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Home | Supernatural Season 1 Episode 9 Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader
A/N:::: hi, I just want it to be known that I copy and paste the transcripts directly from the Supernatural Wiki. The way Missouri’s dialogue is scripted at some points is pretty problematic and perpetuates harmful stereotypes. I hope that this fic does not offend any of my POC followers and readers because that is the last thing I want to do. I’ve tried to change bits and pieces of her dialogue so that it does not come off offensively to anyone. happy reading, everybody :)
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader
Major Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader Sam Winchester, Missouri Moseley
Warnings: language, canon level violence, Dean and the reader being assholes to each other
Word Count: 5,703
Summary: On a trip to the Winchester’s hometown, a psychic helps the reader figure some things out about herself.
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“Alright,” Dean began. “I’ve been cruisin’ some websites. I think I found a few candidates for our next gig. A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali –- its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.”
You sat across the round motel room table from the older brother while Sam sat on his bed scribbling in a notebook.
“Hey--” Dean snapped his fingers in front of his brother’s face, causing him to lookup from his work, “--Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”
"No. I’m listening. Keep going.”
He clearly was not. He returned to drawing.
“And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times.”
When Sam was unresponsive, Dean waved his hand in front of Sam’s face. “Any of these things blowin’ up your skirt, pal?”
You chuckled, taking a sip from the coffee you had gone out to get earlier.
“Wait. I’ve seen this,” Sam said suddenly.
“Seen what?” you and Dean asked in unison.
Sam got up without answering and began going through the duffel bag on the floor next to you.
“Uh, whatcha got there, bud?” you questioned.
The brunet came up a moment later with a picture you could not quite catch a glimpse of. He held it up next to what he was scribbling.
“Dean, I know where we have to go next.”
“Where?”
"Back home –- back to Kansas.”
“Okay, random,” Dean remarked. “Where’d that come from?”
Sam turned the photo around to face you and Dean. It was a picture of the Winchester family from when Sam was a baby.
“All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?”
“Yeah.”
“And it didn’t burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?”
"I guess so, yeah.” Dean shook his head. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”
“Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy but….the people who live in our old house –- I think they might be in danger.”
“Why?” you asked.
“Uh…it’s just, um….look, just trust me on this, okay?” Sam started to walk away. Dean was quick to follow.
“Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?”
“Yeah.”
"Come on, man, that’s weak,” the older brother protested. “You gotta give me a little bit more than that.”
“I can’t really explain it is all,” Sam shrugged.
"Well, tough. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you do.”
The brunet sighed. “I have these nightmares.”
"I’ve noticed.”
"And sometimes….they come true.”
“What?” you chimed in, leaning forward in your seat.
“Look, guys….I dreamt about Jessica’s death –- for days before it happened,” he said reluctantly.
"Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” Dean sat down on his bed.
“No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it. And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”
Overwhelmed, the older Winchester responded, “I don’t know.”
Sam sat down across from Dean on his bed. “What do you mean you don’t know, Dean? This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica!”
"Alright, just slow down, would ya?” He stood up and began pacing. “I mean, first you tell me that you’ve got the Shining? And then you tell me that I’ve gotta go back home? Especially when….”
“When what?” Sam questioned.
Dean’s eyes flickered to you, almost looking as if he were ashamed of what he was about to say. “When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?”
Your brows sagged, your heart going out to the Winchester boys. You had lost your parents, too, but you were old enough to cope with it when you lost them and you understood all that was going on. Dean... he didn’t have those luxuries.
“Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure,” Sam told him softly.
“I know we do.”
Sam packed up his duffel and left the room wordlessly. You assumed he was headed to the car.
“Hey, Freckles?” you asked, standing up from your chair and sticking your hands in your back pockets.
He hummed, continuing to shove things into his bag.
“I know we just started bein’ friends and all--”
He chuckled, never once turning to look at you.
“--but if there’s anything you need while we’re there, I’m here.” You patted his shoulder.
“What, we’re on good terms for one day, and suddenly you’re my therapist?” he snapped.
You rolled your eyes. You assumed his attempt at a snippy joke was coming from a place of discomfort when talking about his feelings.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
***
Several hours later, Dean parked his beloved car in front of his childhood home. He let out a nervous puff of air.
“You gonna be all right, man?” Sam asked.
“Let me get back to you on that,” Dean replied.
You followed the boys up to the house. A young woman answered the door after Dean knocked on it.
The woman looked like one of the girls Dean would look to pick up in a bar. “Yes?” she answered, standing in the doorframe.
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal—”
One Winchester cut the other off. “I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean. We used to live here. You know, we were just drivin’ by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.”
“Winchester,” she tasted the name thoughtfully, “Yeah, that’s so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night.”
“You did?" Dean’s question sounded almost apprehensive.
“Yeah,” she grinned, her eyes finally moving over to you. “You a Winchester, too?”
“No,” you responded. “Just a friend. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”
"Nice to meet you, (Y/N). Come on in.”
You followed the boys in, taking a moment to breathe in the air of the home. You could picture a little Dean running up and down the stairs, and hear a crying Sammy in the kitchen. You bit your lip, knowing how painful this must be for the two boys.
A young girl sat at the kitchen table doing her homework, and a little boy was bouncing around in his play pen chanting “Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!”
“That’s Ritchie. He’s kind of a juice junkie,” Jenny smiled. She walked over to the fridge and pulled a sippy cup out before handing it to her son. “But, hey, at least he won’t get scurvy.” She headed over to her daughter. “Sari, this is Sam and Dean. They used to live here.”
“Hi,” she said meekly.
You waved with a tight-lipped smile.
“So, you just moved in?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, from Wichita.”
"You got family here, or….?”
"No. I just, uh….needed a fresh start, that’s all. So, new town, new job –- I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.”
"So, how you likin’ it so far?” Sam inquired.
"Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home –- I mean, I’m sure you had lots of happy memories here--”
Your eyes flickered to Dean, who smiled weakly.
“--But this place has its issues.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked the blonde.
"Well, it’s just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly,” Jenny explained.
“Oh, gee.” Your brows furrowed. “What else?”
"Um…sink’s backed up, there’s rats in the basement.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.”
Dean shook his head, taking no issue with her words. “No. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?”
"It’s just the scratching, actually.”
A small voice piped up next to Jenny. “Mom?”
Jenny kneeled next to Sari.
“Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”
"What, Sari?” Sam asked gently.
“The thing in my closet.”
"Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets.” Jenny turned to the Winchesters. “Right?”
"No, no, of course not.”
“She had a nightmare the other night.”
“I wasn’t dreaming. It came into my bedroom--” Sari paused, her voice becoming strained. “--and it was on fire.”
Sam and Dean immediately tensed up, too shocked to say anything.
You took over. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You’re okay now though, right?”
She nodded.
“See? It didn’t get ya. It was only a dream.”
You knew it wasn’t. A pit filled your stomach after saying your goodbyes to the family and heading out of the door.
“You hear that? A figure on fire,” Sam reminded you.
“And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?” Dean asked.
"Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit.”
“Yeah, well, I’m just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin’ true.”
“Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it’s the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?”
“I don’t know!” Dean responded.
The brothers were only making each other panic worse at this point.
“Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?” Sam inquired.
“Both of you need to calm down,” you told them, simultaneously getting in the car. “We’re gonna get those people safe. Whatever’s in there is not gonna hurt you or those people.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil,” Dean remarked.
You snapped into a more intense tone, leaning over the backseat. “Look, jackass, you’re gonna get your shit together. The two of you are only ramping each other’s emotions up. Now, you are going to get a grip or I will do this job on my own.”
Sam and Dean both nodded.
“You’re runnin’ low on gas, Freckles.” You patted Dean’s cheek before sitting back against your chair.
***
“We just gotta chill out, that’s all,” Dean said as he pumped gas.
“I’ve tried telling you that eighty times since we left that house.”
He ignored your snide comment. “You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?”
"We’d try to figure out what we were dealin’ with. We’d dig into the history of the house,” Sam sighed.
"Exactly,” the older brother began, “except this time, we already know what happened.”
"Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?”
"About that night, you mean?”
"Yeah.”
Dean paused. “Not much. I remember the fire…the heat. And then I carried you out the front door.”
You looked at the floor, knowing how hard this must be for him to open up.
“You did?” the younger Winchester asked.
"Yeah, what, you never knew that?”
"No.”
“And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do. Mom was….was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”
“And he never had a theory about what did it?”
“If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.”
"Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s goin’ on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing.”
You decided to add your two cents. “Yeah. We can talk to your dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”
Silence blanketed the three of you for a moment, the air seemingly heavy between you.
“Does this feel like just another job to you?” Sam piped up.
Dean kept quiet for a moment. “I’ll be right back,” he finally said. “I gotta go to the bathroom.” He walked away, and you watched him turn the corner around the gas station. He looked back for a moment, supposedly to see if anyone had followed him.
You furrowed your brows. You allowed a few minutes to pass before you announced to Sam, “I’m gonna go check on Dean.”
