#sam os

[egg-on-a-legg]

humanizing some of my many beloved ai,,,

[iridianuniverse-blog]

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader, Soulless!Sam Winchester/Reader Soulless!Sam - Character, Dubious Consent, Quickly becomes full consent, Dom!Sam, sub!Reader, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, sex in a kitchen, Chance of Being Caught, Marking, Fingering, Sex Toys, Dirty Talk, Shameless quoting of The Nightmare Before Christmas for work and chapter titles

Summary: A sleepless night leads you to the kitchen, where you run into Sam. Something’s wrong and you’re absolutely sure of that, but Sam isn’t so keen on admitting it.

[doomedbrothers]

September

I don’t really know what this is or how to summarize it. Most of the time I start writing based off what I’m feeling and go from there. This is one of those times. Read it, don’t read it, love it, hate it, be my guest. I know it’s not very good. It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, some of you probably have no idea I ever even wrote one shots. You can find my master list of them all here if you’d like. 

Anyway, here it is. Whatever it is. 

Warnings: depression, overdose mention

September

“Everything okay?” Sam Winchester asks, entering the kitchen. You were seated at the end of the table, staring off into space.

The sound of Sam’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You hadn’t even heard him enter the room. You’d been so out of it lately. “Huh?”

“I said, everything okay? You were staring off. You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Sam responds, taking the seat to your right.

“Oh, yeah, that. I’m fine.” you respond, not sure you could explain to Sam what was going on. You didn’t entirely understand it yourself.

“Not buying it. What’s up?” he asks.

At this point his eyes were locked on yours, and for whatever reason, you were defenseless when it came to the damn Winchesters eyes. Sam’s, Dean’s, it didn’t matter. You were a goner. They would get what they wanted out of you, and they knew that. It was like they were staring into your soul, and if you weren’t going to talk, they’d just reach in and pull it out of you themselves. “I dunno really. It’s weird. I guess it’s kinda seasonal depression? I don’t really know how to explain it.”

Sam nods, encouraging you to keep going.

“Well, it’s almost September, right? It’s the time of year where school picks back up. I used to love school, but then high school came around, halfway through sophomore year to be exact, and it was like someone flipped a switch. School was the last place I wanted to be. It took tremendous effort to get myself out of bed in the morning. And it only got worse. The counselor at school told me I had anxiety and depression. My parents didn’t believe her. They didn’t understand.” You pause a minute to compose yourself. It was like you were 16 all over again, pleading with your parents to just let you stay home from school for the day.

“They thought I was just lazy, that I didn’t want to go and do work, that I just wanted to stay in bed all day and watch TV. They said I was just being a typical teenager and I needed to suck it up and go to school. They had their jobs that they went to every day, school was mine. They didn’t know that there were nights I would cry myself to sleep, dreading the thought of going to school the next day. I would make myself physically sick just thinking about it.”

“What happened?” Sam asks. All of this was entirely new information to him. You’d never really spoken about your family before, and you’d certainly never mentioned the word depression.

“Well, it got worse. Since I wasn’t 18, I had to do what they said to an extent. So they forced me to go to school. I think I missed nearly 40 days junior year. I was in the hospital on more than one occasion, I lost so much weight, and I had lost the few friends I had. I had nothing good in my life. Nothing. My family didn’t understand me, I didn’t understand me. I hated me. I hated what my mind had done to my life. I wanted nothing more than to be the happy, straight a, volleyball player that I was in middle school. But that was a girl that was foreign to me. I don’t think that my parents realized that there was something really wrong until um, until…”   you trail off, not sure you wanted to continue. You’d never told anybody the next part. Ever.

Sam senses that whatever it was, it wasn’t good. He takes one of your hands in his, tracing circles with his thumb around the outside of your hand. “Until what?”   

“Until um, until I overdosed. I don’t think I’d really meant to, I mean I’d thought about it. But at that point those pills were the only thing that would allow me to sleep. I’d just wanted to sleep. A lot. I guess I took too many because I woke up in the hospital.”

“When was this?”

“A couple days before my senior year of high school started. I was still in the hospital on the first day of school. I ended up doing most of my work at home and by the end of the semester, I had the credits and the grades to graduate early. Somehow my grades hadn’t suffered even though my mental health sure as hell did. My new year’s resolution that year was a clean break and a fresh start. I left one night, taking only what I could carry with me. I left them a note and I moved to Nashville. I got my fresh start. As far as I know, my family never came looking for me. And I didn’t ever try to reconnect. There was nothing there. And you already know the story of how I ended up hunting, so there’s not much more to tell.”

“Y/N… I had no idea.”

“I know. That’s the way I prefer it to be.” you respond. Any one who knew looked at you differently. They pitied you. Or they feared you. Or both.

“But um, what does that have to do with now?” Sam asks. He still didn’t understand.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t had to go to school in years now, but I still get this weird anxiety around back to school time. And then it just kinda becomes seasonal depression. Back to school means fall, fall means Halloween, Halloween means Thanksgiving, and so on. I loved all of these things when I was younger.  My birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas. October through December was always my favorite time of year. And now all I have are memories and pain. I dread my birthday now, Christmas is just another day of the year. My mood just tanks, I can feel it coming, and I’ve never been able to do anything to stop it.”

