I know some of you may be on a writing hiatus, I tagged the first twelve people that came to mind! Anyone else who would like to participate, consider this your tag :)
I like when I get tagged in stuff like this then get anxious because I don’t wanna overstep by tagging people. Thank you @arrowsandmixtapes , I love you lots ❤️️❤️️
A/N: I made a post on my main blog (which I can't get to work) and it got me sobbing thinking so I wrote this to get the sadness out.
Dean Winchester is a hero. Well, if you ask him, he doesn’t think so.
You had known Dean and his brother for a good many years. Since you were 17 and getting your ass handed to you alone on a vamp hunt. In your defense, your hunting partner was supposed to meet you there but flaked at the last minute.
Since then you had shared several hunts, several post-hunt celebrations, many jokes, and diner stops. You’d drifted apart but always seemed to drift back together. The brothers and you had shared an undying friendship that never faltered no matter how much time you spent apart.
Now here you were laying on the cold, unforgiving concrete, your blood staining it underneath you. You barely hear footsteps echoing down the hallway along with muffled voices slowly coming closer.
“Shit! Y/N!” It’s Dean. “Hold on,” he mutters over and over like he can make you hold on with his sheer will. Taking off his overshirt, he holds it tightly over the gaping wounds across your abdomen. Fuckin werewolf. He got you right before you put a silver bullet in his heart.
Dean picks you up and carries you as fast as he can to the Impala. He carefully climbs into the backseat with you, laying your head in his lap as he still holds his shirt, now soaked with your blood, over your wounds. “Drive Sam! Drive!” You glance at Sam in the corner of your eye. He looks pale and horrified. Damn. It must be bad.
“Hold on, Y/N. It’s ok. We’ll get you patched up and good as new.” Dean tries to calmly whisper but you can hear the shake in his voice. Your legs and arms start to feel cold. That werewolf must have gotten you good.
“Hey, Dean? Did you know that you’re my hero?” you kind of snort because it reminds you of that Bette Midler song he hates. You used to torture him with it because he despised it but you really did think he was your hero.
“Come on Y/N. I’m no hero. We’ll be at the hotel in less than ten minutes.” A warm, tingly sensation started to wash over your whole body. You felt calm and at peace for once in your life, your head lolling to the side. “Y/N! Y/N wake up! Stay with us! Please!” Dean’s voice becoming frantic.
“I love you, Dean. Love you, Sam. Thank you.” You smiled and slowly drifted to sleep in Dean’s arms, your hero. In the backseat of Baby where you had so many memories. There’s no place you’d rather be.
Warnings: Language, Assault (almost), JoJo being a smooth mfkr
A/N: @ladybug-writes-spn wrote this but she wanted me to put it on my blog cause she has a Supernatural blog and nobody would give a frick
~~~
You were down at the butcher’s shop, shopping list from your Gran in your hand. Standing last in a line that stretched out of the door, you were in your own little world thinking of graduating high school and starting your dream career of being a nurse. That’s when you heard a commotion coming from down the block.
Warnings: Sam’s big ol Moose Hands and general sexiness
Word Count: 769
A/N: For @there-must-be-a-lock ‘s Birthday! Happy Birthday Lou! You are a magnificent writer and wonderful human!
A/N 2: I couldn’t find the exact gif I wanted but I wasn't disappointed with the results. My main blog: @beautifulbowleggedangel
You settled into the uncomfortable booth seat across from the brothers. The three of you stopped at a diner after the hunt because Dean said they had “the best pie for 100 miles”. I mean, I guess he should know right? It had been a one and done hunt. A ghost being a jackass, that was easily put down.
Your love for the youngest (yet largest) Winchester had gone unnoticed for 3 years now. His best quality, other than his huge heart and puppy dog eyes, being his huge hands. Always staying at the forefront in your mind much to your chagrin.
Like at this exact moment, watching him hold his phone, scrolling through who knows what. The most normal, everyday thing most humans do. Knowing him, he was probably looking for another case. His moose hands were practically engulfing the phone he was holding. You started imagining those paws engulfing your…
“Hey Y/N!” Dean interrupted your thoughts. “What’re you gonna order?”
