the Angels to Fall, killing some of them in the process. He strips poor Castiel of his grace, turning him into a regular human being. In a desperate attempt to save his brothers life, Dean asks one of these Angels to take over Sam and heal him from this inside. This Angel is called Ezekiel… but then later turns out to be Gadreel, an Angel that follows Metatron. When Castiel comes back to the Bunker, after being found by Dean, he is immediately told to leave as his presence alone is making Gadreel very paranoid. And so, the two are separated, yet again! Later down the line, Metatron kills Dean, which turns him into a Demon because of the Mark of Cain. He tells Castiel this and the poor Angel is left… heartbroken, even though Metatron is no longer in charge of Heaven and Castiel is.

Now, to the sudden appearance of Metatron in Good Omens. He seems like a good guy and he probably just wanted to give Aziraphale the offer of an Angels Eternal Life! We don’t know his true motives yet, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. But when our beloved Angel asked him what he was tasked with, his face dropped. The ‘Second Coming’ is basically when Jesus Christ returns to Earth. And from how Aziraphale acted, it’s either not a good thing or it’s just a very difficult task for him to carry out. Maybe he thinks there’s just too much weight on him and that’s why he looked very uncomfortable as soon as Metatron told him what it was. However, something seems very calculating about this new Metatron….

He told Aziraphale that he could ask Crowley to join him and that he has the power to turn him back into an Angel. He asked Aziraphale to do this, instead of asking the Demon himself, which he could’ve done! But he didn’t. Which brings to me to think that he could’ve known that Crowley wouldn’t have agreed to it… because when Aziraphale told him the news, Metatron did seem to know that Crowley was more of a lone wolf. Did he purposely make Aziraphale ask him so the two would argue and part ways on a bad note? Did he want Aziraphale and Crowley to part ways so Heaven and Hell would officially have no connection to one another? Because with Gabriel and Beelzebub gone, they only had one couple tying them together. Crowley and Aziraphale. Hell was very much convinced that Crowley was only using him to get information out of him, that’s why I’m suggesting this. Did he want to sever that forever, so that a war between the two factions could happen? Because if the two are no longer partners and with Crowley on his own, no one can object. So here’s my question:

I think the only way we’ll know the answer to this question is by waiting for season three to come out, and watching it. Personally, I cannot live with that ending!!! It’s almost as bad as when Castiel told Dean that he loved him and then was taken by the Empty!!!

“Kayleigh… please stop reminding me…!”

DEAN!!! I’M SORRY FOR BRINGING IT UP AGAIN!!!

Why am I bringing Supernatural into this, you ask? Well, because I can! Also, because my silliness knows absolutely no bounds. Hehe~! 😋

You can agree with me or disagree with me. But I haven’t trusted a single Angel in Good Omens, apart from our hot chocolate loving Aziraphale. Please let me know if I was wrong on any of the points I’ve made by the way and if I am, I’m so sorry.

End of Kayleigh’s Rant

#good omens #supernatural #metatron #good omens metatron

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narrynukezankielover · 4 months

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Got to say they don’t put enough Cas in Supernatural. Misha is adorable and an amazing actor yet they didn’t use him enough. Next I’m not as pissed off either Sam as I was now knowing he had no soul (beginning of season 6). I was extremely pissed at him for takeing a year to tell Dean he had been back from hell but now knowing he can’t help but not care I’m not as pissed at him. I hate Sam anyway so I’ll always have a reason to be a little pissed at him.

It’s funny to see the difference between how Cas talks to Dean versus Sam especially when they are mad at each other in the conversation. In the scene where Dean gets Cas there because he thought some heavenly instrument was in town (I’m sorry I can’t remember ep numbers or names). Dean started yelling at Cas but after 3 years of knowing Dean Cas didn’t take it personally and just poured him a drink. All of a sudden Dean softened up. He then just asked Cas what was going on. Yet when Sam got Cas to earth by lying to him you can tell Cas didn’t want to deal with him. Then Sam threatening him made Cas go back to the way he was in early season 4. He got right in Sam’s face called him boy and made sure Sam knew he wasn’t afraid of him.

Cas and Deans reaction to Sam saying Cas and Sam are friends was hilarious. Cas head tilt was a you just threatened my life and now you’re saying we’re friends?

This is definitely a look of you’re friends? Since when?

