DISTRACTION.
SUMMARY — after being deemed a "distraction" by john winchester, you were swiftly removed from dean's life. unfortunately, john lied to you both. classic john.
PAIRING — dean winchester x fem!reader
WORD COUNT — 5.1k
WARNINGS — angst, lies, mentions of john winchester, death, kidnapping, she/her pronouns but like no descriptions of reader (other than her hands being smaller than bobby's), murder, more than one pov (bounces back and forth between yours & sam/dean's), idiots in love ?, mutual pinning, age gap (reader is early 20's, dean is late 20's), pg 13 cursing, friends to strangers, strangers to something more?
A/N — say it with me y'all; FUCK. JOHN. WINCHESTER. incase there was any confusion at all; this is, and will always be a john winchester hate page.
MASTERLIST
YOU
the bar is crowded. and loud. you wince when someone brushes against you. you attempt side-stepping them, but they seem to mirror your movements. you bite back the urge to just straight up shove the person, and step back again. you quickly weave your way through the crowd towards the bar. you quickly find your way towards the back, to an open booth away from prying eyes, and it gives you the best view of both the front exit, and the back. you slide into the booth, dropping your bag onto the bench seat beside you, and you sit back sighing. you glance around, and then yank your laptop from your bag, setting it on the table.
you boot it up, and your notes and open pages load, popping up. you'd been scratching your head pretty hard on this case, the kid who "saw" it happen hadn't exactly been the most reliable source, and you were so close to writing him off. but then an idea pops into your head, maybe you could hack into the city's cctv cameras. your fingers hover over your keyboard when you heard your name. your head jerks up, eyes quickly scanning, and landing on two familiar faces.
"sam! dean!" you say, a small smile spreading over your face as you close your laptop and slide it over.
you slide out of the booth, and lean into sam's open arms giving him a tight hug before pulling away to look at dean. dean, who's jaw is set, and his eyes are half-squinted, like he's trying to figure out if you're actually here. you glance at sam, who glances at his brother, before looking back to you and shrugging.
"uh, it's good to see you. how are you?" sam asks, sliding into the booth opposite you.
"i'm good, great actually. how are you? i thought you were at stanford?" you say, side-eying dean as he finally slides into the booth beside sam.
sam's jaw twitches, and you mentally kick yourself. something had to have happened, why else would sam be here, in minnesota, with dean? you'd been there when sam and john had it out. you'd witnessed the entire blow out, and it had been hard. for sam. for john. for dean. for you. sam had been your best friend from the time you'd met at 11 (you) and 13 (sam). you'd been damn near inseparable. sure, the pair of you'd kept in touch over the years; mostly by email. one a month, that quickly turned into quarterly life updates before you'd gotten too busy to notice sam wasn't emailing you at all anymore.
you hadn't seen sam since he'd left, but you knew he'd been happy. excited for his life with jess, and to finally become a lawyer. all the emails you'd read had given you the impression that sam was never returning to life as you'd known it before he left. you'd been a bit sad about it at the time, missing your best friend. but you loved him enough to let him go. in all honestly, you'd never expected to see him again, much less hunting. yet, here he was. with dean. hunting.
"yeah... well..." he trails off, his eyebrows pulling together in discomfort.
"life." you supplement, and he nods, a small smile returning.
"and you, mr. broody. how are you?" you ask, feeling dean's eyes staring holes into your face.
he doesn't answer, and you roll your eyes, sitting back and crossing your arms. okayyyyy. what did you do to dean winchester to deserve the silent treatment and the glare? you think hard on it for a few moments, and come up empty. the last time you saw dean, wasn't all that long after sam had left for stanford. maybe two, three weeks. as far you knew, you'd left things pretty amicably. you'd had a big fat crush on him, and he'd been oblivious. dean had always been kind to you; he treated you like any older brother would treat his kid brother's kid best friend. maybe a little nicer than most older brothers, seeing as you'd been through a lot when you'd wound up in john winchester's care.
"so, what brings you to hibbing?" sam asks, eyes darting between dean's unusually intense stare and you.