“Oh… Ummm… the chicken sandwich basket,” you quickly replied without much thought. Because much of your thought was stuck on Sam Fucking Winchester. The waitress, that you didn’t even know was there, jotted down your order, winked at Dean, and walked off.
“So get this…” Sam started. “Ohhhh no you don’t! We’ve been on case after case for a solid month now. I need rest and relaxation,” Dean immediately interrupted his brother. “You agree? Right, Y/N?... Y/N?”
Crap you were zoning out again. Get it together dude! “Yea. Yea, I definitely need rest. I can barely focus. Rest. Yup.”
The boys eyed you confusedly. Just then the waitress brought your food and you were thankful for the awkward attention to be off of you. You started to dig into your grub but was distracted by Sam grasping his fork, stirring the dressing into his salad with his moose hands.
You audibly gasped, instantly choking on your french fry you had just stuffed into your mouth. Damnit! “You ok there, Y/N?” Dean reached around patting your back. “Yea. Just went down the wrong pipe. Heh.” you managed to sputter out between coughs. Dean just raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of his burger.
The meal went on without any other mishaps from you. Ugh. Why do you have to be so clumsy? You took a careful bite of your sandwich, trying not to choke again. Dean was watching and long-distance flirting with the waitress that was behind the counter. Thank God.
Your attention was brought back to Sam sipping his soda, gawking at the way his lips wrapped around the straw. Licking your lips, you watched his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow, wishing you could just get your tongue on his neck. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration because, of course, he was still looking for cases anyway. You were mindlessly chewing and gawking again.
“Hey. Earth to Y/N?” This time it was Sam trying to get your attention.
“Yea?” Oh, God. Can you not be awkward for two seconds? Geez!
“You don’t look so good. You wanna get a to-go box and head back to the motel?” Sam: the guy always concerned about everyone else but himself. “Y-yea. That sounds good actually.”
“Well, I’m gonna hang here with Crystal. You two don’t wait up.” Dean smirked.
Sam rolled his eyes and went to the counter to grab a box to put your food into. “When are you gonna make your move, Y/N? Sam’s obviously not gonna do it and you’re obviously drooling over him. Go for it!” Dean raised his eyebrows, looking you dead in the eye, waiting for an answer. “Was I really that obvious?!” you exclaim, doing a face palm. “To me: yea. To him: probably not. Just go for it. Please? You two are killing me.”
“Fine,” you mumbled just as Sam came back with the box. He continued to put all of the food on your plate into the box for you. Shit. He’s sweet and considerate. This dude is a keeper.
“Come on, Sam. I can think of a few things we can do before Dean gets back tonight,” you replied with a wink. You don’t know where the courage came from to say that but damnit you were running with it. “Ok. Cool.” Sam smiled and wrapped a huge arm around your shoulders as you both walked out of the diner.
“Thank fricken God for small miracles,” Dean mumbled to himself, rolling his eyes.
He gave his best million-dollar smile to Crystal as she walked up with the check.
23 days, 7 hours, 25 minutes. That’s how long it had been.
Sam seemed to have kicked his habit just fine. But for you. It was so much harder. What was even more difficult was hiding it from the boys. You and the boys haven’t had a demon to hunt in so long it was getting ridiculous. What can a girl do around here to find a damn demon??
Your head was throbbing, your heart pounding to the point you felt faint. No matter how well you thought you were hiding your plight, Dean seemed to know something was up with you. He had been watching you like a hawk on the drive back from the hunt. You had to do something about this and fast.
“Hey, guys. I think I’m gonna head to the bar down the road. I’m still feeling kinda antsy,” you said walking through the motel room door, setting your bag on the table. Sam just looked at you bewildered. “Yea I think I’ll go with. Sounds like a good idea,” Dean replied. You panicked. As much as you hated to admit, you had a demon “friend” you could call for the hookup when you got desperate. You couldn’t very well go meet up with said “friend” with Dean breathing down your neck.