I also love how they are showing Cas and Dean are a team now. When they are interrogating someone usually it’s one of them that is doing all the questions and then the other will pick up for them. Like when they were trying to figure out what was wrong with Sam and Cas was asking him a lot of questions Dean told Sam to answer whatever Cas asks him. It’s also great to see that Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to help Sam by himself and let someone else take over. I feel like earlier seasons Dean wouldn’t have done that. Like he would’ve thought he could do it all himself. It’s nice to see Dean changeing and learning. Same as when Cas was asking Crowley if he could help get Sams soul back Dean yelled at Crowley to answer him and when Dean was asking the angel in the oil fire (there is no way I’m going to spell his name right so I’m not trying. It’s the angel at the beginning of the season I think ep 3. Cas thought he was dead but he faked his own death) Dean was asking him questions and Cas yelled at him to answer Dean. I read a while ago someone said that the first time Cas seen Dean as Dean and not his soul was when Cas became human but if in that ep Cas had to reach into Sam to figure out what was wrong obviously he can’t see their souls. Am I missing something or is that maybe something that changes later on?

I seen Cas being jealous back in season 4 when Dean kissed Anna but I’ve been waiting to see Dean being jealous of Cas. I finally got to see it. Meg flirting with Cas really got to Dean.

This is a pissed off Dean look. You can tell he’s really trying to control himself.

This is a how dare you kiss my angel look.

After Cas and Meg kiss Dean goes from did you really just do that?

To she looked satisfied. Cas is a good kisser? In less then 2 seconds. I have been waiting for the pizza man episode and it was great.

When Dean said he was going to give Cas an hour with Meg and Cas said what for? At first I thought he just didn’t know about sex but he does know. He said before that other angels do it he just never had the opportunity. So now I’m thinking it was Cas makeing sure Dean knew he don’t want to have sex with her.

#castiel #dean winchester #cockles #dean x castiel #destiel

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deaneverafter · 2 years

Text

In a Million Memories

By Anastasie Denholm

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Everlie (OFC)

Chapter summary: Dean dreams more dreams he can't remember and stumbles closer to... something.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of hell, mentions of prison, violence and injuries

Length: 6648 words

Notes: I hurt my own feelings writing this.

Song: The Wreck of Our Hearts by Sleeping Wolf

Series Table of Contents

Chapter Six: The Wreck of Our Hearts

We were drifting all night, losing hold of the light. But I saw in your eyes, I was never alone. He had never felt more alone.

He’d just been sent back from the past, seeing his parents for the second time. Failing to save his parents a second time. She sat there on the shabby armchair, waiting for him. They’d decided that they couldn’t be together, not now, not with everything that was going on. But he didn’t care about anything right now, and he knelt on the floor in front of her, pulling her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. He let the tears he’d been holding back fall. He didn’t care that Sam and Castiel were in the other room, waiting to make some sort of plan. He didn’t care that they could probably hear him sobbing.

He cried and cried and she let him. She just held him in her arms, running soothing hands down his head, his back, anywhere she could reach. It struck him that it wasn’t fair to her, not when he’d been the one who’d told her they couldn’t be together. But as if she’d heard his thoughts, she held him just a bit tighter, pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and he didn’t think she cared about anything he’d done.

He thought back to what Michael had said. His father had let the archangel take control of him to save his mother. If the situations were the same, if it were her who’d been in danger, he would’ve said yes too. Well, at least, that would’ve been his instinct. But he couldn’t, not when the fate of the whole world depended on him saying no. That was just another reason they couldn’t be together. It would make it that much easier for his enemies to know how he felt, make things that much more dangerous for her. Even now, the angels could be watching. The thought made him tense.

“I’m okay,” he mumbled so quietly only she could hear and leaned back. “I’m okay now.”

They both knew he wasn’t.

But she wiped his tears anyway, and they walked out to the main room, where the others were idling, feeling just as scared as them. They talked, discussing their options, but there weren’t many. Eventually, the angel left and the three hunters got a pizza from the shop one block over and ate it in silence.

As the sun set, Sam went to the local university library, to look in the special collections, to find something, anything he could. He’d heard there were some ancient books preserved there. Dean knew he should offer to help, but more than one person breaking in would make things harder. And the trip had exhausted him. It had taken more out of him than Sam. He didn’t know if it was because he was just sentimental, or if it was the blurred memories of his parents that he had and Sam didn’t, before Mary had burned. So he lay in the bed, trying to quiet his mind. It wouldn’t. He could hear her moving around in the living area, partitioned off by a screen and wondered what she was doing. He didn’t have to wonder long.

“Scoot over,” she said and put down two mugs on the table beside the bed before plopping down next to him. She reached over him and picked up the remote. “Indiana Jones marathon.”