"same thing as you, i reckon—you guys speak to the kid?" you ask, deciding to ignore dean.
two can play this game.
sam rolls his eyes, "yeah. not entirely sure it's our kind of gig, but we're making sure our bases are covered."
you nod, "sure. any leads?"
sam huffs, sliding what looks like john's journal out of his jacket, "dad made some connections, but..." he flips through the pages, spinning it towards you.
you tip your head down, eyes flitting over the page. phantom attacker. followed by some lore you'd already come across in your initial search after talking to the kid. you nod, looking back up.
"the thought had crossed my mind, but i'm honestly not so convinced." you shrug, "that being said, i did see some camera's in the lot. i think that might be a good place as any to start, right?"
"i need a drink," dean mumbles abruptly sliding out of the booth.
"sorry," sam says, pink spreading across his cheeks. "i don't know what his problem is, he was fine twenty minutes ago."
you shrug, "i stopped trying to figure your brother out years ago,"
"so, uh, dean said you'd went off to bobby's after i left... when he showed up, i was half expecting you to be there with him," sam chuckles, and your stomach sinks.
bobby had been great. you'd genuinely enjoyed living with him while you'd finished high school, he'd been like the father figure you'd never had. he taught you how to cook (though he himself admitted you were way better than he was, even when you first started out), how to shoot a gun, and was your go to hunting partner when you needed one. he'd even confessed to you when you went out into the world, that he'd begun to see you as his daughter. that had nearly broke you. your own father had walked out just months prior to everything that had transpired. he'd run off with your babysitter, how cliche.
but bobby? a man with absolutely no connection to you, and no real motivation to help you—let alone take you in and raise you had loved you like his own. it both broke something in you, and healed something. you'd finally had a family again, even if it was tiny, it was yours.
"yeah..." you trail off, not sure if this is how you want to spend the night.
tearing your best friend's father apart, when at your best guess, he and dean were trying to track john down. sam already has enough distain for john, you really don't need to add to pile. while john wasn't a perfect man, he did save your life.
"kind of," you mumble, as dean returns to the table, surprisingly, carrying not two, but three beers.
"so, you figure it out yet? or is the nerd squad getting rusty?" dean asks, not looking at you.
he pushes the beer towards you, and sam's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. you take the beer, and make a show of staring dean down as you take a swig. his eyes finally meet yours, and his left eye twitches. oh, he's pissed at you.
"no," sam says, "and i told you to stop calling us the nerd squad."
dean rolls his eyes, and takes a drink. he mumbles something under his breath, and sam reaches out and smacks his arm.
"okay... cctv it is," you reply, sliding your laptop back across the table, and popping it open.
you kind of wish this wasn't happening. you'd always kind of wondered what would happen when you saw dean again, but.. this? this hadn't even crossed your mind as an option. he'd never been so standoffish with you... well, after he'd gotten to know you he hadn't. he'd actually been quite protective. you frown when your laptop doesn't whirl to life.
"shit, i think it's dead... and i forgot my charger at the motel." you grumble, snapping it shut again. "sorry, guess that's a bust for now."
"great." you hear dean grunt.
"what is your problem?" you ask, voice icy as you stare him down. "cause last i recall, i didn't do anything to you."
he looks up at you, irritation written all over his face, "you left."
you feel like you just got slapped as you stare at him, mouth falling open, but all the words bouncing around your head die when you see the irritation flash to something softer—then his expression steels again. he stands up, and heads towards the pool table.
"left?" you repeat, confusion eating away at you. "i didn't friggin'—"
you take a deep breath, shaking your head. you look back at sam, who looks just about as confused as you feel. you knock back the rest of your beer, and give sam an apologetic look.
"i can't deal with this right now, i just... let's regroup tomorrow, grab coffee, or breakfast and i'll make sure my laptop's charged. we'll review the footage together, okay?"
