Prompt(s): “What happened doesn’t change anything” for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing hiatus challenge week 10, The Grey Man for @sisterhoodofsam Monster Rejects
Summary: All you want is to help Sam and Dean with hunts; this is the last thing in the world that Sam wants. You become determined to prove your capability, but sometimes the middle ground is the best place to be, especially when you love somebody.
If you’d like to join any of my tag lists please message/ ask or add yourself to my google doc tag list! Whatever is easiest for you!
Word Count: 3688
Warnings: injury, blood, a lot of hunting, I tried my hand at a scarier type of writing in parts
A/N: Kind of a new style (ish), just trying out scary. Please let me know what you think, because FEEDBACK IS LOVED AND NEEDED!!
“Every man I meet wants to protect me. I can't figure out what from.”
― Mae West
Sam and you filled the silence only with the clanks of your forks touching plates. Dean had gone out for a drink earlier, and you were too heated to cook, especially not while Sam continued to stew over their current case. Takeout food seemed like the easiest option, except it took away all the simpler ice-breakers. “Dinner tastes great tonight, honey” is a whole hell of a lot easier than “You’re not hunting with us no matter how much you pout.” Sam cleared his throat.
“Thanks for grabbing take out, Y/n/n,” he said. You nodded curtly.
“Mhm,” you answered. “Good thing I’m strong enough to do that on my own, right?”
He rolled his eyes, continuing the dinner into an ever more uncomfortable silence. You were dating a hunter for God’s sake, how did he expect this conversation not to come up? Of course you would want to help. He sat over books for hours, mulling and taking notes as he collected dust along with the rest of their library, leaving you alone in bed. He’d be gone for days, while you were stuck at home worrying. He and Dean were practically leaping in front of bullets to save each other without thought. Was it really all that crazy that you might want to help?
You took your finished plates to the kitchen, sighing as you began to run the sink. You didn’t expect to become the bunker’s housewife, but you’d slowly morphed into the 50’s stereotype of a woman. Staying home, tidying up and looking after the house while Sam and Dean did all the real work. Screw that. You did your best to contain a growl as Sam wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You remained focused on the dishes.
“Y/n,” he murmured, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Talk to me.”
“I’ll talk to you all night, Samuel,” you said. “But you don’t like my conversation topic.”
“Bringing out the full name? Ouch.” You could feel him smirk. You’d yet to find anything amusing. “Look, it’s not that I think you can’t hunt, I just-“
“No, that’s exactly what it is.” You spun around, poking at his chest with a soapy finger. “For whatever reason, you think I’m some prissy princess who can’t fend for herself. May I remind you, we met after I saved myself from a vampire?” His mouth was slightly agape as he fought for the words to say.
“Yes, I remember Y/n, the head on the floor and all. Why would you want that to be your everyday life?”
“Because I chose to date a man who hunts monsters. I knew what I was signing up for Sam.”
“Yes, the worry, the stress, the fear.” Sam’s voice raised slightly. “You’re already sacrificing so much just being around us, why add more pressure?”
“I’d feel a hell of a lot better if I was out there helping you bozos instead of stuck here like your maid!” Sam sighed, his exasperation just irking you more.
“I’ve always offered to help with cleaning, I was the one who did it before you moved in.”
“That’s not why I’m mad and you know it,” you muttered, pushing past him. Just as you were about to leave the kitchen, he called out to you.
“I don’t care how long you’re mad, Y/n.” His voice grew stern, though he just looked exhausted. “You’re not hunting with us. Ever.”
You held back from cursing, continuing to stalk off to your room, locking the door behind you. Fine, you thought. If I can’t hunt with you, I guess I’ll just do it myself.
~~~
You rubbed your eyes, your hands tight on the wheel as you tried to fight your sleepiness. Exhaustion made you lose nearly all your speed, reflexes, and even some of your intelligence. It wasn’t the best state to be driving in, especially at night, but you were too close to the bunker to grab a hotel room for the night. After your fight with Sam, you became determined to find your own case and solve it by yourself, but that turned out to be quite difficult with them constantly on the lookout for cases, not to mention you shared a room with Sam. It was beyond frustrating, you felt like a grounded teen, stuck in the house all day. Today, you just couldn’t take it anymore, going out in the early morning and driving all day, leaving nothing but a note for Sam and then turning your phone off. It felt good to just drive, stopping only when you were hungry or there was something you wanted to see, but after a full day of it, your butt and legs were practically screaming at you.
