supernatural is such a fuckass show to try and analyze because ill look at the significant decline in sam being the one to actually drive the impala and draw up conclusions about how it's a metaphor for sam losing agency over his life and quite literally letting dean, his perpetual north star, take the wheel. and then. i find out that the real reason sam stops driving much is because. they didn't wanna let jared "drive it like it's stolen" padalecki get behind the wheel on set. okay. my fault for trying to drown in a puddle.
You meet Sam and Dean on a hunt in your town and things aren't the same afterwards.
(Dean X Reader, no y/n)
There was nothing unusual about a summer thunder storm, especially after the recent heat, but this one had been rumbling for a bit too long now. The first day of the storm was the day you moved in to your new house, the wind creaked through the wooden door, whistling cold air into your new house. Once the wind died down, the thunder and lightening came. It rumbled through the neighbourhood, sending bright flashes into the darkening sky.
After the first couple of days, the storm became boring. The perpetually grey sky was more of a disappointing annoyance than relief from the beating July sun, it was hot and sticky without any of the enjoyment that came with sunny days. Your friends invited you out to blow off some steam after unpacking all day, they said it would be fun to try somewhere new and Angela had heard good things about the bar around the corner from your house. Inside the bustling bar, the air conditioning whirred a welcoming breeze over your table, wicking the sweat from your face and neck which had accumulated on the walk over. The bar's hubbub aside, you could still hear the manager's conversation a few tables over.
"Yeah, he was a good guy, I have no idea why he'd do something like that..." Her face was scrunched up, trying to understand what caused his behaviour a few weeks ago, "I mean, it's not like he needed the money, he was earning a good wage, he had a full ride and perfect grades so he didn't need to pay for school..." She trailed off, the two suited men glanced at each other.
The taller one cleared his throat, "Thank you Marissa, here's my card in case you remember anything else that was out of the ordinary".
The shorter one thanked Marissa and turned around, adjusting his cheap tie, you hastily turned back to your cosmopolitan, pretending that you weren't listening to a conversation which definitely did not involve you. You hadn't turned quick enough, his green eyes met yours and with a flush of your cheeks, you reinserted yourself back into your friends' gossip.
"I'm not saying that I'm going to ever take him back, but what if he wants to settle down?"
You snorted, Fleur was talking about her pig of an ex boyfriend. Again. "Fleur. It'll be a cold day in hell when Gus decides to settle down. Don't reduce yourself to that." She shook her head with a smile and took a long sip of her drink. She knew better, and she knew that you knew better. Fleur and Gus had finally broken up for good around the time the storm started, he had been distant for a few weeks beforehand, but he seemed to get worse in the unbearable heat, and Fleur finally realised that she deserved better and sent him packing a few days ago. She had been helping you move in to distract herself from the chaos which seeped out from her love life.
Angela rubbed Fleur's arm, knowing that she was still hurting – douchebag or not, she had still fallen pretty hard for the guy. "I'm calling it," Angela hiccuped, "Girls night. Tonight, right now." The three of you laughed and finished your varying drinks in agreement. The rest of the night was a blur of tequila, cocktails and pounding music, with messy pictures cluttering your camera roll.
You woke up around nine the next morning, head pounding still in last night's makeup, you shuddered and stumbled your way to the cool bathroom, you wiped off the mascara which was now smudged underneath your eyes. As you patted your puffy face dry, something moved just out of the corner of your eye, but before you could get a proper look, it had vanished and the room suddenly felt all too warm. You shook it off as hangover chills and brushed your teeth.
BZZZZ BZZZZZZ BZZZZZ
Your phone rang, making you jump. You walked back to your bedroom and picked up, it was Angela and Fleur, asking you to come to Fleur's apartment. Angela had stayed there after your impromptu girls night, opting to share a bed with Fleur as she was too drunk to get home by herself. She pleaded you to grab breakfast on your way over. Begrudgingly, you slipped on your tired jeans and the nearest t-shirt after giving it a whiff, and stepped out into the muggy July day, making your way to the diner near Fleur's.
The bell above the door rang as you walked in to the smell of over-roasted coffee and sizzling bacon, stifling a hungover gag, you walked up to the counter and ordered yourself a breakfast muffin with extra bacon and a large coffee, pancakes for Angela, and a veggie scramble for Fleur. The aging lady who served you smiled and told you to sit and wait for a few minutes, you tapped your fingers on the countertop, your silver rings hit the surface softly while you poured sugar into your coffee. You turned to take in the Sunday morning scene, too soon for church goers, but not entirely empty, your eyes caught on the black car which roared into the parking spot outside the diner, your dad would have loved it's shiny black body and chrome accents, wanting to get a better look, you stood up as the doors creaked shut. The two men walked in, opting for jeans and flannel over t-shirts rather than the poorly fitting suits they had donned in the bar the night before, the tall one walked over to the counter, briefly glancing at your t-shirt. The other one walked in and flashed you a cheeky grin, seeing that his partner had gone in the opposite direction to you didn't deter him from walking up to you, staring at your now feeling too tight t-shirt.
