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Sunday Afternoon

Part 2

@butiaintgonnaloveem set an AMAZING challenge; Must be about Baby, our beloved Impala. So I picked the following song (please listen to it first) that I fell in love with and this fic is what resulted. It’s 6k words, so it’s in 2 parts… enjoy

Song: Groovin (The Young Rascals) Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam Warnings: fluff, angst, supernatural themes, death, blood… A/N: Thank you to the marvelous @avasmommy224 for being my beta on this, you’re one amazing woman! This part is slightly longer! Summary: A shared love for an Impala brings people closer together, whether they know it or not… (shit summary but I don’t want to spoil anything)

I’d lived a long life with John Winchester, and in 2005 he gave me the opportunity to return the favour; He gave me Dean. If I thought John could push me, I was in for a treat. From a young age I could see the same love in Dean’s eyes, I was his first love, and over the many years, his only love. If only Dean understood that the radio wasn't faulty, it was me talking to him. If only he knew that I locked my doors when he slept inside me. What I wouldn't give to hold him tight when he sat behind my wheel and silently cried. I knew his secrets and all I could do was wish he knew mine.

“But who is she?” I heard Sam ask in a hushed whisper. I opened my eyes and saw a ceiling, I was indoors. I spread my fingers wide and felt the cloth beneath me, around me, I was in a bed. I moved my hands up to my stomach, feeling the smooth naked skin. It was warm, and silky and … foreign. I frowned as I ran my hands in opposite directions, over my breast, between my legs, purely exploring long forgotten mounds and crevasses. “Uhh…” Dean cleared his throat, causing me to sit bolt upright, the bed linen falling away from me. “Whoa.” Sam was holding up the sheets for me within moments, protecting a stranger’s modesty, That’s my boy. I thought. smiling. I looked between the two, Dean was staring at me, differently to how he was before, as if he was concentrating a little two hard, trying to place the familiarity he felt. “Who are you?” Sam tried, throwing his brother a look, one I’d seen time and time again. He should ease up on Dean, they were brought up differently; Sam raised, Dean dragged. “I’m…” I actually had to think about it, my name, something I hadn’t heard in 50+ years, “YN?” I didn’t mean for it to be a question, I nodded to confirm it. Sam still looked unsure, “You,” I turned to Dean, “Know me as Baby.” I muttered, suddenly feeling their eyes on me, aware of just how naked I was. “Can I borrow some clothes?” I asked. It took the younger Winchester a second or three, but he let me take the blanket and searched through their bags for spare, clean, clothes. I wrapped the sheet around me and took the offered clothes, heading towards the bathroom. I let the sheet drop as I closed the door. The woman in the mirror staring back at me was a shock. It was like seeing a ghost. A ghost with a blood smear over her cheek. I’d gotten used to admiring my sleek, black, shine in reflections. Now I was human, and what more, I hadn’t aged, I was my old twenty-seven year old self. I was frozen, staring, relearning the planes of my face. I backed up against the far wall and studied my body, the way it moved, the shape, the colour, my hair. It was black and shiny, the only part of me now like my... true form is incorrect, but after more time as a car than as a human, you understand my meaning. I wet a facecloth and scrubbed the dried blood off my face then pulled the boxers up my legs, over my buttocks, discovering a demon trap tattoo on one cheek. I poked my head through the hole in the shirt and let the material fall over my body, it came further down my legs than the boxers. “No way, Dean, she’s a human, the car’s probably been nicked.” Sam explained away, for a man who’d seen it all, he sure was closed minded. “You don’t feel it? I know her, explain that, she’s naked where we left the car, the witch was chanting before I got her last night… I don’t know, Sam, it’s…” Dean must’ve shrugged to finish his sentence. I opened the door and the brothers straightened apart, trying to look casual, but in reality it looked more suspicious. “Why don’t you call Rowena, if you don’t believe me. See if she’s heard of this kind of magic?” Sam’s brows pulled in at my mention of the witch, Dean’s raised, interesting how my boys differ. “How do you know about Rowena?” Sam asks, more like interrogates. “Because I was there, Sam. I’ve always been there.” I know Sam won’t believe me till he has more evidence, instead I turn to Dean. “You feel it, right, Dean?” I ask, taking cautious steps towards him, Dean’s eyes flicker to Sam and back to me, watching, waiting. “John Winchester bought me on the 30th of April, 1972, with your encouragement, when Castiel sent you back. John proposed to Mary in me-the Impala.” At Dean’s nose crinkle, I quickly adjusted my statement and made a mental note that now I wasn’t a car, it sounded weird. “They conceived you in that car, Mary delivered you there. Sam was touch and go but I got Mary to the hospital, didn’t I. Dean, I held the three of you close when she died.” I desperately wanted him to understand. “I protected you boys when John drank himself into darkness and forgot you two were in the car.” Their struggle to believe me was infuriating, my tone adjusted to vent the anger, “You scraped my side when you borrowed me from John. John and I watched you, Sam, made sure you were safe while you were at Stanford. I was there through everything, Dean. I felt everything.” I finished, my chest heaving as I drew in heavy breaths. I looked between the boys, they were stunned. I couldn’t help myself from adding the cherry on top, “By the way, Dean?” I waited for him to meet my gaze, “Happy Birthday.” I walked between them and headed back to the parking lot, sure it was cold, but who knew how long this spell would last and I didn’t want to explode back into a car in the middle of their room.

“YN?” Dean was quiet on his approach. I was standing on the other side of the parking lot, I turned to face him, aware of the slump of his shoulders, the pain behind his eyes, the caution in his step. “Please don’t call me that, Dean. Not you.” I murmured, I could feel the tears in my eyes, I wasn’t aware of how to be with him now, being an automobile was much easier. Dean stopped a few feet from me, I wasn’t sure if it was my plea or his own deciding. He was silent for quite a while before he realised he was carrying a blanket. He closed the distance and wrapped me in the warm sheet. “Can you tell me something?” His voice was thick, he quickly cleared it and carried on as I nodded. “How were you in the Impala? How did we not know?” He asked, I smiled and swiped the wetness from my cheeks, he escorted me to the bench and sat with me. “I was a hunter, believe it or not.” Dean raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, “I…” I should start from the beginning, I thought, “I wanted a Ford, and I’d saved for years for that bloody thing, and on the day I could afford it, I marched into the lot and bought the brand new, 1967, Chevrolet, Impala.” Dean snorted and smiled, I could almost read his mind, “She was beautiful back then, and I couldn’t leave without her. So I didn’t.” I smiled at the old memory, I was amazed I even remembered. “She’s still stunning.” Dean muttered. My head snapped round to look him in the eye, the silence stretched out, both of us frozen in the moment. “Rowena’s a state away if we leave-” Sam informed as he walked towards us, then broke off instantly realising a state away meant driving. Dean cleared his throat and looked to his brother, standing to make plans. I kept staring. My Dean called me beautiful, he was proud of me, loved me, but never once did I think he’d mean anything more. “We’ll borrow another for now, get you some clothes.” Dean stated casually with a shrug. “I don’t, I can’t…” I couldn’t figure out the way to phrase my fear of being indoors. What if the spell wore off when I was in a changing room? “Hey, hey.” Dean hushed, his palm rested on my cheek, my face fitting into his hand as if it were sculpted to him. “We’ll think of something else.” Dean soothed. “Something else? Dean!” Sam protested, but Dean shot him a look. “Just use a summoning spell, Sam.” Dean snapped. “With what?” Sam snapped back, motioning at me. I couldn’t help but feel hurt. I didn’t know what had happened to everything. I didn’t know where the weapons, herbs, other clothes and books had gone. Christ, I didn’t even know where my precious present from Sam had gone, or the Lego Dean had given me. “Dude.” Dean warned, “Call her back, she can come to us.” Dean said after a minute of thinking. “Wait. I can tell her the spell.” I said, closing the distance between Sam and I.