Dean sat up with a sigh, but it wasn’t weary. It was as if he could properly breathe again for a moment, having her next to him. She handed him a mug.

“This isn’t coffee,” he said sniffing it.

“No, Dean, it’s hot cocoa,” she said.

“What am I, twelve?” he joked.

“What, only children deserve nice things?”

His face fell, remembering the things he had seen by the time he was twelve.

“Hey,” she cupped his cheek and turned his face towards her. “I know that was bad, okay. I can’t even imagine how that felt like for you. I know how it felt like for me, thinking that Mary would actually leave, and I’d lose you. And then I didn’t, and maybe it makes me selfish, but a part of me is so relieved it makes me sick. So give me this, okay? I just want to know you’re here right now, that’s all I care about. So we can watch the movie, or you can yell at me and tell me that you hate me for feeling relieved. Or you can tell me how much you hate the world and the angels and how angry you are, and I’ll listen. Just, tell me what you need.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said. “I could never, you know that. And it wasn’t you who stopped Mom from leaving. I know you hated that plan, but you didn’t try to stop it.”

She smiled sadly in response. He thought about what he needed.

“So, when does this marathon start?” he asked, taking a sip of the chocolaty beverage.

As they settled back against the headboard, her head tucked into the crook of neck, he thought he could live his whole life like this. No monsters, no killing. Just him and her. Sometime during the night, he grabbed her hand. When they woke, he slowly let go, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stay away. And then he’d be the death of her.

***

Even when it got hard, when the shore was too far, even there in your arms, I have always been home. The song kept playing. Dean kept dreaming dreams he wouldn’t remember.

Two weeks. It had taken him all of two weeks after waking up in a pine box, to tell her everything. He had fallen asleep, and been dreaming again, waking up to her gently shaking him. The closed book on the couch had told him that she had been up reading. Or perhaps she stayed awake because she had anticipated him falling into a nightmare again. He’d looked over and seen that Sam was asleep. He hadn’t wanted to wake him. In truth, he hadn’t been ready to tell him the things he had been about to tell her. Not yet anyway. It had felt like maybe he’d never be. He’d gotten out of bed and grabbed his keys and jacket, her trailing behind with a shawl. He’d driven. For what felt like forever, and not long enough at all. Parking near a cliff, as if afraid that walls had ears – sometimes they did –, he’d gotten out. And then, without looking at her, he’d said everything. Everything that had happened to him in hell, the way they had torn apart his flesh, burnt it, over and over and over again. The way they’d twisted his mind and his heart. And everything he had done in hell, the way he had turned around and tortured other souls.

When he’d finally looked up at her, tears streaming down his face, he’d expected to see anger, disgust. Almost wanted to. He thought he deserved it. But he had seen none of that. She’d told him it wasn’t his fault. That he held out longer than anyone else could have. That what he deserved was to forgive himself. And as he’d sat there on the hood of his car with his hands clasped with hers, he had thought that he could almost believe it. Almost.

But the nightmares kept coming, and those memories kept gnawing at his insides. And then she’d heard him tell Sam that nothing could ever make it better. He’d quietly walked back to the car after, and they’d driven off. And now he could feel her eyes on him, worrying. He wished he could do something to make that worry go away, but he didn’t know what it was.

Eventually, they checked into a motel for the night and Sam went to get food, leaving them alone in that mountainside motel. Sitting at the table, he could feel in the way that she was fidgeting and pacing that she wanted to say something, but as she leaned against the counter in the makeshift kitchen, he never expected the words that came out of her mouth next.

“I can make you forget.”

“Sweetheart,” he smirked, teasing, meaning to joke off the suggestion. “I’m sure you could. Don’t you think you should buy me dinner first though?” Neither of them had talked about their declarations from before he’d gone to hell yet. For her, it had been four months, but for him, it had been more than four decades. It hadn’t changed the way he felt about her, he knew nothing could. If anything, it had intensified things. All those years of longing, regret, thinking about wasted time, thinking about how he would never see her again, the small hope that he pointedly ignored that maybe one day he somehow would. No, hell hadn’t changed his feelings for her, but it had changed him. And with everything going on, he wasn’t ready for that conversation yet. Wasn’t ready to forgive himself, accept that he could have that, putting her in even more danger. And in that particular moment, the biggest reason for his response was that he didn’t want her to do something just to make him feel better. He wouldn’t use her like that. Couldn’t.

“What?” she asked, confused for a minute. “Dean, not like that!”

He’d pulled a face. “Should I be offended at how vehemently you just said that?”