While you turned the corner, you saw Dean exiting the bathroom door. He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. When he noticed you, his expression turned sour.
“You stalkin’ me?”
“No, actually, I came to check on you.”
“Well, I’m fine.” He went to brush past you.
You grabbed his bicep. “Don’t lie to me.”
He stopped, looking you over. “I’m fine, (Y/N).”
“Then what’s this?” you gently brushed your first finger under his chin, picking up a tear he had forgotten to wipe away. You held it up for him to see.
Dean opened his mouth to say something before snapping it shut again. He pulled his arm out of your grip. “C’mon, let’s go.” He started walking away from you.
You caught up to him, asking, “Are you sure you don’t just want me to do this one by myself?”
He nodded sharply.
Sam gave you a curious look while Dean got in the car.
You shook your head before the two of you ducked into the Impala simultaneously.
***
The three of you had opted for going to Guenther’s Auto Repair where someone who might know something worked.
“So you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?” Dean asked the owner of the shop standing before you.
“Yeah, we used to, a long time ago. Matter of fact, it must be, uh…twenty years since John disappeared. So why the cops interested all of a sudden?”
“Oh, we’re re-opening some of our unsolved cases, and the Winchester disappearance is one of ‘em,” Dean lied.
“Oh, well, what do you wanna know about John?” The owner was apparently pained to talk about this given the way he deeply sighed.
"Well, whatever you remember, you know, whatever sticks out in your mind.”
"Well…he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that,” he chuckled. “And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It’s that whole Marine thing. But, oh, he sure loved Mary. And he doted on those kids.”
Your heart cracked a bit in your chest.
"But that was before the fire?” Sam questioned.
“That’s right.”
"He ever talk about that night?”
"No, not at first. I think he was in shock,” the owner of the shop replied.
"Right. But eventually? What did he say about it?”
"Oh, he wasn’t thinkin’ straight. He said somethin’ caused that fire and killed Mary.”
"He ever say what did it?”
"Nothin’ did it. It was an accident –- an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or somethin’. I begged him to get some help, but….”
"But what?” Dean jumped in.
"Oh, he just got worse and worse.”
"How?”
"Oh, he started readin’ these strange ol’ books. He started goin’ to see this palm reader in town.” The man shook his head while he spoke.
"Palm reader? Uh, do you have a name?”
He scoffed. “No.”
***
Sam had a phonebook open in his arms as he leaned against the car with you looking over his shoulder. The Impala was parked by a payphone that Dean was leaning against.
“Alright,” Sam began, “so there are a few psychics and palm readers in town. There’s someone named El Divino. There’s, uh–-" he laughed, “—there’s the Mysterious Mister Fortinsky. Uh, Missouri Moseley—”
"Wait, wait. Missouri Moseley?” Dean stopped his brother.
"What?”
"That’s a psychic?”
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess so,” Sam nodded.
You and Sam were confused when Dean leaned into the backseat and pulled out his dad’s book.
"In Dad’s journal…here, look at this.” He opened it to the first page. “First page, first sentence, read that.”
“’I went to Missouri and I learned the truth’,” Sam read aloud.
“I always thought he meant the state,” Dean shrugged.
***
You and the boys were seated side by side on the couch in Missouri Moseley’s house. She was escorting a man out of the house.
“Alright, there. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you,” she smiled.
The man thanked her before she closed the front door behind him.
“Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener,” Missouri explained.
You laughed. “Why didn’t you tell him?”
"People don’t come here for the truth. They come for good news,” she informed you.
The three of you stared at her.
“Well? Sam and Dean— and (Y/N)— come on already, I ain’t got all day.”
She led you to another room.
“Well, let me look at you.” She began laughing. “Oh, you boys grew up handsome—” she pointed a finger at Dean, “—and you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.”
You giggled, feeling Dean glaring at you.
“Sam.” She grabbed his hand. “Oh, honey…I’m sorry about your girlfriend. And your father–- he’s missing?”
“How’d you know all that?” Sam questioned incredulously.
"Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now.”
“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean inquired.
"I don’t know.”
"Don’t know?” Dean scoffed. “Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?”
"You see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please.”
You smirked and sat sandwiched in between Sam and Dean.
“You put your foot on my coffee table, I’ll whack you with a spoon!” Missouri fussed the older brother.
“I didn’t do anything,” he said.
“But you were thinkin’ about it,” she smiled.
"Okay. So, our dad— when did you first meet him?” Sam asked.
"He came for a reading a few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say…I drew back the curtains for him,” she explained.
"What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?” Dean questioned.
"A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hoping I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing.”
"And could you?” Sam jumped back in.
“I—” she shook her head.
"What was it?”
“I don’t know. Oh, but it was evil,” she said softly, looking away from the three of you. After a moment, she looked back up. “So…you think somethin’ is back in that house?”
"Definitely.”
"I don’t understand.”
"What?”
"I haven’t been back inside, but I’ve been keeping an eye on the place, and it’s been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin’ up now?” Missouri asked.
"I don’t know. But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once— it just feels like something’s starting,” Sam explained.
"That’s a comforting thought,” Dean muttered.
You looked up at Missouri to see her staring at you.
You cocked your head to the side in confusion.
“I recognize you from somewhere... I just can’t put my finger on it,” she told you. “What’d you say your last name was?”
“(Y/L/N).”
She was taken aback. “Oh, sweetheart... I knew your momma.”
You inhaled sharply. You could feel Sam and Dean’s eyes on you. “Um...” you swallowed the tears building in your throat, “H-How?”
Missouri looked between Sam and Dean. “We’ll talk later.”
***
You stood behind Sam and Dean with Missouri on the front door step of their childhood home. Dean knocked on the door, and a very distraught-looking Jenny appeared with Ritchie in her arms.
“Sam, Dean. What are you doing here?”
"Hey, Jenny. This is our friend, Missouri.” Sam shifted his body to the side to reveal the woman behind him.
“If it’s not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house. You know, for old time’s sake,” Dean smiled.
“You know, this isn’t a good time. I’m kind of busy,” she responded.
“Listen, Jenny, it’s important—” Dean protested, and Missouri promptly smacked him on the back of the head. “Ow!”
"Give the poor girl a break, can’t you see she’s upset?” She turned to the young woman. “Forgive this boy, he means well, he’s just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out.”
Dean looked stunned. You smirked up at him.
“About what?” Jenny asked.
"About this house,” Missouri replied.
"What are you talking about?”
"I think you know what I’m talking about. You think there’s something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?” She knew she wasn’t.
“Who are you?”
"We’re people who can help, who can stop this thing. But you’re gonna have to trust us, just a little.”
Jenny looked unsure, but nodded anyway.
A few moments later, Missouri was pacing around Sari’s bedroom.
“If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it.”
“Why?” Sam asked.
"This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.”
You caught Sam glance up at the ceiling.
Missouri gestured to Dean walking around with his EMF meter. “That an EMF?”
"Yeah.”
"Amateur.”
You snickered, and Dean glared at the both of you. You took notice of the EMF meter beeping frantically.
“I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain’t the thing that took your mom,” Missouri told them.
“Wait, are you sure? How do you know?”
"It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s something different.”
“What is it?”
"Not ‘it,’” she remarked, opening up the closet, “’Them.’ There’s more than one spirit in this place.”
"What are they doing here?”
"They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected.”
“I don’t understand,” Sam stated.
"This place is a magnet for paranormal energy,” Missouri responded. “It’s attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won’t rest until Jenny and her babies are dead.”
"You said there was more than one spirit.”
"There is. I just can’t quite make out the second one,” she said.
"Well, one thing’s for damn sure— nobody’s dyin’ in this house ever again,” Dean stated firmly. “So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”
***
Missouri had you raiding poor Jenny’s pantry for various herbs and roots. She was sitting at a table with a bowl in front of her and a bag of her own ingredients. Bottles and jars were scattered about, Missouri taking spoonfuls of things out of the jars and putting them in small bags.
“So, what is all this stuff, anyway?” Dean questioned.
“Angelica Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt, a few other odds and ends,” the woman answered.
“Yeah? What are we supposed to do with it?”
“We’re gonna put them inside the walls in the north, south, east, west corners on each floor of the house.”
“We’ll be punchin’ holes in the dry wall. Jenny’s gonna love that,” the older Winchester said sarcastically.
Missouri smiled slyly. “She’ll live.”
"And this’ll destroy the spirits?”
“It should. It should purify the house completely. We’ll each take a floor, (Y/N), you’ll stay with me. But we work fast. Once the spirits realize what we’re up to, things are gonna get bad.”
Missouri decided it was best if Jenny and her kids weren’t home while you got the spirits out. She ushered Jenny and her children out into the dark of night, encouraging them to go see a movie while you all were at work.
Sam went upstairs, you and Missouri went into the basement, and Dean took the middle floor.
You began to smell coconuts and tobacco. “Missouri? You feelin’ anything?”
Missouri looked over to you knowingly. She nodded.
She walked over to one of the corners, her bag in hand. You headed to the corner opposite her. You took the hammer you were holding and began to beat at the wall.