“No!” You quickly reeled yourself back. “I mean… you’re tired. You don’t want to hang out with boring old me.” Now Dean was full-on staring at you like you had three heads. He hesitated a moment, picking his words. “Ok… well, you know my number if you need me. Don’t hesitate to call. Ok?”
“Sure. Of course. Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl.” With that you grabbed your phone, hurrying out of the door to avoid further scrutiny. You walked a little way and quickly texted your hookup, getting your answer almost immediately.
Hey girl. Long time no see. I’ll be there in 20.
Breathing a sigh of relief, you continued walking the two blocks to the bar.
Forty-five minutes later, you walked out from the back alley of the bar. You had your fill and your two flasks for later. Feeling immensely relieved, your head was abuzz. Every cell in your body was vibrating with energy. You were on your way to the front door of the bar to grab a couple of beers and head back to the motel when a hand caught your elbow.
Your body whipped around, coming face to face with Dean.
“What the fuck, Y/N?! What were doing in the back alley of a bar with some serial killer looking dude?”
You sputtered a moment in your complete shock. Damn it! You should’ve known Dean would follow you but you were too anxious to get your fix. “It’s my business who I take out behind the bar and...what I do with them!” Your reply falling flat. Yea that was a pretty weak comeback.
“Baby. Now.”
Crap. Dean used that voice. You were in for it now. You climbed into the front seat, slamming the door, earning another angry look from Dean. He peeked his head into the door of the bar probably looking for the guy but he was long gone.
Dean opened the driver’s door just as you were stuffing your flasks into the bottom of your purse. He closed his eyes and huffed out a sigh. “Y/N. What are you really up to? Please don’t lie to me. Let me help you. I know something is up.”
Your first instinct was to lie but the exasperation in his voice with undertones of worry made you think again.
Shit.
“Ok. Ok.” You took a deep breath trying not to chicken out. “You know Sammy’s deal with Ruby right?” You couldn’t make yourself come out and say it so you skirted around it hoping he would understand.
His face dropped. He definitely understood.
“I’m so sorry. I wish I weren’t like this. I don’t want to be like this.” Your tears were flowing freely now in your shame and helplessness.
“It’s gonna be ok. We can talk to Sam about this. I think he would have some good insight for you.”
You just sniffled and looked at your hands in your lap. Dean gently tipped your chin so you were looking at him. His green eyes were shining with tears. “We’ll get through this. Together. Ok?” Barely finding your voice, you squeaked out an “ok”.
Starting the Impala and pulling out on the street, he looked over at you with a subtle smirk.
“Well, we may have to wait till morning cause Grandpa in there is probably already asleep.” You snorted at that.
I’ve been locked in this attic for what feels like forever. This chain around my ankle connecting me to the radiator is really starting to hurt and chafe. The days seem to run together. It’s cold up here and it stinks. The smell of mold and dust makes me want to retch. The room is only big enough for me, this radiator, and a dilapidated wooden chair.
Sometimes, when I have the strength, I crawl to the tiny window to peer out. The house is a ways from the street. The people on the street look small from way up here, but I scream at them for help anyway. I scream until my lungs burn and I lose my voice. Nobody seems to hear me. Why can't they hear me? That’s when the tears start. I cry until I’m completely exhausted. I curl up into a ball on the cold wooden floor and wait for sleep to finally creep up on me. That’s when I heard it.
“Sam? You sure we have the right house?”
Sam rolls his eyes. “Of course, Dean. This isn’t my first salt and burn.”
The two hunters continue their sweep of the old mansion. It was once a beautiful home, now covered in cobwebs and graffiti. Sam and Dean came here to, Winchester, VA, on a hunch. A local 12-year-old kid, Dylan, was found dead in his bed after sneaking into the house with his buddies the night before. The coroner couldn’t find a cause of death.
According to Sam’s research, a textile tycoon, Julian Van Buren, built the mansion in 1880 for his wife, Emily. And according to every piece of information Sam came across, the man was a terrible human being. His wife died mysteriously five years after moving into the house.