“Dean, would you stop joking for a minute? I’m serious. There’s a spell,” she said, pulling up a chair to sit down in front of him.

“A spell? Like, a memory spell?”

“Yes. To erase everything from hell. I can’t see you like this, Dean, in so much pain.”

“Everlie, I’ve heard about these spells. Curses, actually, because I’ve only ever heard of witches doing it as an attack. They never end well. What if I forget how to do my job? What if I forget you or Sam?”

“They don’t end well because as you said, they’re often used as a weapon, to disable your opponent, and everything is erased. Or, in some cases, people use them because they want to erase a specific memory, and that’s not usually possible. To target one specific memory, or memories of a specific event, a specific person, you need an immense amount of power, or pay a terrible price, usually both. So people usually don’t attempt those, they try to erase a specific amount of time instead. Those spells, they can be tricky. They erase too much, or too little. With you, that’s not an issue. All those terrible memories were within those years that you were in hell. Isolated. I can just erase all that time.”

“So it’s not one of those spells that’s terrible or tricky. But there’s still a price, isn’t there?”

“Dean,” she sighed. “It’s worth it.”

“Ever, what is it?”

“I don’t have any magical artifact to draw power from, nor the kind of power a lot of witches draw from hell. All I have is my soul. So, I can’t actually erase the memories.”

“What does that mean, you said that’s the whole point.”

“I can only transfer them.”

“Transfer them?” he asked, incredulous. “So what, some poor sap out there suddenly becomes plagued by these memories?”

“Not some poor sap, no,” she said. “Me.”

His blood ran even colder than it had a moment ago. “Do you really expect me to let you do this? To put you through that, just so I can be okay?”

“No, Dean, I didn’t really,” she said sadly. “I just don’t know what else I can do.”

“You do plenty,” he said, grabbing her hand in his. “You’re here. That’s enough.”

“Dean, I can see what the memories are doing to you. You don’t talk about it, not since that one time, and I won’t push, but you just sit there with all your guilt, you don’t let yourself off the hook, let yourself forgive the things you had to do to survive. Something has to give, or it’s like you’re still in that pit,” she sobbed.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said resolutely. “I’ll come to you when I feel like talking could help. I promise. And I’ll try. I’ll try to forgive myself. If you think I’m not that bad, hey, maybe you’re right. And you promise me that you’ll stop feeling like you’re not doing enough, stop thinking up these schemes that could hurt you.”

“Okay,” she said tearfully.

“Okay? Come here,” he pulled her onto his lap and into a hug. They both knew neither would be able to keep those promises. But they were going to try anyway.

When they finally broke apart, just a little, still sitting together in that one chair, she had a look on her face he couldn’t decipher.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours now?”

“Do you want to hear something funny?”

“Hm.”

“The most powerful memory related spells? They’re not the ones where memories being erased is the goal. They’re the ones where memories are the price. In magic, memories are seen as some of the highest sacrifices. It’s why they make for such powerful spells.”

“That’s not funny, Chevy,” he chuckled wryly. “It’s ironic.”

***

There’s a cold empty room. There’s a windowless view. The words echoed in his head.

One week. It had been one week that he had spent in the custody of the government, for supposedly trying to kill the president. She had only escaped because he had forced her to, told her that someone needed to come rescue them.

Though by the end of the third day, he had no longer realistically expected to ever be free. But he knew she would never stop looking, so he’d held out hope. Unrealistically, too optimistically, he’d told himself. But the next morning, he had heard the cameras fritz and there she had been, standing in the cell with him.

“Dean,” she’d hugged him, but let go too quickly. “I was so worried, Cass couldn’t find you, I didn’t know what to do. But then I did. We have to go.” She’d grabbed his arm and was about to teleport away, but he had stopped her.

“What do you mean you did? What did you do?”

“We don’t have to talk about that right now, Dean.”

“Everlie.”

“Fine. It was a divination spell to find you, from one of the books that we are definitely not supposed to use.”

“What did it cost?”

“Thankfully, not a lot. Usually, the price to locate a separate entity is a life. Obviously, I wasn’t going to kill anyone. But, there was an exception. You can use it to locate something that’s a part of you. I figured, we did that spell years ago, before you went to hell. I thought maybe that would count. So I tried it, and it did. Don’t worry, I didn’t have to sell my soul or anything. Just, use a lot of energy, I’ll need a bit of time to recharge once we make it to the other side,” he had been able to tell she was only telling him that because he would never believe that there was really no price. If she had her way, she would’ve hidden how much it had cost her, because she knew how much he carried, how much he held himself responsible for. “Now can we go?”

