Hello all! Here's my masterlist so far. Thanks for checking it out and reading! <3
Please only proceed if you are 18+!
Please do not copy or repost any of my works to this or any other platforms.
Disclaimer: These are works of fiction. In this house, we pick and choose what is canon. (These are also self-indulgent, I write what I like to read, sorry not sorry lol)
You can also read my works on AO3 here <3
Dean Winchester
The Tortoise and The Hair
Sam Winchester
Trading Hurts
Admissible (On Hiatus) :
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six
Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven
Hi friends! Long time, no talk. I'm officially marking Admissible as On Hiatus as I am still really struggling over here and don't know when I will be able to post routinely again. I apologize from the bottom of my heart, and I sincerely hope that I will be back soon. I greatly appreciate all the support. Hope to talk to you all soon! Sending you all the love.
Happy New Year!! I'm still here, I promise. Health things are still going on, but I'm doing my best (between not having energy and going to tons of doctor visits). I really hope to be back to full capacity soon (crossing all my fingers and toes)! I appreciate all of you and I promise I haven't forgotten about you or our stories!!!
Hi friends!! Sorry, it has been a while. I promise I am still working on Admissible (and other stories), just at a bit of a snail’s pace. I’ve had some health things going on that have been sucking my energy and time like a vampire. I’m hoping to have a full return to normal soon <3 Please forgive me for the delay and thank you to everyone who is sticking around! I appreciate all of you more than I can express!!!
Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort
Author's Note: Hi friends! Hope you're still with me. Updates have been sporadic (I'm so sorry!), but life has been kicking my behind. I haven't forgotten our story, I promise! It's still coming, just a bit slower than I would like. I appreciate you all so much for continuing to read! Let me know if you have any questions or anything! You can also find me on tumblr under the same name. Thanks so much for reading <3
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.
Part One
AO3 link here
After a little more than 14 hours of Sam driving, following the Impala and only stopping for gas and snacks when necessary, you all stop in a small town in Ohio for the night. You slept for most of the drive, with Sam waking you at the stops to make sure you ate and took your pain medications when due. Dean pays for two rooms at the motel, one for the brothers and one for you. You stubbornly insist that you can take care of yourself for the night, but you leave your spare room key with the brothers just in case. Dean heads out for food for the three of you, muttering under his breath about “freakin’ health nuts with their rabbit food” when you told him just to get you whatever Sam orders.
You decide now is as good a time as any to attempt a shower. Or, as much of a shower as you are allowed to do since you shouldn’t use your right arm and can’t get your left thigh wet because of the stitches. You manage to get the sling off of your arm and the bandage off of your thigh when you realize that you can’t get your shirt off without help. You debate just cutting your shirt off, but even that will be incredibly difficult with only one hand. Sighing and admitting defeat, you grab your phone and dial Sam, who answers almost immediately.
“Y/N? You okay?,” Sam asks quickly, and you can hear running water in the background. He must have been in the shower himself.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I just- well-,” you take a deep breath, “this is embarrassing but I kind of need help getting undressed for a shower?” You ask, mentally crossing your fingers that this won’t be weird. Why would it be weird? Not like you’re asking the world’s hottest hunter to help you get naked or anything. You dumbass, Y/N, of course it’s going to be weird.
There are a few moments of silence from Sam on the other end of the phone, and you scramble to fix the awkward tension you’ve created. “You know what, I’m sorry, I can just do without. Or I can ask Dean-”
“No!” Sam cuts you off quickly. “No, don’t ask Dean. Just- I’ll help. Give me a minute and I’ll be over.”
“Thanks, Sam,” you say, hanging up the phone. You go through your duffel bag, grabbing a shirt, underwear, and a comfy pair of pants for after. You figure wrestling a shirt with your bad arm will be tough enough, let alone trying to wrestle with a bra, too. Plus, the thought of a bra squeezing your broken ribs gives you chills.
As you’re making sure your shower supplies are where you’ll be able to reach them with your good hand, Sam knocks at your door and opens it. “Y/N? It’s me,” he says as he closes the door behind him. You exit the bathroom, finding him standing there in a tee and sweatpants, hair still wet, and he’s holding one of his plaid button-ups. “Thought a button-up shirt might be easier for you to get on after,” he explains, laying the shirt on the edge of your bed.
How is he so thoughtful all the time? “Thank you, Sam,” you say. He rewards you with an adorably shy smile, dimples coming out of hiding.
“So- uh- how do you want to-,” he stumbles out, gesturing vaguely.
“Right,” you clear your throat, snapping out of the hypnotic state his smile always seems to put you in. “Honestly if you can just cut this shirt down the back, I think I can manage from there. I don’t really want to lift my arms if I can avoid it.”
“Yeah, sure, I can do that,” he says. You turn around, giving him your back and you hear him open his switchblade. “Is it okay if I put my hand in your shirt?” he asks. You nod, feeling touched that he is still asking permission, even while doing you a huge favor. He pulls your shirt away from your back gently, sliding his hand with the knife up your shirt. You feel his knuckles skim down your back as he carefully cuts your shirt from top to bottom, blade facing away from you. You hear his breath catch as he reaches the end. “Damn,” he says under his breath.
“That bad, huh?” you ask, knowing that your back is likely more bruise than skin at this point.
“I don’t know how you managed to sit in the car for so long, let alone sleep,” he says forlornly. “Are you sure you’ll be able to shower?”
“I mean, I have one arm,” you say.
“And only one leg on top of a bunch of broken ribs,” Sam argues. “Not to mention, your face is so swollen, I’m surprised you can see. I wouldn’t mind helping you if you need it.”
You turn around, still holding the cut shirt against you. You search his eyes for a moment to see if he’s serious. There’s not a doubt in your mind that Sam would be respectful and only help with what you give explicit permission for him to do. “Only if you really don’t mind. Help would be nice,” you admit.
He nods and gives you a small smile, “alright then. Lead the way.”
You walk into the bathroom, Sam keeping a respectable distance behind you. Looking behind you, you see him turn to face the door, giving you as much privacy as he can while still being there to help. You turn on the water, undress as carefully as you can, and gently get into the shower. Being very mindful to keep your sutured wound out of the stream of water, you muddle through washing yourself, Sam filling the silence by talking about his journey following you across the country and pausing to check on you every few minutes.
With your face and body clean, your hair is the only battle left to tackle. Turning so you’re facing away from the water, you interrupt Sam to ask if he would wash it for you. He agrees, asking if you’re ready and if you want him to use conditioner in your hair after the shampoo. With your permission, he moves the shower curtain just enough so that he can reach in with both hands. You verbally walk him through your normal hair routine, which he follows diligently, taking extra time to gently massage your head with his fingers and run them through your hair. Once your hair is cleaned, conditioned, and rinsed, he turns the water off. He politely wraps a towel around you before using another to dry your hair. You give Sam your thanks, and he steps out of the bathroom so you can get dressed, pulling the door shut behind him. With some struggling, you get your underwear and pants on. When you try to get your right arm into Sam’s extremely soft button-up, you wince and suck a breath in through your teeth, finding your muscles stiff and painful.
Gritting your teeth and treating it like ripping off a bandaid, you quickly get your right arm through the sleeve and then pull your arm back against your chest. You cradle it there with your good hand, bending over and breathing roughly through the pain radiating through your shoulder and ribs.
“Y/N? You okay?” Sam asks through the door, but you can hear his hand come to rest on the handle, ready to come in at a moment’s notice.
“Yeah,” you respond through your teeth. “Just having some trouble with the shirt. Give me a minute please.”
You hear a knock at the room’s door, and you hear the muffled sounds of Sam talking to Dean. You focus on breathing as deeply and slowly as you can without increasing the pain, blinking tears away from your eyes. After several moments, you straighten up, getting your good arm into the shirt’s other sleeve and pulling the sides of the shirt together in the front. Dean is gone by the time you open the bathroom door, and Sam is setting two salads on the table, one for you and one for him.
Registering you entering the room, Sam looks up and gives you a smile. “Food’s here,” he says, then you see him realize that you’re holding the shirt closed. “Need help with the buttons?” he asks.
“Please,” you nod, grateful that he is so attentive and caring.
He steps closer, buttoning the shirt from top to bottom and then helping you get your right arm into your sling. He guides you to one of the chairs at the table, telling you to eat, and he starts combing through your hair with his fingers. As you eat your salad, Sam continues playing with your hair, humming a song by The Smiths under his breath. By the time you are finished with your food, your hair is in a neat braid and secured with a band from around his wrist. You gently sit back in your chair, wincing when your back initially touches but settling into it regardless, as Sam comes around you to sit in the other chair and eat his salad.
“Where’d you learn how to braid?” you ask.
He shrugs, “I like when my hair is played with, so I used to play with Jess’ hair in college. Just kind of taught myself. I used to braid her hair while I studied.”
“That’s really cute, Sam,” you admit. He smiles, looking a little shy while he takes another bite of food.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you ask “so still no word from Castiel?” He shakes his head no. “Does he disappear often? Should we be worried?”
“He has done this before,” Sam admits. “Sometimes it’s bad and sometimes he’s just off doing his own thing. We’ll go back to the bunker, see if he left a note or something.”
You nod, humming. “I’m sure he’ll be okay.”
Finishing his food, Sam stands and throws away all of the trash from both of your meals. “I’m sure he will be. And I know it might be selfish, but I just wish he could be here to heal you so you weren’t in so much pain.”
“How in the world is that selfish, Sam? You’re wishing something for my sake,” you argue.
“Well- but- if he’s in trouble or hurt-”
“Sam,” you stop him, standing and coming to stand in front of him, placing your left hand on his cheek so he will look at you, “that is the complete opposite of selfish. You are not a selfish person for wishing for something that will benefit someone else. You are so sweet and helpful and completely selfless, and I wish you could see that like I do.”
A moment passes, you and Sam looking into each other’s eyes. You notice his eyes bounce down to your lips, and you gently guide him to lean down to you. Your lips meet, his hands coming to rest on your hips lightly. He pulls away slightly, you both still breathing in the same air. “I don’t want to hurt you any more than you already are, Y/N,” he quietly admits. You nod, understanding. He straightens, giving your hips a very gentle squeeze before pulling his hands away, and you drop your hand back to your side. “Will you be okay tonight?” he asks.
“Honestly, if you don’t mind, I’ll feel safer if you stayed,” you admit.
His shoulders seem to relax, as if he was holding tension there at the thought of leaving you, even if he would only be next door. He agrees to stay, helping you get into bed and making sure to fluff the pillows around you to support you. He sends a text to Dean, letting him know he’s staying in your room, before he turns out the light and crawls into bed beside you. Feeling his warmth beside you and trusting that you are as safe as you could possibly be at the moment, you fall asleep almost immediately.
Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort
Author's Note: Warning: hospital setting (and possibly inaccurate medical talk?) Sorry for the extra long delay on this chapter. Work and some personal things have been kicking my behind. The coming weeks are looking to be just as busy for me, so I will update whenever I possibly can but I can't promise weekly updates. I hope you're still with me (and hopefully not too angry). Thank you all for continuing to read! I hope you continue to enjoy it!! Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love so far! <3
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.
Part One
AO3 link here
Your consciousness comes crawling back to you, and the first things you register are the incessant beeping of a heart monitor and the sterile smell that accompanies hospitals. You can feel an uncomfortable bed underneath you and scratchy blankets on top of you, bandages on your face and thigh, a heavy-duty sling holding your right arm securely against your chest. You can feel the chill of IV fluids pumping into your left arm at the elbow, and you assume there are pain medications mixed into the fluids due to the mostly dull ache throughout your body. You pry your eyes open as much as you can around the swelling from the demon’s beatings. You’re greeted by the heartwarming sight of an adorable giant awkwardly folded in a chair by the left side of your bed, his hand holding onto yours like his life depends on it. His head is resting on the bed facing away from you, his hair fanned out across the top of your arm, and you can hear soft snores coming from him.
Smiling at the cute sight in front of you, you try to gently wake him up by whispering his name. Sam doesn’t stir, so you try gently squeezing his hand. This startles him awake, and he shoots up, eyes frantically scanning the room for threats as his free hand reaches for his gun. Once his eyes bounce back to yours, you can see the instant he realizes that you’re awake and you’re what woke him. His free hand leaves his gun and joins his other hand in holding yours. “Hey, you’re awake. Are you in pain? How are you feeling?” His hair is tousled from his odd sleeping position, and he’s looking at you with those sweet puppy dog eyes.
“I-,” you try to speak but your dry throat and mouth stop you, and you try clearing your throat.
“Oh! Here, sorry,” Sam says as he reaches for a cup of water and brings the straw to your lips for you to drink.
After drinking some, your voice works but comes out scratchy, “I’m okay. I’ve had worse. What happened?”
“Well how much do you remember?” He asks, taking your hand in his again.
You explain as much as you can, from breaking into the cabin until leaning yourself up against the wall while talking to him. He takes over from there, telling you that he made the hour-long drive in about half the time and found you passed out against the wall inside the barn. He brought you to the hospital, worried about the blood loss and the location of the knife in your leg.
It’s at this time that a doctor comes into the room, and you assume a nurse passing by must have alerted her to your alert status. The doctor, a tall middle aged brunette with a kind face, introduces herself as Doctor Roth and describes the extent of your injuries: dislocated shoulder (“you’re lucky the dislocation was reduced when it was or your shoulder may have needed surgical intervention”), several broken ribs (“breathing will hurt for a while, but you’re very lucky your lungs weren’t punctured”), stab wound to your thigh (“incredibly lucky you didn’t bleed out with the laceration to your femoral artery we had to repair”), and various cuts and bruises.