“And you’ve dealt with this every year? And you never told one of us?” he questions. He’d always thought you were closer than that. Close enough to talk to each other if something was wrong.

“What could you or Dean say or do to make it any better? I didn’t see the need to tell. I’ve always dealt with it myself. This year doesn’t need to be any different.”

“Well it’s going to be. We could celebrate the holidays this year. We could invite Charlie, Kevin, maybe get Cas to tell us some stories. I’m sure there’s loads of things we as humans have wrong about Christmas.” Sam muses, trying to think of something.

You chuckle. Cas probably did have a lot to say about Christmas. “We could also introduce him to eggnog.”

“So what? Operation get the angel drunk on Christmas?” Sam responds, unable to stifle a chuckle at the thought.

“We’re getting who drunk on Christmas?” Dean asks, walking into the kitchen. That’s all he’d heard and now he was intrigued.   

“Cas.” you and Sam respond at the same time, both failing to keep smiles off your face.

“Why? And why are we talking about Christmas? It’s August!” the elder Winchester exclaims, grabbing a beer from the fridge.

“We’ve just decided that we’re actually going to celebrate the holidays this year. Spread some cheer instead of wallowing in our own misery.” Sam states, answering his brother’s question.

“So what? Thanksgiving turkey, Christmas tree and stockings, deck the halls with boughs of holly? We’re going to be those people now?” Dean questions, glancing between the two of you. He had no idea what he’d just walked into.

“Got a problem with it?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“Does it involve pie?”

“Lots of it. I’ll even make them from scratch.”

“Then no, I don’t have a problem with it. As long as Sam doesn’t cook.”

“What’s wrong with my cooking?” Sam interjects, looking somewhat offended.

You and Dean share a knowing look. The only time you wanted Sam to cook was when you weren’t planning on eating food with flavor. Or really eating at all. The guy had many strong suits. Cooking just wasn’t one of them.

“It’s kinda the opposite of what holiday cooking is supposed to be.” you respond.

“Fine, fine,” Sam begins, raising his hands in mock surrender, “I won’t so much as step foot in the kitchen.”

“So. Holidays at the bunker. This should be interesting.” Dean ponders. “Well, you two and your newfound love for Christmas have made me miss the first ten minutes of my show. I’ll be going now.”

“It’s probably just a Dr. Sexy rerun. I will never understand him and that stupid show.” you say with a laugh. If you were going to watch a cheesy medical drama, you should at least watch Grey’s Anatomy. Dumbass.

“I will never understand him period.”

“Fair point.”

“So. This whole seasonal depression thing. Promise me you’ll talk to me if you need to? Or just want someone to listen? Or to distract you? ‘Cause I’m here, Y/N. Always.” Sam says sincerely.

You nod, you could tell he really meant it. “I will, I promise. Now, all this holiday talk has made me hungry. What do you say we leave Dean to his show and go get some food?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

With that, the two of you head for the garage, being sure to take one of the other dozen cars there. If you’d so much has touched the Impala without Dean knowing about it beforehand, you’d never hear the end of it. That car was his baby. And you didn’t mess with Dean’s baby. Not unless you were looking for trouble.

[doomedbrothers]

Returned

(A/N: I'm on a writing spree. I wrote this based off an imagine, which can be found here.)

Warnings: None

Returned

As you pull into the lot of an old abandoned barn, which was now a vampire nest, you spot a familiar 1967 Chevy Impala. “Dammit.” you mutter. Those idiots had gone in already, completely outnumbered. You were hoping you’d have beat them here, but you hadn’t.

Shaking your head, you grab your tranquilizer gun with all the dead man's blood filled darts you had, and your machete. You then head inside. You were going to have to save their stupid asses. You’d covered your scent earlier with the disgusting mixture of saffron, skunks, cabbage, and trillium, so the vamps wouldn’t be able to smell you coming. Hopefully they wouldn’t hear you either.

Creeping along the walls of the barn, you eventually come to a room that wasn’t empty or filled with corpses. Peering around the corner, you spot five vamps. One was holding Sam back, one was holding Dean back, and one was standing between the two of them. The other two were standing a few feet in front of them. With the way they were all positioned, you were to the side. None of them were facing you, which was good. You manage to fire two darts before anyone spots you, and you duck back behind the wall. From what you saw, you hit the vamp holding Sam and the one between the two brothers. After a minute, you peer back around and fire another dart, taking down the last vamp standing. Figuring the boys could finish beheading the vampires, you wait. They didn’t exactly know you were alive yet, so you thought staying back until the hunt was finished would be best.

Once the grunts and sounds of machetes slicing through necks stop, a voice calls out, “Who’s there?”

It was Dean. First you set your gun down and slip your machete back into it’s sheath. Then you step into view.

The two brothers stand there, staring at you with wide eyes and disbelief. “Y/N?” they both question.

“It’s me.”

“But… how?” Dean asks. You were dead. You’d been dead for months. How the hell were you standing in front of them right now?

