Warnings: Daddy!Dean, so much of it... trust me, it’s a warning. FLUFF!!
Series Summary: Dark highway, middle of the night, a bad boy driving an Impala, and a Damsel in distress. Too cliche? Think again.
A/N: This is the part that actually inspired the whole series around it. I am in love with it. I hope by the end, you are, too <3 Beta’d by the fabulous @sdavid09.
Feedback is really REALLY appreciated!
Stroke of luck Masterlist
A crowd had gathered right in the middle of it, making it impossible to move around. Dean honked loudly twice, but the crowd didn't budge.
"What the hell?" He muttered to himself before stepping out and making his way through the crowd. The scene that unfolded before his eyes as he walked to the front of the line was disheartening. A girl was standing in the middle of the circle, crying in her hands. All her books were strewn across the asphalt, while her bag was ripped to shreds. Two boys were standing on the other side laughing at her, while she sobbed. When she moved her hand to wipe her tears, Dean caught a glimpse of her face. It was Sam, and she had the most heartbreaking and lost expression her face.
Dean's POV:
For a few minutes Dean couldn't comprehend what was happening. Was she angry, was she hurt? Why was all her stuff scattered like that? Did she trip and fall down? Dean was suddenly worried whether she had hurt herself.
Then the silence broke as one of the boys- the one with light brown hair- let out a cackle of insensitive laughter. "Why you cryin' now? Like you didn't know!"
"Of course, she did!" The other one leered. He was lanky and had greasy, black hair. "She knows how weird she is. She knows she's the freak."
"You heard what she was sayin' right?" the first one prompted. "Purple light killed Aaron," he mimicked in a high pitched voice that did not resemble Sam’s quiet, melodious one at all. She just stood there, staring defiantly up at them.
"We all know what put that crap in her head," Greasy hair continued. "If she ever bothered to get her head out of those fat books, she'd see the world for what it really is.” He looked straight at her. “You might actually look good if you ditched those stupid t-shirts and put some make up on."
"Just learn a lil' from that mother of yours," leered the short one. "Sleepin' round like she does, you could’ve picked up a few tricks, nerd."
"Course her father disappeared!" The two of them burst into a bought of cruel laughter.
A sob ripped free of Sam's chest. She turned on her heel to run away, but in the next second, found her face pressed into a warm softly clothed chest. Dean saw her jerk back for a bit before her eyes met his. When they did, her watery emeralds into his fiery green, instead of pushing away, she threw her arms around his waist and clung to him, fisting her fingers into the back of his suit. She turned her face into him and broke down completely.
Dean felt as though his insides were melting the moment the girl buried her face in his chest. It was nothing like anything he'd ever felt before. The strongest urge to protect her, to hide her from the cruel, cruel world overcame him, and his hands instinctively enveloped around her. The aftermath of the feeling left him reeling. The anger he could understand, the protectiveness, too, but the possessive edge and the tenderness he felt towards her, both shocked and shook him.
"Hey, shhhh…" he softly whispered in her ear. "It's gonna be alright. It's gonna be okay."
Sam only hugged him tighter, clinging to him. Dean found himself comforting her despite the havoc in his own head. This girl didn't deserve to be treated like this. She was smart and sweet and loving. She shouldn't have to cry like that.
Dean lowered his head so only she could hear him. "Stay here, I'll be right back." Sam, however, shook her head, unwilling to let him go.
"Hey, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here, next to you. Let me go have a talk with them."
"No, don't," her breath hitched. "They'll say mean things about you, too."
"They can try." Dean leveled his gaze with the taller of the two, the greasy haired idiot. He seemed to be taken aback, but was still staring at Dean sullenly.
Dean could feel all eyes on the two of them and he was sure so could she, but Sam held on, hiding in his chest, from the judgment everyone seemed to be exuding. She was trusting him to protect her. That decided it for him.
Dean gently pried Sam's fingers off his coat, but didn't let go of her hand as he took a few strides forwards. Sam tried to hold him back, but Dean's grip was firm. She needed to see this.
He made his way towards the boys, both of them seemed to be older than eighteen. Either they were drop outs, or part of the community college that shared the same building. From the condition of her things and the way she seemed to massaging her shoulder, it wasn't hard to figure out what had happened. They'd either held her hard, or yanked the bag with enough force to hurt.
"Who are you Mister?" Greasy hair wheezed. He seemed to be the bigger bully of the two. "The new guy her mother is banging?"
Sam's grip on Dean's hand tightened painfully. He could feel her shaking besides him. She seemed to cringe a little, but Dean held on, refusing to let go.
He strode forward and in a swift motion tugged at the collar of the kid, pushing him into the adjacent wall, hard enough to sting, but not actually cause damage.