"yeah... look i'm—"
"don't you dare apologize for dean. you know how i feel about that." you tell sam, "i don't know what he's talking about, but i'm— i'll figure it out. i'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
he nods, and you pat his hand as you roughly shove your laptop back into your bag and head for the door. you yank your keys from your pocket, and walk across the dark parking lot to your truck. dean. friggin' dean. you think. what was he going on about? you left? as you recall, that's not how that happened at all. you pull open the driver side, and toss your bag onto the passenger seat. something startles you, making you drop your keys. you hear a cat hiss, and roll your eyes. you lean down to pick them up, but can't seem to see them. you sigh, pulling a flashlight out of the door, and click it on. you lean back down, and then suddenly, everything goes dark.
THEM
dean squints, eyes adjusting to the dark, his eyes trail over the parking lot, and immediately land on your truck. you'd left an hour ago. he was sure that's what sam had said. he looks back and sees sam following behind him, "sam," he points at your truck, and sam's eyebrows pull together in confusion.
"that's not... she left?"
the pair of them walk up on either side of your truck, "dean, her laptop bag is inside..."
dean sees something shiny in the moonlight, and bends down to pick it up—your keys. dean straightens, looping your keys around his index finger. eyes lingering on the small silver crow charm hanging from it. it had been a gift he'd given you years ago. an inside joke really, him poking fun at your small collections of trinkets and pretty rocks you'd collected. he'd given it to you for your birthday, days before life imploded.
"sam," he sticks his hand out, "keys."
"shit," sam says, hazel eyes filling with worry.
dean might never admit it, let alone out loud, but he is panicking.
YOU
you groan, your eyes sliding open. your head hurts, like, really hurts. you're laying in what feels like straw, and— you're laying in straw. straw. you shuffle up into a sitting position, and realize you're in a cage. great. a friggin' cage. perfect.
"morning sunshine," you hear to your left, and you jerk your head sideways.
"wait— are you jenkins?" you ask, shuffling closer to the bars.
"yeah,"
"oh... i was looking for you."
"yeah?" he scoffs, and your face burns as you realize that might not be very comforting to hear. "well you found me, now what?"
you don't reply, looking around. it's pretty dark so you're pretty limited in your assessment. there's no way you're going to be able to break your way out—they'd taken your jacket, which meant they had all of your shit, lockpick (not helpful in this situation), knife (could be potentially very helpful) amongst other things. you shuffle toward the lock, and try to examine it. electric, and automatic. no dice. shit. you're beginning to panic. you hadn't checked in with bobby last night. you'd left the bar— wait, sam and dean. they have to know you're missing. you made plans last night. sam knows you would never just skip town after making plans. dean's attitude or otherwise. things were going to be ok. right?
THEM
sam is sifting through a couple hours of footage, you'd left the bar a few hours before them, so he had to carefully wade through it. dean was sitting on the edge of the bed behind him, your key ring still wrapped around his index finger. he'd barely said a word since they'd broken into your room four hours ago. he'd just sat on the edge of the bed, staring. sam's beginning to get worried about dean. his worry about you has been momentarily put on hold, because his mind is distracted by both the footage, and dean's unusual silence. he only ever gets quiet when he's about to blow up, and this time, sam knows it's not going to be directed at him.
"so, what was with last night?" sam asks, pausing the footage, and glancing over his shoulder.
dean's eyes flick up, landing on your duffle bag sitting on the dresser across from him. he sighs, and straightens, rolling his shoulders before standing up and shoving your keys into his pocket.
"did you find anything?" dean grunts, dropping into the chair opposite sam at the table.
"dean," sam says, voice pleading. "what is going on with you? you've been weird since you saw her."
dean looks down at his feet, jaw tense, "a couple weeks after you... left. for stanford, so did she. told dad she wanted out, she didn't wanna hunt. didn't want to be a part of the life. wanted away from us... from me."
sam almost misses that last part, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. you'd adored dean. you'd never said it out loud, but it was obvious to your best friend from around the time you'd turned fourteen. you'd watched his older brother's every move, unconsciously started even mirroring some of dean's mannerisms. you'd been like dean's shadow right up until sam had left. if anything, sam knowing dean had you made leaving just slightly easier because he knew you'd push dean to be better, kinder, and help deprogram some of the shit that john had drilled into dean since mary had died.