“Made a deal with the devil.” you reply matter-of-factly.

At the haunted looks that cross their faces, you give them a cheeky smile and say, “Kidding. An angel owed me a favor.”

“We- we burned your body.” Sam states, entirely bewildered by the situation.

“Yeah, thanks for that. Made it a hell of a lot harder to come back. But now I’m here. Just in time it seems, because I just saved your asses.”

“You did not. We had a plan.” Dean responds.

“Oh really? And what would that be?”

Sam shakes his head. “Fine, you saved us. Now get over here and give us a hug.” he says, slipping his machete into it's sheath so that his arms were free.

You smile and walk over to them. You hug Sam first, wrapping your arms around his torso.

Sam leans down and wraps his arms around you as well, momentarily lifting you off the ground. “God I missed you.” he says as he sets you back down.

“I missed you too.” you reply, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Then you turn to Dean, who seemed to be waiting for his hug.

He pulls you into one, squeezing you tightly. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.” he mumbles into your hair.

You squeeze him back, knowing that despite the tough exterior Dean liked to put up, he needed the hug as much as you did. Then you pull back, taking a step backwards as well, so that you were facing them both.

“Bunker hasn’t been the same without you, kid.” Dean says.

“Well it has been more quite.” Sam states.

“And less messy.” Dean adds.

“Hey!” you say, a note of offense in your voice.

“Still hasn’t been the same. We’ve missed you.” the younger Winchester says with a small smile.

“I’ve missed you guys too. Now how about we go get some food and drinks, celebrate me saving you two idiots?” you suggest, smiling at them.

“You’re not going to let us forget that, are you?” Dean asks.

“Not for a while. Now what do you say?”

“Lets go.” Dean responds, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

Sam does the same, sandwiching you between the two of them.

You smile to yourself, wrapping an arm around each of their waists. You were back with your boys, right where you belonged.

[doomedbrothers]

After Dark

Request: "Plz do more 14-15 yr old tfw fics. Mabe one were she is a colge grad genus & hunts with them all the time & lives in the bunker. One day a hunter who is older rapes and beats her & she goes home and has to tell the boys. (Before mark dean plz) ILYSM!"

A/N: This doesn't really hint at age or school, so it's pretty flexible I guess. I'd also be willing to write a continuation of this (I know this lacked Dean), so let me know if that's something any one is interested in. 

Warnings: Rape, somewhat graphic descriptions of rape/abuse

(I've never written one with rape, I tried to handle it the best I could, but if you strongly feel like I wrote it poorly/should change something, message me.)

After Dark

---8:40 pm---

“I don’t like her being out by herself after dark.” Dean states, trying to call you for the fourth time. “And she’s not answering her damn phone.”

“I know you don’t. I don’t either, especially since she’s on foot.” Sam replies. That had become sort of an unspoken rule. You were supposed to be home before dark or call and get a ride. This wasn’t like you, and neither was not answering your phone. It was usually attached to your hand at all times.

“I’m going to go look for her. You stay here and call me if she comes back.”

“Dean, why don’t I go? I know where she usually goes when she walks. Then you stay here and call me if she comes back.”

“Fine. But if you don’t find her within a half an hour, you come back here and we both go look for her.” Dean says. He wasn’t too happy about sitting back and waiting, but his brother had a point.

---9:00 pm---

The first thing you’re aware of as you come to is that your pants are down around your ankles. You could feel the fabric of your jeans bunched up there as well as the cold hard ground touching the bare skin on your legs. You attempt to pull yourself up to a standing position. As you do you become aware of a searing pain in your left ankle. It was definitely busted. As you bend down to pull up your jeans you notice that your shirt was ripped all the way down the middle, a minuscule amount of fabric still holding it together at the hem. It must have been too tough for the bastard to tear all the way through.

Your ankle continues to scream in protest at the weight you were putting on it, so you sit down, propping yourself up against a wall. From what you could tell, you were in some dark, dank alley. It was empty and you couldn’t see or hear anyone around, meaning you weren’t in danger, at least not anymore. You reach for your phone, pulling up the camera and flipping it to the front facing lens. You couldn’t see too well in the dim light, but from what you could make out and from what you felt, you knew you had a busted lip, red marks around your neck, and bruising around your left eye. There was also a sizable cut on your forehead, you could feel the dried blood from it on your face. That was where you’d gotten hazy.

Like that, the horrid encounter replays in your mind. You’d been walking back to the bunker, knowing it would be dark soon and neither Dean or Sam liked for you to be out after dark by yourself. You’d always thought that was just them being overprotective. You were wrong. That was them being justifiably protective and fearful.

You were only maybe fifteen minutes from the bunker, nearing the wooded area that you used as a shortcut. It was a nice night in April, one of the first there'd been in a while, and you had one earbud in with Matchbox Twenty blasting through it. You always kept one earbud out, so that you were still aware of your surroundings. Suddenly, before you could even scream, a hand wraps around your mouth and another arm wraps around your waist, pulling you backwards into an alley. You remember biting down, which resulted in your attacker spinning you around, twisting your left ankle in the process.