“All things considered,” Doctor Roth says, “your injuries will absolutely take time to heal, but I’d say you have an angel watching over you out there. And your sweet husband here, too. He hasn’t left your side since he carried you through the hospital doors.”
You feel yourself blush and Sam gives your hand a little squeeze, reminding you that he has been holding your hand this whole time.
“I’d like to keep you one more night for observation, but we can talk about your discharge tomorrow,” Doctor Roth continues. “I’ll let you get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning.” She turns and exits the room, leaving you alone with Sam again.
“Sorry,” Sam apologizes, “saying we were married was the easiest way I could stay here with you.” He starts to pull his hand away but you hold on tighter.
“It’s okay, Sam. I don’t mind. I feel safer knowing you were here.”
He gives you a shy smile, ducking his head and his hair falls into his eyes.
“Now that I’m awake though, you really should take a break and take care of yourself. When was the last time you slept lying down? Or ate something?”
He lifts his head, shaking his hair back out of his face. “Oh, I’m okay-“
“Sam,” you scold. “Go to the cabin where my stuff is and rest.” You give him the coordinates for the cabin you broke into before being taken by the demons.
He takes a deep breath, debating. “Alright, alright,” he concedes, standing and running his hands through his hair. “I’ll go get some food and sleep. But only a couple hours and I’ll be back. Besides, Dean should be here any minute now. He can keep you company.”
“Dean is coming? And he’s almost here already? How long was I out?”
“Almost two days.”
Your eyebrows shoot up. Two days? Damn, I guess they did more of a number on me than I thought. “Wait, you’ve been just sitting here for two days? You’re insane,” you half-jokingly accuse.
“I had to make sure you were okay,” he counters. “The nurses brought me some food and offered me a cot. And I haven’t been bored. I’ve been working on research and remotely helping other hunters.”
Now you notice his laptop set up at the small table and chair in the corner of the room. You can see food wrappers in the trash can next to it. He makes his way over, starting to pack up his things as his phone starts to ring. He answers, giving your room number and talking about your doctor’s newest update, and you assume it must be Dean on the other side of the call. A few quick moments later, Dean walks through the door as both brothers hang up their phones.
“Hey, kiddo,” Dean says to you, making himself comfortable in the chair beside you and using the bed’s remote to turn on the TV in the corner of the room. “Alright, Sammy, go do what you have to do. I’ll be here ‘til you get back.”
Sam swings his bag over his shoulder, coming over to kiss you on the forehead before starting toward the door.
“What, no kiss for your big brother?” Dean goads, smirk on his face.
“Jerk,” Sam says, continuing out the door and leaving.
“Bitch,” Dean responds.
*
Despite being unconscious for the last couple days, you fall back asleep shortly after Sam leaves. You wake slightly when Sam returns a few hours later, but you fall back asleep quickly. The next time you are fully awake, the sun is rising and you realize you can hear Dean and Sam having a hushed conversation in the corner of the room.
“So you don’t know where he is?” Sam asks quietly.
“No, I haven’t heard from him and he hasn’t been answering prayers either,” Dean responds. “I’m starting to get a little worried.”
You use the bed’s controls to raise the head of it and sit up, “are you guys talking about Castiel?”
The brothers realize you’re awake, Sam coming to the seat next to you again and Dean taking a step closer. “Yeah, we were hoping he would meet up with us when we leave here and heal you,” Sam says.
“Sounds to me like we should be more worried about where he is and what’s going on with him,” you say. Sam opens his mouth to argue but you cut him off, “I’ll heal, Sam. I’ll be okay. A little pain is good for the soul. Let’s get the doctor and get me out of here, and we can look for Cass.”
Dean agrees, heading out into the hall to find someone who can discharge you. You grab Sam’s hand with your good one, making him look at you, “I know you’re worried about me and you mean well, but I promise I’ll let you know when I need help. It sounds like Cass needs help more than I do right now.” Sam reluctantly agrees.
Doctor Roth comes in, going over all of your restrictions and instructions for healing while a nurse removes your IV catheter. You sign all of the necessary paperwork for discharge, and Doctor Roth wishes you well. Dean comes back, holding your duffel bag that Sam must have grabbed from the cabin last night. You rifle through it as best you can, pulling out your comfiest clothes to put on. The nurse helps you into the bathroom and helps you change. You do your best to ignore the purple bruises littering your body.
With you dressed and ready to leave, Sam and Dean help you out to the cars, explaining that they got another trusted hunter to drive your car back to the bunker. Saying a quick goodbye to Dean, he gets into the Impala and Sam helps you into the passenger seat of his car. With everyone ready, you all start the long drive back to Lebanon.
Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort
Author's Note: Warning: injuries, torture in here, tread lightly. Hello all!! Here's the next part! I have a few extra shifts at work this coming week, so I'm hoping to get the next chapter out next week like normal but I can't guarantee it'll be on time. Thank you all for continuing to read! I hope you continue to enjoy it!! Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love so far! <3
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.
Part One
AO3 link here
Two weeks.
Two weeks of no contact from The Night.
You had started off staying near the bunker, driving around near the abandoned buildings around Lebanon that Crowley had pointed you toward. No threats, no phone calls, no feelings of being watched. After a few days of radio silence, you had called Sam to have him ask Crowley if he was sure The Night would still be after you. The only answer he gave was that they would be, but there was no way to know when. Sam had wanted you to come back to the bunker, revisit the idea of you working with the Winchesters and Castiel to find the Night. You were stubborn, arguing that they would not come after you if you were with them, and you needed to get rid of them before you could feel safe enough to return. You argued that you were trying to keep them safe, while he argued that the three of them would gladly risk injury if it meant you were safe. The phone call ended with this fight, and you had not spoken directly to him since, instead taking it upon yourself to start driving farther away, just a little farther every day. You can feel yourself becoming more desperate to end this. You kept telling yourself that the demons would come for you if you were more isolated.
Unfortunately, you were right.
Day fourteen finds you driving into Maine and breaking into a cabin in Weld for the night, leaving the lights off to stay relatively hidden.
Day fourteen, Cass. Daily update time. I’m still doing okay. I’m in Maine now, outskirts of Weld. Stumbled my way into a cabin. Don’t ask. You make yourself as comfy as you can on the cabin’s couch, keeping your eyes and ears open. The four of us should take a road trip this way whenever I come back. Nice little vacation spot, I think. You sigh. I miss you guys. Tell Sam I miss him, please. Goodnight, Cass. Stay safe. Keep them safe.
You settle further into the couch until you hear a creak coming from the direction of the cabin’s front door. You can feel a presence inching closer behind you.
I’ve found them, Cass.
You stand, turning to face them and drawing your angel blade, thankful for the moonlight seeping in through the windows. There are two intruders, both women of around your height and build, one brunette and one blonde. “Cristo,” you challenge. Their eyes flash black and they flinch. You quickly lunge toward the closer demon, the blonde, dodging a punch of hers and managing to sink your blade into the center of her chest. A bright light emits from within her and her body falls limp to the floor. The brunette grabs your right arm that holds the knife, twisting it behind you and forcing you to drop the blade. You hear a sickening pop and feel a flash of pain as she dislocates your shoulder. She leaves that arm hanging by your side and grabs the back of your neck to lead you toward the door, “nice try. You’re coming with me.”
*
After a blindfolded drive with every little bump or turn in the road jolting your shoulder and sending a wave of pain through you, you’re led into a building and roughly thrown onto a chair. The blindfold is ripped off of your head, and you blink a few times to adjust your eyes. You find yourself inside a large open wooden barn that has definitely seen better days. There are holes in the walls and the roof, allowing the moonlight to cast shadows throughout the room. Glancing around yourself, you count thirteen demons around you, all watching you with varying degrees of interest and disgust. Show time, Y/N.
“I’m guessing you didn’t bring me here for a slumber party,” you say.
The demon in front of you steps forward and smacks your left cheek hard enough to send your head flying to the side. Your cheek burns and you immediately taste blood, feeling a split on the inside of your cheek with your tongue. You turn back to face the demon. The meatsuit he is using was a man in his late 50s, of average height and build, and completely bald. “You see,” he says, “we know the most effective way to get to the Winchesters is through someone close to them. They’ll sacrifice themselves without blinking an eye, but damn do they both have quite the hero complex.”
You spit blood on the floor toward him, “so you don’t want to tell each other stories and braid each other’s hair?”
He sarcastically smiles then responds by hitting your other cheek, this time with a closed fist. One of his knuckles caught your eye, and you can feel it start to swell immediately. You do your best to breathe through the pain, turning back to face him again.
He leans down, getting in your face, “ready to talk about the Winchesters yet? Or do you want to keep taunting and see what happens?”
You pretend to consider it for a moment, then you spit blood in his face. He wipes his face, then draws a knife and plunges it deep into your left thigh until the hilt touches. He grabs your dislocated shoulder and presses his thumb into it, causing you groan in pain. He uses his grip on your shoulder to pull you out of the chair and throw you onto the ground. You barely manage to catch yourself on your good hand, keeping yourself from landing on top of the bomb inside your jacket. He kicks your back, and you can feel several ribs on your left side break with the contact.
“See, we can do this the hard way. It’s really no issue for us. If anything, that’s even more enjoyable.” He starts to circle you, as you lay on the ground, being careful of your limp arm and the knife still sticking out of your thigh. “I suppose we could wait a bit, see if those boys show up to save you. Take turns having our fun with you.” You manage to slip your hand inside your jacket, wrapping your fingers around the demon bomb. As he circles back behind you, he lands another kick on your back, breaking even more ribs on your left side. “They already go above and beyond for total strangers, and we all know you mean much, much more to them than that, don’t we?”
You cough up some blood and try to catch your breath, keeping your hand on the bomb but still hidden inside your jacket. “Is the pillow fight next? I love a good dogpile.”
Unknowingly taking the bait, he nods to the other demons and they all start toward you. As they close in, you sit up and throw the bomb onto the ground, turning your head away from it and bracing yourself as best you can. The explosion ripples out, throwing all of the demons away from you. Sparks ignite on each of them, burning them up and leaving only black shadows of their shapes on the walls. You look around, making sure all of the demons are gone.
Holy shit, it worked. It’s over, you think as you take stock of your injuries. Cass, I did it. We did it. I could really use some help now though.
You lay down as slowly and gently as you can, being careful of your dislocated shoulder, broken ribs, and the knife still lodged in your thigh. You can feel tears of pride forming in your eyes, glad that your plan worked and they’re gone.
After laying for a few moments with no sign of Castiel, you pull out your phone and try calling him. It rings and rings with no answer, instead going to voicemail. You hang up instead of leaving him a message, and you try Sam instead. He answers on the second ring, “Y/N?”
Your heart feels so much peace at the first sound of his voice. “Sam, we did it. They’re dead. We really did it.”
“Are you okay? Where are you?” he frantically asks. You can hear the sounds of a car engine in the background.
“In Maine. Your other question is a little complicated though. Any chance you can ask Cass to come help me?” You pull your phone away from your head, putting Sam on speaker and sending him your location. You set your phone down and use your good hand to slowly push yourself upright to a sitting position.
“I don’t know where Cass is. I haven’t seen him in over a week and the most I’ve heard from him is him texting me periodic updates on where you’ve been. I’ve honestly been trailing you a little bit. Looks like I’m still about an hour out from where you are now, though.”
“An hour? Shit.” As carefully and gently as you can, you start to take off your jacket, knowing you’ll need to use it as a sling for your right arm after dealing with your shoulder.
“What’s wrong? Talk to me, Y/N,” Sam insists, and you can hear him giving the car more gas to speed up.
“Only if you promise you’re driving safely. I need you to get here in one piece, Sam.” After he agrees, you talk him through your injuries. He agrees that your shoulder should be set as soon as possible, he agrees that you should leave the knife in your leg, at least until he’s there to help, and he agrees that you can’t do much about the broken ribs. With his voice through the phone helping to distract your mind from the pain, you manage to link your hands around your propped up knee and lean back to reduce your shoulder dislocation. You fashion your jacket into a sling as best you can and gently place your right arm in it. You manage to cut away part of your shirt and tie it around your leg to stave off some of the bleeding around the knife. You drag yourself over to a wall, leaning yourself against it and resting your eyes, finding comfort in Sam’s voice through the phone and the promise that he will reach you soon.
I’m glad you’re enjoying though. Your responses to this one and part seven made me so so happy today, so thank you <3 I had some extra shifts at work last week and some doctor appointments so I didn’t have time to post. I promise it’s coming though :)
Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort
Author's Note: Warning: injuries, torture in here, tread lightly. Hello all!! Here's the next part! I have a few extra shifts at work this coming week, so I'm hoping to get the next chapter out next week like normal but I can't guarantee it'll be on time. Thank you all for continuing to read! I hope you continue to enjoy it!! Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love so far! <3
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.
Part One
AO3 link here
Two weeks.
Two weeks of no contact from The Night.
You had started off staying near the bunker, driving around near the abandoned buildings around Lebanon that Crowley had pointed you toward. No threats, no phone calls, no feelings of being watched. After a few days of radio silence, you had called Sam to have him ask Crowley if he was sure The Night would still be after you. The only answer he gave was that they would be, but there was no way to know when. Sam had wanted you to come back to the bunker, revisit the idea of you working with the Winchesters and Castiel to find the Night. You were stubborn, arguing that they would not come after you if you were with them, and you needed to get rid of them before you could feel safe enough to return. You argued that you were trying to keep them safe, while he argued that the three of them would gladly risk injury if it meant you were safe. The phone call ended with this fight, and you had not spoken directly to him since, instead taking it upon yourself to start driving farther away, just a little farther every day. You can feel yourself becoming more desperate to end this. You kept telling yourself that the demons would come for you if you were more isolated.