he'd already seen it first hand. how dean's tough guy persona melted a little with you around. you'd been through so, so much when john had dropped you into sam and dean's lives. and yeah, dean had initially been pretty pissed about having you around; another mouth to feed, another kid to worry about, protect. when you'd cried yourself to sleep the first week, dean's annoyance about you had softened. dean understood what you were feeling. and seeing you silently cry yourself to sleep every night had gotten under his skin. so, dean distracted you, made you laugh, included you. and somewhere along the way, you became family. and sam and dean wouldn't have traded you for the world.
when sam had put his foot down, deciding to leave, he'd asked you to go with him. you'd both been through more than anyone your age should have been put through, and he was prepared to figure out how to get you through high school, and juggle university at the same time. but, when your eyes immediately landed on dean in the distance, he knew you weren't going anywhere. you didn't care if dean ever saw you as anything other than sam's sometimes annoying best friend, you didn't want to live in a world where you didn't know if dean was dead or alive. and leaving with sam? that meant never seeing dean again, and always thinking in the back of your mind that he might not be.
"are you friggin' crazy?" sam finally snaps, and dean's head snaps up, confusion pulling at his features. "she's been in love with you since she was fourteen dean. i— i was going to take her with me when i left. get her settled, live a normal life. she didn't want to go. she didn't have to say it, but it was obvious that she'd rather die than live a life you weren't apart of, even if that meant just being your friend. she never would have left you willingly."
"but... dad..." his voice is soft, and his eyebrows are pulled tightly together. "son of a bitch."
dean stands up, and shoves the chair back. he's so damn angry. he wants to break something. he takes a deep breath. find you, then crash out. his hands are still shaking, but he tries his best to force it back down.
his eyes flash to sam, "finish watching the cctv, we need to find her."
YOU
the barn door opens, grey light flooding in, it's impossible to tell what time of day it is. it's been a few hours at least, that much is obvious. your breath catches in your throat, they're human. two men in grubby hunting gear with mud smudged across their faces step into view. one stands in the doorway, the other crosses to jenkin's cage, and shoves a cattle prod in, forcing him backwards. he opens the cage door, and drops a plate onto the ground before swinging the door shut, and rearming the system before both men disappear back outside, the barn door creaking closed behind them.
humans. go figure. crazy friggin' humans. demons, ghosts, vampires, ghouls, even werewolves you understood. but humans? unpredictable, and genuinely batshit insane. this is just getting worse by the second. your mind begins racing. you might actually die here. you just got your best friend back—barely—and while dean's not exactly speaking to you, you just got him back as well. dying before figuring out what exactly's got dean's boxers in a bunch is really just icing on the fucked up mushy pile of shit cake the universe has continuously handed to you. you briefly wonder if you'd still be in this situation if you'd taken sam up on his offer. then shake your head, if sam had left stanford to hunt with dean again, you'd have willingly left with them. so, chances are, yes, you'd likely still be in this situation... or maybe sam would be. who knows.
go figure though, you'd survived some of the worst shit the supernatural world could throw at you, only for you to die on some grungy redneck farm in buttfuck minnesota. you snort, almost morbidly amused by your current predicament.
"you're pretty calm for a girl locked in a cage staring inevitable death in the face," jenkins says between bites of whatever slop they'd given him.
"definitely not the first awful situation i've ended up in the year," you grumble, "almost died twice last month... besides, i have people looking for me."
even you notice the way your voice shakes a little at the end.
"convincing." jenkins replies, then the door of his cage unlocks, swinging open. "awesome,"
you shuffle back towards the bars, "hey, i really don't think that's a good idea—"
"i'll get help, i promise." he says, but you have this gut feeling he's not going to make it very far.
he scoots out of the barn, leaving you alone.
you left. it's echoing in your head now. is that really what dean thought happened? is that what john had actually told him? because that's far from the truth. which, you suppose is very on brand for john. classic john, really. knowledge is power, which made john the puppeteer of yours, sam and dean lives. he told you only what you needed to know, nothing more. you didn't leave. you'd never leave... not dean. not ever.