"Nice, Blue Oyster fan?" He asked, leaning on the counter, getting a better look at what you knew wasn't just your shirt anymore. You nodded, but before you could reply, the waitress had returned.
"Here's your order honey, have a nice day now." Before you could acknowledge her, she had already disappeared, leaving you alone with the man.
"Uh yeah, they were my dad's favourite," You replied, standing up to leave. He moved back slightly, giving you just enough space to squeeze past. "It was nice to meet you..."
"Dean", he held out his hand to shake yours, you shook his hand as he passed you your freshly refilled coffee cup. You gave him your name as you made your way to the door, opening it with a struggle. You walked along the pavement to meet your friends and you couldn't quite get Dean's piercing green eyes out of your mind, you hoped you'd bump into him again.
Walking into Angela's house, you were met by her fresh out of the shower, her neat red hair sat damp on her shoulders. Fleur was lying on the sofa, she looked exhausted, water bottle in hand and messy brown ringlets stuck shoved up into a bird's nest on top of her head, she waved lazily as you made your way over, passing her breakfast didn't seem to make much difference. As the three of you sat and ate your breakfast, rejuvenating you all for a day of sitting and doing nothing.
After the first awful movie, and halfway through the second, you heard the roar of a car outside which wasn't unusual for the area but when it stopped outside, your ears pricked up, "Did you guys hear that?" You looked to your friends for an answer.
Angela nodded, "Did you order something for dinner?"
"No did you?" They shook their heads. You could hear a familiar voice coming from outside of the neighbour's house.
"Well no, Sammy, I don't think it was this Mikey kid, it's definitely a case now shut up" Dean knocked on the door and waited for a response. "Mrs Kessler? Detectives Plant and Rose, may we come in?" Then you heard the door shut.
"Angie? Who lives next door?"
Angela fiddled with the remote, "You know that Mikey kid we went to school with? His mom lives there, poor woman. Her husband dies and then her son does an Italian job around all of the jewellery stores, they think he killed someone too."
"Oh. Have they caught him yet?" You leaned in further and Angela shook her head.
"No, scary right?" You stared at her, mouth agape. You had no idea that Mikey would be the type to do that, he was always the nicest in the class, quiet, but he was nice.
You fiddled with your hands at the thought of someone so nice turning into such a bad person when you were shaken by the sound of knocking on the door. You got up and opened it, being the closest to it and there he was.
"Hi," There was that boyish grin and green eyes again, dressed in the same cheap suit from the night before. He was a tall drink of water that you couldn't help but take in, it had been some time since you had had that type of company.
His partner stepped in, "I'm sorry about him, uh we're here regarding your neighbour, Mikey Kessler, we're scouting the neighbourhood trying to find out more about him." He flashed you a detective badge whilst Dean searched his pocket for his.
"I don't live here sorry but I went to school with him, he was a pretty nice guy I guess." You poked your head back around the corner and beckoned Angela over, she invited the two in and made room for them on the sofa, Fleur got up and walked to the bathroom.
"Sorry for the mess, we went out last night." Angela apologised as the men shuffled in their seats. "What did you say your names were, sorry?"
"I'm Sam Rose," The taller one replied, "And this is Dean Plant. We're here looking into what happened in town, trying to get a feel for what he was like before the attacks."
Angela nodded and simply repeated what she had told you earlier, none of you had seen him since grade school, and Angela had only just moved back into her family's home after her parents passed. You sat watching the conversation unfold, spinning the ring on your thumb with nothing more to add to the conversation.
When the pair had asked all of their questions you followed them to the door, Dean held out a card and handed it to you, lingering for a second too long. "If you remember anything else just give me a call." He gave you a smile and they left.
my name is Grace, I’m 22 and from the UK. I have a bachelor’s degree in English and I just started rewatching Supernatural. My favourite episode is Roadkill and I really enjoy writing! I want to use this blog for writing fics and reviews of episodes, basically somewhere to get all of the spn thoughts out!
kaledo-art
andulkaphoto
yousharknotpass
kianamaiart
blakekathryn
2087
gummygunk
theartofmadeline
janainaart