Unfortunately, you were right.
Day fourteen finds you driving into Maine and breaking into a cabin in Weld for the night, leaving the lights off to stay relatively hidden.
Day fourteen, Cass. Daily update time. I’m still doing okay. I’m in Maine now, outskirts of Weld. Stumbled my way into a cabin. Don’t ask. You make yourself as comfy as you can on the cabin’s couch, keeping your eyes and ears open. The four of us should take a road trip this way whenever I come back. Nice little vacation spot, I think. You sigh. I miss you guys. Tell Sam I miss him, please. Goodnight, Cass. Stay safe. Keep them safe.
You settle further into the couch until you hear a creak coming from the direction of the cabin’s front door. You can feel a presence inching closer behind you.
I’ve found them, Cass.
You stand, turning to face them and drawing your angel blade, thankful for the moonlight seeping in through the windows. There are two intruders, both women of around your height and build, one brunette and one blonde. “Cristo,” you challenge. Their eyes flash black and they flinch. You quickly lunge toward the closer demon, the blonde, dodging a punch of hers and managing to sink your blade into the center of her chest. A bright light emits from within her and her body falls limp to the floor. The brunette grabs your right arm that holds the knife, twisting it behind you and forcing you to drop the blade. You hear a sickening pop and feel a flash of pain as she dislocates your shoulder. She leaves that arm hanging by your side and grabs the back of your neck to lead you toward the door, “nice try. You’re coming with me.”
*
After a blindfolded drive with every little bump or turn in the road jolting your shoulder and sending a wave of pain through you, you’re led into a building and roughly thrown onto a chair. The blindfold is ripped off of your head, and you blink a few times to adjust your eyes. You find yourself inside a large open wooden barn that has definitely seen better days. There are holes in the walls and the roof, allowing the moonlight to cast shadows throughout the room. Glancing around yourself, you count thirteen demons around you, all watching you with varying degrees of interest and disgust. Show time, Y/N.
“I’m guessing you didn’t bring me here for a slumber party,” you say.
The demon in front of you steps forward and smacks your left cheek hard enough to send your head flying to the side. Your cheek burns and you immediately taste blood, feeling a split on the inside of your cheek with your tongue. You turn back to face the demon. The meatsuit he is using was a man in his late 50s, of average height and build, and completely bald. “You see,” he says, “we know the most effective way to get to the Winchesters is through someone close to them. They’ll sacrifice themselves without blinking an eye, but damn do they both have quite the hero complex.”
You spit blood on the floor toward him, “so you don’t want to tell each other stories and braid each other’s hair?”
He sarcastically smiles then responds by hitting your other cheek, this time with a closed fist. One of his knuckles caught your eye, and you can feel it start to swell immediately. You do your best to breathe through the pain, turning back to face him again.
He leans down, getting in your face, “ready to talk about the Winchesters yet? Or do you want to keep taunting and see what happens?”
You pretend to consider it for a moment, then you spit blood in his face. He wipes his face, then draws a knife and plunges it deep into your left thigh until the hilt touches. He grabs your dislocated shoulder and presses his thumb into it, causing you groan in pain. He uses his grip on your shoulder to pull you out of the chair and throw you onto the ground. You barely manage to catch yourself on your good hand, keeping yourself from landing on top of the bomb inside your jacket. He kicks your back, and you can feel several ribs on your left side break with the contact.
“See, we can do this the hard way. It’s really no issue for us. If anything, that’s even more enjoyable.” He starts to circle you, as you lay on the ground, being careful of your limp arm and the knife still sticking out of your thigh. “I suppose we could wait a bit, see if those boys show up to save you. Take turns having our fun with you.” You manage to slip your hand inside your jacket, wrapping your fingers around the demon bomb. As he circles back behind you, he lands another kick on your back, breaking even more ribs on your left side. “They already go above and beyond for total strangers, and we all know you mean much, much more to them than that, don’t we?”
You cough up some blood and try to catch your breath, keeping your hand on the bomb but still hidden inside your jacket. “Is the pillow fight next? I love a good dogpile.”
Unknowingly taking the bait, he nods to the other demons and they all start toward you. As they close in, you sit up and throw the bomb onto the ground, turning your head away from it and bracing yourself as best you can. The explosion ripples out, throwing all of the demons away from you. Sparks ignite on each of them, burning them up and leaving only black shadows of their shapes on the walls. You look around, making sure all of the demons are gone.
Holy shit, it worked. It’s over, you think as you take stock of your injuries. Cass, I did it. We did it. I could really use some help now though.
You lay down as slowly and gently as you can, being careful of your dislocated shoulder, broken ribs, and the knife still lodged in your thigh. You can feel tears of pride forming in your eyes, glad that your plan worked and they’re gone.
After laying for a few moments with no sign of Castiel, you pull out your phone and try calling him. It rings and rings with no answer, instead going to voicemail. You hang up instead of leaving him a message, and you try Sam instead. He answers on the second ring, “Y/N?”
Your heart feels so much peace at the first sound of his voice. “Sam, we did it. They’re dead. We really did it.”
“Are you okay? Where are you?” he frantically asks. You can hear the sounds of a car engine in the background.
“In Maine. Your other question is a little complicated though. Any chance you can ask Cass to come help me?” You pull your phone away from your head, putting Sam on speaker and sending him your location. You set your phone down and use your good hand to slowly push yourself upright to a sitting position.
“I don’t know where Cass is. I haven’t seen him in over a week and the most I’ve heard from him is him texting me periodic updates on where you’ve been. I’ve honestly been trailing you a little bit. Looks like I’m still about an hour out from where you are now, though.”
“An hour? Shit.” As carefully and gently as you can, you start to take off your jacket, knowing you’ll need to use it as a sling for your right arm after dealing with your shoulder.
“What’s wrong? Talk to me, Y/N,” Sam insists, and you can hear him giving the car more gas to speed up.
“Only if you promise you’re driving safely. I need you to get here in one piece, Sam.” After he agrees, you talk him through your injuries. He agrees that your shoulder should be set as soon as possible, he agrees that you should leave the knife in your leg, at least until he’s there to help, and he agrees that you can’t do much about the broken ribs. With his voice through the phone helping to distract your mind from the pain, you manage to link your hands around your propped up knee and lean back to reduce your shoulder dislocation. You fashion your jacket into a sling as best you can and gently place your right arm in it. You manage to cut away part of your shirt and tie it around your leg to stave off some of the bleeding around the knife. You drag yourself over to a wall, leaning yourself against it and resting your eyes, finding comfort in Sam’s voice through the phone and the promise that he will reach you soon.
Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?
Word Count: 1.4k
Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort
Author's Note: Shorter chapter this time, sorry! I've had some personal things going on that took away from my writing time. I'll make it up to you next time! Thank you all for continuing to read! I hope you continue to enjoy it!! Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love so far! <3
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.
Part One
AO3 link here
You and Dean enter the dungeon, finding Sam and Castiel finishing the summoning ritual. You make your way over to stand beside Sam. Sam looks at you with his warm eyes and a hint of a smile before steeling his face as he says the last words, and Crowley appears in the middle of a devil’s trap on the floor.
“Good to see you all again,” Crowley drawls. “I was wondering how soon you would call.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean speaks up, “cut the crap, Crowley. What do you know?”
“Well, Squirrel, I know plenty. But first,” Crowley answers, stalking toward you as much as he can within the trap, “I’d like to talk a bit more with Moose’s new friend. Our last conversation was cut short.”
Sam starts to step in front of you, but you place a hand against his arm to stop him. You cross your arms and take a step toward Crowley, still outside of the trap and out of his reach. You can feel the eyes of both Winchesters and Cass on you, watching closely. You narrow your eyes at the demon, “I have a name. You and I both know you know it. And you and I both know you want The Night gone just as much as we do. So spill.”
Crowley hums, appreciating you, then looks at Sam, “I like this one. She’s got a fire in her.” He looks back to you, reaching a hand out toward you with his palm up, “come closer, darling.”
A test of trust, maybe? Sam grabs your arm, trying to keep you in place. You look back at him, reassuring him with your eyes and patting his hand with yours. The worry is pouring off of him in waves, but you try your best not to give in. Sam’s hand reluctantly drops back to his side as you step forward into the trap, taking Crowley’s hand. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Dean and Cass tense, their hands in fists.
Crowley kisses the back of your hand. “Even more beautiful in your physical form,” he says with a wink.
You take your hand from his, cross your arms again and roll your eyes, “alright, enough. Are you going to help or not?”
Crowley puts his hands up in surrender, “I will, I will. But you’ll have to trust me enough to let me out of this pesky trap.”
You narrow your eyes at him again, “and what then? You’ll just help us? What do you get out of this?”
Crowley shrugs and then smiles, “you’re right, I want them gone. They’re a problem. And I have a soft spot for you.”
“You don’t even know me,” you scoff.
“That’s only as far as you know. I’ve had eyes on you for a while now,” he smirks.
You quirk an eyebrow at him, “Why? I’m no one.”
Crowley shrugs again, “the word going around is that you’re a better hunter than Timon and Pumbaa over there.”
You scoff, “sure. Enough lying, Crowley. What can you tell us about The Night?”
“Well, Darling,” he purrs, “I’d be more than happy to tell you all the details if we could go somewhere more comfortable. Maybe have some tea?”
*
You all end up in the library, Crowley sipping on a mug of tea while answering questions and explaining everything he knows about The Night. The boys all wordlessly arranged themselves so that you are the farthest from Crowley: Cass sitting closest to him, Dean next to Cass, and Sam next to you, protectively angling his body so that you have to lean forward to look around his shoulder at the demon.
“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” Dean says. “They’re a demon cult. The cultiest of cults.”
“You always have such a way with words,” Crowley jokes. “But yes, that’s correct.”
“And Y/N will have to lure them out without us. And fight them. Without us,” Dean continues.
Crowley nods, taking another unbothered sip of his tea. “The only sure way to get the rest of them to one spot is if Y/N is alone. They won’t want to risk it with all of you there.”
“Then how are you any help?” Sam asks.
“Well, it just so happens that I have access to what you all have called a ‘demon bomb’,” Crowley says.
“Is that what it sounds like? How does that work?” you ask.
“It’s a spell,” Sam explains to you. “It can kill demons in a larger area. Gathering the ingredients is the hard part, but we can make it into basically a grenade.”
“So you have the ingredients and you’ll give them to us, Crowley? Why?” you inquire.
Crowley shrugs, “sure. I’ll hand them over. Like I said, soft spot.” He smiles at you, and you’re surprised to think it seems genuine.
“Okay, so we do the spell, make the bomb, I lure them all out, and I nuke them. Sounds good to me,” you say, hoping that making it sounds simple will help you feel more confident. You’re sure you could handle a few of them since you’ll be expecting them this time, but several of them? It might get a little dicey. “Will they be able to find me with, you know,” you ask, gesturing to your ribs where the Enochian tattoo lies.
“Believe me,” Crowley answers, “they will be watching for you to leave here.”
“Then I say we do it. How soon can we build the bomb?” You ask, making up your mind.
“Wait,” Sam interjects, “I’m not a huge fan of sending you after them alone. Can we sit on it, see if we can find another way to get them?”
“Sam,” you grab his hand and lace your fingers with his, “I appreciate that you’re worried about me. But I can handle this, I promise.” You stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, you trying to convince him that you can do this by yourself and him trying to convince you to reconsider.
Eventually, he gives in, sitting back in his chair, “I hate it. But you’re right. If any of us can do this, it’s you.”
You squeeze his hand, “thank you.” You give him a smile, as reassuring as you can manage, then turn back to the others, “let’s do this.”
*
Crowley delivered the ingredients along with a map showing an assortment of abandoned buildings around the outskirts of the next several towns. He explained that you should try to lure the demons to one of them so you would be away from civilians. The boys showed you how to build the bomb inside a jar that fits perfectly in the inside pocket of your jacket. Cas also carved sigils into the side of the jar that would hide it from demons’ sight just in case they searched you, though he explained that the jar would be revealed to any demons who touch it.
Sam loads your pistol with devil’s trap bullets, and Dean makes sure your knives are sharpened, including an angel blade they insist on giving you. Seems like acts of service is the universal Winchester love language, you think while watching the brothers prepare your things.
With your weapons ready and on you, you nod your thanks to Cass and Dean before heading toward the garage with Sam. “I know telling you not to worry won’t do anything, so I won’t say it. Just remember that I’ll call you as soon as it’s over, okay?”
Sam pulls you into an almost bruising hug, pressing his lips into the top of your head. You squeeze him back, taking in his comfort and hoping to return it tenfold. As you pull away, you place your hands on his cheeks and pull him into a firm kiss. His large hands grip your back, fisting them in your clothes and keeping your body as close to his as possible.
He pulls back, keeping his arms tight around you and his forehead on yours. “Can I take you on a date when this is over?”
You nod, smiling, “I’d love that, Sam.”
“Okay, good.” He kisses you again, “go kick some ass, Y/N.”