“With you teleporting us out?”

“Yes.”

“No. The last time you did that, with luggage, you were in a coma for a month. I’m not doing that again, you’ve already made several trips coming here, you’d need to do more to get to Sam. And on top of that, the trips taking us both back, it’s too much. Even if you get me out, and Sam does the follow-your-kin ritual, paints the blood sigil like Henry did and follows me, gets out that way, that’s still too risky. We need another plan.”

“But Dean, that time, I’d already been burnt out by the time I’d done that,” she’d said. She’d been right. While bandaging Jo’s insides together, she’d healed the wounds. Not so much that either Harvelle woman had noticed, but enough that Jo could get to a hospital. She’d taken him aside after, and told him what she intended to do. A distraction was the only way any of them would be able to get out. He hadn’t wanted to separate, to let her put herself in that danger, but there hadn’t been a choice. She’d kissed him on the cheek, lingered, and then stepped outside the store. With the hellhounds on her trail, she’d ran, using every spell and trick at her disposal to lure the phantom dogs away, long enough that the women had gotten out to get help and the Winchesters had headed to the clearing. Dean hadn’t heard from her again, for hours, fearing the worst. Until she’d appeared in that clearing, just in the nick of time, and suddenly, him, Sam and her were in the abandoned alley where they’d left the car. She’d collapsed before she had a chance to open backseat door, him cradling her head a second before it cracked on the asphalt. She hadn’t woken for a month.

So he hadn’t budged and she’d gone back without him, even though it was clear to him that she’d had to fight every instinct in her body to do so. She’d promised to return the next day, and when she had, he could tell she hadn’t slept. She’d told him of the futile research she’d done and he had sat there, throwing ideas at her. For hours, they’d gotten nowhere close to an escape plan.

“The only way I’m getting out of here is dead,” he’d said in exasperation, until suddenly, the exasperation had turned into something else. “Hold on, we can get out of here if we’re dead.”

“Dean, that defeats the purpose of a rescue mission,” she’d said, baffled.

“Not if we come back.” He’d explained his plan, and asked her if there was a spell that could mimic death. There wasn’t, but there was a potion. It would take time, but it was the only plan they had.

So on the seventh day of his captivity, she had returned with two vials of the potion, and then waited by the road. It wasn’t until they were back at the bunker that Billie had shown up, raging about how at least one of them should’ve died, it was written in the books. She’d been killed, and that was just another consequence that it would fall upon him and his family to deal with later.

But right now, finally free after seven days in that ugly, sterile place, carrying his wife back to their room after she’d more or less fallen asleep on the kitchen table while eating, exhausted and drained, Dean wanted to think of nothing but how happy he was to be home.

***

There’s a me without you. But that’s not where I belong. Dean registered vaguely that he was dreaming about the day he’d found his father again for the first time since John had sent him off to work that case in New Orleans by himself.

Dean opened the door to their motel room and saw the shadowy figure standing by the window. It took him just a second to recognize it.

“Dad,” he said and rushed over to him. As he and Sam said their hellos, he could see Everlie out of the corner of his eye, standing back, still close to the door. Giving them their space. But before he had a chance to say anything, introduce her, they were under attack.

They escaped the demons, just barely, and were in the alley, deciding that they had to separate once more, when John finally broached the topic, and none too kindly.

“Dean, before I go, I’m going to ask, since when have you started taking in strays?”

“Dad!” his sons exclaimed simultaneously.

“What? This is something we have to keep in the family. This is our fight. No one else understands it and no one else can be involved in it.”

“I’d like to see you try and make me leave.”

“This is between me and my sons,” he said, addressing Everlie for the first time. “Dean, I expect more sense from you, son.”

“Dad, I’m not breaking up this team. She has our back. She has since we’ve hunted together, and more than that, I- I want her here.”

“What you want and what this family needs are two different things.”

“You can try and push me out. But then you’re going to lose Dean too,” she said.

“You think he’s going to pick some girl he just met over his family.”

“Hey, I’m not doing this, I’m not going to choose,” Dean said loudly.

“Probably not. But how do you think he will feel about you if you make me leave? And anyway, I’m not leaving him in this fight alone.”

“Who said you’d have a choice?”

For the first time since he’d known her, Dean saw a glint of coldness in her eyes that he hadn’t thought she was capable of. “What is your problem, exactly, John? You’re not here to watch Dean’s back yourself, but you have a problem with anyone else being there for him too. Why is that?”

“How dare you say I don’t have his back?”