“I don’t know, Sam. Shouldn’t he be jumping from around the corner and slamming me or you against a wall by now?” Dean asked, shining his flashlight around one of the many bedrooms.
Sam furrowed his brow, his flashlight illuminating the graffiti on the wall of the hallway. “Maybe we’re looking for the wife?”
Another fifteen minutes of careful searching turns up nothing. “Alright. Let’s just go burn everyone’s bones and be done, huh?” Dean finally declared, done with the whole ordeal already. “Yea. The family cemetery is out back under the oak.” Sam closed the drawer he was rifling through. He noticed something under the desk he hadn’t before. It was an old, yellowed photo of Julian and a girl that looked no older than 21.
“Huh. Wonder who this could be?” he mumbled to himself. Slipping it into his jacket pocket, he followed Dean to the Impala to grab the salt and lighter fluid.
They still couldn’t hear me. I was for sure the tall one would hear me. He found the photo I placed at his foot though. The one of Uncle and I. He took it with him. Maybe he’ll hear me yet.
Sam found himself on the ground. He was on a wooden floor of a house that looked oddly like the old mansion he and Dean were just investigating. He checked himself and found no injuries. Nothing bleeding or broken. “Where the hell am I?” he mumbled. He tried to stand, finding his legs not wanting to cooperate. Sitting back down, he waited for his vision to clear.
He heard muffled voices down the hall from where he was. One sounded like a man and the other a young girl.
“What did I say, child? You do not sass me, girl! And in front of my guests!” the male voice boomed. “I’m sorry, Uncle!” the young girl squeaked out through tears. Then Sam heard a thud as if a punch was thrown and someone falling to the floor.
Slowing inching toward the doorway of the bedroom, he saw a large man looming over a girl. Looking closer, he realized it was the girl from the photo he had found. Sam gasped as the girl was staring straight at him. The man didn’t seem to notice Sam there as he turned to hunt through a desk drawer.
Sam recognized him as Julian Van Buren. The man produced a thick leather strap from the drawer. “How many times do I need to teach you this lesson?” He paused, shooting daggers at the girl. “Now. Turn around and be still or you get twenty more lashes, girl.”
Sam felt nauseous. He wanted to leap into the room and knock the bastard’s head off of his shoulders but his limbs felt like jelly. He stood there and watched as the poor girl was whipped across her back until she bled. She turned her head, looking at Sam through watery eyes.
“Help me. Please,” she mouthed to Sam. “Stop your noise! You did this to yourself!” The man lashed the girl with an, especially hard smack. Her scream rang in Sam’s ears and he bolted awake in his bed at the crappy motel room he was sharing with his brother.
He was sweating profusely and tears were running down his cheeks. Trying to calm his panicked breathing, he looked around the room. Dean was still snoring in the next bed. The red neon sign from outside lighting his features.
Staring blankly at the peeling wallpaper, his mind raced. Julian didn’t have any kids. Who was this girl? And why was she there with him? What happened to her? There were only three graves in that family plot. Julian, his wife, and Julian’s only sibling, a brother. It was like she was trying to reach out to him through a dream.
Sam stood, grabbing his jacket off of the chair next to his bed. He took the photo out of his pocket, taking a closer look. By the light of his laptop, he studied it. The poor girl looked so sad. She wasn’t smiling. Of course, back then nobody smiled in pictures, but she looked so haunted. It felt like she was staring right into his soul.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
Dean grunted. “Who are you talking to?
“Myself. Go back to sleep,” Sam scoffed. Dean cracked an eye open. “Alright then. Keep your secrets.”
“Dude. Have you been on a meme binge again?” Sam asked, half-smirking. His answer was a snore.
He wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon. Closing his laptop, he headed to hop into the shower.
Sam sat on his laptop searching for anything and everything, trying to figure out who this girl was. The sun was starting to rise, the oranges and pinks creeping through the blinds next to the table. Standing, he stretched the kinks out of his back and slid his jacket over his shoulders. “Mornin, Sammy,” Dean mumbled into his pillow. “Hey, I was about to head out for some breakfast. Coffee and burritos?”