The boy let out a strangled cry as his head hit the surface.
"Doesn't matter who I am," Dean growled. "What matters is what I can do, you slimy son of a bitch. You touch her again, and I'll break your sorry face."
The guy whimpered pathetically against Dean's grip, clutching at his throat, trying to find a way out. Dean did not budge.
"Am I clear?" He snarled loudly, and the boy nodded pitifully.
"I would ask you to apologize to her, but you don't deserve to so much as look at her, forget about talking to her. Her mom's done a great job raising a kid like that. Your folks don't seem to have gotten it through that thick skull of yours. Now get lost."
Dean released his grip and the boy collapsed on the asphalt floor, coughing and gasping for air. The other kid had disappeared.
Dean turned to the by standing crowd. "Shows over, get out," he called, voice icier than usual. The kids didn't need to be told twice. Within a couple of minutes the parking lot was empty.
Sam was still clutching Dean's hand, quietly crying into the other one.
"Shhh… it's alright, C'mere," Dean said, gently pulling her back into his arms. "Those kids are dicks, don't listen to that bullshit. You're so much better than any of them. You get me?"
She didn't react, just burrowed deeper, and there was that feeling again. A warm ache in his chest that Dean couldn't put a name to. This felt too pure somehow, holding her this way. Dean couldn't help but remember when he was young and small Sam used to hug him on stormy nights when they were alone in motel rooms. For the life of him Dean couldn't figure out why he was suddenly so nostalgic. It hurt in an oh so sweet way, but Dean never wanted to be rid of this feeling.
He gently pushed her back and brought his hand up to cup her face. She seemed unwilling to look at him, like she was suddenly embarrassed. Dean held on, until she looked up, her beautiful eyes shy. "You get me, right? You're awesome. You should be proud of yourself."
At long last she nodded, and Dean smoothened the blonde locks away from her eyes. "That's good," he smiled at her encouragingly. "You wanna sit down for a bit and tell me what that was about?" She nodded once more.
"Alright," Dean said, guiding her to a bench nearby. "You sit here, I'll be back with your stuff."
She was quick to interrupt. "No… No… I'll get it."
"No, you won't," Dean stated firmly. "You sit. I'll go get it."
He made his way towards the torn bag and its strewn contents. Most of it was huge books- SATs, physics, Economics. They weren't course books, but much more advanced. Along with those there were couple novels- Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen. Those idiots must have yanked the bag hard and because of the full to brim contents, it must have split immediately. Dean looked back at Sam. She was rubbing her shoulders, eyeing him anxiously. He smiled reassuringly at her, as he collected all her stuff, even the markers, pens, and chocolate wrappers.
When Dean got to the bottom of the things, he found a worn out College flyer… For Stanford Law.
Really? Stanford Law? Dean thought to himself. That was a weird-ass coincidence.
After collecting all the books, Dean balanced them in one hand, and stooped to grab the torn bag. The fabric was full of all sorts of doodle- quotes from Southern movies, anime, manga, symbols… everything. It was eclectic and fascinating. Dean found himself turning it over to notice that the handles were made of pure silver. He smirked to himself as he remembered Sam pushing them against his skin that first night when he had picked her up. That kid was really smart and for some weird reason Dean felt proud about it. She had been raised right.
When he reached the bench, his shoe caught against a stone and the books tumbled out of his hands once more, cascading over the girl in front of him. She winced as the books hit her head and fell over her feet.
Dean was about to apologize, but a peal of laughter left her, as she giggled at his antics.
"You're such a butterfingers," she managed in between her laughs.
Dean found his heart melting at the sound of her laughter. It was precious. She bent down and retrieved her books, neatly stacking them on one side. She picked the Stanford flyer last and carefully placed it in between the thickest of books.
"So Law school, huh?" Dean asked, intrigued, as he took a seat next to her.
She wriggled her hands in her lap, not quite meeting his eyes, "Ummm yeah."
"That's awesome," Dean told her, his voice sounded happy even to him.
"You aren't going to tell me I'm too young or something?"
"Nope!" He replied. "I know you're really smart. You can do whatever you want."
"Whatever I want?" She looked up through her lashes, shy again.
"Whatever you want," Dean repeated, simply. There was a conviction in his words because he truly believed in them.
"It's all I've ever wanted. I'm almost sixteen, but I've taken all the classes, even the advanced one, so I'm graduating this year. I'm giving my SATs in a couple of weeks and I really want to get into Stanford pre-law."
The fact that she was advanced didn't surprise Dean whatsoever. "Why Stanford?"
"When I was a kid, my mom told me it's where smart people go," she shrugged.
"Well, I ain't contesting with your mom."
