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A/N: This story is a slight AU that begins roughly around season 9. Reader is Cuthbert Sinclair’s daughter. I do not own Supernatural or any of its respective characters. Only this story’s plot. Special thanks to @sillesworldofwriting for giving me some ideas on moving this chapter along!
Pairing: eventual Dean x Reader, Castiel x Reader (platonic)
Warnings (story): Violence, adult situations
Warnings (this chapter): mild adult situations, canon-typical violence, tiny bit of angst
Word Count: 1700
Summary: When you decide it’s time to leave the nest, your father points you in the direction of the bunker. What happens when two strangers show up in your new home?
Catch up here
You woke with a start. Sitting up and gasping for air. Your body had been still and unfed for three days and it certainly felt like it. You were exhausted both physically and mentally. With wobbly arms, you grabbed your head to try and calm the massive headache that had come.
“Y/N?” It was Cas. He stood at the side of your bed in your room, reaching his hand down to help you up.
“You’re okay?!” You lunged at him, hugging him tightly. To your slight surprise, he hugged you back.
You had sat down with Sam, Cas, and Dean, and explained most everything. You told them that you had been given the key from your father—Magnus, as you called him—and that you had moved into the bunker. Sam and Dean did notice the alias, however. As it turned out, you did show up right after they’d left. Cas had told you a lot about Sam and Dean while you two were trapped, but Sam told you more about them being Men of Letters Legacies. Dean seems to be the only one holding a grudge over this. It was all just one misunderstanding after another with him.
“Lemme get this straight. You two were trapped in the ‘astral plane’ for two months,” Dean made sarcastic air quotes with his hands as he got up from his chair, “even though it’s only been three days here, and now you’re besties?” He was angry.
“Dean,” It was Castiel’s turn to diffuse him. “This is my fault. I didn’t think before I tried to smite Y/N. If I had waited none of this would have happened.”
“No, Cas, this isn’t your fault,” The way Dean was glaring at you made you uncomfortable. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of Castiel’s jack that you were still wearing.
“Look,” you said, finally fed up with Dean’s shit. “I told you I didn’t do that on purpose. I’ve already apologized for tying you up. Cas is fine, we’re all fine. I say we call it bygones and let it all go.” You crossed your arms leaning against a bookcase.
“God, I’m hungry!” You said, dismissing yourself to the kitchen after a short silence. Sam and Dean exchanged guilty looks before they heard you shouting from down the hall.
“YOU ATE MY FOOD?!”
As the weeks went by, you and Sam seemed to find a comfortable place with each other, bonding over your love of books. He was impressed with the amount of lore you had memorized over the years. Tensions with you and Dean were at an all-time low. Shortly after your first few days in the bunker together the two of you settled your grievances over food. Dean complimented your cooking and offered to make peace over dinner since he ate most of your food while you were knocked out.
Eventually, the three of you started hunting together. Sometimes you would go on the road with them and others you would stay at the bunker, lending them your knowledge over the phone as they needed it and you all seemed to fall into a comfortable routine with each other.
Soon enough, you were doing everything you could to help them take down Abaddon. Sam and Dean had begun to hunt separately more often, arguing over and over about Dean letting a rogue angel possess Sam to save him and Sam’s unwillingness to do the same for Dean. It was often an awkward spot to be in since you could understand both of their motives. This often left you to either pick a side or hold down the base in the bunker when they would go their separate ways.
This time, you walked in on them trading words at the table in the war room. Dean was standing by the steps, jacket on and keys and bag in hand and Sam sat at the table, his face buried in his laptop.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” they both barked in unison.
“You wanna try running that by me one more time?” you asked, crossing your arms.
“We found a case a few states over, but Sam,” Dean waved his arms dismissively in Sam’s direction,” doesn’t think we should go.”
“We should be focusing on a way to take down Abaddon,” Sam sighed. “It’s probably just a salt and burn, Dean. We can put another hunter on that case easy.”
Neither of them would budge, so once again, you chose a side. “Well, if it is just a salt and burn, then we’ll be back in no time,” you chirped, trying to ease the tension in the room.
“We?” said Dean.