“You bitch.” he’d muttered.

With your mouth momentarily free, you spit at him, hoping maybe it would distract him for a second and you could wriggle free, get far enough back so that you could fight him off.

Instead he punched you and pushed you up against the wall, slamming your head into the rough brickwork. Your vision became spotty as he leaned up against you, his hot breath on your neck.

“The less you resist, the quicker this will be.” he’d whispered.

That wasn’t going to happen. Next you’d brought your left foot up, intending to kick him anywhere.

Unfortunately he’d caught you. He’d taken your foot in his hand and bent it, hard, further screwing up your ankle.  

“So that’s how it’s going to be.” he spat, venom in his words. He then pushed you into the wall, your entire torso up against it.

You remember feeling the blood trickling down your face, how the world seemed to start spinning, and the smell. You remember exactly how he smelled. Then you remember hearing his pants drop and feeling his hands on yours. He had you pinned, and you were in too weak and too compromised of a position to fight back. Visually you couldn’t remember much more after the next blow to your face, but physically you remembered it in it's entirety. Every little touch.

He raped you. Rape. One little four letter word. Something you’d never ever imagined happening to you. In your family’s line of work, humans were not the thing you’d grown to see as the enemy. And yet somehow, one human caused more damage than every single creature you’d ever fought combined.

Trying to get your mind off of instant replay, you pull up the actual phone app on your phone and press the first saved contact. Sam.

“Where the hell are you?” Sam answers immediately. He was just about to head back to the bunker, having been unable to find you.

“Sam…” you manage to say, your voice breaking.

Concern washes over Sam at the sound of your voice. Something was wrong. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Where are you? Are you hurt?” he asks, his tone now worried as he fired questions at you.

“Need help… alley near bunker.” you reply, finding it hard to speak. Then you hear a beep, signaling the call had been dropped. The area surrounding the bunker was like some damn dead zone. Apparently you were too close to it.

“Fuck.” Sam mutters, dropping his phone into the passenger seat. He could think of three alleys near the bunker and decides to check each one. As he pulls into the second one, he sees you. His eyes widen as he sees you slumped down against the wall. It was dark, so he could only see your outline, but he knew something was very wrong. He flies out of the car, not even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition.

Within seconds he’s kneeling at your side. “Y/N, hey, hey, I’m here.” he says, gently lifting your chin so that he could see your face. That’s when he sees the gash on your forehead, the bruising around your eye, and your busted lip. His eyes drop and he sees that your shirt was torn almost completely through. He was quickly coming to the terrifying realization of what had happened.

“S-sam…” you say, barely able to even bring your eyes to his. You were tired, you were so so tired. Your head was screaming at you to just shut your eyes.

Noticing your droopy eyes he says, “Eyes on me, okay? Just keep your eyes on me. You’re going to be okay. I’m going to get you home.”

You nod. You could tell that he knew what had happened. It didn’t exactly take a rocket scientist to figure it out.

“You- you gotta let me carry you though, okay?”

That made it clear that he knew. He was hesitant to touch you, not wanting to do anything without your consent. You nod once again.

Sam bites his bottom lip, trying to keep himself calm and contained. He couldn’t lose it right now. You were his one and only priority. He gently loops one arm beneath your knees and brings the other underneath your arms and behind your back, lifting you up and resting your head against his chest. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” he mumbles quietly, trying to provide even the smallest amount of comfort.

You loved him for it. He was being so careful and attentive.

He places you in the car so that your head could rest in his lap, so he would be able to keep his eyes split between you and the road. He then slides into the driver seat and gently places your head in his lap, brushing the hair from your face. He could see the pain in your eyes. He wanted so badly to just be able to take it all away, to entirely erase your memory of anything that had happened tonight, but he couldn’t.

Sam drives as fast as he can to the bunker, doing his best to avoid jerking you around at all. He kept one hand on the wheel and one on your shoulder, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

You try to keep your focus on Sam, willing yourself not to close your eyes. If you did, you weren’t sure you’d be able to open them again for a while. You’d be out.

He parks the Impala in front of the bunker, not bothering with the hassle of the garage. Sam is then out of the car and lifting you back into his arms.

“Sam… hurts…” you mumble, the pounding headache you had now taking precedence over your other injuries.

“I know, I know, just hold on, okay? Eyes on me.”

You nod, doing your best to keep your eyes open and on your brother.

As soon as he’s through the door, he shouts, “Dean! Help!”

Dean is immediately up and heading towards the stairs at the sound of his brother’s voice. When he reaches the stairs and sees Sam carrying you, his heart drops. “What the hell happened?”

Sam shakes his head, signaling they’d talk later. “She’s hurt, badly.” he says to his brother. Then, turning his attention back to his sister, to you, he says, “Eyes open, Y/N. Just a little longer.”

You nod again though you were struggling to keep your eyes open more and more with every passing minute.  

You feel yourself being carried over towards the couch and being gently set down, but then everything goes black. You were out.

“Y/N, hey, hey, wake up.” Sam says, growing panicked. You’d closed your eyes and he couldn’t get you to open them again. “Shit. Dean, call Cas. This isn’t something we can just fix.”