“Can I show you something?” I asked Dean as we walked away from the store, wearing my new clothes. Sam had left us to it, claiming he’d look into “things” and let Dean get to know me. “Of course.” Dean smiled, I took his hand and pulled him across the road, weird that I was finally directing him. “I doubt you remember this, we drove past it on our way to the hunt.” I said, our fingers had fit together, intertwined, it felt very much like when he fit them into the grooves on my steering wheel. He shook his head. “You really see everything, huh?” He mused to himself. “It reminded me of when you were three and John and Mary brought you to a park quite similar.” I looked over at his sad smile, “I s’pose you don’t remember it.” I muttered, letting the thought trail off. I didn’t want to upset him on the only day I’d ever be able to talk to him. We stood watching parents with children, kids climbing over equipment. “Tell me more.” Dean prodded. “Mary had scooped you out and took you to the park, it had been a busy day and John had to look for a parking spot, we sat and watched the two of you in the sandpit for a while.” I smiled, looking over the planes of Dean’s face as he watched toddlers eating sand in the nearby box. “He told me he loved your smile. That you got it from Mary.” I saw the curl of his lips, the sad smile that pulled at his features. “I can see it now!” I whispered, he turned and looked at me, his eyes searching mine. “He knew about you?” He asked, I giggled and shook my head. “No, sorry.” I placed a hand on his arm, “I meant he said it out loud. You’re the only one that talks to me, Dean!” I said brightly, smiling at him. He reached up and tucked a piece of my unruly hair behind my ear, his thumb grazing my cheek bone. “I’m sorry.” He said it with such conviction my heart broke for him. It was my own stupid fault I'd got trapped in the car, how was ANYONE to know I WAS the car? But here Dean was, apologizing like he's not seen obvious signs. “There's nothing to be sorry for, my darling. You know now,” I tried to make him understand, but his tears were beginning to well and I couldn't have that on his birthday, “And maybe you’ll stop running me into things!” I joked, and it worked, he laughed. I patted his knee and stood up. “I'm starved.” I announced, “birthday feast?” I suggested, taking his hand and pulling him up.

After realising the time and heading to the bar for dinner, we joined Sam at the booth he’d been holding. “Good day?” Sam asked, looking between the two of us as we sat down opposite him. “Yeah,” Dean answered, passing me the menu that stood against the wall, “Do you remember that time when we were kids and Dad forgot we were in the car, got stone-cold drunk and passed out in the front seat... we couldn’t remember who’d locked the doors in the morning?” Dean asked his brother, a memory I hadn’t meant to remind him of but inherently did when I announced that there were small things I was able to control. “We thought the car was magic?” Sam said, recalling the memory, again, not my intention. Dean jerked his thumb in my direction and Sam’s eyebrows shot up, a proud nod was all he offered. “What do you boys feel like?” I asked, beginning to push out of the booth, but Dean stopped me, pulling me back to the leather seat. “This is on Mr Radowski.” He informed, waving a gold American Express in front of Sam and I. “I’ll have the chicken caesar,” Sam said, giving me an extra moment to glance at the menu. “I’m dying for a medium rare steak with fries and ketchup.” I said, smiling at Dean as he nodded his approval and made his way to the bar. “So, you enjoy your day?” Sam asked me now that Dean was gone. “Yeah, it’s been nice. Great stretching my legs and actually talking with Dean.” I said, glancing back to him. “You love him?” Sam asked, I whipped my head back just in time to see him surveying me. “I love you both, Sam.” My brow had furrowed at how serious a statement I was making, I needed him to know it wasn’t just Dean. Sure, Dean pays me the attention I need and I was in love with the man, but they were both my boys, I’d die for them, if I could. “You have to understand, I was there from the beginning of it all, Sam, I know what you boys have been through, I’ve seen most everything you have. Just cause I’m the Impala doesn’t mean I don’t take it in.” Sam’s gaze dropped to the table, fiddling with the cardboard coaster in his hands. “What do you miss mo-” Sam began as Dean plonked the beer bottles on the table and shoved them at us, scooting in next to his brother. We clinked bottles and took a sip. “The open road, the speed.” I answered, looking back to Sam who chuckled, I tilted my head and took another pull of beer. “I meant, about being human!” Sam said with a snort, Dean caught on and smiled. “Oh,” I thought about it and then smiled, wiping at the droplets of condensation on the bottle. “What is it?” Dean pried, smirking. I was sure he already knew the answer. “I s’pose, sex. Closely,” Sam nearly choked on his beer as Dean laughed, “Closely followed by food, speaking of,” I quickly segwayed as the waitress passed our plates to us, making eyes at Dean who didn’t seem to notice now he had his food. But I did, I saw the curve of her on-display cleavage, the way she pouted when Dean didn’t look up, the sway of her hips when she walked away. Man or Woman, I missed the human body and the way it reacted in moments of passion. “No wonder you’re so suited,” Sam muttered, bringing my attention back to the table. “What?” I questioned, knowing full well he was referring to his brother. Sam shook his head and chuckled before digging into his salad.

#happy big 50 baby #spnfanficpond #huntercentral #Sunday Afternoon #Baby #Impala #supernatural #spn fanfic

Sunday Afternoon

Part 1

Song: Groovin (The Young Rascals) Characters: Reader, John, Dean, Sam Warnings: fluff, angst, supernatural themes, death, blood... A/N: Thank you to the marvelous @avasmommy224 for being my beta on this, you’re one amazing woman! Summary: A shared love for an Impala brings people closer together, whether they know it or not... (shit summary but I don’t want to spoil anything)

May 29th, 1967: I'd been saving up all my money for that bloody car. I knew exactly what I wanted. I'd even asked the bank about a loan so I could get it faster, but oh no… no loan for a travelling woman who didn't have a solid job, or a home! I finally had enough money for the car of my dreams, a 1965 Ford Mustang! I almost ran to the car lot when I received my pay for the month. I had walked past this car for the past year, the only reason it was still here was that i’d put a deposit on it last year, Gary the owner of the car yard knew me well by now. I was in every other week, just staring and mumbling to the precious baby. 3.27pm; when you're whole life changes, you want to be able to pinpoint it when you look back. I rushed into the car yard, looked to my left, two cars back, I already had my finger pointed and I said you’ll be all mine soon, baby, but all the cars had been moved around and it was out before I’d even realized. The sleek, shining, red, Ford Mustang had been swapped for a twinkling, black, brand new, Chevrolet Impala. Did my world change or what? Gary came out, waving the papers at me, but I ignored him. I went straight over to the car. I had to see her, had to touch her. She was a siren and I was caught in her song. “YN, your car’s over here.” Gary tried to loop a hand around my waist but I wasn't budging. “How much is she?” I whispered. I was in a trance, I wasn't leaving here without this beauty. “Four thousand.” To give Gary credit, he did try and talk me round, he spent ages begging me to come over to the Ford, he mentioned the deposit more than once, but it wasn't till I held my switchblade to him that he gave in. And I couldn't believe it either, she was cheaper than the Ford. “She’s mine.” I whispered, nodding at my decision. “But…” Gary tried again but one stern look in his direction and he got the point. He hurried off to the office for the paperwork.

#happy big 50 baby #spnfanficpond #huntercentral #Baby #Impala #Sunday Afternoon #supernatural #spn fanfic

The Exchange

This one is for my darling Heather, @jalove-wecallhimdean. Congrats on your 500 my sweet, i envy those lucky buggers that get to discover you for the first time. But at the same time, I am so glad I was there for the beginning of your posting! Also, THANK YOU to Jenn for being an brilliant beta. @avasmommy224 couldn’t have posted without you soothing my worried mind!

Prompt: “You full on had a girl inside you for like a whole week” Warning: Body Swap, swearing, attempted humor, rejection, fluff, confusion, masturbation, hinted smut...? Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam Word Count: 5264 (kinda got away from me) Summary: A nasty curse from a Warlock leaves you and Dean scratching each others heads and Sam mighty confused...