You reluctantly get into your car, starting it up and pulling out of the bunker. Driven by the image of Sam standing in the bunker’s garage, one hand in his pocket and one waving, a shy smile with dimples shining on his face, you gather all your courage and drive into the night.
Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?
Word Count: 2.4k
Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort
Author's Note: Thank you all for continuing to read! I hope you continue to enjoy it!! Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love so far! <3
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.
Part One
AO3 link here
You wake to an empty bed, rubbing your eyes and sitting up. You feel conflicted to wake alone, disappointed that Sam left you but hoping he left to continue researching. You get out of bed and put your boots back on. When you open the door and step out of Sam’s room, you find yourself no longer inside the bunker. Now inside a grandiose room, the ceilings are stories above you, covered in an intricate painting depicting what looks like angels and war. The floor is smooth black marble, the walls are covered in framed art . Looking behind you for the door you came through, you find a solid wall with more art on it. So a giant room with only one giant set of doors across from me. Totally not weird or suspicious.
You go to draw your gun, hand grasping at air. You pat yourself and find yourself completely unarmed. You sigh, then square your shoulders and move forward. You push one of the doors open, finding it surprisingly easy to open considering its absurdly large size. It opens to a similarly sized room, with the same high ceiling and walls of art. This room, however, has a large fireplace on the wall to your left, and several red couches and chairs around it. There are also several different doors along the walls of this room. There is a man sitting in one of the chairs, facing you. He has short brown hair and a beard that is greying on the sides. He’s wearing a solid black suit, complete with black shirt and a grey tie. He sits tall with an air of cockiness about him.
“Welcome, Y/N. Please, come have a seat,” he says, British accent prominent, gesturing to the seats near him.
You eye him skeptically, but figuring you have no other option, you move into the room and sit on a couch facing him. You sit on the edge of the seat, tense.
“Please relax, we need to talk. Believe me, if I wanted you dead, you would be already,” he says. You sit back, attempting to appear relaxed. You’re sure he can tell you’re faking, but he continues anyway. “I’m sure you have many questions. I’ll be a gentleman and allow you to go first.”
“Okay. Who are you and where am I?”
He smiles, “ah, starting with the easy ones. My name is Crowley, King of Hell. We’re in your dream.”
You raise an eyebrow, “I’m still asleep?”
“Yes, you’re still sleeping. This is just a little something I whipped up so we could chat, just us,” he says, gesturing with his arms like he’s presenting it to you. “I didn’t think Moose, Squirrel, and Wings would appreciate me dropping in to talk to you.”
“Who?” you ask, confused.
“The Winchesters and their angel,” he answers.
“Oh, okay. And why am I here?”
“Well,” he leans forward, clasping his hands in front of him, “I heard you had a run in with a little group I’ve been looking for. I believe they’re calling themselves ‘The Night.’”
You cross your arms and lean back in your seat, unsure if you should trust him. As you’re scrutinizing him, you are hit with a wave of Sam’s scent, and you instinctively close your eyes to take a deep breath.
“Ah,” Crowley says, standing and stepping closer to you, “you’re starting to wake up and our time is nearly over. Tell the boys to summon me if you want my help with those pests. I believe we can help each other.”
The room in front of you melts away, leaving you in darkness. You can feel small movements against the side of your head, and you realize the movements are Sam’s chest moving with his breaths. At some point in your slumber, you managed to roll on top of him, your legs tangled with his and his arms wrapped around you. You turn and burrow your face into his chest, and you can feel Sam chuckle under his breath.
“I met Crowley,” you mumble into his chest.
You feel Sam stiffen, “what? When?”
“In my dream. He was in my dream.” You turn your head, placing your chin on Sam’s chest so you can look at him. His brows are furrowed and he looks concerned. “He said to tell you to summon him if we want his help with those demons. Said he’s been looking for them, too.”
“Huh,” Sam hums and relaxes slightly, “I guess I hadn’t considered checking with him yet. Could be worth talking to Dean and Cass about, maybe we could at least get some info from Crowley about them.” You can see the wheels in his mind turning, weighing the consequences.
“So you guys are familiar enough with the King of Hell that he has nicknames for you?” you ask.
Sam rolls his eyes, “that’s one of his favorite ways to amuse himself. What did he call us?”
“Moose, Squirrel, and Wings,” you answer. “I’m guessing you’re ‘Moose?’”
“Unfortunately,” Sam answers, but you can see his dimples threatening to make an appearance.
You close your eyes and tuck your face back into Sam’s chest for a moment, and he tightens his arms around you in response. “How long was I out?”
You feel him move his arm to look at his watch, “a little over six hours.”
You roll over, laying beside him and looking at him with your brows furrowed, “and you’ve been laying here bored for six hours?”
“I wasn’t bored. I was reading,” he gestures to a book on the nightstand beside him. “Plus, you’re pretty cute when you sleep.”
“Oh, only when I’m sleeping, huh?” you tease. Sam’s cheeks turn red, and you can feel yours start to color in response. “Sorry,” you continue, looking at the ceiling, “should we talk about this?”
“Yeah- um-,” Sam stutters shyly, “I mean- I’m all in. I think I have been since I first saw you in that diner.”
“Yeah,” you admit, still looking at the ceiling to avoid eye contact, “I’m in, too. I was definitely trying to fight it at first out of fear. And- I mean- I’m definitely still afraid. I know we hunters don’t really get the luxury of getting close with anyone. I guess I’m kind of hoping that since we’re both in the life, it’ll work out, you know? At least we both know what to expect.”
Sam reaches over and takes your hand, interlocking your fingers, “I’m afraid, too, Y/N. But I know it’ll be worth it.”
You turn to look at each other, and you see his questioning eyes land on your lips, wordlessly asking for permission. You give him a smile and small nod. He releases your hand and slides his right arm under your head. He leans toward you, bringing his left hand to your cheek and his lips to yours. His soft lips meld against yours, and you turn your bodies toward each other, wrapping your arms around him. He wraps his left leg over both of yours, pulling you closer. His tongue touches your lower lip, asking permission and you open willingly. You lose yourself in the kiss and his embrace, both of you pulling away and gasping for air after a while.
“Wow,” Sam breathes.
“Yeah,” you agree. You find it so easy to lose yourself in the strong feelings you have for Sam. You still have your reservations, but it helps to know he’s nervous, too.
“I hate to say it,” Sam says, “but as much as I want to lay here with you in my arms even longer, we should probably go catch Dean and Cass up on things.” You agree, and he gives you another sweet peck on the lips before getting out of bed. You get up, grabbing your weapons and boots. You rub your arms, feeling chilled now that you’re no longer in Sam’s arms. You turn around as Sam, already dressed and ready again, tosses a blue flannel at you. You catch the shirt smoothly before looking at him with furrowed brows.
“You know my room with my clothes is right across the hall, right?” you ask, pulling the flannel on anyway and enjoying how much it smells like Sam.
“I know but you’ll look better in mine,” Sam smiles and shrugs, offering his hand to you, “ready?”
You take his hand, letting him lead you out of the room to look for the others.
*
You find Dean and Cass in the library, surrounded by books but talking.
“So Crowley is involved now,” Sam says as you two enter the room. Dean and Cass turn to look at you, both looking concerned. You and Sam take seats across from them, and you proceed to tell them all the details of your dream and conversation with the demon.
“I think we should see what he knows. He said he was looking for them, too. Maybe he wants them gone as much as we do,” you say.
“Problem is,” Dean explains, “Crowley will only help if it benefits him, too. He’ll always put himself first.”
“So we play it safe and plan as if he’s going to cross us. Surely the four of us can handle him, right?” you ask, looking between the men. “I mean, we’ve got the best hunter trio and me. We’re golden, right?”
“Y/N is right,” Cass says, giving you a small smile, “we can handle Crowley.”
Happy that Cass seems to be on your side, you look at the two brothers. They are looking at each other, seeming to have a silent conversation with minimal facial expressions. Finally, Dean looks at you, “alright, we’ll summon him. But first, how do you feel about tattoos?”
“Why?” you ask, looking between the brothers.
Dean nods, taking your non-answer as an answer, and points at Cass, “Cass, you good to do your rib thing for her? I can take care of the other one.” Cass nods. Dean stands, patting Sam on the shoulder, “alright. Sammy, meet you in the infirmary?” Dean leaves the room.
You look at Sam, hoping he’ll give you an answer. “What’s all this?”
“Well, if you’re gonna be dealing with the bigger things now, you should be protected,” Sam explains. “Cass can give you an Enochian tattoo on your ribs that will help with any angel issues, and Dean can give you an anti-possession tattoo. If you’re okay with all that.”
“If it’s something you recommend, I’ll do it. Do you have these tattoos?”
Sam pulls aside the collar of his shirt, revealing a black symbol on his chest: a pentacle with spokes around it. “Can’t really show you the Enochian one, it’s literally on my ribs.”
“Oh- uh- ouch?”
“Yeah, it’ll hurt for a moment. But it’ll help in the long run, I promise,” Sam takes your hands. “You okay with this?”
You nod, determined. “Yeah, let’s do it. Time to really initiate me into the group, huh?” You look to Cass, “you okay with marking me up?”
Cass nods, “anything to help.”
“You ready?” Sam asks. You nod, holding his hand. Sam nods to Cass, who places a hand on your side. You feel an intense burn under his hand, but it passes after a few short moments, leaving behind only a small ache. Cass removes his hand, “all finished.”
“Thanks, Cass,” you smile at the angel, who returns the gesture. You look back at Sam, “and you say Dean will give me the other one to match you? How?”
“Well,” Sam explains, “he has a tattoo gun. So if you’re okay with a less-than-professional job, we can do it without leaving the bunker.”
Your eyebrows shoot up high, “Dean can tattoo?”
*
A short while later and you are set up on a stretcher in the bunker’s infirmary, since that is the closest to a sterile environment as you’ll be able to get. Sam and Cass are off gathering supplies to summon Crowley, and Dean is meticulously tattooing your skin with the anti-possession symbol. His phone is sitting on a counter next to him, classic rock playing through its speakers.
“So, a tattoo gun, huh?” you ask, making conversation to get to know Dean better but also to distract yourself from the feeling of being tattooed.
He stops working to glance at you with a raised eyebrow, then continues after gently wiping his work. “Thought it would come in handy someday. And would you look at that? I was right.”
“So did you do your tattoo and Sam’s?”
He shakes his head, “no, we went to a shop for ours. I got the gun after that, just in case any other symbols or touch ups were needed later.”
You nod, “that makes sense. But I didn’t think you’d be the artistic type.”
Dean shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed, “I learned over the years.”
“That’s cool, Dean,” you admit. “Plus, it fits the whole leather jacket/ motorcycle/ bad-boy thing you’ve got going on.”
He smirks, shaking his head at your teasing. “Careful, Y/N, I’ve got control of the needles that are stabbing you right now.”
You laugh a little, doing your best not to jostle Dean’s work. “So how many tattoos do you have?”
“Just a few little ones. Nothing crazy. Had to practice somewhere,” he justifies, and you hum in response.
Some more time passes with just his music filling the room, but it’s comfortable. Well, as comfortable as it can be with needles stabbing into you repeatedly.
“So,” Dean asks as he puts on the finishing touches, “you and Sammy have a good talk?”
You smile, “I think so, yeah.”
He places a bandage over your new tattoo, “I noticed you’re wearing his shirt.”
You blush. “I was cold and he gave it to me,” you argue.
Dean hums, unbelieving, and smirks at you. “Alright, well, your tattoo is all done.” He turns and puts his tattoo gun away in a cabinet. You stand, heading for the door and wrapping yourself further into Sam’s shirt subconsciously when Dean calls after you, “and Y/N?” You start to turn around, but Dean comes up beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and walking with you through the hallway. “I like you, but don’t hurt my brother.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Dean,” you state, Dean’s threat clear to you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, the two of you walking side by side to the dungeon to summon Crowley.
Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort
Author's Note: This is one of my favorite chapters so far, so I really hope you enjoy it too! Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love so far! <3
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.
Part One
AO3 link here
Once you hear Sam going for his morning run, you go to the library. Dean will be up and Sam will be back soon, time to act normal. You peruse the books, looking for anything that might lead you to The Night. Picking several random books about demons off the shelf, you sit down and start reading.
You’ve made it through two books before Sam returns from his run. He’s wearing a pair of gym shorts, a grey tee, and sneakers. He walks past the library, then doubles back to stand in the doorway. “Y/N?”
You hum at him but keep your face down toward the book in front of you.
“Any progress so far?” he asks.
You shake your head no, fighting to stifle a yawn. He tilts his head to look at you better, noticing the dark circles under your eyes. “Hey, Y/N.”
You hum at him again, still keeping your head down. He pulls out the chair next to you, turning it toward you and sitting. “Will you look at me please?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
You look at him. “Are you okay?” he asks. You open your mouth to lie, but there is so much worry behind his kind eyes. You shut your mouth and shake your head no, tears threatening to form. You close your eyes and lean into him, your shoulder landing on his chest and your head tucks under his chin. He automatically wraps his arms around you, “you’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out and hunt them down, Y/N, I promise.” His hand rubs comfortingly up and down your arm, and you breathe in his soothing energy, willing the tears away.
He kisses the top of your head just as Dean enters the room. “Morning, lovebirds,” he says. He’s sipping a coffee, wearing a black tee with a grey robe over it and black slippers.
Sam gives you a gentle squeeze before letting go and standing, grabbing one of the books from your stack and sliding it across the table in Dean’s direction. “Good, you’re here,” Sam says to him, “stay here with Y/N and read. I’ll be back after a shower.”
