Dean winchester x sibling reader
Sam winchester x sibling reader
Summary: A quiet farmhouse. A lonely spirit. A hunt that isn’t what it seems. When Dean, Sam, and their younger sister investigate reports of a haunted home, they expect danger around every corner. Instead, they find themselves helping a frightened child whose story has been forgotten by time. Together, the three siblings learn that even in a world filled with darkness, compassion can be the strongest force of all.
Authors note: open to requests
The road into Blackwood Hollow was almost empty.
Cornfields stretched for miles on either side of the highway, interrupted only by old wooden fences and weathered barns that had long since stopped seeing much use. The afternoon sun hung low in the sky as the Impala rolled past a faded welcome sign with peeling paint.
Dean glanced over at Sam before looking in the rearview mirror.
“Tell me again why we’re driving three hours for a ghost that likes to play with toys.”
Sam looked up from Dad’s journal resting in his lap.
“Because three different families moved out of the same farmhouse in less than two months.”
“They all reported the exact same thing.”
Dean sighed dramatically.
Sam flipped to another page.
“Footsteps upstairs. Children’s laughter. Toys moving by themselves.”
You leaned forward between the front seats.
“And someone said they saw a little kid in the upstairs window.”
“That’s the part I don’t like.”
“You don’t like any part of this.” You said in a sarcastic tone
“I think it sounds kind of sad.”
Dean looked at you in the mirror.
“I’m serious. If it really is a child, maybe they’re just scared.”
Dean’s expression softened for a moment.
Then he cleared his throat.
“Or maybe it’s something pretending to be a kid.”
“We’re not assuming anything until we investigate.”
About twenty minutes later, the three of you pulled into the parking lot of the town sheriff’s office.
The building was small, with only two patrol cars parked outside.
Inside, Sheriff Evelyn Carter greeted the three of you with tired eyes and a cup of coffee that had clearly gone cold hours ago.
“You must be the federal agents.”
“We’re looking into the reports from the Harper farmhouse.”
“I figured someone would eventually.”
She motioned for the three of you to sit.
“I don’t believe in ghosts.”
Dean exchanged a quick glance with Sam.
She leaned back in her chair.
“But something’s in that house.”
You listened quietly as she continued.
“The Harpers left nearly fifty years ago.”
“Since then, anyone who’s tried living there doesn’t last more than a week.”
“Things go missing. Lights turn on by themselves. Children wake up saying someone wanted to play hide-and-seek.”
The sheriff shook her head.
“That’s the strange part.”
“So whatever’s there has had plenty of opportunities.”
Dean scratched the back of his neck.
The sheriff hesitated before opening one of her desk drawers.
She pulled out a small red rubber ball and placed it on the desk.
“We found this every single time.”
“It belongs to the ghost?”
“We’d lock the house up.”
She nodded toward the ball.
“Next morning, it’d be sitting right on the front porch.”
It looked completely ordinary. Scuffed from age. A little faded. Nothing about it seemed supernatural.
“Anybody know who it belonged to?”
The sheriff slowly shook her head.
The sheriff looked out the window toward the distant fields.
“Whatever happened in that house…”
“I don’t think anyone ever found out.”
An hour later, the Impala turned onto a narrow gravel driveway surrounded by overgrown grass.
The farmhouse came into view at the top of a small hill.
It wasn’t covered in blood.
White paint peeled from the wooden siding. The porch swing moved gently in the breeze. One upstairs curtain fluttered through a broken window.
Dean climbed out first, reaching into the trunk for the EMF reader.
He looked at both of you.
Sam couldn’t help laughing.
Dean pointed between the two of you.
Satisfied, Dean shut the trunk.
The three of you walked slowly toward the front porch.
The old steps creaked beneath your boots.
Dean looked at both of you before pushing the door open.
Dust floated through thin beams of sunlight. Old furniture sat exactly where it had been left decades ago.
The air smelled like aged wood and rain.
Dean glanced at the EMF reader.
“Maybe this’ll be easier than we thought.”
Almost the moment the words left his mouth…
A child’s laughter echoed softly from somewhere upstairs.
Dean slowly looked toward the ceiling.
“…Please tell me you both heard that.”
You looked toward the staircase.
Like a child laughing during a game.
Before anyone could speak again…
A small red rubber ball bounced gently down the stairs.
It rolled across the wooden floor…
…and stopped directly at Dean’s boots.
The entire house fell silent again.
Dean stared down at the ball before slowly looking up at Sam and you.
“I think we just got invited inside.”
Dean slowly bent down and picked up the little red ball. It was worn smooth with age, a few faded scratches running across the rubber.
He turned it over in his hand before tossing it lightly to Sam.
Sam caught it, scanning it with the EMF reader.
You looked toward the staircase, your eyes fixed on the second floor.
“Do you think they’re still up there?”
Dean immediately noticed the way you said they instead of it.