you were fifteen. hopelessly in love with the eldest winchester boy, but happy to be seen as his sidekick if that's the only place you fit in his life. that's what john had always implied you were, just a sidekick. while you stayed by yourself in lonely motel rooms, finishing high school between small towns and secret part-time jobs, dean had always called to check in when he had a minute. making sure you were okay, what classes you were liking best, if you'd made any new friends. sometimes, he just called to hear your voice—remind himself that despite sam being gone, he still had you counting on him.
and then a few weeks later, after he'd packed your things for you, and shoved them into the impala while dean was in the shower, he'd dropped a bomb on you that ripped your life apart. "you're just a distraction, dean can't have you around anymore." he bit out, voice ice cold. you were accustom to the winchester steel by the point, but something about the way john spoke so coldly to you, sent you spiraling. he'd been distant, but never so cruel. you didn't believe his words at first, "he said that?" you'd asked, bottom lip quivering as you tried so damn hard to keep the tears back.
john didn't do, tears. you learned that early on. tears meant you were weak. and you couldn't be weak, let alone in front of a shark like john. "he knows it's the right decision," john had replied, and you had resigned to the idea that dean didn't want you around anymore. not realizing that john had slipped. you'd been so upset, and had been trying to hard to keep it together that you hadn't realized that john hadn't exactly answered your question.
when john pulled up to bobby's house, bobby was standing in the yard, waiting for you. bobby helped you gather your things, and then guided you into the house, throwing a scorching glare sideways at john's car as it peeled out of the yard once you'd disappeared inside. the first couple of weeks had been torturous. both for you, and bobby (and dean, where ever he was in the midwest). bobby because he basically had a ghost living with him, a sad, sad little ghost. and you, because for the first time since your family had died four years prior, you were alone, without sam and dean winchester. the two boys who'd sewed you back together, when they didn't really need to, but they did.
after the first month, you were a little less sad, and a little less ghostly. bobby didn't know the whole story, but he knew john winchester well enough to know whatever it was, it was likely more cruel than it needed to be. slowly, very, very slowly you started opening up. it started with bobby not being able to fix something on his truck, his hands were just slightly too big for the job, and lucky him, he had you and your just small enough hands for the job. you'd spent the afternoon in the yard helping him, laughing and cursing in the warm air. you weren't sure if it was bobby, or the fresh air, but that marked the end of your wallowing.
you'd thrown yourself into your school work, even taking on tutoring some kids—who eventually became your friends. you were starting to act like a teenager again, and not some war-torn hunter. though, under it all, you still were that. life was becoming fun again, but every so often you'd see something that reminded you of dean. a shiny rock, or a crow. but it wasn't burning, and clawing at your heart anymore. it was a dull ache, you'd figured would always be there—which was almost comforting, knowing that even without him, he was still with you, in your heart.
when you got your license, bobby let you tear through the scrap yard and pick any junker to fix up. you'd settled on a black ford f150. the body was in good enough shape, but it took a year to get running. by that point you'd long since graduated, dean almost nearly in your rearview mirror, and hunting the bitch that killed your family, stole your childhood and ruined everything being the only thing keeping you tugging along. you didn't seek dean or john out, you'd prayed you'd never run into them for a long time. and you didn't... until last night. when dean accused you of leaving. as if you'd have had the willpower.
you hear your name, soft, worried. your eyes snap open, and you see sam crouching by the door of the cage, and relief floods you.
"oh my god, sam," you breath out, he looks so relieved to see you.
"are you okay?" he asks, checking you over while dean searches for a release to get your cage open.
"mostly, my head hurts, but otherwise, i'm okay." you tell him, hand grabbing onto his knuckles, "sam,"
"yeah?" he asks, big hazel eyes, look down at you.
"they're human."
"great, just friggin' great," dean grumbles, turning to look at the pair of you. "humans, friggin' humans. and we need a key to get her out,"
sam takes a deep breath, and nods, "we'll be back."
"o-okay," you mumble, panic rising in your chest again, and dean tilts his head at your tone.
a conflicted look passes over his face, before he just nods in your direction, eyes meeting yours. you nod back, and squeeze sam's knuckles again before they disappear back outside. you keep your guard up, and try to keep your breathing steady. there are at least two people, sam and dean can manage that. you just hope that that's all that's waiting for them. you're not sure how long they're gone, but when they return, they're both breathing hard, and bloody. they let you out, and sam immediately engulfs you in a tight hug.