It was a straight shot, just continue down the back road and you’d eventually merge onto the gravel that led to the bunker. You could probably close your eyes right then and there just so long as you kept the wheel straight. Even with as good of a day as you had, a sense of unease crawled up your spine, the back of your neck feeling as though needles were pricking near your hairline. You turned on the car’s brights, keeping an intense eye on the world around your car. Something wasn’t right.
Your hands held so tight to the wheel you were afraid you might break it, a cold sweat breaking on your forehead. What the hell was happening? Your breathing became labored as your chest collapsed in on itself, or at least it felt like. A panic attack had struck you, seemingly out of nowhere. As you continued down the road, your head lights did little to break through the thick fog. You couldn’t see at all, your only indication you were going the right way the gravel crunching beneath the weight of your car. The panic attack subsided, but the air of stress remained, your whole body hot with dread.
Multiple things happened at once; all so fast you could hardly see any of it. You had cracked the window, just for the hope of some cool air. Just as you did, the fog began to enter the car, looking thicker than you’d remembered fog to. It stifled your breathing, and just as you were about to close the window, a dark cloaked figure emerged from the fog, standing mere feet away from the front of your car. Your instincts finally kicked in, and you quickly turned out of the way, the fog pushing you even harder in the direction. You were confused by the assistance until you saw what lied ahead; a large, impenetrable oak. As quick as your stressed body could, you slammed on the breaks, closing your eyes for what you hoped to be a gentle crash.
Opening one eye at first, you took in what you could of your surroundings. No crash, no demonic being standing above you, everything was for the most part intact. With a deep breath, you backed away the from the forest, tearing ass to get home.
You were freaked out when you finally parked in front of the bunker’s door but did your best to push it down. The boys were occupied with looking into some vamp case down south, there was no talk of a mysterious figure that fucked with you in the fog. There was no way you imagined it, no matter how exhausted you were, and you’re mind kept replaying the night over and over. You had just found your first solo case.
~~~
Things were relatively quiet for a while after the incident. Truth be told, you didn’t even know where to begin with research, the bunker’s library so vast and seemingly unorganized. You figured there probably was some method to the chaos, Sam got around pretty easy, but you just couldn’t seem to pin it down. Besides, you really didn’t want to raise suspicions, and lugging around hundred-pound books definitely would. So, until you could figure out a better angle, you went along with your normal business.
Even with dropping it for a bit, your mind was still consumed, making you a little airier to those around you. Sam was worried, but mostly just glad you were talking to him again. Dean was oblivious to your drama as per usual, too caught up in his own mental state to worry about much else around him. You tried to find joy in your usual passions; reading, TV, sleeping. None of it worked, the dark figure from that foggy night haunted your every thought.
The boys eventually gathered up enough data to go hunt the vamps, their packing making you both anxious and eager. Finally, you were getting the chance to solve a case on your own, prove to both yourself and the boys that you were more than capable, but fear seemed to trickle slowly into your mind. What if you couldn’t handle it? If you died, you knew that both Sam and Dean would surely feel to blame, holding that guilt until their last breath. Were you just being silly, rebelling against the perfectly comfortable status quo? The thoughts seemed to swallow you whole, but the brothers were off before you could change your mind, a sweet kiss from Sam as your hopefully temporary goodbye.
It was only a couple days since they’d left, but you already felt like you were going insane. You were certain that Sam must have magic powers, as there was no way in hell that there was a rhyme or reason to the library. You were alone in the bunker, too scared to go outside without some solid lead on not only what you were hunting, but how to kill the bastard. After day four, you decided to consume your thoughts into another healthier passion; cooking.