Dean takes a seat across from you, sliding the book over with him. “Alright, but we both know you’ll be faster at this than me.”
“Sam, I don’t need a babysitter,” you say meekly, not wanting to be alone but also not wanting to admit it.
“I know, Y/N,” Sam says, “but even with Cass improving the wardings, I’ll feel better with at least one of us around you as much as you’re okay with.” You can tell he sees through you, can see that you need company and need to feel safe, and he’s giving you an out. You nod and give Sam a small appreciative smile, going back to your book while Sam leaves the room. Except for the occasional turning of pages and sounds of Dean slurping his coffee, the two of you work in silence, scouring the books for any answers.
Sam showers and returns with wet hair, wearing his usual jeans, grey tee, and a red flannel. He enters the library carrying his laptop, giving the laptop to Dean and continuing in the book where his brother left off. The three of you spend the morning searching for any info you can find on The Night.
Dean stands from his chair around noon and leaves the room, stating it is time for lunch and a break. You stand from your chair, stretching your arms above your head and yawning so hard your eyes start to water. You’re rubbing your eyes as Sam closes his book and speaks up, “alright, I have a suggestion. Let’s get something to eat, I’ll make a few phone calls, and then we can go take a nap.”
“Sam, I need answers, not a-” you’re cut off by another huge yawn forcing its way out of you.
Sam gives you a smile, standing and offering you his hand. “Sure you don’t, but I do and I’d like some company, Y/N.”
He’s giving me another out. Damn, he’s good at this. You reach out, taking his hand and nodding appreciatively. He interlocks your fingers and starts to lead the both of you to the kitchen, “mind making me something to eat? Whatever you’re feeling like eating is fine. I’ll go call Garth and Bobby, and touch base with Cass.” You nod, and he leaves you in the kitchen with a kiss on the top of your head.
Dean is sitting down, eating the sandwich he made while you put together sandwiches for you and Sam. You sit down, another yawn escaping your lips, and start to eat.
“You know,” Dean says, still paying attention to his food, “I’ve lost a lot of sleep over the years, for one reason or another. It gets easier. Or at least, you’ll find ways to deal with it.”
You press your lips together, looking at him. “You’ve been through way worse than what I’ve faced.”
“It’s not a competition, Y/N.” he says. “Sam and I, we’re here for ya. That’s all I mean.”
A few minutes pass in silence, the two of you enjoying your food. As Dean is leaving the room, he turns back with a small smile, “and I do have a sleeping bag, if you need a guard dog in your room or something.”
“Thanks, Dean,” you say with a smile. “Thought you didn’t do touchy-feely though?”
“Well I gotta keep you around for Sammy somehow, huh?” he smirks, leaving with a wink.
You’re alone long enough to finish your sandwich before Sam comes in, taking a seat next to you, “thanks, Y/N. This looks great.”
“Any news?” you ask as he starts to eat.
He nods, speaking after he swallows, “Bobby is glad to hear you’re okay, and said to call him if, and I quote, ‘those boys give you an ounce of trouble.’ He also threatened something vague with his boot and our asses if we do.” You both share a laugh. “Garth said he’ll keep his ears open and call us if he hears anything. Cass said he may have found a lead to some answers about The Night, said he’ll call us or stop in later.”
“And who’s Garth?”
“Fellow hunter. He’s a good guy. Next time we’re heading toward Wisconsin, you’ll have to meet him.” Sam keeps eating his sandwich, and you sit in silence, wondering what kind of lead Castiel may have found.
In such a short time, you’ve grown so attached to the Winchesters. You’re starting to see that under Dean’s weathered and hard exterior, he’s really a big softie. You have no doubt that he would actually post himself as your personal guard if you asked. While Dean has already become like a big brother to you, Sam has worked his way straight into your heart. With those dimples and that silky floppy hair, he has charmed you to your core. And while both boys’ presence comforts you, Sam’s seems to light a fire in you, warming you and giving you life.
Sam finishes eating and puts all the dishes in the dishwasher. “Come on,” he grabs your hand, gently pulling you out of your chair and along with him, “I need a nap.” Gently enough that you could pull away if you wanted to, he pulls you to his room, checking with you that it’s okay before closing the door. The bare bones of his room are identical to yours, but his room is more lived-in and furnished: bed perpendicular to the door, a sink with a mirror above it next to the door, a dresser and desk with books and yellowed papers neatly stacked on them, and a TV on the wall across from the bed.
“Will you be comfy in what you’re wearing?” he asks you, taking off his flannel and boots, leaving him in jeans and a grey tee.
You look down at your outfit, removing your weapons and putting them on the desk. “Yeah, I can sit in this,” you say, sitting in the chair at the desk.
“Oh- um- I mean,” Sam stutters, moving the blankets to lay down on the side of the bed closest to the door, “I don’t want to assume or make you uncomfortable, but I thought we could lay together?”
You blush, and you swear you can see a hint of blush on Sam’s cheeks, too. “Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks, Sam,” you mutter, taking off your boots and getting into the bed beside him, both of you laying on your backs.
He reaches over and turns off the lamp. “I have an alarm set for a few hours from now,” he states, settling in.
You both lay there, listening to each other’s breathing. After a few awkward minutes pass, you sigh.
“You okay?” he whispers.
“Yeah,” you say, cringing at how unconvincing you sound.
“Come here,” he offers, opening his arms. You turn onto your left side, settling yourself against him. Your right arm wraps across his waist and your head rests on his right shoulder. He makes sure you’re both under the blanket before his arms wrap around you, his left hand resting on your side and his right hand playing with your hair. You feel him kiss the top of your head. “Comfy?” he asks.
You hum, “you know, I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who takes naps.”
“I’m not,” he admits.
You sit up slightly to turn and look at him, your eyes adjusting to the darkness enough to see the outlines of his features. “Then why-”
“I know you didn’t sleep last night,” he cuts you off. “Your dark circles kinda give you away. And all the yawning. Figured the least I could do is try to give you some peace of mind and keep watch so you can rest.”
You pause, letting that soak in.
He continues quietly, “and- I mean- it gives me an excuse to hold you too.”
You blush, reaching your right hand up to hold his left cheek. You lean in, your lips meeting in a kiss. His right hand is still in your hair, cupping the back of your head. You pour all of your thanks and appreciation into the kiss, hoping he’ll understand. You pull away but give him another small peck before settling back against his side.
He gives you a small squeeze. “Get some rest. I’ll be here. Always,” he says softly.
Relaxing into Sam’s embrace and warmth, you allow yourself to drift to sleep.
Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?
Word Count: 1.9k
Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort
Author's Note: WARNING This chapter starts pretty heavy with injuries/torture. If you have concerns about avoiding anything, please feel free to skip or message me. Hope you're enjoying so far! Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love so far! <3
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.
Part One
AO3 link here
Whooooosh!
Your face is hit with a large wave of ice cold water, waking you and leaving you gasping for breath. Your senses come rushing back to you and you’re taking in your surroundings all at once. You’re in a large concrete room, there are boxes and tables and shelves all around you. You’re sitting upright in a chair, the chair is bolted to the floor and your limbs are securely tied to the chair with ropes. You’re still in your clothes from earlier, but they are soaked now and you’re starting to shiver.
Standing in front of you and holding a now-empty bucket is a woman, she’s small in stature but carries herself with an air of confidence that borders on cockiness. She appears to be in her early 30s with long brown curly hair, and she is beautiful. Behind her slightly stands a large man, around Sam’s height but even broader. If Sam is built like a tree, this man is a Mack truck. He is bald, scowling, and standing with his arms crossed.
“Welcome back to the waking world, Y/N,” the woman says. “Sumus Noctis.”
We are The Night. Well that tells me nothing, lady, you think, internally rolling your eyes. Thanks.
The woman is slowly stalking back and forth in front of you, “alright, we’ll be nice and get the formalities out of the way before the fun part. I’m Valeria. This is Magnus. Yes, we’re demons. Yes, there are many more of us and no,” she stops pacing and grins at you, “no one but us will hear you if you scream. Any questions?”
You keep your mouth shut and face as blank as you can. You don’t want to egg her on, but you also don’t want to show any fear. Now that your brain is coming back to you, you send up a prayer and hope that you’ll be heard. Castiel, I’m in a warehouse somewhere. Demons called The Night. They warned that there are more of them but I’m stuck in a room with two.
Valeria sighs and tilts her head at you. “Well, Magnus, seems like we have a tough one. Or at least she thinks so for now. She’s all yours. Get her ready for questioning.” She smirks as she turns and walks out the only door you can see from your restrained position, leaving you alone with Magnus, who is stalking toward you. He pulls back his right arm and throws it forward, you feel a sickening crunch as your head is thrown back and your nose breaks. Blood is pouring down your front and choking you as you try to breathe through your mouth. You tilt your head forward, trying to keep the majority of the blood from going down your throat.
Magnus walks over and opens a box, returning to your side with a large knife in his hand. He brings the knife to your collarbone, digging in deep and dragging it across your chest at a downward angle, cutting through your shirt as he goes. Your breathing quickens, struggling to keep from giving in and making noise. You struggle in your restraints, hoping that they will loosen even slightly but to no avail. He continues making more cuts all over you, each kiss of the blade making it harder for you to remain quiet. He grabs your hair in his fist and forces your face to his, smirking as he grits out, “you will be fun to break.”
*
Unsure how much time has passed, you’ve lost count of how many cuts and hits you’ve received, and your body is now more wound and blood than skin. Your breathing has slowed, your body settling into its shocked state. You have still managed to deny him the pleasure of hearing any screams.
Magnus is now taking a moment and admiring his work. You make eye contact with him and he grins. He steps forward, still staring into your eyes, and he stomps on your left foot. Your breath catches in your throat, the bones in your foot crushing under his. You try to restart your breathing, holding back tears. The smile falls from Magnus’ face and he tilts his head as if he’s listening. That’s when you hear the sounds of fighting coming from behind the door Valeria went through. Magnus rushes toward you, cutting through your restraints and lifting you, holding you so that your back is against his front and you’re both facing the door. He has one arm wrapped across your chest and the other has his knife against your throat. “Try anything and you die, understand?” he says into your ear. You understand but don’t acknowledge him.
A few seconds pass before the door is opened, revealing the Winchesters. Sam is first through the door, Dean close behind him. Both are covered in blood, and you quickly scan them with your eyes for visible wounds. Both have busted up knuckles, you can see a small cut on Dean’s left forearm, and Sam has a small cut above his right eyebrow. Looks like no serious injuries for them, at least not yet. Best news I’ve had in a while. You allow yourself a small smile in relief. Both brothers have their pistols out in front of them, aimed at Magnus.
“Let her go,” Sam says, jaw clenched.
Magnus presses the knife into your neck slightly, breaking the skin and you feel blood start to trickle down. Sam meets your eyes and you swear you can see panic in them.
“Now!” Dean yells.
Suddenly you hear the flapping of wings and Magnus’ knife is pressed further into your neck for a quick moment before his arms release you. Without his arms holding you up, you fall forward. You hit the ground with a yelp, Magnus’ body falling behind you. You realize that Castiel has a hand on Magnus’ head, pushing him into the ground with a bright white light coming from Magnus’ eyes and mouth. You manage to push yourself away from them, dragging yourself along the ground. Cass stands to his full height, but your eyes stare into Magnus’ burned out eye sockets for a few more moments.
“Y/N,” Sam’s gentle voice comes from beside you. You turn your head to look at him, finding him crouched beside you. He has his hands in front of him as if he was reaching to touch you but stopped himself. He gives you a small attempt at a smile, “hey, you’re gonna be okay. Can we get you out of here?”
You surge forward, wrapping your arms around him and ignoring the searing pain that comes from this. Even under all of the sweat and blood on both of you, you can still make out the soul-soothing scent that is pure Sam. Smells like vanilla, apples, and cedar. He hesitantly puts his arms around you, scared to cause you more pain than you’ve already felt. You hold onto him for a few moments before pulling away to thank them all.
“May I heal your injuries, Y/N?” Cass asks you, holding a hand out toward you. You nod, and he places his fingers on your forehead. You are filled with an intense warmth, and then his hand pulls away. All the pain in your body is gone, and you feel more refreshed than you have in years.
“Wow. Thanks, Castiel.”
“Here, Y/N.” Sam says, holding his jacket out to you but looking away from you. You look down and realize that Magnus’ cuts left your shirt and jeans in complete shreds, and they’re barely hanging onto your body. You blush, taking the jacket from him and putting it on.
“Thanks,” you say, zipping the jacket up. “I have a lot of questions, but I’d honestly rather not stay here any longer, so clean up time?”
*
Cass flew back to the bunker, saying he would work right away to get the wardings back in place and hopefully even stronger than before. They offered for Cass to fly you back, but you felt safer sticking with the two brothers. Safety in numbers, you rationalized to yourself. You and the boys worked together to burn all the bodies the demons left behind, Sam and Dean insisting on doing the majority of the heavy lifting despite you being healed. Turns out Valeria wasn’t lying about there being more of them: there were close to twenty bodies to be dealt with. Unsure if there could be more coming, you all worked quickly to leave. It’s on the ride back to the bunker that you finally start asking questions.
“How did you guys find me?”
Sam turns in the passenger seat to face you. “Cass was able to see where you were when you prayed to him.”
You nod, “okay, yeah. Between that and the healing thing, I think I’m gonna need a rundown of what all he can do.” Sam nods, you continue, “do you have any idea who those demons were or what they want? They called themselves The Night.”