They sat in silence for a while. Dean was lost in his own thoughts until he saw her rubbing at her shoulders again, and anger flashed through him. He willed himself to control his tone before asking. "You wanna tell me what that was about?” He gestured towards the spot where she'd stood crying.
Sam seemed to retreat back into her shell and the wriggling of fingers resumed. Just when Dean thought she was going to ask him to butt out, she spoke in a small voice. "Those idiots used to be high school last year. I think they were friends with Aaron or something. I don't know what their problem is, but they call me names all the time. They call me ugly and stuff…" her voice trailed off.
If Dean was angry before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. Anyone would have to be blind to call her ugly. She was perfect.
"Don't listen to them," Dean's voice was more insistent that he had intended it to be. "You're beautiful and smart. I meant it when I said they don't deserve to even look at you."
"Really?" her cheeks were tinged with pink as she looked up at him.
"Hell yeah! You're too good."
She looked down, blushing an even deeper shade of red now.
"It's not that though," she said after a while. "I don't care what they say about me. It doesn't matter. But they say awful stuff about my mom, and none of it is true."
"If none of it is true, then why does it bother you so much?"
"Because it's on the opposite fudging end from reality, that's why!" She huffed.
"What do you mean?" Dean’s curiosity was at its peak. He had to admit that he was intrigued by her mother. She definitely knew her way around the territory, and judging from how she had raised her daughter, she seemed to be sensible and kind.
"I mean everyone judges her because she's so young. She had me when she was only 18, and she's really gorgeous. There's always a couple guys loitering outside the flower shop she owns, hoping to ask her out. She never heeds all the attention."
"All this talk seems to be a case of sour grapes then," Dean mused.
"It is. She's so nice, and she rarely even dates. Just because of how she looks, people say such horrible stuff about her," Sam said bitterly.
"Well then the people here are dicks," Dean stated. His ‘matter of fact’ tone made Sam giggle. Dean’s very bones softened. She was truly a lovely child. And the way she had described her mother, Dean could see where she got it from.
Dean didn't want to assume, yet, he couldn't help but wonder what happened to Sam’s father. A man would have to be a total jackass to leave a beautiful family like that.
"Don't worry about the jerks, kiddo. I'm sure your mom is happy enough to have you."
"She is," Sam smiled wistfully. "She's my best friend. I love her so much. She hasn't had it easy, you know. We used to be constantly moving till I was about seven years old, never stopping in a place for more than a couple of weeks, like someone was chasing us or something. She'd leave for a few of hours to get food and return bloody a lot of times. Mom never talks about those days even if I ask, but I can see the scars sometimes. It's only been about six or seven years since we've settled here. That’s why I want to become a lawyer. So I can make her proud."
"Where was your dad in all this?" The question just tumbled out his mouth. Dean regretted it the moment he said it out loud. It was personal, and definitely prying on his part. It looked like Sam's mom had been through hell. Gang maybe?
Sam, thankfully, seemed unperturbed by the question. "He died when I was a baby," she said, a distinct note of pride in her voice. "My mom says he was a hero and he died trying to save someone. She said he loved me." Her voice became melancholy by the end. "I never knew him."
"I'm sure he'd be proud of the young lady you've become," Dean told her. Sam smiled up at him.
"Yeah, my mom says so, too." A sudden light illuminated her eyes and she giggled excitedly. "You know what? You should meet her!"
"Who? Your mom?"
"No, the Queen of England," she sassed. "Of course, I mean my mom! You two are so similar. Tell you what, you should totally go out on a date with her."
"Whoa, Kid!" Dean said, taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm. "I'm not the dating sort. I won't be in the town longer than this case." Even as he said it, Dean couldn't help but feel a little sad at the thought of not seeing Sam again.
"Oh, she isn't the dating type either," she gave him a naughty smile. Whatever that was supposed to mean. "Just go out once. How could it possibly harm? It'll be fun!"
Dean thought about it and decided it wasn't such a bad idea after all. He wasn't staying long and Sam's mom intrigued him anyway. He could meet her.
"Alright," Dean acquiesced, "but on one condition."
"What?" Her smile faltered a little.
Dean grinned. "That we’ll remain friends no matter how that turns out." He extended his calloused hand. "Friends?"
A huge grin spread across her face as she slid a delicate hand forward and shook Dean's firmly. "Friends!"
Dean noticed a silver anti-possession charm and witch repelling amulet dangling from her bracelet. Yes, meeting her mom would be interesting to say the least.
"It's a deal then!"