You opened the fridge with slight apprehension, for whatever reason. What, was the monster hiding in the veggie drawer? You knew better, but something did feel off. As you stood peering into the fridge, the most horrendous smell began emanating out, making you grimace and quickly slam it shut. Immediately, that sense of dread returned, just like the night of your almost wreck, crawling up and down your spine. You went into overdrive, doing everything you could think of to protect yourself. You grabbed out an iron knife and a flask of holy water, some salt from the cabinet, and a cross from the wall, hurrying to the couch. You quickly sprinkled a circle of salt all around it, hopping in with just seconds to spare. As you looked around, you saw the thick fog surrounding you, closing in ever so slowly. It was almost cruel, how slowly it was moving towards you, just stretching out the anticipation. Your breathing was labored, your head feeling light. You should’ve called the boys, but even at your lowest point, you couldn’t put down your stubborn ways.
You were about to bite the bullet and just call when you noticed the fog had stopped. Looking down, it paused at the circle of salt, wrapping around and searching for a crack. You sighed heavily, rubbing your face in relief.
“Well,” you muttered to yourself. “Looks like I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.”
~~~
Luckily, when you woke up the fog was gone, but that didn’t stop you from taking a few hours to leave the safety of the salt ring. Eventually, your stomach yelled at you to brave the kitchen. The smell from the night before remained, making you gag. As you peered into the fridge you noticed all perishables were moldy, even the freshest stuff. You scavenged the cabinets, and the only thing you could find that wasn’t decomposing before your eyes was a box of crackers. It would have to do.
You ran to the bedroom, grabbing your laptop and some more practical, possible-hunt clothes, shamelessly returning to your hideout on the couch as fast as possible. You knew it wasn’t “professional” (was that even a thing when it came to hunting?) but you resorted to google. It wasn’t like you were getting very far with the bunker’s resources anyway.
Nothing for fog monsters fit, neither for car accident monsters. You went through every possible wording of your situation and nada. With a jaded sigh, you attempted one last useless search; rotten food monster. It was laughable, but it was all you had left. Of course, nothing grand came up instantly, but you did look through some online food forums, just for the hell of it. You were ready to give up, but then you read the latest comment.
The potato rot has been increasingly bad for me as well. It has been quite foggy in Ireland lately, perhaps I’ve got the Fear Liath after me!
You read the line over and over. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Entering in the name she had used, you miraculously found some leads at last. The Fear Liath, or The Grey Man as he was more casually called, originated in Irish and Scottish folk lore. He was an omen, known for causing wrecks. It was all there; the rotting food, the foggy figure, the car crashes. You had finally found your monster. Now; how to kill the thing.
It was considered a fairy, so the salt and iron knife were key, but not so much on the holy water. Still, you didn’t think you could exactly stab the thing, not without being able to see within the fog. There had to be a way. Fifteen pages into Google later, you finally found something.
“The Grey Man was once considered a God until the surge of Christianity demoted him to fae. He is said to be bitter about it still, his wrath falling particularly hard on those with religious affiliation.” You were friends with an angel, after all. “If you feel The Grey Man is haunting you, get him off your back with a simple Christian prayer. The more iron crosses, the better.”
It seemed way too simple, but what options did you have? With a deep breath, you emerged from your salt circle, grabbing the few iron crosses from the walls. You looked up the first prayer you could think of, holding your phone and the crosses in a death grip as you left the bunker. You hadn’t thought about how you’d get him to come back, but you didn’t have to worry long. The same panic washed over you once more, the fog moving in slowly towards you. You swallowed, seeing the outline of The Grey Man within. You held up the crosses, spitting out the prayer as fast as you could. The fog slowly dissipated as you did, but the figure still remained. Why were these damn prayers so long? You tripped over the words as he got closer and closer, the blood rushing to your head, making it difficult to even see the words on your phone. The closer he got, the more intense the panic became. Finally, you reached the end of the prayer.
You looked up reluctantly, watching as the fog continued to dissipate into weak wisps, the figure within blending out as well. You heard a pained scream come from within the fog, so loud you covered your ears, taking a few steps back. With one more scream, the fog seemed to explode, completely dispersing. You took a few moments to breathe, watching for any other signs of him. As the panic subsided entirely, you felt sure that you had done it. First case down.