A yelp from Missouri caused you to turn around, and you rushed over to the woman when you saw she had been pinned to the wall by a table. You grabbed hold of two of its legs and attempted to get it off of her. Knowing it was no use, you hurriedly punched a hole in the wall next to Missouri’s head, taking the bag from her hand and shoving it in there. You dashed over to the other wall, shoving one of the bags in your hand into a hole between two boards holding up the wall. The spirit apparently did not like that, because a lamp was promptly thrown at your head. You hit the floor before it could get to you and rolled out of the way before it could drop on you.
“(Y/N), catch!” Missouri threw her last bag at you, and you army-crawled across the floor with it in hand while various objects were getting thrown at the wall above you.
After getting the last two bags into the wall, the chaos in the room stopped. Missouri was able to free herself from the table, and you headed over to her to make sure she was okay.
“I’m fine, hon,” she told you. “Are you?”
“Yes ma’am,” you answered.
She patted your cheek before leading you back upstairs.
Dean and Sam were standing in the middle of an extremely messy kitchen waiting for you. Jenny’s kitchen table had been turned on its side with knives driven through the top of it, assumedly by the ghosts. The refrigerator door was swung wide open, and various items from the pantry had spilled out all over the place.
“You sure this is over?” you asked. The smell of coconuts and tobacco had not gone away.
“I’m sure,” Missouri answered. “Why? Why do you ask?”
“Just checking,” you replied.
“Hello? We’re home,” Jenny announced when she walked into the house. She came into the kitchen, dumbfounded by the mess. “What happened?”
"Hi, sorry. Um, we’ll pay for all of this,” Sam told her.
“Don’t you worry. Dean’s gonna clean up this mess,” MIssouri added.
Dean stood glued to his spot.
“Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop.”
He glared at Missouri, but began walking away nonetheless.
“And don’t cuss at me!”
You snickered, and Dean turned his glare to you.
***
A while later, you and the boys were leaving the old Winchester house. However, the smell of coconuts and tobacco was stronger than ever as you exited the front door. You couldn’t ask Missouri what was going on as she had long since left.
Jenny waved goodbye to the three of you, and you gulped when she closed the door behind her.
“(Y/N), you okay?” Sam asked.
“Not really,” you responded. “I have a really bad feeling about this.”
“I gotta be honest, Dean, me too.” Sam turned to his older brother.
And so, the three of you camped out in front of Jenny’s house.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you guys. Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over,” Dean noted.
"Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that’s all,” Sam replied.
"Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now.” He slumped down in his seat and closed his eyes. You leaned back against the door on the passenger’s side with your legs stretched out on the seat in front of you.
“Dean. Look, Dean!” Sam frantically tapped his brother on the shoulder, prompting both you and Dean to look up at Jenny who was visible standing in front of her bedroom window and screaming.
You sprang into action, running into the house.
“You two grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny,” Dean ordered.
You nodded, running to Ritchie’s bedroom. You grabbed the little boy and carried him downstairs. Sam met you in the foyer with Sari, who he instructed to bring her little brother outside as fast as she could. The kids were off when suddenly you and Sam were pulled to the ground.
The spirit dragged you into the kitchen by your ankles. The sound of the front door slamming shut was barely audible. Sam groaned in pain, trying to stand up when the two of you were throttled backwards into the kitchen cabinets.
You barely had time to recover before you were once again thrown across the room and pinned to the wall next to the brunet.
However, you couldn’t smell coconuts and tobacco anymore.
‘The danger clearly isn’t over yet, though. What the fuck, Micah.’
You were completely caught off-guard when you heard a voice echo through your skull, almost as if it were a voice generated by your own head.
“It is over, dickhead, just wait.”
That was Micah’s voice. Tears swam in your eyes.
You were pulled out of your confusion by Dean bursting through the door, an axe and a rifle in hand. A figure engulfed in flames pulled your attention away from him. You struggled, trying to get any part of your body to move, but you wouldn’t budge.
Dean raised his gun at the figure, but Sam yelled at him.
“No, don’t! Don’t!”
"What, why?!”
"Because I know who it is. I can see her now.”
“Her?!” you yelled over the roaring fire.
The fire dissipated, revealing a woman with blonde hair in a white nightgown. Her feet were bare, and her aging skin was only slightly wrinkled.
Dean lowered his gun slowly, his voice going soft. “Mom?"
‘Mom?!’
“See?” you heard Micah’s voice in your head again. “I told you the danger was over.”
"Dean,” the woman said. She turned to her youngest son. “Sam.”
The young man beside you began to cry. You noticed Dean had tears in his eyes, too.
The woman gave you a knowing smile, confusing you. You smiled back nonetheless. She turned back to Sam.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asked.
She looked at him sadly, but said nothing. She darted away from you, staring up at the ceiling.
“You get out of my house. And let go of my son,” she demanded, bursting into flames again. The fire strengthened and reached the ceiling, covering the entire surface. The flames then vanished.
You and Sam dropped to the floor. Dean helped his brother up, and you dusted yourself off.
“Now it’s over,” you announced.
***
You sat on the steps of the house next to Sam the next morning.
“Well,” Missouri started as she sat down behind you, “there are no spirits in there anymore, this time for sure.”
“Not even my mom?” Sam questioned.
“No.”
"What happened?”
"Your mom’s spirit and the poltergeist’s energy, they cancelled each other out. Your mom destroyed herself goin’ after the thing.”
"Why would she do something like that?” Tears began to fill Sam’s eyes again.
“Well, to protect her boys, of course,” she smiled.
The woman went to put her hand on your shoulder, but stopped herself. “(Y/N), I’m sorry.”
"For what?” you asked.
"You sensed it was here, didn’t you? Even when I couldn’t. You, too, Sam.”
“What’s happening to me?” Sam asked her.
“I know I should have all the answers, but I don’t know.” She turned back to you. "Before you get going, let’s talk for a second.”
Dean called for Sam, who got up and walked over to his brother.
Missouri stood up and led you to a more secluded part of the porch.
“How’d you know my mom?” you asked her just before you stopped walking.
“Your mom and I knew each other back when I lived in Florida, our parents were friends. After my family left for Kansas, we went our separate ways. That was until she started hunting. She was passing through Kansas when she heard about what I do. She decided to stop by, and the two of us reconnected. She would come in every time she passed through the state, just to catch up. She told me all about your dad, the different hunts she’d gone on, and I told her about the crazy people that come through my door every day. Then, she just... stopped visiting. She went completely off the grid for four years. I was shocked when she showed back up on my doorstep.”
“What’d she want?” you asked.
“Well, after I fussed her for disappearing on me, she told me about you and Micah. You two were the reason she’d gone away. She was trying to escape the life with your dad to give you kids a shot at a better life. But you and Micah... you two were some strange children.”
You laughed, tears swimming in your eyes at the mention of your brother.
“She said you two had some sort of a telepathic connection. I explained to her that that was normal for twins, but she had more to tell. She said she thought the two of you were psychic. You both would start crying whenever danger was on the rise. There was one time you and Micah started bawling your eyes out moments before a truck blew through a red light and almost hit your car.”
“How come she never told us any of this?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe she thought she could protect you from yourselves. But I see that didn’t matter, you discovered the gift anyway.”
You smiled slightly.
“You have some serious untapped abilities, girl. If you need help figuring them out, give me a call.” She handed you a business card.
You nodded, wondering what else you could do beyond sensing danger.
You went to turn away, but stopped. “I heard Micah’s voice today.”
Missouri smiled knowingly. “Keep talking to him. That’s the first step.”
You nodded. “Thank you for everything.”
When you got in the car, Dean watched you carefully. You looked back at him, reflecting his expression as if to say “What?”. He shook his, turning to look out of the passenger’s side window at Missouri and Jenny.
“Don’t you kids be strangers,” the older woman said.
DONT 👏 TAG 👏 CHARACTERS/PEOPLE 👏 AS 👏 X/READER 👏 OR 👏 X/OC 👏 OR 👏 X/CHARACTER 👏 IF 👏 THEY 👏 ARE 👏 NOT 👏 THE 👏 MAIN 👏 COUPLE 👏
Y'all it’s honestly so frustrating. I mean I get it, I want my work to be seen too. I’ll usually tag a few people that are present in the fic, in the tags, just to be more thorough.
But there is a fine line between tagging let’s say #Captain America and #Captain America x Reader when it’s a Tony Stark x Reader fic.
Especially since Tumblr’s tagging system is already kinda fucked, you don’t make it worse by tagging different people.
Sure, adding more people it gets your work seen in more tags, but not in the light you’d want it to. Personally, if I see a fic that has been tagged with a certain character, that isn’t the character I’m looking for, I pass right by it.
In fact, I make a point to not read it, because that’s just downright lying and frustrating as hell.
Another example, my friend and I like the YouTubers Sam and Colby, Devyn and Corey, Elton Castee and Aaron Doh. (Or the people that live/lived in the “Trap House”) While I like Colby (as does she) she also likes Aaron. So far we’ve only come across one Aaron fic, but in the Aaron Doh x Reader tag? All Colby fics. The only reason we found the one fic was because the girl posted her master list.