“Castiel! Y/N’s hurt, bad. We really need you right now.” Dean calls out. He had no idea what had happened, all he knew was that his baby sister was badly hurt.

The angel appears within seconds. “What happened?” he questions.

“Just heal her. Please.” Dean pleads. There wasn’t much that caused him more pain than seeing either of his younger siblings hurt.

Castiel steps forward and begins to heal you, his face darkening as he does so. Simply by touching you he was able to figure out what had happened. After healing what he could, he says, “She should sleep for a while. Her body is going to need it.”

Both brothers nod.

“Sammy, what happened?”

“She um, she called me and I found her in an alley. I think… I think she was raped.” Sam replies, struggling to get the words out. Now that you were physically okay, he was able to truly realize and feel what had happened.

“Wh-what?” Dean questions, his eyebrows raised in shock. He was hoping he’d heard wrong, or that Sam was wrong, but looking down at his sister, he wasn’t so sure.

“Y/N was sexually assaulted.” Castle states, his tone somber. At the questioning looks he was receiving from the Winchesters, he adds, “I could feel it. That is something I cannot heal.”

Dean clenches and unclenches his hands, trying to figure out what he should do or say. “Can- can you erase her memory?”

“I can, but that should be up to her.”

Dean nods, understanding the angel’s point. Consent was key.

“I’m going to carry her into her room.” Sam states. He then lifts you up into his arms and walks off down the hall, headed towards your room.

Both Dean and Castiel follow.

They all remain there for the rest of the night.

You wake up to a room full of men. First you see Castiel, who was seated on the trunk at the foot of your bed, flipping through some book. Then you turn to your left and see Sam, asleep in a chair with his head resting just below your hand. On your right is Dean, also asleep in a chair with his head just below your other hand.

A small, sad, smile finds its way to your face. You knew today was going to be hard and you were probably going to be hovered over, but you were safe. You had your brothers, and your angel, and they were all going to help you. That you knew. As for the rest? That you’d figure out as you go.

Seeing as it was only 4:30 in the morning, you decide to go back to sleep, comforted by the fact that you were surrounded by people who loved you unconditionally. You close your eyes, and within minutes you’re sound asleep once again.

[doomedbrothers]

Principal's Office

A/N: I wrote this one shot based on this post. I wrote this one with Sam (he's the uncle in this), but I'd be more than happy to write one with Dean. I could make it a continuation or an entirely separate story. Message me if you'd like that.

Warnings: Brief mention/description of sexual assault/harassment. 

Principal’s Office

The principal’s office. You were in the principal’s office. And you were also so totally screwed. You weren’t the kind of kid to get in trouble. Your dad had made it pretty clear that if you were to cause any trouble at school, even so much as get a detention, he’d stop letting you go on hunts with him and your uncle. So you never got in trouble. You kept your mouth shut when you were supposed to, you did the work you were supposed to, and followed the rules you were supposed to. That is until today. Today was different.

“Miss Winchester?”

The voice pulls you from your thoughts and you turn your attention to the lady at the desk.

“Your father didn’t answer. Is there someone else we can call?”

“Oh um, my uncle, Sam. His name and number should be listed somewhere.” you reply, somewhat relieved that Dean, your dad, hadn’t answered. That meant it would probably be Sam picking you up, and Sam you could deal with. Sam would also be more likely to keep his temper in check until he was out of the school.

You nod and go back to picking at the chipping nail polish on your fingernails.

A few minutes later Matt, the kid you’d gotten in trouble because of, walks in with an ice pack in his hand. He takes a seat across from you and places the ice pack in his lap, resting on his groin area.

You bring your hand to your mouth, doing your best to keep yourself from cracking a smile or laughing. It was his own damn fault that he needed the ice pack in the first place. He should’ve just kept his hands to himself.

Fifteen minutes after that, Sam walks in, spotting you right away. He walks over to the desk and says, “I’m here for my niece, Y/N Winchester.”

“You can take a seat. The principal will see you both shortly.” the lady at the desk, who’s name you’d never bothered to learn, responds.

Sam turns to you and walks over, taking the seat on your right. “You wanna tell me what you did?” he says, trying to keep his tone quite. He definitely wasn’t happy about being called down to school to pick you up, and having to meet with the principal only made it worse.

“Um… no?” you respond, somewhat shrinking back in your seat. It’s not like you were scared of him, you weren’t, he was just so big and well, intimidating. You could also tell he was angry, and you’d learned it’s best to keep your distance form an angry Winchester.

“Y/N, if you tell me what happened then maybe I won’t be blindsided in there.”

Before you could speak, the principal’s door opens and you hear your name called.

You and Sam exchange looks before standing up and walking into his office. Inside you both take seats once again.

“Now, Mr. Winchester, you’re Y/N’s uncle, correct?” Mr. Wolfe says.

Sam nods and asks, “What is this about?”

“Your niece has been suspended for three days.”

You glance down, not wanting to meet your uncle’s eyes at the moment.