You smiled to yourself, letting out a shocked laugh. You did it, all by yourself, on something as ambiguous as a fog monster. You felt on top of the world, dropping off the crosses and grabbing your keys from the bunker. You drove to a dive bar not far from the bunker, feeling the need for a celebratory drink. You usually left the drinking to Dean, but after the anxiety of the last few days, you felt you deserved it. You no more than parked when your phone began to ring. Sam. You answered in a cheerful tone, finding it difficult not to gloat right then and there.
“Hey baby, what’s up?”
“Y/n,” he said, his voice thick. Your eyebrows pulled together.
“Are you crying? What’s going on?” You revved your engine, tearing back onto the road without second thought. That was a no on the drink, you guessed.
“There’s…there’s so many of them. They have Dean. I’ve called every hunter I can think of, no one’s picking up. Not even Cas.” It was the first time you’d ever heard Sam so scared; he hardly ever showed it when he was.
“Send me the address,” you said. “I’m on my way.”
~~~
You drove past some old building’s parking lot. While abandoned, there were plenty of cars parked. You continued on, parking on the side of the street where you saw the Impala. He had parked near a cornfield, the high stalks hiding both of you from any peering eyes. You hopped out the car, running into Sam’s arms as he leaned against the Impala.
“Oh Y/n,” he murmured, his voice muffled as he nuzzled into your neck. “I’m so sorry I had to bring you into this.”
“Stop it,” you said, pulling back slightly. You patted his cheek, looking him in the eyes. “I’d do anything for both of you. I’m glad you’re finally letting me help.” He swallowed, obviously not as glad as you. You grabbed the keys from his hand, opening up the trunk and grabbing two machetes. You handed one to him.
“Let’s do this, shall we?” He nodded, leading the way towards the creepy building.
~~~
You stood, hunched over, taking a moment to catch your breath. They were finally all dead, all the vamps wiped from existence. Somewhere amidst the chaos, you and Sam split up, which was a notoriously bad idea. You went through the rooms of the building tentatively, worried about a last-minute ambush. It seemed all the vamps were truly dead, because you were confronted by a copious amount of blood on the floor, and no one was on their knees with a straw. The only two people in the room were Sam and Dean, Sam only the floor, unconscious.
“Sam!” You were by him in an instant, feeling his pulse and pushing the hair from his face. “C’mon baby, talk to me.” Unintelligible mumbles. You looked to Dean for guidance. You knew how to deal with killing vamps, researching, hunting, but you had no clue how to deal with this. Dean looked just as panicked, which did little to comfort. In a moment of clarity and pure adrenaline, you realized you needed to move, and quick.
“Let’s carry him,” you demanded, standing and grabbing one of his arms. Dean followed suit, no questions asked. He looked pretty rough around the edges himself, but you could hardly think about anything but Sam.
“We need to hurry,” Dean said, more to himself than anything. You nodded.
“Yeah,” you replied. “Because I’m not losing him.”
“You and me both, Y/n.”
~~~
At long last, Sam’s eye fluttered open. Your heart sped, so thankful to see those pretty eyes again. You stood from your uncomfortable chair and moved to him, stroking his hair mindlessly. You hated hospitals with all your might, but you’d live there if it meant being with Sam.
“Hi baby,” he coughed, his voice raspy. You shook your head.
“Don’t strain yourself,” you said, stroking his cheek. “Just get better.” He nodded, letting his eyes rest again. You sat on the edge of the hospital bed, the beeping from the machines around you becoming a comfortable lullaby. You held his hand, probably too tight, but you couldn’t let go. You just needed him, needed to know that he was okay.
“What happened doesn’t change anything,” he rasped, finally breaking the silence.
“What?”
“I still don’t want you hunting.” You laughed humorlessly, shaking your head.
“May I remind you, you’re the one in the hospital bed, not me? And that I’m the one who saved both your ass and Dean’s?”
“I know,” he groaned. “And I know you’ll hold that over my head forever. But I won’t risk you being in my spot.”