"thank god for the winchesters," you breath out, pulling away and tugging dean into a tight hug of his own. "seriously, thank you guys."
dean's hand lingers on your lower back, as you let him go—an action that doesn't go unnoticed by you.
"so, let me get this straight; you broke into my motel room, but brought my truck back from the bar?" you ask, crawling out of the impala.
sam gives you a small smile, "sorry."
"y'know what? i don't even care. i'm alive. you guys are alive." you sigh, straightening up, and throwing your arms over your head to stretch. "sam, why don't you take the first shower? i need a cigarette,"
"you smoke now?" dean asks, quirking an eyebrow up in question, and you shake your head.
"no, but with how much this job takes years off my life span, i might just friggin' start." the three of you laugh, and sam squeezes your shoulder as he passes, heading into your room.
you sit down on the curbstone in front of the impala, leaning against the grill. dean does the same, and you sit in silence. you're both still reeling from everything that happened. it's been a crazy couple of hours. but, you also need to get it off your chest.
"i didn't leave." you say, your voice soft, almost pleading, like you're not sure if he'll believe you. "i— i wouldn't have left. never. b—but..."
"i know," he says softly, and your heart stutters in your chest, eyes flying to his face. "dad... he lied to us both."
he doesn't look at you, just takes your hand in his and squeezes it. then his thumb glides along the space between your wrist and thumb knuckle, almost absently.
"he said i was a distraction, that you couldn't have me around anymore." his eyes finally meet yours, jaw tense, his expression unreadable. so you continue, "that you knew it was the right decision."
"he told me you wanted out. wanted normal. wanted away from us... from me." he replies, "but then sam told me, that when he left, he planned on takin' you with him... but you told him no."
your face burns in embarassment, "friggin' sam,"
dean's lips turn up slightly, his expression softening, a soft chuckle slips past his lips, and your heart thumps hard in your chest. you missed that sound, his laugh. it's like music to your ears.
"what else did sam say?" you mumble, bumping your shoulder into dean's.
"oh, y'know, some more embarrassing stuff... but i like seeing you all sheepish and nervous, so i think i'll leave that for another day,"
you roll your eyes, "who said i was nervous?"
he glances down at your free hand, and your nails are digging into your thigh, knuckles white from the pressure. it was a way to anchor yourself, you did do it every time you got nervous. you ease up, dropping your hand to your side, and scoffing.
"shut up," you mumble, and he smiles at you.
he wraps his arm up around your shoulder, your intertwined hands resting across your chest as he tugs you closer to him. his face is very close, hot breath fanning over the side of your jaw.
"'m sorry," he says, the sincerity and soft ache in his voice breaks your heart a little, and your turn your head, shaking it slightly.
"no, don't do that. don't apologize for something you didn't do. you know how i feel about that,"
"'m not, i'm apologizing for being rude earlier. deep down i think i knew better, but i was blinded by anger. wasn't fair," he says it into the shoulder of your jacket.
you nod, pressing the side of your head against his forehead. then, the door to your motel rooms swings open, and sam—damp hair and clean clothes—pauses mid-step. his eyes are comically wide as he stares at the two of you, kind of looking like a deer caught in headlights. dean lifts his head, but doesn't pull away from you. normally, you'd be embarrassed as shit, but honestly? the adrenaline has worn off and you're almost too tired to shower, let alone care.
"am i," sam coughs, shifting uncomfortably under dean's steady gaze, "interrupting something?"
"yes," dean says gruffly, as you shake your head with a small, soft smile.
sam looks between the two of you, makes a grossed out face, and then walks back into the room. you let out a small laugh as the door clicks closed behind sam. dean chuckles into your ear, and then drops his forehead onto your shoulder.
"i can't believe that you're here right now," he admits quietly. "i missed having you around."
your heartrate picks up, and you turn your head slightly, seeing the top of his head.
"i missed being around, if that counts for anything."
he lifts his head, studying your face before his eyes meets yours, "it does. it counts for everything."