That fucking warlock. Oh man, had he been a hard one to put down! It had taken all week. Spells were cast, spells were undone. Hex bags were planted, hex bags were burnt. It’d been physically wearing too, being thrown from one bloody wall to another. Christ, this guy just had a hard on for bodies slapping against plaster. I groaned and rolled onto my back, not opening my eyes just yet, today could wait. I lay there for a while before stretching, and it was a bloody good stretch too; leg shaking, arm tingling, back cracking, good. I yawned wide, cracking my dry lips. I licked at it, feeling the swell of a bigger cut. I don’t remember splitting my lip. I push that thought from my mind and dig the heels of my palms into my eyes, grinding out the sleep and yawning again, but I stop, surprised, halfway through. My fingers have rested on my hair, what should be my long hair; but it’s short and spiky and …

I was wishing we’d kept the warlock alive, just so I could torture him, when I thought of the boys. If I were in Dean’s body, surely that meant - “What the HELL are you doing? Get off me!” The high pitched female voice came from next door. Was that really what I sounded like? I was outside and banging on the door before I’d finished the vain thought. Sam ripped open the door and then stepped back, looking between me and Dean. “She just started-” Sam began to explain to who he thought was his brother. “You!” Dean yelled at me, but from my body. He was in my body. I felt as though he was invading my body. He was yelling at me with my voice, he was pointing at me with my finger, he was storming toward me with my feet, he was shoving me… He was shoving me. I grabbed his wrists and forced him to stop. His face pulling into a pained expression, a harsh hiss emitting from between his lips, no! My lips! I instantly let go of him, noticing we were both standing outside. Dean was still wearing what I fell asleep in, a tank top and comfortable, cotton panties. “Can we-” We seemed to have the same idea at the same time, me pushing his shoulder, him grabbing my wrist. Pushing and pulling we both stumbled back into mine and Sam’s motel room. “What the hell is going on?” Sam asked, looking between the both of us. “Body swap.” Dean and I snapped together, not taking our eyes off each other, that is until Sam snickered. Both of us sent him filthy looks, but I gently shoved his shoulder. Though a gentle shove from Dean seemed to put Sam off balance. And stop him laughing. “How’d this happen?” Sam asked, straightening up, not making an attempt to step closer to either one of us. “I don’t-” Dean began, but as Sam was asking, I saw a scratch on my chest. No, Dean’s chest. This was so confusing. But it was the exact same that I discovered on Dean’s chest while looking in the mirror earlier. I reached out and pulled the tank top down, revealing half my breast and the rest of the mark. “Du- Sorry.” Sam said, smacking at my arm then suddenly retracting his hand. Dean furrowed his brow, his eyes roaming my body, his body, mine now, finally finding what had made me react. He pulled the shirt aside and revealed the mark. “Son of a bitch.” He said, letting the shirt go and turning around, running his fingers through his hair, but finding much more than he was used to. “Ow! Ow!” Dean whined, trying to retract his fingers from the knot he’d created, only pulling on his scalp further. “Help.” He demanded, both Sam and I moved towards him, pausing at the same time. “Sorry - you fix it.” Sam muttered, scratching at the back of his neck. I smiled gently, it was nice to know he’d protect my modesty and help me with my hair, even if it wasn’t me any more! “Stop,” I flinched back as Dean raised his elbow, trying to pull free again, this time from a different angle. “Stop moving.” I instructed, more like barked. Dean went still quickly. “Is that really what I sound like?” He murmured, pulling a face when both Sam and I nodded. I fixed the immediate problem, finding more knots that I’d have to deal with before he made a real mess of it. “So the marks? That’s what caused … this?” Sam asked, gesturing between Dean and I. “You don’t have one.” I said, looking over his exposed chest, then raking over the rest of his exposed torso with my eyes. “Stop. Don’t...” Sam said, shaking his head furiously. “What?” I asked, taking a step towards him, worried something was wrong. But he backed away as I tried to draw closer. “You’re in my body. You can’t be looking at him like that!” Dean chastised, the look across his face was the one I’d seen in the mirror before I was about to be sick. Sam grabbed up the shirt from the back of the chair and pulled it over his head, covering his chiseled body. “I’m sorry! It’s hard.” I explained, sighing and raking a hand through my short hair. I now understood why Dean did this so often, it felt good, rough but calming. “Speaking of.” Dean said, pulling my arm and guiding me towards the bathroom, pushing me through the door and following me in, shutting a concerned Sam out. “What are you doing?” I complained, turning to face him in the small area. “Get that under control.” He said, nodding down my body. I looked down to see what he was talking about. I hadn’t realised until now that Dean slept in boxers and I could see the definite outline of his penis. MY PENIS. Lord no! I wanted back in my body, now! “Stop it, Dean!” I whined, as if asking an older brother to get rid of a scary spider. “What?” Dean looked incredulous, “I can’t, that’s all you. And-” He gagged, pushing the thought away, “Just…” He looked around the room, “Think of anything other than my br-” He gagged again. “Jesus!” I snorted, “Alright, umm… like what?” I asked, desperate to make whatever was happening in my pants stop. Dean’s eyes rolled as he began to rattle off a list. “Demons; the black eyes, the appearing suddenly, the snapping fingers,” I put a hand over his mouth and shook my head. He raised an eyebrow, forcibly removing my hand. “Really?” I could hear the judgement in his voice. “Now is not the time to judge!” The panic in my voice was evident and caused him to laugh. “Dean!” I sobbed, it was unfair. He was going to experience all the amazingness that comes with being a woman. I had just finished my period, so I was hyper aware, easily turned on and better yet, women can get away with these thoughts! “Uhh, Chuck - Chuck is watching.” He tried again, I rolled my eyes, it’s like he wasn’t even trying to help me, now. “Right, ok.” He muttered, noticing the unamused look I was wearing. “What about…” For a guy that seemed to be horny all the time, he sure wasn’t any help now. “President Trump.” Sam called through the door. I gagged, but it worked. I had been so interested in the debates leading to the election that I’d even refused to go on hunts. Now that dorito was running our nation. “Remember that for later.” Dean hissed, opening the door. “Later?” I asked, terrified.

After splashing water over my face and under my arms, I pulled on Dean’s clothes and joined Sam in the motel kitchenette. He had his laptop out, researching what the mark meant. “Found anything?” I asked, filling up the coffee pot and setting it to brew. “It’s definitely from the warlock. Sometimes it’s a curse, sometimes it’s determined by the caster themselves.” Sam explained. “But he’s dead.” I pointed out, reading the page over his shoulder. “You thinking Freaky Friday?” Dean asked, entering the room. He was in one of my flannels and a pair of jeans, but I could make out my chest, and I wasn’t happy. “Put a bra on.” I demanded, my voice louder than I meant it to be. Sam was startled and looked up at me then to Dean, tilting his head slightly. “Oi! It’s still me.” Dean barked at his brother, shielding his chest from anyone more staring. I pointed at the door and Dean huffed, marching back to my room to change again. “You were saying?” I pressed, hoping Sam would find a cure to this sooner rather than later. “So, the since he’s dead, it’s a curse. But I can’t find anything on how long it’s meant to last, or a way of switching you back. Like YN sa-- No! Like Dean, said.” Sam corrected himself faster than I could react. He bowed his head, resting it in his open palms, itching at his scalp. “It’s okay babe, it’s tough on all of us. We’ll find a cure.” I reassured, squeezing his shoulder, dropping my own head to the crown of his placing a gentle kiss there. “YN, come on!” Dean cried from the doorway. Sam had gone rigid under me and I realised what I was doing, I backed up quickly, colliding with the bench top. The only advantage so far; I would’ve hit my hip in my body, but I’d smacked the underside of my bottom. “Christ!” I groaned. Rubbing at my temple, as if I could push the reminder into my brain; no touching or staring till after we were back to normal. I looked back up at Dean, he was holding the offending piece of clothing, one he was clearly struggling with. “Jesus, Dean! If you can take one off, can’t you put one on?” I asked, rounding the table, making sure to keep my distance from the younger Winchester. Dean began to unbutton the plaid shirt right there. “Dude!” Sam chided, clearing his throat louder than necessary. “What? Not like we all haven’t seen them before.” He explained. I turned back to Sam and shrugged, it’s true. Dean had changed out of the tank top, I’m sure he would’ve copped a good look. “Turn around.” I instructed as he shrugged out of the top and I took the bra from him. Not like putting a bra on was a foreign occurrence, but putting one on someone else, no … my own body, was bizarre. All done up, I returned to the kitchenette to fix everyone coffee.