“Suspended?” Sam repeats, shock evident in his voice. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You’d never so much as gotten a detention and now you were suspended for three days?

“We have rules, Mr. Winchester. Fighting results in a three day suspension.” Mr. Wolfe says.

“Fighting?” Sam asks, now facing you. There was no way. You couldn’t have gotten into a fight. That wasn’t you.

“If that’s what they wanna call it.” you say under your breath.

“Now Miss. Winchester, you know we have zero tolerance for violence.”

“Yeah, but apparently not sexual assault.” you reply.

Sam’s eyes widen as he asks, “Excuse me?”

“We will deal with Mr. Ryan as we see fit.” your principal responds, shifting in his seat ever so slightly.

You could tell he was uncomfortable, but you didn’t care. If anyone should be uncomfortable with the subject matter, it should be you, not him.

“Whoa, wait. Sexual assault? What exactly happened?” Sam asks, not letting go of what you’d said. He glances between you and the principal, waiting for one of you to explain.

Realizing your principal wasn’t going to explain, at least not well, you sit up in your chair and say, “Did you see that kid out there?”

“The one with the ice pack? Yeah…” your uncle replies.

“Well, earlier today, between classes, he came up behind me at my locker, whispered something I don’t care to repeat into my ear and hovered over me. I asked him to move, to back off, and he wouldn’t. He just placed his hands on my hips and said something else. So I asked again, a little less nicely this time, and it just caused him to slip a hand up my shirt. So yeah, I spun around and kneed him in the groin.” you explain.

Halfway through, Sam’s jaw had clenched. He was definitely angry, except it was no longer with you. It was with the kid outside and with the school. “And you’re suspending her for fighting?” he asks incredulously.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester. Rules are rules. I can assure you that Mr. Ryan will be dealt the same punishment, if not worse.”

Before Sam could say anything else, you say, “Alright. Three days, fine. Can we go now?”

“Yes. And your father or your uncle may come by tomorrow to pick up school work for you. We’ll see you back here next week, Miss. Winchester.” Mr. Wolfe says.

“Can’t wait.” you reply, voice oozing with sarcasm. You then stand up, signaling for Sam to walk ahead of you.

As soon as you’re both down the steps in front of the school, Sam turns to face you, anger still all over his face. “This isn’t right. At all.”

“It’s crap, I know, but it’s fine. I just hope dad still lets me hunt with you guys. He always said that-”

Sam cuts you off and says, “He will. I’ll make sure he will. This isn’t your fault, not in the slightest.” Then, with more concern than anger in his voice, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Matt’s a dick. Besides, I did what you and dad have always taught me to do, I defended myself. He’s the one that ended up with the ice pack anyway.”

Your uncle nods and says, “Yeah, I noticed. Dean isn’t going to be happy, but not because of you, it’ll be because that kid didn’t get put in the hospital. Dean could’ve killed him, I could’ve too.”

“But you didn’t, and my dad won’t. I know you both have the instinct to be incredibly overprotective, to the point that could drive me insane at times, but I handled it myself.”

“Yeah, you did. Now,” Sam begins, a small smile on his face as he glances down at his watch to check the time, “have you had lunch yet?”

“Nope.”

“Why don’t we go get some then?”

The two of you head back to the car and drive away, headed for lunch.

[doomedbrothers]

+ (Pt. 2)

(A/N: This is a continuation of a request. It had gotten too lengthy so I split it into two.)

Part 1: ✿

+ (Pt. 2)

“Uncle Sam?” you say quietly, breaking the fifteen minute silent streak.

He looks up at you, a questioning look on his face.

“I’m scared.” you admit. You were. You were still practically a kid yourself, how were you supposed to have one?

Sam stands up and takes a seat next to you. “We’ll figure this out, alright? All of us.”

You look up at him with wary eyes. You weren’t so sure. “What if he kicks me out?”

“What? Dean? You honestly think your dad would kick you out?” Sam asks, disbelief evident in his voice.

“My mom’s parents kicked her out.” you say quietly.

“Well that isn’t going to happen, I promise you that. You are not going anywhere. Neither am I, and neither is Dean. Okay?” he says sincerely, his eyes searching yours.

You nod despite not entirely believing him and return to staring at your hands.

Sam remains seated next to you and the two of you sit in silence until the Impala is heard outside.

“It’s going to be okay.” Sam assures you when he catches the panicked look on your face.

You nod, not fully believing him. There was nothing okay about this situation.

Dean walks in a few minutes later. As he walks down the stairs he furrows his eyebrows in confusion at what he finds. “What’s going on?” he asks, looking at both you and Sam oddly.

“Dean, Y/N has something she needs to tell you.” Sam says.

“And that would be?” Dean asks cautiously, walking over to stand in front of the couch.

“You might want to sit down.” Sam adds.

“Y/N?” your father asks, his tone growing more and more cautious by the minute.

You nod, hoping he would take Sam’s advice and sit down.

You hadn’t met his eyes yet, you couldn’t. Instead you were focusing on a loose thread in the carpet at your feet.

You hear your father inhale deeply and take a seat on the chair opposite the couch. “Okay, I’m sitting. What’s going on?”