“Well, there’s the fact that you forced a toddler into this life. Before he ever had a chance to make a choice. More recently, let’s talk about how when I met him, he had been hunting alone for weeks. Even an amateur such as yourself should know better than to force your son to work cases without backup,” she’d hit where it hurt and she’d done it on purpose. Dean knew he should ask her to stop, but he didn’t. She had been the only one who had ever put him first. He couldn’t demand that she do it selectively.

“Who are you calling amateur? I was hunting when you were still in your cradle.”

“Maybe. But my family comes from a long line of people who know this life,” she said. “The point is, your priority is killing the demon. That means anything and anyone else is collateral. I will not let Dean be collateral. Or Sam. Do you understand that? Go ahead. Order them to make me leave. See how that works out for you. See how they feel when you make them lose a teammate, yet another thing, after their childhood and the chance of a normal life.”

Dean waited for John to give that order, prepared his response, prepared the exact words he’d use to defy that order. It never came. It seemed John Winchester had recognized a losing battle, at least in this instance anyway, and backed off.

“Don’t come crying to me when she gets caught in the crossfires of the demon,” he said. Dean could see she wanted to say something more, but bit her tongue.

John said his goodbyes to his sons and sped off in the car. As Dean drove the Impala out of that dark alley, he couldn’t help but send a thank you to the higher powers he no longer believed in for sending her his way.

***

Through the waves of the deep, and the storms of the sea, I have you and you me, we’re not too far gone. Dean saw a glint, some sort of reflection in the windshield. Bloody Mary. Mary Worthington. No, they’d finally banished her. It was just his imagination. He wasn’t in the car, he was in his room, in his bed. He was dreaming, he realized. No, remembering. Remembering how he had felt as they’d driven off from that house, the guilt washing over him, once again. That was a long time ago. Dean wondered when he would be able to put that weight down. If ever. He’d forgiven himself, but his subconscious apparently had other plans. Or were the memories, trying to tell him something else?

He could tell that she’d caught the look on his face as he’d startled when a light had flashed by on the dark road, making him see things that weren’t there. Stopping at the motel, he dropped Sam and Everlie off, and went to get food. He went on foot, leaving the car in the parking lot and stopped for a drink first, before going to the diner. All the bad foods for him and Everlie, cheeseburgers and a container of macaroni and cheese, chilli fries, a coke and sprite, all the rabbit food for Sam. When he got back, dinner was solemn, the episode of Dr. Who that had been chosen as the entertainment for the night in his absence the only sound in that motel room.

“It’s my turn on the couch today, I guess,” Sam said as he plopped down with the extra pillows and a blanket.

“No, you can take the bed. I’m not tired, I’m going to go out for a while,” Dean said.

“Are you sure?” Everlie asked. “That one was hard, you could use some sleep.”

“Don’t worry, a post hunt celebration will be good,” he said. “Good night.” And then he exited the room. He’d been sitting on the bench doing nothing for about half an hour when she came outside, in her pajamas and a robe, and sat down quietly next to him. He found that he didn’t mind his solitary time being interrupted. Not when it was her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Honestly? No,” he said. “It’s the last thing I want to talk about. But, well, I probably should be taking my own advice and not holding it all inside, huh?”

“Probably,” she said, tucking her knees in against her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin there, letting him know she had no plans to leave him. “It’s good advice.”

He didn’t say anything right away and she let him take his time.

“It was the summer of 1999. Dad had sent me on a hunt in Oklahoma. Something was killing mothers and their newborns. I figured it out eventually. It was a spirit. It was going after people she thought were responsible for her child getting taken away and attacking them or their families. I got there just in time for the next target. But as I was trying to explain to the woman that we needed to leave, the spirit showed up in the baby’s room. I could hear it. I went and saved the baby, but when I got downstairs, the mother was already being attacked. I tried to help, but she yelled at me to save the baby. By the time I’d left the baby in the car with a salt ring around it and gotten back, it was too late. She was dead. And the spirit was banished for the time being, but it was still around. I hadn’t had time to burn the bones yet. So I did. I burnt those bones with that newborn in the car just a few feet away. And then I dropped it off at the hospital with a note that I’d found the baby on a park bench. The woman’s husband was alive still, I waited around to make sure the baby made it home safely. Then I left.”

“And now you feel like it’s your fault that she’s dead.”

“It is my fault that she’s dead,” he exclaimed.

“Dean, that’s not true. The spirit is the one who killed her.”

“I’m the one who failed to save her,” he said. “It wasn’t even her who had angered the woman. It was the husband, he was a doctor at the hospital, he’d called social services, and she had been declared unfit as a mother, it’s why her baby was taken away.”