“Uh-huh.” Sam huffed a laugh.
Walking through the door of the motel room, Sam noticed Dean sat at the table with the picture in his hand. “Where’d you find this?”
“I found it yesterday at that old house. It was on the floor,” he explained, not too sure he should share the dream he had last night. He knows how Dean acted last time he was having crazy dreams. “I think we should look into it. I can’t seem to figure out who she is.” Dean just stared at his brother. “....why?”
Sam hesitated. “Because...I had a dream about her. Like she was crying out for help.”
“Ok…” Dean started before he was cut off by the ringing of Sam’s phone. Saved by the bell. “Hello. Agent Crosby.” Dean watched as Sam’s face fell. “Thank you for calling.”
“Well, what was that?” Dean asked. “The sheriff. She says one of the other kids that were with Dylan was just admitted to the hospital. Something’s definitely going on.”
“Yea definitely. I’ll go interview the kid’s parents.”
“I’ll go to the library and try to dig up something about this girl or the property that maybe we missed.”
Sam had been at the library for hours. He read through every book and newspaper article he could find. She had to be Julian’s brother’s daughter, that much he figured out. She called him Uncle in his dream and Julian only had one sibling. According to some articles he found, his brother, James, had a wandering eye. Maybe Mystery Girl’s mom was one of his mistresses. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. This was gonna be harder than he thought.
The librarian walked past noticing what was on his computer screen. “Excuse me?” she whispered. He turned around although he almost thought he had imagined it.
“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but notice what you’re researching. Are you trying to find out about James Van Buren’s illegitimate child?” Sam’s eyes widened. “Yea I think so,” he spluttered. The librarian reached over, typing in a few words into the search bar.
“Eleanor McNamara’s obituary. The girl’s mother. They tried to keep it secret but nothing ever stays that way,” she added, clicking enter.
“Thank you so much.” She nodded, walking back to her desk. Sam read the obituary. Eleanor, the girl’s mother, died three days after giving birth. She emigrated from Ireland to New York, moving to Virginia within a few months. It named the ladies’ parents, Mary and Gerald McNamara, also from Ireland. He also looked up their obituaries. Nothing.
Sam took a deep breath. Why is this girl so hard to find? His phone rang just then. He slid his finger across the screen, answering it. “Dean?”
“Hey man. Ya know the kid in the hospital?”
“Yea?”
“Well, he’s catatonic now. All he’ll say is ‘Y/N’ over and over again. Mean anything to you?” Dean asked.
“Maybe?”
“Meet me back at the hotel,” Dean said before hanging up.
Back at the hotel, Sam shows Dean the info he found out at the library. “How much do you wanna bet this Y/N chick is your girlfriend?” Dean retorted, grinning at Sam’s bitchface. “Dude. She’s not my girlfriend. And yes I think you’re right.” Sam paused.
“But why would she hurt those kids?”
“I don’t know man. You know how ghosts are. The longer the person is a ghost, the crazier they become.”
Sam sat back in his chair, pondering. “She didn’t seem crazy to me when she was in my dream though. It seemed like she was crying out for help.” Silence fell over the brothers. “Well, either way, we have a problem.” Dean finally said. “Yea. Where are the bones?” Sam finished his brother’s thought. “Maybe we’re looking for an object she would’ve been attached to.” Sam’s brain was going over a million possibilities. He thought back over his dream, still vivid in his mind. He felt the desperation and fear she must have felt. Then, he noticed a necklace she was wearing. “She was wearing a necklace. It looked like a locket.” Sam picked up the photo of the girl and her uncle. “She’s wearing it in this picture. Maybe it would happen to be in a drawer or jewelry box somewhere in the house.”
“Alright, well, Ima head out a grab some grub. Guess we’re going back to the house tonight.” Dean announced, taking his keys from his pocket, walking out the door.