“You know, I solved a whole case on my own while you were gone,” you said, reveling in your own glory once more. You even shimmied a bit. The beeping on the monitor increased exponentially.
“What?” His panic was evident, somehow making him look even paler. Suddenly, you didn’t feel as proud. With the look on Sam’s face…you almost felt ashamed. You weighed your options; that case was supposed to be your proving point, the evidence to show you could handle the life. With the condition that he was in and his constant doting over you, you were afraid the news might break him. You shook your head, faking a laugh.
“I’m kidding, dufus.” He rolled his eyes, smiling in relief.
“Good, because then I’d have to kill you, and I’d never be able to leave you alone again.” he joked, though there was a serious note to his voice. It was only partly a joke, and you both knew it.
“Hmm, I don’t know. That sounds pretty nice to me. You know, minus the killing part, of course.”
He scoffed, looking at your intertwined hands for a moment. His expression softened, his eyes glazing over slightly. He held them up.
“You see this? Us?” he said. You nodded. “I don’t want to lose this. I can’t.” You sighed. A few days before, you would have debated with him to hell and back, but after seeing Sam in pain… you were tempted to stop him from hunting. You looked out the window, thinking. It couldn’t be dropped; you were dating a hunter, living in a hunter info hub, and friends with an angel. This life was your life now, whether Sam liked it or not. But then you thought back to those nights alone, how terrified and unsure you were. It definitely wasn’t as thrilling as you’d imagined.
“Alright,” you murmured, looking him in the eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. We’ll take baby steps.”
“Baby steps?” He raised an eyebrow, a subtle smirk forming on his lips. He always loved your little deals.
“Yeah. You know, there’s no need to become a full-on hunter at once. I just ask that you let me tag along and help when I can.” You smiled, flitting your eyelashes at him. “Deal?” He groaned, but nodded.
“How am I supposed to say no to that face?” You giggled, leaning down to kiss him. His hand cupped your jaw, both of you smiling into the kiss. “But I still might never leave you alone again. You know, just for…safe keeping.”
“I’ll allow it,” you relented, lying beside him in the bed. You rested your hand on his chest, just thankful to still feel a beat. No matter what, you could never lose that.
~~~~~~~
It’s late so I’m adding Michelle’s and the Pond’s tags later
Welcome to the twelfth round of the Supernatural Poetry Challenge! This challenge is open to any poets in the Supernatural fandom, whether you’ve never written poetry before or you’re an old hand at it.
This month, the theme will be Emotions and Feelings.
TO ENTER
Reblog this post.
Send an ask to the challenge blog saying “Participating in August”
No ask, no participation. (please don’t send anon messages to enter)
Feel free to follow the blog and track #supernaturalpoetrychallenge to be kept up to date, but it’s not mandatory.
Enter until 31st July.
WHAT’S NEXT
Around the 1st August, you’ll receive a reply to your original ask with your prompt and partner. The deadline for this round is 31st August.
Be sure to tag “supernaturalpoetrychallenge” (all one word or I won’t see it) and your partner within the first five tags, as well as any trigger warnings or pairings.
Please also be sure to format your post correctly (instructions on how to do that here).
Over the course of the month, the challenge blog will reblog your poem. And remember, this is not a competition, it’s for fun!
If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to message us at the challenge blog here
For the @spnshortstories anotholy (which is sending it’s proceed to IMAlive and Archive of our Own). 100 writers are writing appoximately 1200 words for the seasons of the year. I am writing for autumn.
Here’s my short one line (ish) excerpt:
He stands still, looking up at the sky as the rain hits his face with fat drops of water. A fork of lightning strikes far away from them and Sam gasps. It’s amazing.
There’s also a survey for anyone who is interested in the project (both reader and writer) which is here!
i said i was going to do these forever ago, and never did (and have since cleaned out my inbox) but i’m determined to finish this time!
must be following me
reblog this post
describe to me (off anon) in detail your “aesthetic,” favorite color, just tell me about yourself (and if you're like me and have a personal board on pinterest, that’d help a lot)
blacklist “personal mb” (if this doesn’t flop)
if this doesn’t reach at least 15 notes it never happened and we don’t talk about it