“Dean, without you, both the mother and the baby would be dead,” she said putting a hand on his arm to comfort him. “You didn’t let someone die, you saved someone. That baby is going to grow up and have a life because of you.”

“Yeah? And what kind of life will it be?” he asked bitterly. “The mother is dead, the father is a doctor, a department head, he probably works long hours. Who’s going to be raising that child, babysitters who can’t really care? The daycare at the hospital? Who’s going to be there for that kid when he needs a parent?”

“It’s better than the alternative, isn’t it?” she asked sadly.

He didn’t know the answer. “I’m glad the baby is okay. I really am. But the fact that he’s going to grow up without a mother, that’s on me.”

They didn’t say anything for a while.

“Wait here,” she said eventually, springing up. After a few moments, she re-emerged with her laptop in hand. “Tell me the father’s name.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me.”

“Duke Crawford.”

She typed furiously at the keys, then paused and looked at a few things. He looked over her shoulder. There were articles. And his eyes roamed over the writing, well, it didn’t change the guilt he had felt, but it did provide him with some comfort.

“See? They’re okay. The dad has taken a step back from work, he seems super involved in the kid’s life, going to school events, all that sort of stuff. And you did that. You saved that kid and you saved that dad. Without you, that whole family would’ve been killed and broken. Dean, you’ve saved so many people, helped so many. I understand that it’s hard when you can’t save everyone, but you just can’t. And when you can’t, it is not your fault. None of this is your fault. You’re a good person, you’re a protector, you’ve sacrificed so much to help so many people. You’ve taken that responsibility which was never yours, but that doesn’t mean it’s on you when things don’t go as well as hoped. You make a difference anyway.”

He sighed heavily. Maybe she was right. “Thank you,” he said, putting an arm around her and giving her a squeeze. She curled up against him, as if on instinct, head on his shoulder. He didn’t mind, resting his temple against the top of her head. They stayed there like that until dawn.

***

So sing while we’re falling apart, I’ll take you dancing. His mind was hell bent on making him feel awful today, wasn’t it? Memories of fear and dread ran through him, leaving him feeling cold and clammy.

Dean put down the book that he had been reading, trying to find some way, any way, to defeat this evil. The clock struck midnight, however, and he looked over at Everlie.

“Do you remember what day it is?”

“How could I forget?” she said with such love in her eyes it made him want to cry.

“Let’s go somewhere, you and me.”

“Right now?”

“Time isn’t a luxury we’re guaranteed.”

She smiled sadly and nodded. Ten minutes later, they were driving down the road in his car. Quietly enjoying each other’s company, hand in hand. Eventually, Dean stopped the car. They were at a beach. It wasn’t the beach, but a beach nonetheless. They shed their shoes and sat by the water, watching waves upon waves crash in the silver moonlight. She held his arm as if she was afraid the water would drag him away, her head on his shoulder.

“Can you believe we made it this far?” he asked after a while. “On this day all those years ago, when I married you on that beach, I thought… maybe we’d get a few years. And then things would go to hell. And then I got sent to purgatory and I thought I’d never see you again. But then you got me and Benny out. And I thought maybe there’s hope for us yet. And then The Mark and Michael, and still, we made it through. But I think this might be it, Ever. And I’m scared.”

She squeezed his arm tighter and looked up at him. “Dean, I’m scared too. But we always make it, don’t we? We’ll make it through this too, we have to,” she said, pleading with him to not give up.

“I don’t know how we can,” he said honestly.

“There’s something I have to tell you, Dean,” she said, and she whispered something silently, and if he didn’t know what she was doing, he would’ve missed it. A cloaking incantation. Something to block out any supernatural eavesdroppers.

“That’s not going to stop someone like him,” he said, confused.

“No, but it’s the same as anything protecting the bunker. If he’s listening here, then he’s been listening at the bunker too,” she said, then paused, waited a moment for the spell to take. He could see a shimmer in the air around them.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she said finally.

“What doesn’t?”

“This whole puppet master, torture for pleasure business,” she exclaimed. “I mean, this is the person who was ready to die for the world just a couple years ago.”

“You’re saying he’s lying.”

“I’m saying I don’t know what’s happening, but something doesn’t add up.”

“Well, then, what are we going to do about it?”

“I don’t know, but promise me something,” she said. “Promise me that you won’t give up hope just because you think this is a fight we can’t win.”

He nodded. He didn’t know what the future was bringing, if there even was a future, but he was glad if he had to go through this, it was with her by his side.