Both brothers shake their heads and Sam answers while turning back toward the front of the car, “no, we haven’t heard of them before and didn’t recognize them.”
“Time for some research then, I guess, huh?”
“Time for sleep,” Dean says, looking at you in the rearview mirror. “Cass may have healed you, but you’ve been through it. It’s late. We can rest and get back to it tomorrow.”
“Yeah, okay.” You respond, turning to look out the window. You don’t want to admit that you’re scared to be alone and sleep. You still don’t know why they could have wanted you. You had obviously heard of demons, but as far as you’re aware, you haven’t crossed paths with them before. Throbbing pain is present throughout your body. Your jaw is clenched, you swallow your whimpers and groans. Magnus is standing over you, dragging his knife across your flesh, tearing through layers, blood blossoming from the newest slash-
“Y/N?” Sam’s voice rouses you from your thoughts. You realize you’ve been so lost in thought, the trip is over and the Impala is parked in the bunker’s garage. Dean is standing next to the car watching you, Sam is in the front seat but turned toward you, worry etched on both of their faces.
“Oh. Yeah, sorry.” Embarrassed, you quickly get out of the car and beeline for your bedroom. You very quickly grab some clothes and shower supplies, wanting to clean yourself off and also not wanting to spend any extra time in your bedroom. You keep your head on a swivel, constantly checking behind you. You make it to the shower room, debating on barricading the door but settling instead on keeping your eyes on the door and a knife within reach. You take a scalding hot shower, scrubbing repeatedly until your skin is red and angry. Deciding that you’re as clean as you can get, you dry yourself and get dressed in jeans and a tee.
Accepting that the last thing you want to do is lay down and sleep, you load yourself up with your weapons and patrol the bunker. Starting with the dungeons in the lower level, you take your time scanning every corner of each room. You jump when your phone vibrates with a text.
[Sam 11:08PM: Heading to bed. I’m across the hall if you need anything.]
Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?
Word Count: 1.3k
Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort
Author's Note: Here's part five! A bit shorter than usual, and I'm hoping to have another one to you all later this week to make up for it. Hope you're enjoying so far! Feel free to message me if you have any questions or concerns about anything. Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love so far! <3
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.
Part One
AO3 link here
You sit for a few moments, feeling like your brain has shut off and time has stopped. I have to tell them. But what if we’re being watched here? What if our phones are being watched?
Calmly, as if nothing has happened, you get up from your seat and walk to the library. You find some paper and a pencil, then set out to find either of the Winchesters. Castiel, if you’re available and can be discrete, we might need some help at the bunker.
You’re walking down the hallway toward the bedrooms when Sam comes out of his room and notices you. “Hey, settling in okay?”
“Yeah, this place is great. Actually, I’m glad I found you, can I get your help with something?” Stay calm, act normal.
“Sure, what’s up?” He asks.
“I need to grab a few things first, but can you show me to the shower room again? This place is huge.” Surely if there are cameras here, there won’t be any in the bathroom.
“Sure, no problem,” He gives you a smile.
“Great, thanks. Give me a second.” You step into your room, leave your phone on your bed, and grab some clothes and a towel, tucking your paper and pencil inside. “Okay, I’m ready. Lead the way?”
Sam nods, leading you down the hall. When you get to the door of the shower room, he stops and gestures, “here you go.”
You wrap a hand behind his neck, pulling him down so your lips meet. Catching him by surprise, it takes a moment before he kisses you back, but once he snaps out of it, he is kissing you with fervor and grabbing your hips to pull you even closer. As his tongue works its way into your mouth, your arms wrap around his neck and you use them to pull him with you into the shower room. Once the door closes behind him, you reluctantly pull back and place a finger on his lips. He opens his eyes to look at you in confusion, lips swollen and reddened from your attack. God, I want to do that more. I hope Dean is right, and I really hope kissing him like this doesn’t ruin my chances. You gesture with your finger for him to wait, and you grab your paper to write a message: “Please trust me. Don’t speak yet. Turn your phone off.”
He reads the message with furrowed brows, and you look at him with pleading eyes. He nods, doing as you asked. You write another message: “Cameras in here?” He shakes his head no. You turn on one of the showers, hoping it’ll swallow any noises that could be picked up from the hallway.
“Okay, I definitely want to talk more about that kiss later,” you keep your voice low. “But I needed to get you in here because I think someone might be watching us, or at least me. The bunker does have security cameras, right?”
“Oh- uh- yeah, yeah it does,” Sam stutters out, his brain trying to catch up, “Everywhere except the bathrooms and bedrooms.”
“Do they have audio?”
He shakes his head, “no, just video.”
“Okay, good,” you turn off the shower. “I got a call from an unknown number and I didn’t recognize the voice, it said ‘vedimus te. Venimus ad vos.’ But it wasn’t even like the voice came from the phone, it felt like it came from my head.”
“Shit,” Sam runs his hands through his hair. “Can you think of anything that would be after you?”
“No,” you answer, “nothing big, anyway. I don’t make a habit of going after the big stuff, that’s more your thing.”
“Well- yeah, that’s fair. If it is something big, it would have to be really big to get in here past the wardings-”
You cut him off, “-unless it managed to power down the wardings when it hacked the cameras. Also the voice said ‘we,’ I’m thinking it isn’t working solo.”
“Okay, so multiple somethings speaking Latin that can see inside the bunker and they are coming for you. We need to let Dean know.” He pulls out his phone, turning it back on.
“Sam, what if they’re watching your phones?”
“We have a code, don’t worry, Y/N.” He says, texting Dean. “I’m thinking that if we can get Cass here, he can blow out the cameras. That way, no one sees us turning them off and we have something to blame it on.”
“Okay, but what if that makes them come inside the bunker since they don’t have eyes on us anymore?”
“Well,” he says with determination shining in his eyes, “we’ll just have to be armed and as ready as we can be. Plus, we’ll have backup.”
“What if it’s not enough though, Sam? We don’t even know what they are. I don’t want you guys to get hurt because of me. I mean, they called me, not either of you. What if I go find them, give them what they want-”
“No,” he stops you, placing his hands on either side of your face, “absolutely not, Y/N. We can handle whatever this is, but we’ll handle it together.”
You stare into his eyes, tears forming in yours at how sweet and selfless Sam is. One tear manages to escape, rolling down your cheek until he wipes it away with his thumb, and then his lips are back on yours. The kiss is sweet but strong, your feelings for each other pouring into the passionate embrace. He pulls away slightly, placing his forehead against yours. “We can talk later about that kiss, too,” he says, grinning.
You smile and nod, pulling away and wiping your face for any other tears. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
Sam’s phone dings, signaling that he got a text. “Cass is here. You ready?” he asks.
You reach out, taking his hand. “Let’s do this.” He squeezes your hand, leading the both of you out into the hallway and toward the War Room. Dean and Castiel are standing there. Cass gives you a small nod when you enter, and Dean looks at your hand in Sam’s, a small grin forming on his lips. Sam nods at Cass, whose eyes then shine with a bright white light, and you see sparks flying from several spots on the walls.
“All cameras in the bunker have been destroyed,” Cass affirmed, his eyes returning to their normal blue. His head tilts to the side and his brows furrow, “the wardings are down. Do you all have weapons?”
In response, the brothers each draw their pistols. “Shit,” you respond, “my stuff is in my bag in my room.” You drop Sam’s hand and jog down the hall, heading for your room to grab your weapons and cell phone. You grab your usual knives and pistol, but your phone rings with another unknown number as soon as your hand touches it. Coincidence or can they somehow still see me? But Sam said there weren’t cameras in the bedrooms.
You lift the phone, intending to answer it, but you hear a breath behind you. Shit. As you turn to face your attacker, you feel a sting in the side of your neck. Your hand instinctively goes to the spot, finding a syringe. Your vision immediately blurs, your muscles seem to turn to liquid, and you collapse. You register a blurred figure bending over you before you lose consciousness.
*
Feeling halfway between awake and asleep, your limbs dangle lifelessly and feel as if they are made of lead. You’re being carried over someone’s shoulder. Staying as limp as you can manage in the hopes of not alerting your attacker, you struggle to pry your eyes open slightly. Seeing that it is too dark to make out any surroundings, you let them drift closed again. Your thoughts feel like they’re moving through molasses, and awareness slips through your grasp again.
Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?
Word Count: 2.5k
Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort
Author's Note: Here's part four! Hope you're enjoying so far! Feel free to message me if you have any questions or concerns about anything. Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love so far! <3
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.
Part One
AO3 link here
Dean insists on taking care of Mick’s body, saying you should help Claire because you’ll be better at “the feelings thing.” Once you explain everything, Claire has calmed down and seems to be coping well, all things considered. You drive her back to her house, leaving her with your phone number in case she needs anything in the future. You return your ‘borrowed’ car with a full tank of gas as a silent thanks. You and Dean arrive back at the motel around the same time.
“Your head feeling okay?” You ask Dean as you are walking together toward your rooms.
“Eh,” he shrugs, “nothing a drink and some sleep won’t fix.”
You roll your eyes good-naturedly, watching him open the door to their room before you enter your own. You check your room, making sure your protections are still in place. You undress and take a long, hot shower, letting the water massage away your tensions. What was I thinking, hugging Dean like that? I’m sure my feelings are the last thing either of them need. After drying and dressing in your pajamas, you crawl into bed and let unconsciousness take you.
*
You and both Winchesters are in the Impala driving back down Industrial Road, pulling off on the side of the road where you found Dean and Mick last night. He pulls over to the side of the road, the three of you getting out of the car and heading toward the trees.
“Right over here,” Dean says, leading the way. Sam is close behind him, with you in the rear.
You hear a twig snap behind you. You spin around and your eyes scan the trees, seeing no movement and no threats. You hear nothing, not even wildlife. That’s never a good sign. You stare for a few more breaths, eyes wide and scanning. You turn back around to continue following the brothers, but you don’t see them.
“Guys?” you call out.
You hear a thud to your left and spin in response, and your blood instantly chills. Dean is propped against the base of a tree, his throat slit and crimson soaking his shirts. “Dean!” You rush over, dropping to your knees in front of him and pressing your hand against his neck. The blood is barely flowing. You check for a heartbeat but find nothing. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes.
“Sam?” you call out. “Where are you?” You get up, remove your silver knife from its holster, and look around for any sign of whatever did this to Dean.
You hear another thud, behind you this time, and you turn around. Sam is leaning against a tree, his throat appears freshly slit. His hands are holding his throat and his eyes are wide, looking at you in panic. “No!” You rush over, dropping your knife and placing your hands on top of his. He slides down the tree until he’s sitting and you drop down with him, keeping your hands pressed against his. “Help! Someone, please!” You scream, hoping you can hold him together long enough to get help. “Please!”
Your eyes shoot open and you sit up, startled by the sound of your door being kicked down. Sam enters first, Dean behind him, both with guns drawn and searching for the threat. They register your red eyes and tears running down your face, and they lower their guns. Your heart is pounding and you are gasping for air, but the world seems to be moving at a snail’s pace. “Y/N?” Sam asks.
You wordlessly get out of bed and rush over to Sam, burying your face against his chest and wrapping an arm around him, grasping his shirt in your fist. Your other hand reaches out, grabbing Dean’s arm and gripping him tight.
Sam’s arms wrap around you, “You’re okay, Y/N. It was a nightmare. We’ve got you.”
Dean silently places his hand on top of your hand that lies on his arm.
“I need you to breathe with me, Y/N,” Sam says. “Try to match me.” He takes measured breaths and you do your best to mirror him. You all stand like this, Sam taking deep breaths and you hiccuping out stuttered ones, for what feels like hours but is mere minutes. They’re here. They’re real and breathing and alive and here.
Dean pats your shoulder comfortingly, then taps his brother’s shoulder and tips his head toward you, not wanting to rush you but wanting Sam to take initiative.
Sam pulls back a little, keeping his arms around you but looking down at you. “Do you want to talk about it?”
You shake your head no. Absolutely not, I can’t tell you it was about you two. We’ve barely just met. I can’t admit that I have feelings for you.
“Okay, that’s okay, Y/N,” Sam reassures you. “Do you want to come to our room for the rest of the night?”
You nod and pull away from Sam’s embrace reluctantly. You grab your phone and room key, figuring you can gather the rest of your belongings in the morning. Dean leads the way to their room, your eyes wide and scanning for threats, and Sam walking behind you with his hand hovering near your lower back. You reach back, grab Sam’s hand, and pull him up beside you before letting go, wanting to keep both Winchesters in your sight. He looks confused and concerned but doesn’t question you.
Once you are all inside their room, you scan for their defenses, noticing the salt lines around the windows and door. You deem that sufficient, expecting to stay awake for the remaining hours until morning. Dean makes his way to his bed, glancing at you with a question in his eyes but silence on his lips. You give him a nod, mouth tight. He nods in return, understanding passing between you, and crawls under the covers to get a few more hours of sleep.
You station yourself on a chair at the table, angling the seat so you can see both beds and the door. You pull your feet up onto the chair and fold your legs underneath you. Sam, who has been hovering halfway between your chair and his bed, seems to be debating something internally.
“I’m okay, Sam,” you say quietly. “Get some more sleep.” You give him what you hope is a convincing smile but you know is likely more of a grimace.
He looks at you, his hazel eyes searching your red-rimmed ones, determining how much he wants to fight your lie. He goes over to his bag, pulls out a book, and sits in the chair opposite you. He opens his book and starts to read silently.