I’ve been encountering this since I joined Tumblr, and it’s always frustrated me to no end. So I’ve finally decided to say something about it.
JUST DONT DO IT. YOUR FIC WILL GET NOTICED.
Maybe not as much as you want it to, but that doesn’t give you a right to be disrespectful to those who do write, who aren’t getting reads because you decided your fic was more important. Thank you.
(And yes I will be tagging X Reader stories, not to be hypocritical, but because this needs to be seen by the people that are doing it) (which yes I know is also hypocritical but at least I acknowledge it)
Bugs | Supernatural Season 1 Episode 8 Rewrite | Dean x Reader
Pairing: Dean WInchester x Reader
Major Characters: Dean WInchester, Reader, Sam Winchester
Warnings: canon violence, language, Dean and the reader being assholes to each other
Word Count: 7,208
Summary: On a trip to Oasis Plains, Oklahoma, could Dean and the reader finally begin to stand each other’s presence?
Series Masterlist
Season 1 Masterlist
Click here for the series playlist!
You had to admit, Dean was incredibly good at hustling, but not as good as you.
“Cute,” you told Dean sarcastically when he walked back over to your table waving a wad of cash in the air. “But I betcha I can get us double the money.” You snatched his money out of his hands.
“Hey!” he said harshly. “I earned that.”
“And I’ll earn it back,” you smirked over your shoulder.
He quirked a brow at you as you “drunkenly” walked away, watching you head over to a pool table surrounded by guys your age.
You wore a black tank top that showed off your cleavage, and stuck Dean’s money in the top of your bra while you sauntered over to the pool table.
A tall blonde guy holding a cue stick was surrounded by a group of young men your age hollering about how good the blonde guy played.
“Fifty dollars to play!” One of the boys yelled.
“I’ll play,” you piped up, looking down at the table set for nine-ball.
You pulled some cash out of the top of your bra and placed it on the rim of the pool table.
“Uh, sweetheart,” the blond began, “That’s only twenty.”
“Oh, sorry,” you snorted out a laugh, putting thirty dollars on the table.
“She’s hammered, dude,” one of the blond’s friends told him.
The blond waved him off, still looking over you. He handed you a pool cue with a smirk.
“You break.”
You fumbled with the cue before lining up your shot. After you hit the cue ball, you allowed the wooden stick to slip clumsily out of your hands. The balls flew all over the table in different directions because you had struck them so hard. However, you had not managed to pocket a single one.
The blond lined up his shot. Managing to keep the dopey look on your face, you mentally smirked at his amateur hand bridge. This guy would be easy to beat.
With his friends cheering him on, he pocketed the yellow one-ball but missed the shot he took at the nine-ball. The nine-ball was in the perfect position for you to win on your next two shots, but you were not going for the big bucks just yet.
“Your turn, baby,” the blond told you.
You resisted the urge to cringe at the nickname. You had never liked being called “baby.”
Instead, you gave him a wide smile, walking up to the cue ball. You went to aim for the four-ball, but the blond stopped you.
“What are you doing?”
“Aiming for the pretty purple ball,” you replied innocently. “Am I doing something wrong?”
“You have to aim for the two-ball. You ever even played before?” he asked jokingly.
“No,” you smiled.
He was not expecting that answer to his jest, his face dropping out of the smile. “Then why are you playing for money?”
“I thought you were cute and wanted to play with you.”
The blond smirked down at you.
Before he could respond, you said, “C’mon! I wanna keep playing. This is fun.” You lined up and hit the two ball, knocking it only a little bit closer to the pocket than the blond had gotten it.
He ended up sinking the two-ball and then the nine-ball after that, his friends cheering for him. He took the money off the table. “Maybe next time.”
“Ooh, can we play again? Please?” you whined.
He looked around at his friends. They all shrugged.
‘Hook, line, and sink him.’
You took all of the money out of your bra, including fifty dollars of your own to compensate for the fifty you just lost. You did promise Dean you would double the amount he had earned, after all.
The blond laughed nervously. “Uh, that’s a lot more than fifty dollars.”
“Is it?” you pretended you were surprised. “Oh, well. We’ll just play for whatever this is, then.”
One of the blond’s friends, a brunet, was already counting the money. “This is three-hundred dollars, man.”
“Look, you’re really drunk. That’s a lot of money,” the blond said. “Let’s just stop.”
‘Aw, he’s kinda nice. Poor shame.’
“No,” you begged, “please? It’ll be fine!”
He finally conceded, collecting a total of three hundred dollars between himself and his friends.
On the break, he hit the one-ball and the five-ball ended up falling into the left side pocket. However, on the shot he took at the nine-ball, he missed.
You hit the two-ball, sank it, and clapped excitedly. You aimed for the three-ball next, hitting it between the right side and back pockets. The ball hit the wall and stopped only two inches off of it, giving the blond no shot at sinking it on his next turn.
He ended up pushing the three-ball and the cue ball into the perfect position for you to hit the red ball into the hole. Once you sank the three-ball, you lined up the cue behind the cue ball and hit the nine-ball into one of the pockets.
Blondie and his friends stood there slack-jawed.
“I won!” you cheered, giggling. You gave Blondie a kiss on the cheek when you took your money.
You walked back over to Dean with your hips swishing confidently. Smirking, you held up your winnings.
He took them from your hands, counting the money. “Damn. I’m impressed.”
You feigned shock. “Dean Winchester? Impressed by something I did?”
“Can it, (Y/N).”
***
You walked outside of the bar with Dean at your side. He waved the money in his hand back and forth triumphantly as you approached the Impala.
Sam looked disapproving. “Y’know, we could get day jobs once in a while.”
"Hunting's our day job,” you countered.
“Yeah, and the pay is crap,” Dean added.
“Amen.”
“Yeah, but hustling pool? Credit card scams? It's not the most honest thing in the world, guys.”
“Well, let's see honest--” you held out one hand palm-up for “honest,” “--Fun and easy.”
You held out the other hand, representing a scale, tipping it to the side of “fun and easy.”
“It's no contest,” you shrugged.
“Besides, we're good at it. It's what we were raised to do,” the older Winchester continued.
“Yeah, well, how we were raised was jacked,” Sam scoffed.
“Yeah, says you. We got a new gig or what?”
“Maybe. Oasis Plains, Oklahoma - not far from here. A gas company employee, Dustin Burwash, supposedly died from Creutzfeldt-Jakob.”
“Gezundheit,” you quipped.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Human mad cow disease.”
"Mad cow,” Dean trailed off. “Wasn't that on Oprah?”
“You watch Oprah?” you snorted.
Dean seemed embarrassed, unable to come up with a response. He decided to change the subject. “So this guy eats a bad burger. Why is it our kind of thing?
“Mad cow disease causes massive brain degeneration. It takes months, even years, for the damage to appear. But this guy, Dustin? Sounds like his brain disintegrated in about an hour. Maybe less,” Sam explained.
"Okay, that's weird.”
“Yeah. Now, it could be a disease. Or it could be somethin' much nastier.”
“All right. Oklahoma.” Dean walked around the side of the Impala to get in his seat. “Man. Work, work, work. No time to spend my money.”
“Our money,” you corrected him. “Three-hundred of that is mine.”
“Not anymore, sweetheart.”
“What?! You’re a dick!” you yelled at him.
He laughed. “i’m kidding. Jesus, lighten up.”
You slapped him lightly on the back of the head, leaning over the back of the front seat to take your money from his hands. “Dick.”
“Bitch.”
***
You and the boys got out of the car, heading toward a man fiddling with something in the trunk of his company vehicle.
“Travis Weaver?” Sam called as the three of you approached the man.
He turned around. “Yeah, that's right.”
“Are you the Travis who worked with Uncle Dusty?” Dean asked him.
As you got closer to Travis, you could see the pain in his kind eyes at the mention of his friend’s name.
“Dustin never mentioned nephews.” He looked over at you. “Or a niece.”
“Really? Well, he sure mentioned you. He said you were the greatest.”
You nodded.
“Oh, he did?” Travis beamed. “Huh.”
“Listen, we wanted to ask you... what exactly happened out there?”
“I'm not sure. He fell in a sinkhole, I went to the truck to get some rope, and, uh... by the time I got back...” he trailed off, shaking away the memory.
“What did you see?” you asked.
“Nothin'. Just Dustin.”
“No wounds or anything?” Sam questioned.
"Well, he was bleeding... from his eyes and his ears, his nose. But that's it.”
Dean picked up with the next question. “So you think it could be this whole mad cow thing?”
“I don't know,” Travis shrugged. “That's what the doctors are sayin'.”
“But if it was, he would've acted strange beforehand, like dementia, loss of motor control,” Sam pointed out. “You ever notice anything like that?”
“No. No way. But then again, if it wasn't some disease, what the hell was it?”
“That’s the question of the week,” you cut in.
Sam continued on. “Y'know, can you tell us where this happened?”
“Yeah.”