“I’m just saying we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
“Dean’s right. Until we have answers, we treat this like any other hunt.”
The three of you slowly climbed the staircase together. Every step groaned beneath your weight, echoing through the quiet house.
At the top of the stairs, a long hallway stretched in both directions. Old family photographs still hung on the walls, their glass dusty with age.
You stopped in front of one.
The picture had faded too much to make out their faces clearly.
“Looks like the Harper family.”
Dean glanced toward an open bedroom.
You gave him a small smile.
Just old furniture covered with sheets.
The silence somehow made everything feel worse.
It sounded like tiny footsteps running down the hallway.
Dean quickly stepped in front of you, his hand resting on the handle of the iron knife tucked into his jacket.
Sam slowly swept his flashlight toward the end of the hallway.
The beam landed on a tiny figure.
A little child stood only for a second.
No older than seven or eight.
They wore an old sweater and clutched a stuffed rabbit against their chest.
Their wide eyes met yours.
Then they darted around the corner.
Dean took one step forward before stopping himself.
“…Did you guys see that?”
“We all did,” Sam answered quietly.
The three of you hurried to the end of the hallway.
Dean turned the corner first.
Just another closed bedroom door.
“How do you disappear that fast?”
You noticed something near the baseboard.
It lay carefully on the floor, almost as if it had been placed there on purpose.
The fabric was faded, one button eye hanging by a thread.
“It doesn’t look abandoned.”
Dean looked around the hallway.
As Sam carefully picked up the rabbit, the EMF reader finally chirped.
Not enough to indicate an angry spirit.
A soft giggle floated down the hallway.
You looked over your shoulder.
Your voice was barely above a whisper.
“…I think they’re trying to show us something.”
“I still don’t like this.”
“I know.” Sam said responded, still keeping an eye out towards the hallway
Sam looked back at you before carefully setting the rabbit back where he’d found it.
He looked down the hallway.
“I don’t think they’re trying to scare us.”
Before Dean could answer, another sound echoed through the house.
So quiet it almost blended with the wind.
“…Will you… play with me?”
The three of you stood completely still.
Dean’s protective instincts kicked in immediately. He moved a little closer to you, while Sam instinctively stepped to your other side.
Neither brother said a word.
Neither was afraid for themselves.
They were both thinking the same thing.
If this really was the ghost of a child…
Then something terrible had happened here.
The little voice echoed through the hallway before the house fell silent again.
Dean tightened his grip on the iron knife.
“I don’t like kids in haunted houses.”
You couldn’t help smiling.
“I don’t think anyone does.”
“If something feels wrong, you tell one of us immediately.”
Sam gently rested a hand on your shoulder.
“And you stay where we can see you.”
Another soft giggle drifted through the house. This time it came from downstairs.
The three of you exchanged a look before making your way back toward the staircase.
The laughter stopped the moment your feet reached the first floor.
Dean swept his flashlight across the living room.
The furniture hadn’t moved.
The curtains barely stirred in the breeze.
It was as though no one had been there at all.
The little red ball landed in the middle of the rug.
“I know for a fact Sam doesn’t throw that well.”
The ball rolled slowly across the room before bumping into the leg of an old rocking horse.
You followed it with your eyes.
Something caught your attention.
They started beside the rocking horse and disappeared through a doorway leading into what looked like an old playroom.
Sam crouched beside the footprints.
Dean looked over his shoulder.
The three of you stepped into the playroom together.
Shelves lined the walls, still filled with worn storybooks and faded wooden toys. A dollhouse sat in one corner. Building blocks were scattered across the floor.
It looked as though someone had been playing only moments before.
One of the blocks slid across the floor by itself.
It stopped directly in front of you.
Written across the front in chipped blue paint was a single letter.
Another block slid beside it.
A third block scraped across the floor.
You couldn’t help letting out a small laugh.
Dean slowly lowered the knife.
Sam smiled despite himself.
“I don’t think we’ve ever been greeted by a ghost before.”
As if responding, another block tipped over all on its own.
You slowly knelt on the floor.
Dean immediately noticed.
You picked up one of the blocks and gently set it upright.
Then one of the toy cars rolled across the floor toward you.
It stopped just inches from your knee.
Dean looked around the room.
He never finished the sentence.
A tiny figure peeked around the doorway.
The stuffed rabbit tucked tightly beneath one arm.
This time they didn’t disappear immediately.
The child tilted their head.
After a long moment, they took one small step into the room.
Dean and Sam stayed perfectly still.
Neither wanted to frighten them.
The child looked at each of you before quietly asking,
The question hit the room harder than any scream ever could.
Dean’s expression softened instantly.
You felt your heart ache.
Sam spoke first, his voice calm and reassuring.
“And we’re not going anywhere until we figure out how to help.”
For the first time since they arrived, the child smiled.
And in that moment, you all realized this wasn’t a hunt to end a haunting.
It was a hunt to help a lonely child finally find their way home.