I was out of breath when we reached the top of the dirt track, Sam was hardly breaking a sweat. “Good lord, I don’t know how he does it.” I rasped, holding me sides. Sam chuckled as he jogged on the spot. I stretched this way and that as I kept complaining. “He runs so fast…” gulp in, wheeze out, “when he’s being chased by a big bad…” hold breath, stitch. “Good for a sprint.” Sam summarized for me, while demonstrating how to stretch properly. I steadied my breathing and slowed my heart, ready for round two. With a nod from me and a smirk from Sam we set off again, this time a little slower, less talking, more breathing. We reached the top of the hill, looking down on the top of the bunker's entrance, as though it were an ant hole. “I don't think I've ever seen Dean sweat so much.” Sam quipped as I pulled at the shirt stuck to my chest, airing it, creating a cool breeze against my overheated skin. “I don't think I've ever sweat so much!” I gathered my remaining energy and smacked Sam’s arm. “Race ya!” I took off before he could even process what was happening, going as fast as Dean’s legs could carry me, pushing his body to the limit. I could hear Sam’s feet smacking at the ground behind me, hear his gusts of breath every time a foot landed on the track. I pushed harder, willing myself forward, I had to do this, not only for myself, but for Dean. Prove to Sam that Dean could do it, that what he ate didn't limit him as much as Sam thought. But here's another downfall as a man; I ran past a low hanging branch, the twigs clawed at my thighs and caught at my groin. As a female it wouldn't have worried me, I would've kept running, but the testicles hanging between my legs had a different idea, with the whip of one sole twig, I was doubling up, curling in on myself before my legs had stopped moving. I somersaulted across the dirt, my shoulders bouncing on the track, propelling me forward and onto my bum, throwing me to the side, where I finally stopped. Sam came to a stop, Holding himself up by his knees, his body shaking he was laughing so hard. I was unaware till then that I was cradling my junk, folded over, protectively, groaning. “ShutupSam.” I grit out. “Sorry, sorry!” He said straightening, only to double over again. “Fuckyou.” I spat, rolling over and onto my hands and knees, mentally preparing to stand up. Sam let out a long breath, regaining his composure and helping me stand. “Yeah, that would've been a shock.” He chuckled, though one look from me and the smile fell off his face. “Not another word, Sam, or you'll get a knee.” I warned, Sam nodded, his face stern.

“Mornin’-” Dean started, but upon turning and seeing me dirtied and sweaty his tone changed, “what the HELL, did you do to me?” He barked. “I took you for a run, but don't worry, I'll be the one feeling it tomorrow, not you. Unfortunately.” I muttered the last part, but received a filthy side eye anyway. Retreating to Dean's room, I flopped onto the side of the bed, resting my elbows on my knees. Why had the warlock chosen Dean and I, why not Sam and I, or hell, not me at all?! I pushed myself off the bed, grabbed a fresh change of clothes and headed for the bathroom. Showering whilst trying not to look or touch was a hard task. How does one effectively clean themselves and war with the idea that touching anything between your legs might be a slight against your boyfriend. Only in a hunting life would that thought even cross your mind. Once I'd washed my hair, so much faster now that it was inches long, and cleaned off the dirt and mud from my face, shoulders, torso and legs, I took a deep breath and reached down. Short curly hair, means he manicured - sweet Christ, don't analyze it! As my fingers ghosted further down, it was like a much needed touch. Like I'd been waiting for this moment since the first day. My cock came alive, stiffening almost immediately, rising upward. How was it that when I watched this happen to Sam I was ever more turned on, never thinking about what he was experiencing, now it was like watching a science experiment. I took hold of it, tentatively at first, but every cell within Dean's body, my body, seemed to scream for more. I closed my eyes and moved my hand, whatever felt right I did. Whatever brought me closer to the edge, I twisted my wrist, I pumped my fist, I circled my thumb over the tip, teasing the vein underneath. Fuck, so close. One more… I was cumming, in thick ropes of semen. The water turned cold just as I disgusted myself, my thoughts turning to guilt and fidelity, how right it had felt at the time, how wrong it felt now. How sickened I was by my own actions, yet I couldn't control it. It was almost robotic, it had to happen, I had to have release, and now…

“Y/N?” Dean said tentatively as he rounded the corner into my room, I pushed the headphones to around my neck as I sat up. I suppose I was, as Sam said, too much like Dean, only difference is I didn't blast my music, or listen to classic rock to unwind. “What's up?” I asked, waving him in. Since that morning I'd been avoiding the brothers, locked away and refusing to talk to Sam. Dean closed the door and approached the bed, keeping his head down, finally he looked up. “I think I know what happened.” Dean stated, frustratingly pushing the hair that had fallen into his eyes, out of the way. “I'm so-” I didn't know what to say or where to start, “I didn't mean to it just- I'm sorry, Dean. It’s insensitive of me- It's private and I just-” “Whoa! Hold up. What? What are you talking about?” Dean asked, trying to flip the rest of the long hair over his shoulder, frustrating him further. My mouth twitched, what did he mean, what did I mean? “What did you think…” I trailed off, staring at the furious woman that was Dean. He was struggling with this hair, badly. I stood up and pushed him down to sit on the side of the bed. I gathered my hair brush and tie. “You got worked up about Sam aga- OW!” Dean yelled as I tried to pull the brush through the tangled mass. I turned his head back, to face the front and tried again, as gently as I could where knots were concerned. “Not quite.” I offered, not willing to truly explain if he didn't actually know. “But you did something about whatever you were feeling?” Dean asked after a while. My hand fell to my side as I was caught in the reality of what I'd done. “I'm so sorry, Dean. I've violated your privacy and I… I…” I didn't know what more I could say to convey just how truly shit I felt about it. “You can…” I caught myself mid offer, what was I actually going to say? Offer him my body to do what he wanted with as long as he was in there, but then there was Sam to think about, it wasn't just me who'd face the repercussions of that, it'd be the younger Winchester as well. “Already have, darlin’.” His answer breached my thoughts as I swept his hair into a ponytail so as it was out of the way. “Sorry, what?” I snapped, letting the elastic snap against the back of his head. He rubbed the sore spot and turned to look at me with a shrug. “I've already tried it all out. It's a lot harder than women make it look.” That shit eating grin was begging to be wiped off. “How dare you!” I growled, giving him a shove, forgetting my strength, he fell back against the bed and bounced. “Whoa, you just confessed you'd done exactly the same, I just … beat you to it.” He rolled over the bed and stood on the other side, seeing that I was actually mad, whether at him or myself, neither of us knew. “It’s human to find release, being in a different body doesn't change that.” He explained, “Only means we know what the other looks like naked, now.” Dean winked before opening the door and disappearing.