***
A little while later, you and the Winchesters arrived at the newly-constructed house in Oasis Plains Dustin died at.
You walked up to the sinkhole surrounded by police tape.
“Huh. What do you think?” Dean asked his younger brother.
"I don't know. But if that guy, Travis, was right, it happened pretty damn fast.”
You ducked under the caution tape and peered down into the hole.
“Got a flashlight on ya there, Freckles?” you asked Dean.
“Freckles?” he asked, his face scrunching up at the sound of the nickname. He followed you under the tape.
“Yeah, the little brown spots on your nose, those are called freckles,” you replied sarcastically. “It’s my new nickname for you.”
“What, ‘Dean-o’ wasn’t annoying enough for you?” he questioned.
You smirked. “Guess not. How ‘bout that flashlight?”
He ducked under the tape with Sam and pointed the flashlight down into the hole. "So, what? Some sort of creature chewed on his brain?”
"No, there'd be an entry wound,” you countered Dean’s question. “Sounds like this thing worked from the inside.”
Giving the sinkhole a once-over, Dean looked to his brother. “Huh. Looks like there's only room for one. You wanna flip a coin?”
"Dean, we have no idea what's down there,” Sam said.
The older brother picked up a coil of rope off the ground nearby. “Alright, I'll go if you're scared. You scared?”
“Flip the damn coin.”
You chuckled as Dean took a quarter out of his pocket. “Alright, call it in the air... chicken.”
Sam caught the coin midair. “I'm going.”
“I said I'd go!”
“You two are children.” You shook your head.
"I'm going,” Sam told Dean, ignoring your comment.
“Alright.”
The brunet started tying the rope Dean had around his waist. “Don't drop me.”
“I definitely will,” you joked.
Sam glared at you playfully. “You suck.”
“I know,” you shrugged, grinning.
***
”So, you found some beetles. In a hole, in the ground. That's shocking, Sam,” Dean said monotonously.
"There were no tunnels, no tracks. No evidence of any other kind of creature down there. You know, some beetles do eat meat. Now, it's usually dead meat, but--”
“How many did you find down there?”
“Ten.”
“It'd take a whole lot more than that to eat out some dude's brain.”
“Well, maybe there were more,” came Sam’s rebuttal.
“I don't know, it sounds like a stretch to me.”
“Well, we need more information on the area, the neighborhood. Whether something like this has ever happened before.”
You notice a sign for an open house decorated with red balloons outside of the Impala’s window.
“I know a good place to start,” Dean commented, nodding in the direction of the sign.
As you passed another sign, Dean continued. “I'm kinda hungry for a little barbeque, how 'bout you?”
You rolled your eyes.
“What, we can't talk to the locals?” the older brother asked.
“And the free food's got nothin' to do with it?” Sam jumped in.
“Of course not. I'm a professional.”
“Right.”
Dean pulled over and the three of you climbed out of the car. You began walking toward the open house, ending up behind the two brothers on the sidewalk.
“Growin' up in a place like this would freak me out,” Dean noted.
“Why?” Sam questioned.
“Well, manicured lawns, ‘How was your day, honey?’ I'd blow my brains out.”
“There's nothing wrong with ‘normal’.”
“There’s a lot wrong with ‘normal,’ Sam,” you commented.
The two boys looked back at you with questioning gazes.
“What? That was my life for a little while.”
The three of you went silent while you approached the front door of the house. A man wearing a green blazer opened the door.
“Welcome,” the older man grinned.
“This the barbeque?” Dean asked, returning the man’s smile.
“Yeah, not the best weather, but...” he looked around, trailing off. “I'm Larry Pike, the developer here. And you are...?”
“Dean. This is Sam.”
The two boys shook Larry’s hands. You were still hidden behind the boy’s broad shoulders, so you opted for picking at your fingernails instead of introducing yourself.
“Good to meet you. So, you two are interested in Oasis Plains?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me just say - we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color, or... sexual orientation.”
You suppressed a snort, pushing your way in front of the boys and extending your hand for Larry to shake.
“Hi, I’m (Y/N), Dean’s fiancé. Sam’s his brother, he’s helping us look for a new house.”
Larry looked slightly embarrassed. “Good to meet you, too. Well, come on in.”
You looked back at Dean, enjoying watching him squirm under your gaze. He apparently was not too fond of the notion of being engaged to you.
Frankly, you hated the idea of being engaged to him as well. It was just fun to aggravate the shit out of him.
Larry led you three through the house to the backyard.
“You said you were the developer?” Sam asked.
“Eighteen months ago, I was walking this valley with my survey team. There was nothing here but scrub brush and squirrels. And you know what, we built such a nice place to live that I actually bought into it myself. This is our house. We're the first family in Oasis Plains.” He led you to a blonde woman with a smile plastered to her aging face.
“This is my wife, Joanie.”
After a brief exchange of greetings, Larry started talking again.
“Tell them how much you love the place, honey. And lie if you have to because I need to sell some houses.”
“Right,” Joanie laughed.
The pitch-perfect, picket-fence atmosphere was repulsing to you.
Larry excused himself, followed by a statement from Joanie.
“Don't let his salesman routine scare you. This really is a great place to live.”
“I’m sure,” you nodded, articulating your motion with a tight-lipped smile.
A very energetic woman in a blazer similar to Larry’s approached you. “Hi, I'm Lynda Bloome, head of sales.”
“And Lynda was second to move in. She's a very noisy neighbor, though,” Joanie smirked, leaving the three of you with Lynda.
Lynda laughed mechanically. “She's kidding, of course. I take it you three are interested in becoming homeowners.”
"Actually, yes,” you jumped in, mimicking the upbeat tone of Lynda’s voice. “My fiancé and I are looking for a place.” You slid your arm around Dean’s waist and out your other hand on his chest.
Lynda smiled. “Wonderful!”
“Right. Um... we’re gonna go talk to Larry.”
Still clinging to Dean, the two of you walked away from Sam and Lynda.
“I’m gonna kill you,” Dean whispered, holding you to his side and holding your arm that was wrapped around his waist. Despite these gestures that would read to others as being of affection, his body was tense under your grasp.
“I don’t think you will,” you whispered back, looking up at him. “ You love me too much.” You stood up on your tip-toes and kissed his cheek, at which he recoiled.
You chuckled, patting his chest and walking a few paces ahead of him.
***
After the tour of the house Larry gave you, you followed Dean down the stairs.
Larry was prattling on about the different options you and Dean had for flooring.
Dean noticed a jar of something on the table next to the stairs. “Whoa. Someone likes bugs.”
“My son - he's into insects. He's very... inquisitive.”
You nodded, noticing the tension lacing his voice. Deciding upon changing the subject while Larry led you to the back door, you said, “What do you think about hardwood, honey?”
“Hm, I was actually thinking carpet, sweetheart,” he responded, sending you a glare behind Larry’s back.
You glared right back, only turning away from Dean when Larry called out “Matthew” while you crossed the yard.
“I am so sorry about my son and his... pet.”
You looked at the huge tarantula in Matthew’s hands, sucking in a breath at the sight.
Dean noticed your discomfort, chuckling to himself. You nudged his arm with your shoulder.
“It's no bother,” Sam assured Larry.
“Excuse us.” Larry pulled Matthew away, immediately chastising the boy as soon as they were far enough away from the rest of the party.
“Remind you of somebody?” Sam questioned, looking over at the pair.
Dean looked confused.
“Dad?”
“Dad never treated us like that,” Dean said.
“Well, Dad never treated you like that. You were perfect. He was all over my case. You don't remember?”
“Well, maybe he had to raise his voice, but sometimes, you were out of line.”
Sam scoffed. “Right. Right, like when I said I'd rather play soccer than learn bowhunting.”
"Bowhunting's an important skill,” the older brother argued.
“Whatever. How was your tour?”
“Oh, it was excellent. I'm ready to buy,” Dean jested. “Future Mrs. Winchester seemed to enjoy it as well.”
Sam laughed.
“What can I say, the tub in the master bathroom was pretty appealing,” you responded.
“You’re still dead for getting me wrapped up in that,” Dean warned you.
“Oh, sure I am, sweetheart.”
He drew back at the use of his signature nickname.
“So you might be onto somethin'. Looks like Dustin Burwash wasn't the first strange death around here,” you continued.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“About a year ago, before they broke ground, one of Larry's surveyors dropped dead while on the job. Get this severe allergic reaction to bee stings.”
“More bugs.”
You nodded, ignoring the shiver that went up your spine. “More Bugs.”
”You scared, (Y/L/N)?” Dean questioned.
”Fuck off, Freckles.”
***
Nighttime was quickly approaching as you and the boys drove through the epitome of suburbia. For once, Sam was driving while Dean read through his father’s journal.
“You know, I've heard of killer bees, but killer beetles? What is it that could make different bugs attack?” the older brother inquired.
“Well, hauntings sometimes include bug manifestations,” Sam reminded his brother.
“Yeah, but I didn't see any evidence of ghost activity.”
“Yeah,” you stated, “me neither.”
“Maybe they're being controlled somehow. You know, by something or someone,” Dean theorized.