Hours pass with you and Sam sitting, your eyes alert and scanning from the door to the window and back, and his eyes scanning the pages in front of him. The calming melody of Dean’s light snores and even breathing is occasionally broken up by the turning of pages. Eventually Sam rests his book on the table in front of him, holding the pages open with one hand and placing his other on the table, palm up and resting between you. You look at him for a moment, questioning, but he continues reading as if nothing has changed. You lean back in your chair, curl one arm across your abdomen, and place your other hand into his. He immediately interlocks your fingers, but does not acknowledge you otherwise, continuing to read.
You take this opportunity to study him. The slope of his nose, his focused eyes. His eyebrows that minutely twitch along with his thoughts as he consumes the words on the pages in front of him. The few moles that adorn his face. His cupid’s bow and pink lips. His square and defined jaw. You find yourself wondering what it would be like to run your fingers along his features. Or your lips…
You blink several times, redirecting your attention to the window and the start of the sunrise. Sam lightly massages your thumb with his, making it seem like the most natural thing in the world.
Dean starts to stir, grunting as he sits up and stretches. Sam keeps hold of your hand, not even glancing up at his brother, “Morning.”
Dean grunts in response, getting out of bed and rubbing his eyes as he walks to the bathroom. You pull your hand away from Sam’s, rubbing both hands on your legs as you stand. “Well, I’ll, um… I’ll head back over to my room and gather my things. So I can be ready when you guys want to leave.”
Sam closes his book, looking at you and nodding, “Yeah, um, okay. Sounds good.”
You nod, leaving their room and going back to your own, changing out of your pajamas and into jeans and a tee. You pack all of your things, checking and double checking that you got everything. The rest of the morning is as boring as hunters can ever hope to have, and conversations are kept to a minimum. You check out of your rooms and have breakfast at the same diner as yesterday, the brothers automatically going to the corner booth this time. Dean drives the three of you back to the bunker, and you manage to drift off into dreamless sleep at some point during the ride. The Impala being shut off inside the bunker’s garage is what wakes you. Time for goodbye, I guess.
You all get out of the car, and you rub your eyes to brush away any remnants of sleep. “Well boys, it’s been fun,” you say, grabbing your bags from the Impala and turning toward your car, intending to put your bags inside before saying your goodbyes. “Thanks for all the help.”
Dean had noticed how his brother acted around you. He would be stupid not to. He saw how Sam looked at you with pure love and adoration in his eyes, how quickly Sam jumped into action when they heard your screams the night before, and how a massive weight seemed to be lifted from Sam’s shoulders after he spent hours with you that first night. But he also knew that Sam would most likely let you walk away right now, even though he currently looks like someone kicked his puppy because you’re walking away. Dean knows his brother doesn’t believe himself to be worthy of love anymore with everything they have been through. He knows Sam sees himself as too damaged and thinks he has too much baggage. Dean also suspects that you probably feel the same about yourself because that’s how most hunters are: self-sacrificing and self-hating. But he noticed how taken you are with his brother, how you ran into Sam’s arms last night, how you held his hand this morning. Dean held out hope all day that another case would make its way to you all, but he decides in this moment that he has to be the reason you stick around, has to be the reason Sam and you can have a chance at whatever this may turn into.
Dean speaks up, “You should stick around, Y/N. We have plenty of room here. And it has been nice having someone to watch my back besides Sammy.”
You have to admit that even without your blossoming crush on the tallest Winchester, it would be nice to be around people for once. The most human interaction you get nowadays is talking to victims’ families. You turn around to face the brothers, “does this mean I have to wear cool plaid shirts, too?”
Dean laughs, “only if you want to.”
Both brothers are looking at you. You think you can see a small amount of hope, almost begging, in Sam’s eyes. “Alright,” you say, “I’ll stick around if you’ll have me.”
It’s minute, but you swear Sam perks up at this. Dean pats his brother on the shoulder, “Sammy here can give you a tour and help you pick a room. I’m gonna give Baby a tune up.”
With that, you and Same leave Dean in the garage, and you follow Sam as he leads you on a tour of the massive bunker. You pick a bedroom down the hall from Dean’s and across the hall from Sam’s, figuring that’s where you will feel safest. Sam tells you that you are welcome to explore on your own if you want, and says the bunker is warded and safe. You place your bags on the floor next to your bed, planning to unpack later. You leave Sam at his room, and you wander around for a bit, losing track of time until your stomach protests. You make your way back through the winding hallways, finding the kitchen. Dean is sitting there, eating a sandwich and greets you with a nod before continuing to scroll on his phone.
“Food up for grabs?” You ask.
He nods, so you set about making yourself a sandwich, sitting beside him at the table to eat. “Mind if I ask you a question?” you ask between bites.
He looks at you and raises his eyebrows, so you take this as permission to continue, “you don’t seem like the type to bring more people on. From what I’ve heard, it’s you and your brother against the world. So why me?”
He watches you with an intense gaze, sitting back in his chair. “Honestly?” He asks. You nod. He continues, “you’re a damn good hunter. Bobby isn’t the only one talking about how skilled you are. Not much is said about your past or how you got into hunting, but everyone we’ve talked to says you’re better than the rest. Plus, I’m pretty sure my brother has a thing for you.” He shrugs, “you’d be good for him.”
You squint your eyes at him skeptically, “okay, I know you can tell how I feel about him. How do I know you’re not just messing with me?”
He gives you a bitchface. “Come on, Y/N. I don’t usually do the touchy-feely stuff. I’m doing both of us a favor here.”
“Why though?”
He sighs, throwing his head back. “See, this is why I usually keep to myself.” He looks back at you. “I’m trying to be a good brother. He likes you, you like him. He’s a good guy, you seem alright. Go get ‘em, tiger.”
“Yeah, uh, maybe. Thanks, Dean.”
He gets up, and pats your shoulder on his way by, “don’t mention it.” He turns to face you in the doorway, “seriously. Don’t.” He points at you, then leaves.
You eat your sandwich in silence, trying to think of the best way to see if Dean is right about Sam. Your cell rings, showing an unknown number, and you answer, “hello?”
There are several seconds of silence, followed by a voice that your ears pick up but the words sound as if they come from inside your head, “Vedimus te. Venimus ad vos,” followed by the dial tone. Chills run down your spine, your blood ice cold in your veins.
Just wanted to say that I see all of you. All the likes, the incredibly kind comments, the reblogs, the follows. I see you and I appreciate you more than words can express. I'm having so much fun writing and sharing my silly little stories.
I've been working on Admissible almost daily (currently at almost 15k words and I can't believe it). I'm hoping to have another chapter posted sometime in the next few days (I'm trying my best to get ahead on writing chapters now in case I get busier in the future). It just takes me some time because I'm writing and proofreading and critiquing it all by myself, and I want to feel good about what I post.
But I wanted to come on and say that I appreciate every single one of you who reads my work. I APPRECIATE YOU SO MUCH! Keep being awesome, and thanks for reading <3 <3 <3
Pairings: Platonic Sam Winchester x Reader (You), Platonic Dean Winchester x Reader (You)
Summary: You're bored and ask the Winchester brothers a silly question.
Word Count: 521
Author's Note: Hello friends! Just a short little something inspired by a real conversation. As always, Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading <3
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.
AO3 link here
You had run into the Winchester brothers several times over the years before you finally moved into the bunker with them. There wasn’t really a discussion that led to it either; you all clicked so well that you just went back with them after a hunt, and now you’ve been living with them for months. Sometimes the three of you hunt together, sometimes it’s just them or just you, and sometimes it’s you with one of the brothers. You got along equally with both brothers, and you often spent your downtime hanging with one or both of them.
Now, you are having a slow day with both brothers in the bunker library. Sam has his face buried in a book and Dean is scrolling on a laptop. You are sitting sideways in a chair, legs hanging over the arm of the chair and your back against the other arm. You’re staring at the ceiling in boredom. “Hey Sam?” you ask.
“Hm?” Sam responds, acknowledging you but still reading his book.
“What is the biggest, most vicious animal you think you could beat in a fight?”
“Um, I don’t know, maybe like a wolf or something,” he answers, brushing off your question.
A few moments of silence pass, Sam absorbed in his book again. “You’re no fun,” you accuse. “Dean, what about you?”
“Depends,” Dean closes the laptop, clasping his hands and setting them on top of it, giving you his full attention. “Can I pick the fighting arena?”
“Uhhh, sure, why not.” You figure it can’t hurt, and you want to see how far Dean will take this.
“A great white.” He states confidently.
You stare at him in disbelief, eyebrows raised. “A shark?”
He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer, “on land. A beached great white. I could throat punch it.”
Sam’s attention now fully on the conversation, he looks up from his book to give Dean the most are-you-kidding-me glare, and you burst into laughter. “The lack of water would kill it before you could! That doesn’t count!”
“Not if I throat punch it fast enough! I’ll kill it first!” Dean argues, seeming offended.
You are laughing so hard there are tears forming in your eyes.
“What?” Dean asks. “You didn’t give any rules. I could fight a shark!”
“If Dean gets to do that, I’m changing my answer,” Sam says. “I could fight a frozen mammoth.”
“Mammoths aren’t real, Sam!” Dean yells, making you laugh even harder, tears pouring from your eyes.
“Not now, but they were, Dean! You said it yourself, there aren’t any rules!” Sam yells back.
“Boys! Boys!” you interrupt, trying to calm down and catch your breath. “You’re both cool and strong, no arguing.”
“Yeah, I’m so strong I could fight a great white,” Dean smugly states, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.
“Well what’s your answer?” Sam asks you.
“I wouldn’t,” you shrug, smiling, “I’d trip both of you and run away from whatever it is.”
Dean’s jaw drops and he places a hand on his chest, pretending to be offended. “How rude.”
Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?
Word Count: 3.6k
Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort
Author's Note: Here's part three! Hope you're enjoying so far! Feel free to message me if you have any questions or concerns about anything. Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love so far! <3
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.
Part One
AO3 link here
Despite only getting a few hours of sleep and being awake before the sunrise, you feel lighter and more rested than you have in years. However, knowing that you’ll leave the Winchesters today leaves a surprisingly bitter taste in your mouth. It’ll be fine, you remind yourself. You’ve made it this long by yourself. You can keep in touch, if they want to. Maybe your paths will cross again.
You spend the morning searching news articles across the country, hoping that you can find something to give you a destination and a hunt. No time to be sad about this crush if I’m busy killing things. You hear the Impala leave the motel around 8:30AM, indicating Dean is going to fix your car. A while later, Bobby calls you.
“Hello?” You answer.
“Still with the boys?” He asks.
“Yeah? Why?”
“Gonna need ya to head this way with them when you’re done there,” he says. “Got somethin’ suspicious up this way, you’re the closest group.”
“Oh, we’re a group now, are we, Bobby?” You tease.
“Well am I wrong?” He asks. You grumble in response, hating his ability to see right through you. “‘S what I thought. I’ll send you the info, you can pass it along to them.”
“Alright, Bobby, I’ll let them know. We’ll head out from here as soon as my car is fixed.” You say your goodbyes and hang up, forming a group text message with the brothers.
[Group Message: Three’s Company]
[Y/N 9:55AM: Bobby has a case, asked for the three of us. Said we’re the closest. Wakefield, Nebraska.]
[Dean 9:58AM: Got it. Should be done your car in the next 30]
You set about cleaning your weapons to pass the time, disassembling your pistol to thoroughly clean the inside. Once it is clean and back together, you clean up the salt lines as best you can and pick up your sigil trap mats, rolling them up so they’ll fit back in your bag. You run through a quick inventory in your mind, making sure you have everything packed away. Pistol, knives, sigils, salt, lamb’s blood, holy water, clothes, toiletries, journal, lighter fluid, matches, phone charger… You’re interrupted by your phone.
[Group Message: Three’s Company]
[Dean 10:25AM: Car’s done. On my way back to you guys. Be ready to leave]
Confident that you have all your things, you grab your bags, leave your key on the desk in the motel’s office, and head back toward room 9. Sam comes out of the room, bags in hand, and runs right into you.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, Y/N! Didn’t see you there.”
“All good, Lurch,” you smirk. “Need a hand?”
“‘Lurch’?” He asks, shaking his head with a laugh. “Actually, help would be great. Return our key for me?”
You agree, take the key and return it. When you come back out, Dean has returned and they are loading their bags into the Impala.
“Alright, boys. What’s the plan?” you call out as you get closer.
“We were just talking about that,” Dean answers. “We can drop you at your car and head to Nebraska from there?”
“Or we could all swing by the bunker, leave your car there, and go to Nebraska together?” Sam proposes. “You know, since we’re all going to the same place anyway.”
You think for a moment. More time with them, I guess. Here’s the cliff, time to choose: jump or hide tail and run. “Sure, sounds good.” Might as well embrace it. Maybe I can manage to at least get some friends out of this deal.
Sam’s shy but ecstatic grin in response could light up the darkest of nights, eyes shining. “Awesome.”
Dean glances between the two of you, a knowing smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, good idea, Sammy. Glad that big head is good for something.” He roughs up Sam’s hair, and Sam makes a face, smacking Dean’s hands away. You laugh at their antics, wondering just what kind of shenanigans you’ve agreed to.
*
Just over half an hour later, you are following the Impala into a well-hidden tunnel. Damn, this is cool. You find yourself feeling jealous that not only do they have a place to call home, but it’s like something out of a movie. Dean slows the Impala to a stop, pointing his arm out the window to show you where you can park. You pull into the empty spot, looking at all the vehicles they have in appreciation and wondering which of them rides the motorcycles. Probably Dean.