#500doitlikedeanchallenge #body swap #NO WINCEST #spnfanficpond #huntercentral #the exchange

Finding Home

This is for Becka @beckawinchester and Johanna’s @boredoutofmymindwriting Challenge ... hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. Prompt - “He knew that he was home when her lips touched his.” Song - Free Fallin’ by John Mayer Word Count - 2511 Characters - Jensen x Reader, Jason Manns, Rob, Rich and so on... Warnings - none I hope; fluff, hints at smut, more fluff Summary - It’s nice when you find someone you’re so at home with, so comfortable with, but can still surprise. A/N - Let’s pretend Daneel is living her happily-ever-after with someone else. Thank you to the wonderful @avasmommy224 for beta-ing! And a shout out to @whispersandwhiskerburn just for putting up with me!

He’s a good boy, loves his mama, loves Jesus and America too. He’s a good boy, crazy ‘bout Elvis, loves horses and his girlfriend too. YN had her headphones in and was singing away to her favourite song as she scrubbed the kitchen sink. She’d managed to clean the whole house. Jensen would think it was because he was arriving home, not that her nerves were getting the best of her.

It’s a long day living in Reseda, there’s a freeway runnin’ through the yard. I’m a bad girl ‘cause I don’t even miss him, I’m a bad girl for breaking his heart. Jensen pulled the suitcase from the trunk and wheeled it to the door, finding it was unlocked, as always if she was home. No matter how many times he begged her to lock it, she seemed to always forget. And I’m free, free fallin’, fallin’. And I’m free, free fallin’, fallin’. He placed his case inside the door and followed her voice, she was singing. He loved to hear her sing. He wished she’d come and record for Jason, he’d even suggested a duet, but she wouldn’t, she’d get nervous just at the mention. She tried to record something for him once, but her anxiety took over and she almost threw up. Jensen leaned against the doorway and watched her as she washed out the sink of bleach she’d been scrubbing with. All the vampires walkin’ through the valley, they move western down Ventura boulevard. And all the bad boys standing in the shadows, and the good girls are home with broken hearts. He smiled as she wiped at her face with her shoulder and arm, catching a glimpse of him in her peripheral. She jumped, spinning. She pushed the inside of her wrist to her chest and shed the glove from her other hand, ripping out an earphone. “Baby!” She squealed. “Did I scare you?” He asked, the slight chuckle from knowing he had, only built when she shoved him in the chest. “Why didn’t you say something?” She asked, finally free of the other glove and headphone, she pulled him back to her by twirling a finger in the hem of his shirt. She slid her fingers over his chest, snaking her hands over his shoulders and around his neck. And just like a practised routine, Jensen bent to meet her awaiting lips with his, wrapping his hands under her thighs and lifting her with ease, wrapping her legs around his waist. “How long are you back for?” She asked, leaning away from his lips, brushing his nose with hers. “Tonight, conventions start tomorrow.” He breathed, it was a tough life, coming and going. She had her job, friends, and life here and he was constantly on the road. But every time he was home, or she came to visit, they spent every second together, they’d even bought this house together. But all this time apart meant that YN could get up to mischief, she’d known he was starting the convention circuit now, knew he was more than a little annoyed that he only had one night with her. So, with Jason’s help, she recorded a demo of his favourite song. With Rob and Rich’s help, she was joining the convention. Little did Jensen know, she’d taken the next five months off, partly for him, partly for the expansion of her company into Vancouver. And with more help from friends, she had a little something up her sleeve, if only the butterflies and the doubt would ebb long enough. “So we better make the most of it.” She breathed against him, he smiled and fit their lips back together, like the puzzle pieces they were.

Jason’s prepared something special for us, so while we take a breather, please make him feel welcome! Rich introduced before placing the mic next to Jason, who was already seated and setting up his guitar. The crowd quieted down as Jason tapped the mic. “Howdy y’all, thanks for having me.” The band behind Jason squeezed past YN on their way off stage, all patting her back and wishing her good luck. Jensen and Rob were still on stage, meandering back as Jensen wasn’t aware of the switch up of plans. “Do y’all mind if I bring a special someone out here?” Jason asked, the crowd whooped and applauded in agreeance, “Thanks! She’s someone I’ve wanted to work with for ages, she’s a last minute addition to the show…” Jason looked round at Rob who whispered something into Jensen’s ear, his jaw dropped. “Please give a warm, Jax welcome to YFN YLN!” He called, holding his hand out to the side of the stage, Rich gave YN a push out into the light. All the nerves and butterflies and doubting voices had assured her it would be terrifying, that she’d see disapproving faces and the lights would be too bright. But it wasn’t. The audience was screaming and cheering and whistling, but she couldn’t see their faces, the lights made the room in front of the stage black, yet they didn’t blind her. She smiled at Jason and waved at the anonymous pit of applause. Rob was walking toward her, leaving a dumbfounded Jensen standing on the side of the stage. “You’ll smash it.” Rob whispered as he pecked her cheek on the way past, she winked at him and continued over to Jason, patting him on the shoulder, collecting her microphone, ignoring her statue of a boyfriend for the moment. “Hey y’all! Thanks for having me!” The crowd cheered again, a few people yelled out different welcoming phrases. YN turned to Jason and nodded, he smiled and began strumming, she looked over at Jensen then, holding one of her hands out to the side. “Surprise baby! This is for you!” He’s a good boy, loves his mama, loves Jesus and America too. YN began, enjoying the shocked look on her man’s face, but there was an audience and they deserved a show if you were gonna interrupt their paid weekend. He’s a good boy, crazy ‘bout Elvis, loves horses and his girlfriend too, yeah, yeah. YN really got into it on stage, broke free from her stand by Jason’s side and moved across the stage, relishing in the fans singing along to the chorus. Now I’m free fallin’, now I’m free fallin’... I wanna glide down over Mulholland, I wanna write his name in the sky. I wanna free fall out into nothing, I’m gonna leave this world for a while. Now I’m free, free fallin’, fallin’ Free fallin’... YN finishes, letting Jason playout the ending. Once the last note from the guitar fades, it’s silent for a moment, no one moves, no one breathes, then the room erupts. Jason removes his guitar and places it in the stand, bringing her into a tight hug, whispering congratulations and how she HAS to record for him now. Jensen crosses the stage, mouth open. He’s speechless, and Jensen speechless is truly a compliment. He lifts her in his arms, his mouth moulded to hers, hoping beyond hope that he’s conveying everything through touch as words would not do him justice. He releases her lips and lets her slide down his body till she’s on her feet. She brings the mic she hadn’t let go of, back up to her mouth. “I believe you have something of mine.” She says clearly, no one in the room understands except for him. He smiles and brings his fist around from her back. The room goes quiet as he releases her and brings his hand between them, opening his fingers, one by one till his palm is facing her. A simple ring in the center of his hand. No one else can see what she can, they don’t understand the reason she almost drops the mic, or why her eyes begin to water. Then he gets down on one knee. There are shouts, whistles, cries, and sobs from the crowd as he takes the mic from her hand and gives it to Jason who’s still on stage, Jason positions it between the couple. “YFN YLN, would you do me the absolute honour, of becoming my need.” He asks, beaming up at her, tears flowing from both their eyes, another small comment only they and close friends would understand. “My want an’ need.” She answers, pulling his face up to hers, pecking his lips several times, running her thumb under his eyes to wipe away the tears. He slips the ring on to her finger, then pulls her back to him, cradling her in his arms, so tight that her molecules might just shift and fit together with his to form one perfect combination. “Did you just say wanton need?” He whispered into her ear so only she would hear, he felt her lips pull up into a smile as her head faintly nodded yes. “I didn’t tell you, the business is expanding to Vancouver, we’ll actually have a home that we both live in.” She said, pulling back to look into his eyes, searching for a sign that this was another good surprise. Fresh tears spilled over as he pressed his lips back to hers. But it doesn’t matter where they live for he knew that he was home when her lips touched his.

#beckaandjohannaschallenge #finding home #spnfanficpond #huntercentral #jensenxreader #fluff

Teenagers!