While waiting for Dean to get home you’d been trying to prepare yourself to tell him, but now, with him sitting just a few feet away from you, you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t manage to get your vocal chords to produce two simple words so you just shake your head instead.

Sam places his hand on your back and begins to rub small circles, saying, “It’s okay.”

“Would one of you please tell me what’s going on?” Dean asks, sounding extremely concerned and confused.

You could feel both of their eyes on you, waiting for you to speak. “I’m pregnant.” you say, your voice practically inaudible, your eyes glued to the floor.

“Come again?” Dean asks.

“I’m pregnant.” you repeat, slightly louder, your voice breaking a bit.

When you don’t hear anything, you lift your eyes enough to see Dean. He was pissed.

“Go to your room.” he says firmly, his voice oddly lacking in emotion.

“What? Dad-” you begin, only to have him cut you off.

“I said go to your room.” he repeats, his voice louder, firmer, angrier, this time.

Without making eye contact you stand up and walk towards your room, your head hung low. 

The two brothers wait until you’re out of earshot to speak.

“Dean-” Sam begins.

“You knew.” Dean says, his jaw clenched. He didn’t know what to do, how to process what his daughter had just told him, his teenage daughter.

“She just told me, Dean. But you can’t do this, you can’t just send her to her room.”

“She’s my daughter, yes I can.” Dean replies, anger still very evident in his voice.

“But you don’t want to.” Sam says, doing his best to figure out how to defuse the situation before it exploded.

“That’s not up to you, Sam.” Dean retorts tightly.

“No, it’s not but making sure that that girl is okay is.”

“She’s not your kid.”

“No, she’s my niece, not my kid, she’s yours and she’s scared, Dean.” Sam says.

“And I’m not? This is exactly what I never wanted to happen. It happened to her mother… it wasn’t supposed to happen to her.” Dean says, some of the anger in his voice giving way to fear.

“And when it happened to her mother, when it happened to Grace, her parents kicked her out. Y/N is scared you might do the same.”

“What?” Dean asks, looking at Sam with hurt in his eyes. How could you think he’d ever abandon you?

“That’s what she told me, Dean. That’s why you can’t just send her to her room. You have to talk to her, be there for her. This- this whole thing is messy, and it’s not going to be easy, but she needs you more than anything right now.”

Dean closes his eyes while what his brother had just said sinks in. Sam was right. Y/N needs him. He then nods and walks away, headed for his daughters room.

As he reaches the door, muffled sobs can be heard from the hallway. A pang of guilt hits him, knowing that he was at least part of the reason you were crying. Not bothering with a knock, he turns the doorknob and walks in, finding you face down on your bed, your pillow over your head. The sight before him makes him feel even worse. He hated seeing you so upset, so hurt, and he especially hated being part of the cause. Biting his bottom lip he moves forward, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Y/N…”

“Go away.” you mumble.

“No, I’m not going to go away. We need to talk.” Dean says firmly, authoritatively.

At the tone of his voice you remove the pillow from your head, turn yourself over, and slowly sit up. “Just do it already then.” you say, preparing yourself for the worst as you wipe away the remaining tears on your face.

“Do what?” Dean asks, not knowing what you meant.

“Yell, scream, kick me out.” you reply sadly, your eyes avoiding his. You hadn’t made eye contact with him since he’d gotten home.

“You think I’m going to kick you out?” your father asks, sounding like he’d just been kicked in the stomach.

You nod, your eyes focused on the chipping nail polish on your fingernails.

“Hey, look at me.” Dean begins, bringing his hand to your chin and firmly but gently lifting your gaze to him, forcing you to look him in the eye. “I could never do that to you, you hear me? Never.”

Looking into your father’s eyes, you could see your emotions mirrored almost perfectly. “That’s what grandma and grandpa did to mom.” you reply.

“I am not either of them. You are my daughter and I am never, ever, turning my back on you, ever.” Dean insists. 

You swallow hard, trying to will yourself not to burst into tears again, and say, “I’m scared.”

“I know. But you are not alone. You have me and you have Sammy. We are going to be here for you every step of the way. Whatever it is you decide to do, we’ll be behind you one hundred percent, okay?” Dean says, his eyes glossy from unshed tears.

You nod, barely composing yourself. You were seconds away from crumbling entirely.

Your father picks up on that and adjusts himself on the bed before pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

At that, you lose it. You’d prepared yourself for anger, hostility, complete abandonment, from your father, not this. More tears begin to cascade down your cheeks.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. It’s all going to be okay. I’m here.” Dean says soothingly, doing his best to comfort you.

You nod slightly, trying to believe what he was telling you. You weren’t sure it was going to be okay for a while, but at least you had both your dad and your uncle by your side. And that, well that made you feel like maybe someday everything would be okay again. 

[doomedbrothers]

+

(A/N: This got away from me a bit so I'll write a part two where they tell Dean. Everyone needs more protective daddy Dean in their lives.)