“Yes, we. I’ll make sure it’s over quickly and we can get back here and research.” You looked at Sam, “Promise.”
He gave you a weak smile before turning back to his laptop and stack of books.
“Just give me a sec to grab my bag, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean mumbled as he headed up the steps for the door.
“Dean?” You woke up and took in your surroundings, you had been knocked unconscious. Looking around you saw him lying in a heap on the floor, your knife sticking out from his side. “Dean!” You yelled going over to him and smacking him a few times in the face. “Dean, I need you to get up!”
Seeing the blood seeping from his shirt, you began to panic as he wasn’t coming to. Thinking quickly, you removed the knife and did a spell to slow the bleeding. None of you had ever been injured like this on a hunt before (at least not since you joined) as you caught your breath your adrenaline finally left you. After the wave of exhaustion, you felt a heavy and stinging pain in your chest and your eyes were watering. On instinct, you swiped your hand over your eyes and looked at it, revealing thick black ectoplasm. Immediately, you remembered what happened.
The simple Salt and Burn had turned out to be anything but. When you got to the cabin, it turned out to be a very angry spirit and you had gone and let yourself get possessed by it. In the end, Dean shot you with a rock salt round—hence the pain in your chest—but not before you pulled your knife on him and stabbed him with it.
There was a bowl on the table next to you, something had been burning in it. It looked like Dean had still managed to find whatever was keeping the ghost here and burned it. Good.
“Are you sure he’s gonna be alright?” you asked Sam as he closed the door to Dean’s room. You had been standing in the hall by the door and picking at your fingernails.
“Yeah, he’ll be fine. A few stitches and some whiskey and he’ll be back to himself in no time,” Sam joked. His expression changed when he saw the worry on your face.
“This is my fault. I knew something like this would happen eventually.”
“Hey,” Sam started, placing a hand on your shoulder. “This could have happened to any one of us. Give yourself a break. Besides, Dean’s come back from much worse than a knife wound, believe me.”
You remembered some of the things Castiel had told you about what Sam and Dean had been through and subsequently come back from. You grabbed Sam’s hand and gave it a little squeeze before he wrapped his arms around you in a comforting embrace.
“Thanks, Sam,” your voice was muffled by his shirt.
Sam let go and walked down the hall to his room. You, however, decided to pace back and forth in front of Dean’s door, deciding whether you should go in, or go to your own room for a while.
“You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor if you don’t stop pacing like that, kid.” Dean’s voice startled you from your thoughts, and you nearly jumped at the sudden intrusion. “You coming in or not?”
With a deep breath, you pushed the door open and made your way to the side of Dean’s bed, he had his back resting against the headboard. “I um…” you struggled to find the words for an appropriate apology. “Dean, I’m so-“
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he cut you off before you could finish. “Happens to the best of us. No hard feelings, Y/N, really. That wasn’t you.”
He offered you a glass of whiskey and grimaced as he scooted over, patting the space next to him. You took the glass and joined him on the bed, keeping your eyes on the brown liquid as you turned the glass in your hand.
“Are you really okay?” You whispered. You had been so worried about Dean while he lie bleeding on the floor in that cabin. You two got along pretty well after you settled initial grievances when they came back to the bunker a few months ago, but you hadn’t realized how much he had come to mean to you in that time. Your heart pounded at the thought of losing him.
Dean sighed a chuckle. “I’ll be as good as new in no time.”
You took a sip and you both remained silent for a while before Dean spoke again. “You know, I panicked back there.”
You looked over at him, “what?”
“When I turned around and saw you with ectoplasm leaking from your eyes I froze up. All I could think was how I’d gotten you into this. For a moment I didn’t see a way out and when I thought you were too far gone I realized…”
“Dean,” you started, “none of this was your fault either-”
Before you knew it, Dean had leaned over and planted a kiss square on your lips. It didn’t last long enough before he pulled away, looking you in the eyes. “Is that okay?”
Your eyes searched his for a moment as your head flooded with a million thoughts. Soon enough, you wrapped your arms around his neck and answered him with a slow but fierce kiss. You let everything you had been feeling out into that kiss as Dean wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.
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