I’m so so sorry this took FOREVER to get to. This was requested of @avasmommy224 by @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou It kinda got away from me after all this time of sitting on an idea. Hope you like it. The idea was something along the lines of - Dean’s kid (reader) is a right shit and does things to annoy him (again, apologies, I don’t have my book of everything with me).

Characters: Dean, Reader!Daughter, Sam, Jodie, and a mystery guest! Word Count: 2720 Warnings: angst, supernatural violence, kidnapping, parent/child arguments Summary: Dean quickly finds having a daughter isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, but when lives are put in jeopardy, he finds he wouldn’t rather it any other way. A/N: so there’s a little imagining that has to happen here as the mystery guest’s age would mean Dean’s much older ... and he’s not, so - use your imagination! Also this was beta’d by the marvelous Mama herself - @avasmommy224

“Dean, take care of her.” She’d taken one more, gurgling, breath. “Take care of your daughter.” Those were her last words. And with one sentence, Dean’s world was turned upside down, inside out. So was YN’s. Sam tried his best to keep them civil, but YN was too much like Dean for their own good. They butted heads, argued, fought over everything, anything one said seemed to set the other off. Sam also tried just leaving them to it, but ended up intervening, sure the screaming match would end in murder.

Her phone went for the seventh time, she rolled her eyes and smacked the green button then pushed the speaker. “Hello?” She answered, a bit abrasive but she had to smile when her father was already blowing up on the other end. “-get back here this instant, or I swear to-” Dean was yelling. “Who is this?” She asked, laughing to herself when it set him off further. “You know damn well who it is. Stop playing and bring Baby back, NOW!” Dean was growling, almost panting at the end of his demand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” YN teased, revving the Impala hard, just to rev Dean up! “DAMN IT, YN. I’m not joking around.” There was a fuss on the other end of the phone. “Hi, YN?” A female asked. “Who’s this?” YN bit back, slowing down a little. “It’s Jodie. I get that you-” “Jodie? As in the one that’s meant to sort me out?” YN scoffed, picking up the speed again. “Listen, kid, your Mom died, and that’s bloody rough, it’s not fair and it shouldn’t have ever happened.” Jodie had begun her speech, but YN had heard this from Sam already, maybe not as blunt, but something similar. “You don’t get it, try losing family, then -” YN swerved, the wheels scratching in protest against the gravel, unable to gain traction against the loose ground. “YN?” Jodie yelled into the phone, “YN, what’s happening? Are you alright?” There was a commotion on the end of the phone, either Dean was scrabbling to get the phone back or she was struggling to find loud speaker. The car slammed to a stop against a fence post, folding the corner in with a crunch. YN straightened in the driver’s seat, wiping her hand across her forehead and hissing when she came across a gash at her hairline. “YN? Dammit!” Dean snapped on the other end of the phone, it pulled her out of the shock induced haze. She reached into the passenger’s footwell and grabbed the phone that had fallen down. “I think…” She turned around in her seat, the road was empty. She was sure someone had been there. “He came outta nowhere, but now he’s…” She unbuckled her seatbelt, “I’m just gonna,” She began to open her door, but fell out when someone on the other side ripped it wide. The man’s hand began to pull her up by her hair, she cried out and struggled with his hand. “Get off me! Let me go!” She screamed, kicking and thrashing at the young man. He was much stronger and taller than her and it took nothing to withstand her feeble attempts to fight. “YN!” Dean’s voice was clear from the receiver, it actually filled the car he was so loud. “Dad!” YN screamed before the man smacked her head against the side of the car. She instantly went limp and fell to the ground. The man stepped over her and picked up the phone. “How lucky am I to have come across Dean Winchester’s daughter?” The man laughed, he could hear Dean’s heavy breathing. “Leave her where you found her and I won’t slaughter you.” Dean barked down the phone. This made the man snort, he was so full of confidence in his plan, he didn’t need to be scared - so he thought. “I’ll make you a deal, I’ll hand her over if you come to pick her up.” Dean knew this was too good to be true. “Alone.” The monster breathed the last word before hanging up, it was as if the man were standing by Dean, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

“Why me, huh? Couldn’t take Dean down yourself?” YN sniped, twisting her wrists against the hard, cold, chains holding her arms above her head. The young man backhanded her out of annoyance. The results of her other attempts at sass mouthing was already swelling her left eye closed. “You are worse than your father.” The man groaned, rubbing the raw spot on his knuckles. “All mouth, no plan. Speaking of… where is he?” The man moved to the window and peaked out the blinds. YN opened her mouth, clicking her jaw before spitting out blood. “You really are stupid.” She truly was amazed by his ignorance. He spun on his heel and was on her in a second, hand raised, but she didn’t flinch. Even though her cheek bone was an angry red, her eye swollen shut, lip split and bleeding from previous disciplining, she was strong, or dumb. He narrowed his eyes, trying to decide which. “How’s that?” He demanded, dropping his hand, raising his eyebrow instead. “You nabbed the wrong Winchester, moron.” She informed, as if it were obvious. “Dean doesn’t care about me. If you really wanted to piss him off, you should’ve taken Sam.” He laughed, a hearty, sadistic, laugh. Now who was the moron. “You really think Dean Winchester won’t come to save you?” The man began to laugh again, but something silenced him, he stood up straighter, head tilted to one side, listening, then he relaxed and pointed at the door just as someone knocked on it. “Come on, asshole. I’m here. Don’t go shy now.” Dean called from the other side. YN audibly groaned. She truly had thought she was alone in this, or at least had hoped. “You were saying?” The man whispered as he went to answer the door. “How nice of you to join us.” The young man quipped as Dean stepped into the cabin. His eyes flew to YN, taking in her beaten face and the restraints. He turned his attention back to the man, a new anger bubbling inside him. “I’m here. Now, let her go.” Dean snarled.

The man shoved Dean against the wall with surprising speed, quickly overpowering him into a headlock. YN had seen plenty of crime and action on screen, the man’s arm was tight against Dean’s throat and Dean’s face was bright red, struggling to pull the man’s arm away. “Don’t worry, Dean. I’m not gonna kill you just yet. I’m gonna make you watch as I kill your daughter.” He smacked Dean’s head against the wall, before he could argue, efficiently knocking him out cold. YN watched on in horror, the man’s words ringing in her ears, kill your daughter. “NO!” Dean yelled, capturing Sam and Jodie’s attention. They both bolted through the remaining trees towards the cabin, Sam reached the door first, bursting through. YN was held tight against a man’s front, claws threatening to puncture her throat. His eyes were yellow, his stare fierce as he surveyed the larger Winchester in the doorway. Dean was tied to a chair, positioned directly in front of the two, as if watching a show. Sam trained his gun on the man’s temple, what was visible just over YN’s shoulder. Jodie entered then, out of breath but gun raised and ready. “Remember me, Winchester?” the beast snarled, his eyes resting on Dean, whose jaw was clenched, every muscle pulling against the restraints holding him to the chair. “You killed my mother.” the man spat when there’d been no answer. “Amy Pond. You’re Jacob?” Sam asked, his gun lowered to waist level, moving away from Dean. The man had to maneuver with YN to keep eye contact with the taller hunter, giving Jodie the opportunity to silently work on Dean’s binding’s. Jacob’s grip slackened, his face fell from a snarl to sadness. “You were good to her Sam, she told me about the hunter that helped her escape.” The kitsune said over YN’s shoulder, still using the teenager as a shield. His grip tightened again, worse than before, the tip of a claw catching in YN’s neck, breaking the skin and drawing a whimper from her, eyes tight shut as she waited. “That’s why this won’t be easy.” Jacob shouted, and as if in slow motion, many things happened at once. The young man’s muscles flexed in preparation to dice YN’s throat. YN’s lips formed her last words I’m Sorry. Sam brought his gun up in front of his face. Jodie screamed NO! Dean dove from the chair, launching at the man, catching him around the waist. Time caught up; Jacob and Dean fell to the floor, Jacob’s claws catching at YN’s skin, leaving a trail of shallow red lines down her neck, collarbone and arm. Jodie followed the motion, tracking the movement of arms and legs as hunter and hunted scrambled on the floor. Sam was at YN’s side in a flash, helping her out of the restraints, catching her as she collapsed, the blood finally flowing back into her fingertips making them tingle with pins and needles. Jodie let off a shot. “No!” Sam called, gesturing for Jodie not to shoot again. He was a misunderstood young man that Sam felt for, Jacob could surely be saved. But as Sam looked back to his brother and the beast, he discovered Dean was pinned, claws inches from his face. YN pushed out of Sam’s grip, grabbing at the knife she knew he kept in his belt loop. She plunged the knife into Jacob’s back. His body arched away from the blade, but YN followed him, grasping at his shoulder and jerking the knife further into him. Jacob let out a gurgled moan before his body slumped, dead weight collapsing to the side of Dean. “We could’ve…” Sam began but Jodie clapped his shoulder and shook her head, she knew that feeling all too well, we could’ve saved him, talked sense into him. But once a man turns beast, there’s no coming back. Dean sat up, pushing Jacob’s limbs off his legs. “Dad!” YN threw herself at her father, falling into his lap, collapsing against his chest and winding her arms around him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She sobbed. Dean looked at Jodie and Sam then back at his teenage daughter, pulling her close against him, reassuring her. “You’re okay. You’re safe now, sweetheart.” Dean muttered into the top of her head, his lips resting in her hair. “I don’t wanna lose you too.” She whimpered into his jacket. Her words froze him in place, finally he thawed and pulled her back to look at him. The claw marks on her neck, the bruises on her face, and her swollen eye were a reminder that he had to protect her no matter the cost. “Listen to me, YN. I’m not going anywhere.” He said, his grip on her shoulders tightened as he shook her slightly. “You hear me?” He asked, kissing her forehead and pulling her back under his chin as she gave a faint nod.