Hours later, they walked back to the car.

“Dean, can I ask you something?”

“Hm.”

“Do you ever wonder if, I mean, do you ever doubt that we’re meant to be with each other? That it was just a setup?”

“No,” his answer was immediate, instinctual. He then registered the implications of her question. “Why, do you?”

“Never. Not even for a moment. I just had to ask, because, well, I know how you’ve been feeling like none of the choices were our own. So I just wanted to make sure,” she said sheepishly.

“None of my other choices might be my own, but loving you is. I’ve never doubted that.”

She smiled. “Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page about that, or this would be a super awkward anniversary,” she joked, before getting serious. “Dean, even if the things that were thrown at you, at us, were calculated and being manipulated… I don’t believe that our choices or actions were. Those are our own. They have to be. I need you to see that.”

He wanted to. He tried.

As he teetered on the edge of wakefulness, Dean thought about something from the previous year. Something, he couldn’t remember what, had alerted him to the fact that none of what was happening made sense. The revelations, the animosity, the hate so destructive it had threatened to take the whole world down with it. He realized he’d never figured out why that was. Billie had shown up and then everything had gone down too quickly to think about anything. And then he had been so happy to finally be free that he hadn’t wanted to pick at that thread. But now, he wondered, if there was still danger lurking beneath the surface. Sleep pulled him under before he could ponder anything else.

***

We've lived through the wreck of our hearts, and now we're just picking up the pieces learning how to see when, love is in the dark. A house just like the one he was in right now, with a calm street, and a normal job.

They’d driven out of that graveyard, but they didn’t know what to do next. At first, it had been an effort for him to make it through just each day. But Everlie had been there, and after a little while, they had gotten out.

So he got up every day and went to work at the fire station, and she taught classes at the local college, and occasionally, a hunter would call, and she’d provide them with any knowledge from the Men of Letters collection. He wanted to help; he really did. But after hours spent looking for a way to get Sam out of hell, he would just have no energy left for that. So they both looked everywhere they could, every opening to hell, every spell that could be used to break him out, anything. But slowly, they also started to heal. They had dinner together every night and they watched movies on the living room couch, and once in a while, they would even join a neighborhood party. The neighbors didn’t really know what to think of them; they hadn’t defined their relationship to them, but that was only because they hadn’t defined it to themselves. They had built a life for themselves together, but there were some lines they’d still been too afraid to cross. For the time being anyway.

But as Dean made his way home that day, the velvet box heavy in his pocket, he made himself a promise. He promised that no matter what happened, he wouldn’t let anything tear them and their lives apart. They’d find a way to bring Sam back, and then after that, they would be out, for good.

The weight of what he was about to do was clear to him. He knew how he felt and how she felt, and he felt whole enough that he no longer knew what they were waiting for. Granted, since they weren’t even officially dating, maybe going down on one knee wasn’t the brightest idea. But after everything they’d been through together, asking her if she’d like to go to dinner with him seemed… not big enough for what they were to each other.

So he held on to the box, touched his pendant for good luck, and unlocked the front door. That’s when he saw the blood smeared on the wall, and just as he crashed down to the floor, his vision blurring, the poison in his veins burning, so did the life they’d built for themselves.

Dean woke suddenly. He’d finally figured it out. Why he was dreaming about the family business, unnamed cloaked enemies, and the year he’d spent alone in Lawrence, before Sam had come back. It was a warning. He’d tried to have a normal life before, and then he’d had to leave that normal life. And here he was, trying to have that life again. Inevitably, there would be another world ending crisis and Sam would ask him to come back to the family business. The dreams were his subconscious warning him that it would happen. Reminding him how hard it was to get out and how easy it was to get sucked back in. Well, not this time. This time he wouldn’t let everything he’d worked for go to waste. He wasn’t delusional; he knew that he would never be completely safe, that it wasn’t as if no old enemy would ever come for him. They would. And he would defend himself, he wouldn’t just roll over. But he was no longer getting involved in things he didn’t have to. There were other people who could, who wanted to. He’d done his share, he’d earned some peace. This time, he was going to fight to keep the life he was building. That’s what the dreams were trying to tell him. Weren’t they...?

###

All rights to the characters and Supernatural belong to the original writers, but I've worked really hard on this, and I ask that this story please not be saved and/or copied to other places or sites.

Tagging: @deanwinchesterswitch, @siospins2

#in a million memories #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x original female character #dean winchester x happiness otp 💟#oof #i'm so behind schedule but here's the next chapter!

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