You scoffed. “You mean, like Willard?”
"Yeah, bugs instead of rats.”
“There are cases of psychic connections between people and animals - elementals, telepaths,” the brunet shrugged.
“Yeah, that whole Timmy-Lassie thing.’ He paused for a second before realization suddenly washed over him. “Larry's kid - he's got bugs for pets.”
“Matt?” Sam asked.
“Yeah.”
"He did try to scare the realtor with a tarantula.”
"You think he's our Willard?”
“I don't know. Anything's possible, I guess.”
Something caught Dean’s eye. “Ooh, hey. Pull over here.”
Sam pulled into the driveway of one of the Oasis Plains houses. “What are we doing here?”
Dean got out of the car. You rolled down your window so you could hear what he was saying.
“It's too late to talk to anybody else,” he said.
“We're gonna squat in an empty house?” Sam asked incredulously.
“I wanna try the steam shower. Come on.”
Sam was unmoving as his brother threw the garage door open.
“Come on!” Dean called again.
Sam reluctantly drove the car into the garage, and Dean closed the door behind him.
***
Dean was serious about trying out the steamed shower. He had been in there for about an hour.
You heard Sam call out to his brother through the door from his position in the hallway. “You ever comin' out of there?”
“What?” came Dean’s muffled response.
“Dean, a police call came in on the scanner.”
“Hold on.”
“Someone was found dead three blocks from here. Come on.”
You heard the bathroom door creak open. “This shower is awesome.”
You could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes. “Come on.”
The brunet appeared in front of you in the living room a moment later. “He takes longer to shower than you do.”
You snorted. ”I know, normally I’m pruny by forty-five minutes and decide to call it quits.”
Sam laughed at your reply.
“Police say who it was that they found?” you questioned.
“No.”
“How’d you sleep last night?” you asked while you began riffling through your bag of weapons.
“I’d say fine, but I know you already know the answer.”
“Yep.”
Sam sighed.
“Dude, we gotta get you right,” you told the younger Winchester. “You’re gonna end up getting really hurt.”
He nodded, refusing to look up at you. He turned to his brother’s bag and packed up the various clothes Dean had strewn across the floor. There was no furniture in the house, so all three of you slept in the living room on the ground.
Sam decided to change the subject. “You said yesterday you had a normal life once upon a time.”
You sucked in a breath, not liking the direction this conversation was taking. “Yep.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Not really.”
Sam gave you a curious look, and you sat back against the wall.
“Look, I just don’t like getting into the gritty details of the past. It’s...”
“Painful?” Sam finished for you.
You nodded, casting your eyes to the floor. “I’m sure you can understand that.”
He moved to sit next to you. “One day we gotta talk about this.”
“One day.” Your head lolled to the side to look at him. “Not today.”
***
Police cars lined the street outside of an Oasis Plains home, caution tape barring off the front of the house. A body in a black bag was being carried out of the house on a stretcher.
You and the boys walked over to Larry, who was talking to someone on the phone. When he noticed you three, he hung up. “Hello. You're, uh, back early.”
“Yeah, we just drove in, wanted to take another look at the neighborhood,” Dean lied.
“What's goin' on?” Sam asked.
“You guys met, uh... Lynda Bloome at the barbeque?”
“The realtor?”
“Well, she, uh... passed away last night.”
Your jaw went slack, lips parting ever so slightly. “What happened?”
“I'm still tryin' to find out. Identified the body for the police. Look, I-I'm sorry, this isn't a good time now.”
“It’s okay,” you said, “We understand.”
He excused himself, turning away from the three of you.
“You know what we have to do, right?” Dean asked.
“Yeah. Get in that house,” Sam responded.
“See if we got a bug problem.”
Inconspicuously you and the boys slithered around the back of the house, and climbed through Lynda’s bedroom window. The outline of her dead body was drawn on the carpet.
“This looks like the place,” the older brother stated. He walked over to a towel covered in blood and picked it up, only dropping it when he noticed it covered in dead spiders. “Spiders. From Spider Boy?”
“Matt-- maybe,” you shrugged.
***
Like the professional stalker Dean was, he found where Matt went to school and followed Matt’s bus to his stop. When Matt began walking away from the bus, Dean pointed in the opposite direction.
“Isn't his house that way?”
“Yup,” Sam stated.
“So where's he goin'?” you asked.
Dean parked, and the three of you began following behind Matt. He ended up leading you into the middle of the woods where he was bent over examining a grasshopper.
“Hey, Matt,” Sam said. “Remember me?”
Matt jumped back, startled. “What are you doin' out here?”
“Well, we wanna talk to you,” Dean said.
“You're not here to buy a house, are you?”
You shook your head. “And he’s not my husband. We hate each other’s guts.”
“W-wait. You're not serial killers?” Matt questioned.
You laughed. “Fortunately for you, no.”
“So, Matt... you sure know a lot about insects,” Dean began.
“So?”
“Did you hear what happened to Lynda, the realtor?”
"I hear she died this morning.”
"Mm, that's right. Spider bites.”
“Matt...” Sam paused. “You tried to scare her with a spider.”
“Wait. You think I had something to do with that?”
"You tell us,” you said firmly.
"That tarantula was a joke. Anyway, that wouldn't explain the bee attack or the gas company guy.”
"You know about those?”
"There is somethin' going on here. I don't know what... but something's happening with the insects. Let me show you something.” Matt picked his backpack up and led you over to a clearing.
“So, if you knew about all this bug stuff, why not tell your dad? Maybe he could clear everybody out,” Sam pointed out.
“Believe me, I've tried. But, uh, Larry doesn't listen to me.”
“Why not?”
“Mostly? He's too disappointed in his freak son,” Matt scoffed.
Sam snorted. “I hear you.”
“You do?” Dean cut in.
You and Sam both gave him a look.
“Matt, how old are you?”
"Sixteen.”
“Well, don't sweat it, because in two years, something great's gonna happen.”
“What?”
“College,” Sam quipped. “You'll be able to get out of that house and away from your dad.”
Dean was quick to jump in. “What kind of advice is that? Kid should stick with his family.”
Sam sighed and glared at him. “How much further, Matt?”
“We're close.”
You jabbed Dean’s rib lightly with your elbow. “Please be civil,” you whispered to him.
“Oh, yeah, cause ‘civil’ is pokin’ me in the rib.” He rubbed at his side.
“I barely touched you, you baby.”
The hum of hundreds of insects pulled you out of your thoughts.
“I've been keeping track of insect populations. It's, um, part of an AP science class,” Matt started.
“You two are like peas in a pod,” Dean said to Sam, who ignored him.
“What's been happening?” you asked.
“A lot. I mean, from bees to earthworms, beetles... you name it. It's like they're congregating here.”
“Why?”
“I don't know,” Matt replied earnestly.
“What's that?” Sam questioned, pointing to a dark patch of grass a few feet away. There were hundreds of worms covering the patch. Dean stepped on a few, and you had to catch his elbow to keep him from falling into the hole he created by doing so.
“Thanks,” he told you.
“Wow, that’s something I never thought I’d hear you say to me,” you told him.
“Shut up,” he muttered, grabbing a stick and crouching down to poke around in the hold. “There's somethin' down there.”
He put the stick aside and stuck his hands into the hole. You had to resist the urge to vomit as he fished around in the hole. When Dean’s hands resurfaced, he held a human skull covered in dirt and worms.
“I’m gonna be sick,” you commented.
***
“So, a bunch of skeletons in an unmarked grave,” Sam began just as you started walking up the steps to the college you were bringing the bones to.
“Yeah. Maybe this is a haunting,” Dean suggested. “Pissed off spirits? Some unfinished business?”
“Yeah, maybe. Question is, why bugs? And why now?”
“That's two questions,” Dean remarked.
“Dude,” you chimed in.
“What? It’s funny.”
“To a three-year-old, sure.”
“Guys, can we hash this out later?” Sam groaned.
“Sure,” Dean nodded, changing the subject. “So with that kid back there... why'd you tell him to just ditch his family like that?”
“Just, uh... I know what the kid's goin' through,” the younger brother stuttered.
“How 'bout tellin' him to respect his old man, how's that for advice?”
“Dean, come on.” The three of you stopped walking. “This isn't about his old man. You think I didn't respect Dad. That's what this is about.”
“Just forget it, all right? Sorry I brought it up.”
“I respected him. But no matter what I did, it was never good enough,” Sam countered.
“So what are you sayin'? That Dad was disappointed in you?”
“Was? Is. Always has been.”
“Why would you think that?”
"Because I didn't wanna bowhunt or hustle pool - because I wanted to go to school and live my life, which, to our whacked-out family, made me the freak.”
“Yeah, you were kind of like the blonde chick in The Munsters,” Dean jested.
‘Bad timing, bud.’
“Dean, you know what most dads are when their kids score a full ride? Proud. Most dads don't toss their kids out of the house.”
You were appalled. “That’s when he kicked you out?”
Sam’s expression softened when he looked over to you. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“I remember that fight,” the older Winchester went on. “In fact, I seem to recall a few choice phrases comin' out of your mouth.”