#teenagers!#request to request #avasmommy224 #yoursmilemakesmeloveyou #sorry it took so long #spnfanficpond #huntercentral

Little Difference

This is for @letsgetoutalive‘s Mental Awareness Challenge Thank you to @whispersandwhiskerburn, as always, you come to my rescue.

“Illness”: Autism Spectrum Warnings: hopefully nothing; fluff, a little angst maybe? Word Count: 2795 Characters: OFC Bonnie, Bobby, Dean, Sam, Rufus Summary: Bobby takes in a little girl after a hunt leaves her orphaned. After finding things different, he takes her to an appointment. She’s diagnosed, but that doesn’t lead to happy days. Like all parents, he struggles, but does the best he possibly can... (shit summary sorry)

“Why won't she join us?” Sammy asked Uncle Bobby, upset that his cousin wouldn't join in his game. “She’s content by herself, Sam, just gotta leave her to it, kid.” Bobby explained, looking across the lot at his surrogate daughter. She was sitting in one of the stripped cars, she'd set up her own playhouse, rather - a safehouse, in. “Come on, Sammy. We’ll go find your toy truck.” Dean said, taking his little brother's hand and leading him back into the house. Bobby watched as Bonnie sat contentedly playing with her model plane and parts of the old car.

Bobby took her to a children’s shrink, out of his depth and terrified that he would be traumatizing her more by not getting her help. His old man had been a terrible father, and being a parent was--well, it made hunting look easy. “Mr. Singer, she’s showing some of the classic signs of Asperger's. Do you know what that is?” Bobby shook his head and the kind lady continued in a soft voice that wouldn’t upset Y/N. “It’s a part of the Autism Spectrum. It's not unusual for children with this condition to be more physical than verbal, but not a word in months does raise some concern. Do you mind leaving us so I can ask her some questions, see if she responds to any of our tests?” Bobby was unsure, but she'd come to be his whole world, and there was precious little he wouldn't give to know what was going on in her head, to hear her talking to him. “What kind of tests?” Bobby asked, looking over the little girl at the lego table. He was out of his depth, but his protective instincts were still strong. “Cards with pictures, the norm for children of six years.” Bobby took a deep breath. “Bunny?” She looked up at the older man, “I’ll be right outside, ok?” He assured, pointing to the door. The doctor held it open for Bobby, and he stepped through. He caught a glimpse of her confused face as she got up from the table and took a step in his direction, then the door was shut. Bonnie wasn't stupid, she was well aware that there was something different, but she didn't want to be left with the Doctor. As she walked towards the door, the doctor stepped in front, crouching to her level. “Bonnie, I need to ask you a question.” She tried to catch Bonnie’s attention. Bonnie’s hands began to twist between each other, her fingers winding this way and that. “Bonnie, Bobby’s just on the other side of the door. I promise.” The doctor tried again but Bonnie looked down at her feet, shuffling them against the carpet, swaying slightly. “Bonnie?” The doctor reached out, touching the little girl’s shoulder, attempting to gain her attention. “Bobby!” Bonnie screamed, loud and clear enough through the door. Her savior burst through the door; he looked astonished as his adopted daughter hid behind his legs, tears fresh in her eyes and making tracks on her cheeks already. “What happened?” Bobby asked, angry and confused, watching the little girl who was holding the knee of his jeans. “I touched her shoulder and startled her. I should’ve known better. I’m sorry, Mr. Singer.” The apology reached the doctor’s eyes. Bobby took a deep breath and nodded. “We can make another appointment; I can give you brochures and other reading material, and in the meantime I can put you in touch with a group for parents who face similar problems?” The doctor offered, going back to her desk, already collecting up reading material. Bobby accepted the pamphlets, and said he’d call about another appointment, unsure of what was best for Bonnie at this very moment.

Bonnie Singer, her name rang through the open grounds and she stood up, her heart thundering in her throat. She kept her eyes down, her feet moving, as she rushed the stage and grabbed her certificate and ran down the other side, not even stopping to shake hands. Bobby was glad they’d asked everyone to keep applause to the end and shuffled over to allow her to sit between him and Sam. When the final speech was made and everyone stood and cheered, throwing their hats into the air, she covered her ears, turning towards Sam for cover. He laughed and took the hat off her head, throwing it up into the air for her. “Bonnie you looked great up there, I think I even got a photo!” Dean declared, giving her a large smile. She smiled back, not making eye contact, it was clear she was anxious. “Well done, Bonbon.” Sam cheered, pulling her into a one armed hug, she tensed but didn’t push him off. Bobby had grown to envy the youngest Winchester’s ease with her. “I’m so proud of you, Bun!” He smiled, a tear in his eye. He was desperate to do what Sam had, to even be able to squeeze her arm would be a miracle, but he respected her comfort zone, knowing that all of the emotions around her in the gymnasium had to be making this difficult. Bonnie fidgeted and shifted from foot to foot. Finally, with a nudge from Sam, she stepped closer and wound her hands around the older man's waist, ducking her head under his chin, squeezing him tight before retreating. “Thanks, Dad.” She whispered. Her eyes still didn’t meet his, but it was more than he’d ever dreamed. He couldn’t help the tear that rolled down his red cheeks, and at that point, he didn’t give a damn who saw them. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.” She said, noticing the tears, backing away further. “No, Bunny, I’m not sad.” Bobby said, sniffling and wiping at his eyes as Sam and Dean stepped back to give them a moment. “I’m so happy, you have no idea.” Bobby, opened his arms wide and shrugged, “I’m just an old man proud of his little girl.” He choked on his words but managed a bright grin. Bonnie stepped in and gave him another hug. Calling him Dad may not have been her idea, but she was glad Sam had suggested it. Seeing Bobby happy was more than enough to force her unease aside.