Sam sat at the small table with the photo in hand. Something wasn’t sitting right with him. Something’s missing and he couldn’t put his finger on it. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. He was exhausted from the rude awakening the night before. Lying down on the bed, he told himself he’d take 20 minutes to refresh for tonight. Not even realizing he’d fallen asleep, he found himself back at that mansion but it seemed like brand new. It was actually a beautiful house, masking the evil that lived inside its walls.
There was nobody to be found. It was deadly silent, except for the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. He felt a pull toward the cellar. Making his way through the kitchen to a red-painted wooden door. The door let out a harsh groan when Sam opened it. In front of him was a long, steep stairway leading into a dark abyss. Sam searched his pocket, hoping to find the small flashlight he usually kept in it. Amazingly, it was there. Flipping it on, he could make out many shelves full of jars filled with various foods. Stepping onto the cool, dirt floor, he realized he was barefoot.
…and wearing a filthy dress that was probably white at one time. The girl must be showing him something through her eyes. Looking down at his/her arms he noticed they were littered with bruises of varying colors. He felt a pain in his stomach. Starvation. Her uncle must have starved her aside from beating her.
Sam felt anger building up in his gut. He wished the bastard was still alive so he could do the same to him as he did to her. He walked toward a far wall where the boards of the wall looked different than the rest of the cellar.
Y/N appeared before him, staring Sam in the eyes. Her wide, desperate, Y/E/C eyes bore into his. She spoke but he couldn’t hear her with his ears. He could hear her in his mind. Y/N. She pointed to the wall. He glanced at the wall and back to her. She suddenly appeared closer to him, almost touching him. Y/N. She banged her fist on the wall.
A booming growl came from the top of the stairs. Sam felt her utter fear, helplessness and a twinge of anger. He turned to her but she was gone. He looked back at the stairs seeing nothing but red eyes. “Sam,” it growled. “Sam. Sam!” The red eyes got louder and closer.
He jerked awake in his bed with Dean standing over him. “Having another dream about your girlfriend?” Dean chuckled and pointed to the brown paper bags on the table. “I got the grub.”
“Yea ok. Umm… Lemme. I’ll be right out.” Sam sputtered, dashing to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.
Five minutes later, he walked back out. “Well? What was it about this time?” Dean questioned. “I think I know why she’s still there,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “I think her bones are in the cellar. She showed me exactly where in the dream.”
“Good. We can put her to rest so we can get some rest.”
They ate their food in silence. He felt so sorry for this poor girl. Her mother died right after she was born. He definitely could relate to that. Her father rejected her. Just to be sent to live with her abusive asshole of an uncle. He wondered if she ever had anything good happen to her that she could hold onto. Sam was tortured by the devil himself but he was also a grown man when it happened. He had Dean and Bobby for support as well. But she was just a young girl. Did she even have anybody she could call an ally or even friend?
A few hours later, they found themselves at the old mansion once again. Both of them heading straight for the cellar, Dean with a sledgehammer and Sam with an ax. They immediately started tearing down the wall. It didn’t take long to find the cramped hole she was tucked away in. Her bones were huddled in the corner like she was cowering. Dean carefully wrapped her up in a sheet and started to carry her out back to the pyre they had built.
Sam wasn’t far behind Dean when he saw something fall out of the sheet to clink on the stair. He bent down to pick it up. It was her locket she had been wearing. Dean continued up the stairs not noticing that Sam had stopped following. Opening the locket, it was a tiny picture of a baby on one side and a tiny picture of a beautiful lady with long, wavy hair on the other. He figures this must be her mother.
Looking back into the cellar he saw Y/N standing there with the lady from the picture in the locket. They were both smiling. He just smiled back, dropped the locket into his pocket and walked on.
“Thank fuck. I’m so ready to get back to the bunker,” Dean declared hopping into the driver’s seat of his Baby. “We are taking a breather for a while for some much needed R&R.” Dean started up the car and sped off into the night. Sam sat in the passenger seat thinking about all that transpired. He fiddled with the locket he still had in his pocket.