“You know, truth is, when we finally do find Dad... I don't know if he's even gonna wanna see me.”
Dean sighed. “Sam, Dad was never disappointed in you. Never. He was scared.”
“What are you talkin' about?”
“He was afraid of what could've happened to you if he wasn't around. But even when you two weren't talkin'... he used to swing by Stanford whenever he could.”
You caught Sam’s expression change out of the corner of your eye.
“Keep an eye on you,” his older brother continued. “Make sure you were safe.”
“What?” Sam was dumbfounded.
“Yeah.”
"Why didn't you tell me any of that?”
"Well, it's a two-way street, dude. You could've picked up the phone.”
Guilt crossed the brunet’s features.
“Come on, we're gonna be late for our appointment,” Dean mumbled.
You grabbed Sam’s hand with the one that wasn’t occupied by the box of bones, giving it a tight squeeze with a sympathetic smile before following after Dean.
“Hey, Freckles,” you called. “Wait up.”
He stopped for a moment. “What do you want?” he asked when you caught up to him.
You repressed the sarcastic comment rising in your throat. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry about your dad and your brother. Seems like you were always caught in the middle of it.”
Dean looked surprised when you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye as you walked.
“What?” you laughed.
“’S just never something I thought I’d hear comin’ out of your mouth directed at me.” A hint of a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.
You let out a huff accompanied with a smirk that mirrored Dean’s. “Fuck off, Winchester.”
***
Your visit with the professor was short-lived. He explained to you and the boys that the bones you found were Native American, and likely of the Uchee tribe in Sapulpa.
So, here you were at a diner in Oklahoma about to meet a man who supposedly knew all about the tribe and its history.
“Joe White Tree?” Sam asked an old man playing cards at a table.
The man nodded.
“We'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's all right,” the brunet continued.
“We're students from the university--” Dean began, but he was quickly cut off.
“No, you're not. You're lying.”
You did your best to hide how taken aback you were by Joe’s statement.
“Well, truth is--” Dean tried to recover.
Once again, Joe cut him off. “You know who starts sentence with ‘truth is’? Liars.”
You and Dean exchanged a look.
You sucked in a breath. “Have you heard of Oasis Plains? It's a housing development near the Atoka Valley.”
Joe looked back at Dean. “I like her. She's not a liar.”
You smirked at Dean’s angry expression.
“I know the area,” the old man finished.
“What can you tell us about the history there?”
“Why do you wanna know?”
“Something... something bad is happening in Oasis Plains. We think it might have something to do with some old bones we found down there - Native American bones.”
“I'll tell you what my grandfather told me, what his grandfather told him. Two hundred years ago, a band of my ancestors lived in that valley. One day, the American cavalry came to relocate them. They were resistant, the cavalry impatient. As my grandfather put it, on the night the moon and the sun share the sky as equals, the cavalry first raided our village. They murdered, raped. The next day, the cavalry came again, and the next, and the next. And on the sixth night, the cavalry came one last time. And by the time the sun rose, every man, woman, and child still in the village was dead.”
Joe’s story nauseated you. The thought of all that suffering... you couldn’t bear it.
“They say on the sixth night, as the chief of the village lay dying, he whispered to the heavens that no white man would ever tarnish this land again. Nature would rise up and protect the valley. And it would bring as many days of misery and death to the white man as the cavalry had brought upon his people.”
“Insects,” you noted.
“Sounds like nature to me,” Dean shook his head. “Six days.”
“And on the night of the sixth day, none would survive,” Joe finished.
‘Oh, fuck.’
You thanked Joe before hurrying out of the diner.
“When did the gas company man die?” Sam asked as you made your way back to the Impala.
“Uh, let's see, we got here Tuesday, so, Friday the twentieth.”
“March twentieth? That's the spring equinox.”
“The night the sun and the moon share the sky as equals,” Dean added.
“So, every year about this time, anybody in Oasis Plains is in danger. Larry built this neighborhood on cursed land.”
“Tonight’s the sixth night,” you cut in.
“If we don't do something, Larry's family will be dead by sunrise. So how do we break the curse?” Sam questioned.
“You don't break a curse,” you shook your head.
“You get out of its way. We've gotta get those people out now,” Dean urged.
You jumped into the back seat. Just as your car door closed, Dean was speeding away.
***
Nervously, you picked at your nails with your leg bouncing while you listened to Dean’s conversation with Larry.
“Yes, Mr. Pike, there's a mainline gas leak in your neighborhood...Well, it's fairly extensive. I don't want to alarm you, but we need your family out of the vicinity for at least twelve hours or so, just to be safe...Travis Weaver. I work for Oklahoma Gas and Power...Uh--” Dean panicked and hung up.
“You got caught?” you asked.
“Ya think?” Dean remarked.
"Give me the phone,” Sam demanded. He dialed another number.
When whoever he called answered, he began, “Matt, it's Sam...Matt, just listen. You have to get your family out of that house right now, okay?...Because something's coming...Yeah, a lot more...You've gotta make him listen, okay?--”
“Give me the phone, give me the phone,” Dean said hurriedly. He took it out of his brother’s hand. “Matt, under no circumstances are you to tell the truth, they'll just think you're nuts...Tell him you have a sharp pain in your right side and you've gotta go to the hospital, okay?”
Dean hung up shortly after that. “Make him listen? What are you thinkin'?”
You shot Dean a curious look in the rearview mirror.
He shook his head, refusing to look at you again.
***
The Impala was quickly approaching Oasis Plains, and you couldn’t help your nerves.
”You okay back there, sunshine?” Dean asked.
”Like you care,” you scoffed.
”Jeez, I was just tryna be nice,” he muttered.
”Sorry.”
“You scared?”
“Of bugs? Pssh, no,” you gulped.
“(Y/N)--”
“Yeah, okay, fine. Maybe I do have a slight fear of the creepy crawlies, but I’ll be okay,” you rushed out.
“’The creepy crawlies’?” Dean snorted.
“Fuck off, you dickhead. Fuck all the way off.”
Just then, the Impala skidded to a halt in front of the Pike residence. Larry stormed out of the house followed by Matt when you got out of the car.
“Get off my property before I call the cops,” Larry ordered.
“Mr. Pike, listen--” Sam started.
“Dad, they're just tryin' to help,” Matt pleaded.
“Get in the house!” Larry yelled.
“I'm sorry,” Matt said to you and the boys. “I told him the truth.”
“We had a plan, Matt, what happened to the plan?” Dean said.
“Look, it's 12:00 AM. They are coming any minute now. You need to get your family and go, before it's too late,” Sam warned.
“Yeah, you mean before the biblical swarm,” the older man scoffed.
“Larry, what do you think really happened to that realtor, huh? And the gas company guy? You don't think somethin' weird's goin' on here?” Dean proposed.
“Look, I don't know who you are, but you're crazy. You come near my boy or my family again, and we're gonna have a problem.”
“Well, I hate to be a downer, but we've got a problem right now.”
“Dad, they're right, okay? We're in danger.”
“Matt, get inside! Now!” Larry yelled.
"No! Why won't you listen to me?!”
“Because this is crazy! It doesn't make any sense!”
“Look, this land is cursed! People have died here. Now, are you gonna really take that risk with your family?!” you shouted at Larry.
Dean put his hand out in front of you to silence you. “Wait.”
You all went silent.
“You hear that?”
A buzzing noise began to get louder and louder in your ears. You looked over at a lamplight where bugs seemed to crawl out from every nook and craney.
“What the hell?” Larry breathed.
“Alright, it's time to go. Larry, get your wife,” the older Winchester ordered.
“Dean,” you let out. You looked up at the millions of bugs flying toward the house, completely blocking out the light of the moon.
“Oh my God.”
“See, Larry?” you sassed.
“We'll never make it,” Sam stated.
“Everybody in the house. Everybody in the house, go!”
You all rushed inside the house, and Dean locked the door behind all of you.
“Okay, is there anybody else in the neighborhood?” Sam asked.
“No, it's just us.”
Joanie walked in. “Honey, what's happening? What's that noise?”
“Call 911,” Larry told his wife, who remained still. “Joanie!”
“O-Okay,” she stuttered, dialing the phone.
“I need towels,” Dean told Larry. “(Y/N), help me.”
“Uh, in the closet,” the older man directed you.
You faintly heard Sam tell Matt to help him completely lock the house down.
“Phones are dead,” Joanie said.
“Fuck, they chewed through the phone lines,” you grumbled. You continued shoving towels at the base of the front door when the power went out.
“And the power lines,” Dean added.
Larry’s cell phone wasn’t getting a signal either.
Bugs began collecting on the doors and windows, covering the house completely.
You were surprised you hadn’t noticed it before, but the house smelled strongly of coconuts and tobacco.
‘Yeah, I know, Micah. Thanks, Captain Obvious.’
"So what do we do now?” Larry’s throat sounded constricted.
"We try to outlast it. Hopefully, the curse will end at sunrise,” Sam explained.