+

You were up all night, tossing and turning, replaying the last time you’d had sex over and over again in your head, trying to figure out what happened. Then you started to panic, thinking about telling your dad. He was going to be so mad, so disappointed. It was exactly what had happened to your mother, practically down to a T. Your dad, Dean, had been in town on a hunt and met your mom, who wasn’t much older than you at the time. Sure enough, nine months later, there you were. And now, seventeen years later, you’re in the same position. Except you’re the hunter, your mother wasn’t.

By the time your dad knocks on your door around 6:30 to tell you to get ready for school, you’d decided you were going to fake being sick. It wasn’t that hard to do, you were miserable and felt pretty sick anyway.

“Y/N? You up?” Dean says through the door.

You don’t reply, knowing he’d come in then.

The doorknob turns seconds later and the silhouette of your father comes into sight, his figure only illuminated by the hallway lights. He flips on the light and you flinch slightly at the unwelcomed light tugging you out of your blanket of darkness. “Come on, you’re going to be late.”

You shake your head and cough, not trusting your voice.

He furrows his eyebrows in concern and walks over to your bed, perching himself on the edge. Dean brings his hand to your forehead and frowns. “You’re a little warm. How do you feel?” he asks, looking at you with fatherly concern.

You cough again and manage to choke out, “Not good.”

“Hm.” he says softly, his head tilted slightly in thought. “What hurts?” he asks a minute later.

You cough again, gesturing to your throat and your head.

“I’ll be back.” he says, standing up.

Your dad returns shortly with a thermometer.

He takes your temperature and says, “99 on the dot. You’re not that warm. You sure you can’t go to school?”

He really did look worried and you felt awful about it. If that’s how he looked when you were sick, how was he going to look when he finds out what’s really wrong?

“Can I,” you begin, coughing again before continuing, “Can I just stay home?”

He bits his bottom lip, like he was trying to decide if he should let you stay home, and then says, “Fine. But you stay in bed, got it? I have to go out for a while but Sam will be here. Do you need me to get you anything?”

You were about to shake your head to tell him you didn’t, but you were a bit cold. “An extra blanket?” you ask softly.

Dean nods and turns on his heels, returning with a blanket two minutes later. He then walks out, shutting off the light, and closing the door behind him.

After mulling things over for another two hours, you decide to get up and head to the kitchen. Your stomach was practically screaming at you to eat, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.  You manage to slip into the kitchen unnoticed. Your father had left and your uncle was probably in the library. Despite it being only a quarter to nine in the morning, you had this odd craving for chocolate. So instead of reaching for cereal, you go into the freezer. Just as you were pulling out the chocolate ice cream there’s a noise at the doorway.

Sam clears his throat and you whirl around, nearly dropping the container of ice cream from your hands. “You scared me.”

He narrows his eyes slightly, looking you over with what seemed like suspicion. “What are you doing?”

“I, uh, I was hungry.” you say quietly, leaning against the now closed freezer door, having put the ice cream back.

“No, what are you doing? You’re not sick, Y/N, what’s going on?” your uncle says, leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed.

You open your mouth to protest but he stops you.

“Don’t even try. I know you and I know when you’re hiding something or hiding from something. What is it?”

Your face must have given you away because his face softens and he walks closer to you, stopping only a few steps away. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asks much more softly, his face now riddled with concern.

You shake your head, unable to speak. You couldn’t. What were you supposed to say? How could you tell him? He would be so disappointed.

“You can tell me.” he says gently.

You shake your head again, averting your eyes, and mumble, “You’d hate me.”

Your uncle brings his hand to your chin, gently raising your gaze back to him, and firmly says, “There isn’t a thing you could say that would make me hate you, you got that? Just tell me what’s going on.”

Looking into his eyes you could see how worried he was. You could also see he meant what he said. So you swallow hard, preparing yourself to finally say it out loud. “I’m… pregnant.” you say, your voice just above a whisper.

Sam drops his hands and closes his eyes, sighing heavily, and then brings one hand to his face. He was speechless.

“See? You hate me.”

His eyes snap open, locking on yours, and he says, “I do not hate you. I could never hate you.”

“Well I do.” you mumble.

“Hey, don’t say that. This… this isn’t good, Y/N, but we’ll figure it out, alright? Everything’s going to be fine.”

You shake your head as a tear escapes.

Sam pulls you over to him, wrapping his arms tightly around you and rubbing small circles against your back. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” he says soothingly.

You rest your head against his chest and let the tears you’d been holding back fall.

Sam continues to hold you for a few minutes just letting you cry. Once you’d stopped he pulls back, placing his hands on your shoulders. “We’re going to figure this out alright? When Dean gets home, you have to tell him. But we’re going to figure it out. You’re not alone, okay? You have me and you have your dad.”

“He’s going to hate me too.” you say quietly, choking back a sob, trying not to burst into tears again.

“He is not. Will he be disappointed? Probably. But your dad could never hate you, Y/N, you know that, right?” your uncle says.

You don’t say anything, you just slowly nod.

“Come on, let’s go wait for him in the living room. I’ll tell him with you if you want.”

You nod and allow your uncle to lead you out into the living room.

This was going to be a long day. And you didn’t even get your ice cream.

There is a part two for this that can be found here