You grab your bags, leave your car keys in the visor, and pat the hood of your car goodbye. Sam is waiting at the trunk of the Impala to take your bags. “You sure this is okay?”
“Yeah, Sam. A longer ride in the Impala? Of course it’s cool.”
Your bags secure in the trunk, you hop into the back seat and Sam back into the passenger seat. Dean pulls out of the garage, heading north.
*
A few hours later finds you and the Winchesters pulling into a diner’s parking lot in Wakefield, Dean explaining, “My brain shuts down when I’m hungry. We eat, then we plan.”
Sam rolls his eyes, “Your brain doesn’t plan even on a full stomach, Dean.”
Dean gives him a dirty look, getting out of the car and heading into the diner. You and Sam follow him in. Dean sits on one side of a booth, Sam sits on the other, and you debate for a moment before waving them to the corner booth instead. The boys comply, coming to the corner booth. Dean sits with his back to the dining area, Sam sits on the opposite side in the corner and you slide in next to Sam. After scanning the room, you notice the boys watching you, Sam with both eyebrows raised in question and Dean with his brows furrowed at you.
You debate for a second, then decide that you should explain your thought process. “Corner. No surprises from behind.”
The boys take a moment to consider before nodding. Three exits: front door, side door, back door through kitchen. Windows on two sides.
“I think talking to the Mullen family is where we should start. Their teenage son died in a swimming pool a few days ago,” Sam states, glancing over the menu.
The waitress comes by, takes your orders. She’s small with short grey hair, probably in her 60s. You all get coffee, Dean gets a burger, you and Sam get salads. She scurries away, promising it’ll only be a moment.
“People die swimming all the time,” Dean reasons, “What makes it our business?”
“He was basically a professional, on track to be the youngest competitor in the next Olympics actually,” Sam answers before you can.
“I vote we get rooms, we can change clothes, and drive to their house. Talk to them, feel them out a little. The sun hasn’t even set yet,” you suggest and the brothers agree.
The waitress brings your drinks and food, your table comfortably silent while you all eat your first meal of the day.
After your meal is finished and you’ve paid, you pile back into the Impala, find a motel, and grab two rooms. You go into your single, the boys go into their double. You cleanse the room, set up your salt lines and sigil trap mats. You change into your monkey suit, grab your fake FBI badge, load yourself up with your weapons, and step outside. Both Winchesters are leaning against the Impala, Dean’s arms crossed and Sam running his fingers through his hair.
“Ready, slowpokes?” You joke. The boys snort out laughs, getting into the car and you follow.
As you’re pulling up next to the Mullen household, an ambulance speeds by with lights and siren on. The three of you look at each other. “You two talk to them, I’ll check that out?” Dean asks, gesturing over his shoulder in the direction of the ambulance. You and Sam agree, getting out of the car quickly and Dean speeds off.
“Alright then. You want to take the lead?” Sam asks you.
“You go ahead. You’ve got that likable face.”
He nods, smiling a little. You both walk up to the door, you behind Sam. He knocks on the door, and a short, stout woman in her 40s answers. “Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am. Agents Nichols and Kelley with the FBI. We were hoping to ask you some questions about Cole,” Sam says, you both flashing your badges before returning them to your pockets.
She opens the door, letting you both in and leading the way. “Sure, sure. Anything to get some answers for my boy. Can I get you both anything?” she asks.
“No, we’re fine, thank you,” Sam answers. You notice the pictures hanging in the hallway on your way by. There are countless pictures hanging, all showing Cole at different ages, gold medals hanging around his neck and a bright smile on his face. Definitely not a lack of skill or knowledge that caused this.
You join them in the living room, you and Sam sitting on the couch and Missus Mullen sitting across from you in a chair. “I’m surprised you all are here, the local police seemed convinced it was an accident. I had to fight for them to do an autopsy,” her voice breaks, tears starting to fall. You grab the box of tissues off the coffee table and offer it to her, she takes one and blows her nose.
“Sometimes these things get passed to other offices,” Sam explains. “If you don’t mind, what can you tell us about Cole?”
“Well,” she starts, “he was a normal, happy kid. Perfect grades in school. Never got into trouble. He loved swimming. It was his whole life.”
“And he was very proficient at it, wasn’t he?” Sam asks.
“He was. Always first place in competitions. We registered him for the next Olympic trials meet.” she explains, wiping her eyes.
“Was there anything weird the day he died? Or in the days leading up to it?” you ask.
“No, nothing.” she answers. “That’s what I’ve been asking myself too. But nothing was weird. He ate his lunch like he always does, and then he got in the pool and didn’t come back out.”
“He didn’t struggle? Yell for help?” Sam asks.
“Nothing like that, no. It looked like he grabbed his stomach, but then he just sank.”
You and Sam look at each other before you address her again, “Thank you for your time, Missus Mullen. We’ll look into everything and be in touch. So sorry again.” You hand her a business card as you and Sam get up to leave.
“Thank you, Agents,” she says, closing the door once you’re outside.
Both of your phones ding at the same time.
[Group Message: Three’s Company]
[Dean 7:11PM: You guys ready to be picked up? You won’t believe what I found at the hospital]
[Sam 7:11PM: Yeah, come get us]
“Well that was weirdly normal, yet also super weird at the same time,” you say.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Sam says, smiling a little at your wording.
*
You find yourselves back at the motel in no time, all in the Winchesters’ room. You’re sitting with your legs tucked under you on the couch, Sam is sitting in a chair at the table with his laptop open in front of him, and Dean is sitting on his bed with his legs stretched out in front of him and his back against the headboard.
“What do you mean, ‘gum?’” You ask again.
“I’m telling you,” Dean explains, “it was gum. They rushed the kid into surgery and his stomach was packed totally full of chewed gum.”
“That makes no sense though,” Sam says, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead with his fingers.
“I know it doesn’t but that’s what it was,” Dean shrugs, then snaps his fingers, “Oh! And there was another kid there whose eyes were stuck crossed. His mom was yelling that he was making faces and his eyes just got stuck like that. They’re having a weird day at that hospital.”
“Okay,” you say, “let’s just lay this all out. A kid with his stomach full of gum, a kid with his eyes stuck, a kid drowned after eating his lunch... These are all old wives’ tales, aren’t they?”
Sam lifts his head to look at you, “you’re right. But what is causing them to be true?”
“A witch?” You propose.
“Ughhh, I hate witches,” Dean groans, throwing his head back against the wall.
“Maybe,” Sam agrees. “What if they wanted a specific one to be true but they weren’t specific enough in their spell?”
“Then they suck,” Dean says, pouting like a child at the thought of dealing with a witch.
You laugh a little, “I mean, you’re not wrong, Dean.”
“Getting back on track,” Sam interrupts, “how do we find them?”
“What if we look for someone who had good luck recently? Lottery or love?” You wonder out loud.
“Genius,” Sam says, starting to type on this laptop. “I could just kiss your brain.”
You blush and tuck your chin, trying to hide subtly. Dean grins at you, noticing your rosy cheeks. You take a deep breath, willing your face to return to normal color.
“So get this,” Sam says, “there was a marriage announcement in the paper yesterday. Says the man and woman only met two days before getting married, calling it ‘love at first sight.’”
“That fits. I’d call love at first sight an old wives’ tale.” You reason.
“Well, I don't know about that,” Dean argues. “It seems like it can happen for some people.”
You and Sam look at him in shock. You know enough about his love-them-and-leave-them habits from talking with other hunters. “Are you sick?” You ask, getting up to put a hand on Dean’s forehead and check for fever.
He smacks your hand away, “No, I’m not sick. Get off me. I’m just saying, for some people, not me, but it might happen for some.” He pointedly smirks at you.
Your teasing attitude immediately melts away and your face falls, realizing he is hinting at your feelings for his brother. You’re very glad that Sam is behind you and can’t see your reaction. You give Dean the smallest of head shakes, hoping he’ll take pity on you and keep his mouth shut.
“Yeah, sure, Dean,” Sam says behind you, scoffing. “As if you’d suddenly start believing in something like that.”
“Yeah, you’re right, I guess,” Dean agrees, thankfully seeming to drop it. “So do we think the witch is him or her?”
“Well, I’ve got a way to find out,” Sam says, “but we’ll have to separate them.”
Sam, apparently incredibly skilled with spell work, explains that he can cast a spell to locate the witch who cast the original spell, but it will only give him a location. It’s decided that you and Dean will separate the couple to two different areas of town under the guise of them each winning a party, bachelor party for him and bachelorette for her. The biggest con to this plan is that as soon as the witch is revealed to Sam, the witch will be aware that they are being targeted. Sam will call whichever one of you needs to attack and you’ll need to act fast.
Sam gives you a few witch-killing bullets, and you load them into your pistol. You ‘borrow’ a car from the parking lot for the evening. Sam gathers some supplies from the Impala, and has everything set up for the spell within a few minutes.
“Alright, we all ready?” Dean asks, loading his own witch-killing bullets and placing his pistol in the back of his jeans.
You and Sam respond affirmatively. The boys give each other a pat on the shoulder. With that, you and Dean leave, him in the Impala and you in your ‘borrowed’ sedan. You glance back up at the motel when you’re pulling away to see Sam in the window of the room, giving you a small wave.
*
You and Dean park at the house where Claire and Mick Allen live. You walk up to the door together, and Dean knocks on the door.
After several moments, Mick opens the door. He’s an average looking guy, brown hair, and in his 30s. “Can I help you?”
“Congratulations! You and your wife have won!” You exclaim.
“Won what? What is this, honey?” Claire comes to the door, standing beside her husband. She’s petite, has long blonde hair, and looks to be in her late 30s.
“Well, ma’am, we are part of a company called Eternal Love. We have a team who monitors marriages, and we choose couples monthly who get to go on all-expenses-paid bachelor and bachelorette parties. You lovely people are the winners this month!” You explain, trying to sound excited.
“Oh wow, sweetie,” Mick says to Claire, “This is awesome! We didn’t get the chance to go before the wedding.”
“Aw, how perfect!” Dean says. “Well, we’ll just need you both to pack overnight bags and we can be on our way. Don’t worry about the late hour, we will take care of driving and you can rest on the way.”
“Oh, I don’t know, honey,” Claire says.
“Let’s do it, sweetie. It’s all paid for.” Mick argues.
Claire still seems hesitant, but Mick turns to you and Dean, “We’ll do it. We’ll go pack and be right back.” Mick ushers his wife back into the house and closes the door.
You and Dean wait impatiently. The couple returns after a few minutes, each with a small duffel bag in their hands. You usher Claire to your car, Dean ushers Mick to his. You pull out your phones before getting inside.
[Group Message: Three’s Company]
[Dean 8:59PM: I have Mick. Heading east]
[Y/N 8:59PM: I have Claire. Heading west]
You each get in, pulling away and driving in opposite directions. The only noise in the car is the quiet sounds coming from the radio for several minutes. Then Claire speaks up, “So where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” you answer. “I promise it’ll be worth it. We should get there in about half an hour.”
“Oh. Okay,” she responds, disappointed that you wouldn’t give her more information.
“So how long have you two known each other?” You ask, trying to kill time.
“Not very long,” she admits. “Only a few days, really.”
“Wow, love at first sight, huh?”
“Yeah, it was,” she says.
You focus on appearing relaxed, but you keep your muscles tense, ready to grab your pistol if your phone rings. You’re driving for a few more minutes before Claire gasps and starts crying. “Oh my God, why did I marry him? I don’t even know him!”
You realize that the spell must have broken, meaning Dean got rid of Mick. You start trying to calm Claire down and explain what happened when your phone rings.
“It’s not her,” you answer.
“I think something happened to Dean, he won’t answer.” Sam says quickly.
You turn the car around to speed in the direction Dean drove. “Well he did something because the spell is broken. I’m going to look for him. Where did your spell lead?”
“Industrial Road, east of town.”
“Claire, I need you to lead me to Industrial Road, quickly.”
She looks at you, still panicked.
“Claire, I promise I will explain everything but I need you to help me. Can you do that? Please?” You beg.
She nods, leading you through town and to Industrial Road. You put Sam on speakerphone and laid your phone on the dash, focusing on looking for any sign of the Impala or Dean.
“There’s a car there!” Claire says, pointing.
You pull off to the side, slamming the car into park and jump out, leaving Claire and your phone behind and telling her to stay in the car. The Impala is on the side of the road at an angle, both front doors thrown open. You pull out your pistol and flashlight, making your way into the trees. You find Mick first, laying face down, blood seeping into his shirt from a shot to the heart. You still check for a heartbeat, finding nothing. You’re continuing deeper into the trees when you hear a rustle behind you, spinning around with your pistol aimed at the noise.
“Woah, woah, Y/N, it’s me!”
“Dean?” Your eyes register him standing in front you, left eye swollen and blood running down the side of his face. On instinct, you rush forward and wrap your arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re okay, I got so scared when Sam called,” you say into his chest. Can’t believe I like these boys this much already.
He pats your back, “yeah, yeah, I’m fine. You good?”
“Oh my God!” you say, realizing you left Sam on the phone in the car. You pull away and run back to the car with Dean following behind. Claire is holding your phone, watching the trees, and she gets out of the car to hand the phone to you when she sees you coming.
“Sam, I found him, he’s okay,” you tell him. “A little beat up but okay.”
You hear a sigh of relief on the other side of the phone. “Good, I’m glad. Take care of things there and come back, okay?”