“Hopefully?”
“(Y/N), come with me,” Dean demanded, leading you to the kitchen. He tossed a can of bug spray at you from one of the kitchen cabinets.
“Bug spray?” Joanie asked when the two of you returned.
“Trust me,” the older brother said.
A creaking noise came from the fireplace.
‘Oh, that’s what you were trying to warn me about.’
Hundreds of bugs began bursting through the fireplace flue just as Dean had urged all of you to head upstairs. Dean took the bug spray from you and lit the stream of fluid coming from the spout. He managed to keep some of the bugs off of your group while the rest of you used your hands to swat at the pests.
Dean continued pushing everyone up the stairs and into the attic.
Sawdust soon began to fall from the attic ceiling after Sam managed to get the attic door shut.
“Oh, God, what's that?” Joanie asked, referencing the peculiar sound you all were hearing.
“Something's eating through the wood,” Dean explained.
“Termites,” Matt added.
“All right, everybody get back. Get back, get back, get back!”
You shoved all three Pikes into the corner of the attic as bugs finally broke through the wood, swarming the room. You used the can of bug spray and Dean’s lighter to try and protect the Pikes while Sam and Dean patched the hole in the roof. However, more bugs broke through two more holes.
The bug spray finally ran out of juice, and there was nothing left for you and the other five to do but desperately swat at the bugs. You were barely conscious of how Dean was covering your body with his as he continued to hit at the bugs going after him.
Before long, the bugs suddenly left you alone. Confused at the sudden retreat, you cautiously moved out from under Dean to glance up through one of the holes in the roof. Sure enough, the large swarm of bugs was heading back to the forest.
***
Having said your goodbyes to Larry, you and Dean were waiting for Sam to finish talking to Matt so you could leave Oasis Plains behind you for good.
You were leant up against the hood of the car next to the older Winchester boy.
He turned to you. “What?”
“I just wanted to say thanks.”
“For what?”
You were slightly embarrassed, but did your best to cover it up. “I noticed you were trying to protect me back there. From what I was scared of.”
“Don’t mention it. Seriously,” he dismissed.
“Well, I will, so,” you smiled. “Makes me feel like a bitch for how I treated you when you were scared of that plane.”
“Yeah, well...” Dean trailed off.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t really... been... y’know--” you stammered.
“Yeah, me neither,” he chuckled.
“Let’s start over,” you suggested. You stuck your hand out to him. “Hey, I’m (Y/N).”
“(Y/N), what are you--”
“Shake my hand, Winchester,” you deadpanned.
He laughed. “Hey. I’m Dean.”
“Good to meet ya Dean. I can tell we’re gonna get along swell.”
He shook his head at your antics. “Eh, I’ll always find sumn to pick on you about.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it, Freckles.”
“Again with the ‘Freckles’ thing?”
“That’s not going away anytime soon.”
“You’re the worst,” he grumbled, but his words were no longer laced with the animosity they normally carried when directed at you.
A/N::::hey y’all, this is a little hold-ya-over thing i wrote while i’m still working on the next episode of the rewrite. i’m sorry my updates have been super inconsistent, uni is rearing it’s ugly head.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader
Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester
Warnings: name-calling, Dean and the reader being assholes to each other, language, angst with a happy ending
Word Count: 1,197
Summary: Dean and the reader are constantly at each other’s throats, and one night, it all comes to a head.
When you met the two boys, you hit it off with Dean right away. Sam was like a little brother to you, but you felt like you and the elder Winchester had something much different.
Whatever the two of you had was gone; covered with malice and venom-dipped words. Your friendship had turned sour quickly. He was so infuriating to you nowadays. He was reckless, sloppy, and a complete womanizer.
Maybe that last part was what bothered you so much.
He would go to bar after bar with you and Sam, picking up a girl almost every time. And every time he did so-- as much as you tried to hide it-- a piece of your heart broke.
Tonight was no different; another bar, another chick. You stared down at the table, clutching your beer tightly.
“(Y/N), if you squeeze the bottle any harder, you’ll break it,” Sam jested, trying to get you to lighten up.
You looked up at him with a sigh. “Sorry, Sam.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothin’, just not feeling it tonight.”
“(Y/N)--” the brunet warned.
“Fine.” You nodded your head in the direction of Dean and the pretty blonde he was talking with-- the blonde who was all over him.
“I knew it!” Sam exclaimed.
You would’ve quieted him down, but the constant hum of people laughing and talking was barely disturbed by his loud statement.
“Yeah, yeah,” you groaned. “It’s no big deal.”
“‘No big deal’ my ass,” Sam responded.
You rolled your eyes.
“If you like him, why do you--”
“Treat him like I do? I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I guess it’s just easier this way.”
“It’s easier to hate him than to just face how you feel?”
“I guess! Look, I love you, but I’m not in the mood for this tonight,” you told him. “I’m gonna head back.”
“You’re walking home? It’s eleven o’clock at night.”
“Yeah, I know, but Dean would kill me if I drove the Impala home. Hell, he barely lets me sit in it anymore.”
“And whose fault is that?” Sam questioned.
“Shut up,” you muttered. “Go find yourself a girl, get drunk, have fun.” You gave him a hug, getting up from the bar stool.
“Be careful.”
“You, too.”
***
The walk back to the bunker had been long, but you didn’t mind. You needed to clear your head.
Just as soon as the door to your room had slammed behind you, you flopped down onto your bed. Tears welled in your eyes, and you let them all loose. You fell asleep crying that night.
***
Two days later, you and Dean were off to a hunt a few states over. Yes, just you and Dean. Sam had left the day before to go meet up with “some other hunters”--which you believed translated to “a girl he met online”-- leaving you and Dean to your own devices. That was a bad decision.
You had not stopped fighting with him since Sam left. The younger brother served as the peacekeeper between you and his older brother, but without him there, chaos ensued.
Frankly, you were exhausted with being in his presence. However, the two of you had gotten a call from one of your friends who lived in Virginia asking if you could come take care of a simple salt and burn. She said she would do it herself if she wasn’t tied up with tracking a nest of vampires at the moment.
Desperate to get out of the bunker, you gladly accepted. Dean insisted upon going with you, much to your disgruntlement.
Nevertheless, here you were in Culpeper, Virginia at a dingy motel. The clerk gave you the keys to one of their rooms, and the two of you headed to it.
You fell back onto the bed closest to the window, dropping your bag next to you.
“I’m showering first,” Dean announced shortly, slamming the bathroom door behind him.
You rolled over on your side. “Fine by me,” you muttered to yourself.
***
After you and Dean had both gotten ready for bed, you sat up on your mattress, reading a book.
“I’m surprised,” you started, “you kept your mouth shut for more than two seconds.”
“Seriously?” Dean questioned, turning to face you. “Two straight days of fighting ain’t enough for you?”
“C’mon, I’m kidding!”
“No, you’re not.”
You took a deep breath and shook your head. “I was, but okay.”
The tension in the room was thick as you both sat in silence. Dean was the one to break it this time.
“How did we get like this?”
“Should be asking yourself that one, buddy.”
Dean bolted up into a sitting position, his legs swung over the side of his bed. “What is your deal? Why are you always like this every time I try to talk to you?”
“Maybe because you’re such a dick to me all the time.”
“No,” he said. “I didn’t start this. You did. You shut me out.”
“Yeah, because I realized you were an asshole,” you responded, getting up from your bed.
“Y’know what your problem is? You need to get laid more.”
You froze. “You did not just say that. How dare you fucking say that to me,” you said, malice dripping off of your every word.
“What? Would that be the worst thing in the world? Maybe if you did you wouldn’t be such a bitch all the time!”
“And maybe if you didn’t sleep with anything with two legs and a vagina you wouldn’t be such an arrogant prick!” Dean was on his feet now, too, and the two of you were making small moves in each other’s directions.
“Is that what this is about? Are you jealous?” he questioned.
When you didn’t respond, he laughed coldly.
“What do you want me to say?” you asked, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “You caught me!”
“Why wouldn’t you just fucking tell me?!”
“Because I knew that you wouldn’t feel the same!” you told him.
“How would you know if you weren’t honest with me?”
“Why the hell else would you go and fuck some other girl? Ever thought that I didn’t sleep with other guys because I only wanted you? I wanted you to want me, Dean! I thought maybe when you saw I didn’t go home with anyone anymore you’d wise up and realize why.”
“Sweetheart, I--”
“Don’t fucking call me that,” you said, turning away from him and hugging yourself.
He spun you back around. “I was trying to make you jealous, jackass.”
You refused to look him in the eyes. “Yeah, well, mission accomplished.”
“Look at me.” He put his first finger under your chin and lifted it up.
You sniffled, holding his gaze.
He shook his head and smiled before leaning his face down to yours, capturing your lips with his. You kissed him back through giggles, the tears in your eyes subsiding.
“Dean--” you started through kisses.
He hummed, but continued attacking your lips.
“Dean--!” you laughed. You could feel him smiling against you.
He broke away from you, still holding you in his arms.
baratheonpilled
prguitarman
dededos