#allieschallenge #mental awareness #autism #spnfanficpond #huntercentral #little difference #With A Little Help from my Friends

Too Comfortable

This is for @babypieandwhiskey, I’m sorry it took me so long to deliver this to you but thank you for having a far off due date! I hope you like this - the idea sat with me from the moment I read the prompt, I just didn’t know how to write it... but finally, voila! Thank you to a wonderful beta @wayward-mirage, I know I just kind of message at you instead of to you, so thanks for putting up with me!

Warnings: fluff, mentions of poop! Prompt: Pooping is not a two person party! Word Count: 915 Characters: Sam, Dean x Reader

Dean was twirling the pen between his fingers as if it were a drumstick. He’d previously been told off for tapping his foot, rapping the desk, and sucking on his teeth, so he was keeping himself silently amused while trying to keep focused on the police files on the iPad in front of him. Y/N was sitting on the ground, under the table. She was unusual when it came to research, she found her best thinking was done when she was closer to the ground, and often touching some part of someone else. She was resting against Dean’s legs, her shoulder blades resting over his knees, her spine filling the gap between his shins. Her legs were pulled up to her chest, the book resting atop her knees. Sam had his head hanging over the book in front of him, the heels of his palms pressed into his temples, his fingers spread over his forehead and rested in his hairline. He was struggling to translate a section of Latin, normally he whizzed through it, but this particular phrase had him stumped.

“Y/N? I don’t think this is Latin,” Sam announced, not looking up from the phrase. Y/N kicked out her leg and tapped Sam’s shin with her toes. He took the book and passed it to her under the table, he snorted in amusement when the book just disappeared as if by an invisible force. “Yeah, it’s Romanian.” She explained, both Sam and Dean looked at each other, whenever she did that it never ceased to surprise the boys. “Where the transformed is, the human is no longer.” She read out, then the book appeared next to Sam’s leg, he quickly took it off her as it waved about. “What’s that meant to mean?” Sam mused, staring through his brother, deep in thought. Dean sighed, his head falling back as his shoulders slumped. Y/N wiggled back against his legs, reminding him not to move. “I can’t find anything here.” He pushed the iPad into the center of the table, and rubbed at his eyes. “Break?” Sam asked, looking at his brother, who just nodded. “Y/N, food?” Sam was braced to push back in his chair, waiting for her response. There was some shuffling and Dean groaned as Y/N pushed off his knee and climbed out from under the table. “What kinda food?” She asked, resting her arms along the table. “Well, we’re out of everything, so what do you feel like?” Sam said, opening it up to offers. “Burger.” Y/N and Dean both said in unison, Y/N adding a final nod. Sam raised an eyebrow at them as they looked at each other, Dean smiling proudly at his girlfriend as she leaned in for a quick kiss. “You two are sickening.” He teased, standing and catching the keys Dean threw at him. “See you in an hour.” Sam called as he disappeared towards the garage. Dean stood and stretched, rolling his head from shoulder to shoulder. “Whatcha gonna do now?” Y/N asked him, pulling him by the belt loop towards her, his hip bumping her abdomen. He leaned down and captured her lips in a passionate kiss, breaking away to move down her jaw. “You.” He murmured against her pulse, licking at his and nipping the skin, placing open mouthed kisses down the side of her neck, holding her jaw between thumb and forefinger, tilting her head so he had better access. Her breathing shuddered as his tongue flicked out, helping him suck a dark mark over her clavicle. Y/N’s eyes opened and landed on the table as Dean’s hands roamed south, over her breasts, down the plane of her stomach, but just as his fingertips found the warmth of her skin, she pushed him aside. “I think…” She moved around Dean and started arranging the printed articles and books in front of her. Dean huffed a sigh and pressed a hard kiss against her temple, rocking her a little. This is why you love her, He reminded himself, her dedication to solving a case, not letting anything get in her way of saving lives.

#Too Comfortable #Cam’s 200 Writing Challenge #cam’s darndest things writing challenge #spnfanficpond #huntercentral #comedy

Till the Pain’s a Cloud of Dust

This one is for @impalaimagining‘s 1k Challenge. Congrats Taylor, you deserve many more followers. I’m excited for those that get to read your work for the first time! A/N: Thank you to brilliant @whispersandwhiskerburn for beta-ing this for me. You go above and beyond to make my work the best it should be. Thank you. Word Count: 747 Warnings: angst, pain from loss, remembering a fallen friend, i repeat ANGST Summary: Sam grieves in the only way he knows how... Song: I Drive Your Truck, by Lee Brice Character: Sam Gif:

Sam slid into the driver’s seat. Her seat. Pulling the lever and pushing back, he gave himself some legroom. He ran his hands over the smooth leather of the steering wheel, finding the frayed edges, the finger ridges caused by years of road trips. The hunter pulled down the sun visor and flinched at the clash of metal on metal as something fell into his lap. Sam untangled the two items, keys and dog tags, then ran his thumb along the name and ident number. He closed his eyes and smiled, unaware of the single escaped tear rolling down his cheek. Her memory swept over him, and just like a wave, it came and went. He opened his eyes, kissed the metal plates and hung them over the rear view mirror. Settling into the seatback he stuck the keys in the ignition and brought the gas-guzzling beast to life. With sights set out the window, something flat on the dash caught his attention. He reached over and picked it up, fitting his fist into the middle, pushing it out. Another memory overtook him and he found his hands replicating the owner’s: taking the peak of the cap between his palms, he bent it so it was a perfect arch. He placed it on the headrest of the passenger seat and faced forward again. Sam revved the engine, and the truck seemed to be bursting with energy. It's been so long since someone had even sat in it. He fought with the gearstick, finally manhandling it into first. He pulled lurched forward and stalled. Coins rattled angrily in the ashtray, as if they'd been woken from slumber. A half empty bottle of Gatorade rolled out from under the passenger seat and slammed against the footwell. You gotta pump the clutch; she needs a little coaxing. Sam started the engine again, pumped the clutch and eased it out as he gingerly pressed down on the accelerator. He sighed out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as he made it out of the car yard and onto the road. He turned up the volume, the same old country station that she had loved. He blinked and furiously swiped at the tears in his eyes. I swear to Chuck, if you start crying, I’m gonna punch you. He burned up the town’s back-roads, wind whipping at his face, his hair flying as it blew threw the open windows, he reached an open field and didn't hesitate, swinging through the open gate and tearing up the sun-dried earth, dust flying behind him in a cloud that grew and grew, blocking out the view from the mirror. The soil resembled mulch when he finally came to a stop. He rested his arms over the steering wheel and planted his forehead on his wrists, letting the sobs wrack his body. It wasn’t enough. The wind couldn’t tear the thoughts from him. The music couldn’t drown out her voice. The smell of the exhaust, the earth, the leather heating in the sun--it just took him back to when they would ride together. “Why?” Sam whispered, knuckles threatening to pop through the taut skin, his fist clenched round the wheel. “Fuck!” The colossus of a man got louder, “Jesus Christ!” He slammed an open palm on the wheel. Then again. “Why her?” His face turned skywards as the tears fell freely. “Bring her back! You brought us back! Again and again. Why not her?” Sam yelled, his voice going hoarse as his throat constricted. “Please.” He sobbed, quietly. A mix of anger, guilt and a lack of understanding choked off his prayers, his body shaking as he struggled to breathe. Finally, with one big inhale, he settled. He looked over at the empty seat beside him and said goodbye. “I hope it’s okay… that I drive your truck?” Sam whispered to the empty cab.

It didn't matter that YN’s shiny, white, marble headstone was over at the military graveyard. That flag and stone wasn't where he felt her. It was here. In her truck. The folded army shirt and the cowboy boots placed neatly in the rear seat promised Sam, one day she’d be back behind that wheel, arguing over the amount of gas it went through, trash talking him about how her wheels would smoke the Impala any day. He knew those clothes were lying. He knew she was gone. But for now he’d drive her truck…and that would have to be enough.

#taylors 1k #challenge #spnfanficpond #huntercentral #angst #Till the Pain's a Cloud of Dust