Sam's POV:
To say Sam was tired was a massive understatement. He was used to staying up late nights, working cases, or researching for them, but this one seemed to be somehow taking a toll on him. As much as he might refuse to accept it, Sam knew the reason. He knew it was the hope that pulling him down. No, it wasn't the hope, it was the effort of trying to keep it squished that was so exhausting. All night long he had dreamt of Y/N's face as she had looked at him with terror in her eyes on the night that Dean had died. Sam had been consumed by a homicidal rage, so frenzied by the need for revenge that he hadn't even cared for his long lost best friend. If only he could just find her once and tell her just how sorry he was, how desperately he wanted her back in his life… in both their lives.
At least, one thing had turned out to in their favor. Aaron used to visit that particular red-soiled make out spot after all, so now they knew where to begin their search.
Sam walked around the campus, trying to find his brother. Going through the filing had taken a while, so he did not expect Dean to be hanging around in the parking lot. Sam, however, didn't know where to start looking and the parking lot seemed as good a place as any.
He was still mulling over the case-files, trying his best to keep his mind off other stuff, when he rounded around the corner and the most unexpected scene met his eyes. Dean was sitting on the park bench next to a young girl who was facing away from Sam. She had thick, long blonde hair. From what he could see, Dean was holding her hand, and the two of them were laughing about something.
This was that girl, the one Dean couldn't stop talking about. The girl who was the reason for all of his brother's smiles lately. Sam increased the tempo of steps and soon he was close enough to catch his brother's attention. Dean grinned the moment he saw Sam, turning to the girl besides him.
"Sam," he told the girl, a goofy, proud smile splitting his face, "Meet Sam. He's my brother and nerd extraordinaire. You two will get along."
The girl turned around and Sam's breath caught in his throat. Those eyes, those bright green, brilliant eyes were the ones he could never not notice. He saw them every day of his life.
"You're kidding!" She turned back to face Dean. "Your name is Dean, and your brother's name is Sam? What the hell?"
"What's wrong with that?" Dean asked, and she checked herself, shrugging nonchalantly. Dean seemed to buy it, but to Sam, her expression seemed too perfect, as if she was putting an extra effort into keeping it in place.
"Hey, Dean, why don't you pick up the files from the office? I think I might have left a couple of them on the desk. Get the car while you're coming back."
"Sure thing." Dean winked at the girl once, before walking out of the lot on the other side.
"So?" Sam asked.
"So?" She replied in the same tone. He couldn't help but crack a smile.
"Your name's Violet Y/L/N, isn't it?"
"How do you know?" She immediately sounded wary.
"I read your name in the files," Sam said lightly, but his heart was hammering against his ribs. He didn't know what else to say. The girl was peeking up at him while trying to be furtive about it.
"You're tall," she said out of the blue, and then blushed instantly.
"I get that a lot," Sam said, taking a seat next to her. That's when he saw the stack of thick books. The Stanford flyer sticking out at one end didn’t miss Sam’s attention.
"Hey, if your name's Violet, why does your mother call you Sam?" He asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
"How do you know it's my mother who came up with the name?" She narrowed her eyes.
Damn! The girl was too smart for her own good. "Uhhh… it’s a guess," He smiled weakly.
"Well, yeah," she continued, seemingly over her suspicion. "My mom said the name's for good luck. All Sams are smart."
'All Sams are smart.'
"Uhhh yeah," Sam somehow managed through his constricted throat. He was saved from saying anything else as the Impala cruised to a stop right in front of them.
The girl jumped with glee at the sight of the car.
"I think I'm in love with your car!" She squealed, running a hand over the glossy metal body, sighing happily. Dean got out and nodded proudly.
"Me, too."
Dean handed her his card. "Call me if you ever need anything, okay? And I mean anything at all."
She took the card and looked up at him. "You remember the deal right, Deano?"
"Sure do, Shorty," he smiled.
"Hey, Dean," Violet called. In the next split second she was sprinting towards him.
And like it was the most obvious, most instinctual thing, Dean opened his arms, the girl slamming into his embrace, closing her eyes the moment her cheek pressed into his chest. Dean in turn held her tight, running his hand over her back.
Sam saw the satisfied smile on his brother's face, the absolute adoration with which he held her. Dean pecked Violet lightly on her forehead and she seemed to relax in his hold, both clearly unwilling to let go first. The picture was perfect and surreal.
Sam rolled his eyes upwards, willing the tears pressing his eyes to not roll down, praying for strength so they could face what was obviously coming their way, but most of all trying to behold the absolute jubilation he felt in the moment. How? How had Dean not realized that he was holding his own daughter in his arms?
Please let me know how you liked this chapter?? PRETTY PLEASE?
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"Stroke of luck" Part 8 : Oh my...I understand now why you told me that the next parts would be really intense. That was WOW. I mean, I was holding my breath, my heart was beating faster and faster. I was like "Aaaah take your time by reading it ! But damn it that's soooo good I can't slow down ! I wanna know what happens !" (Yes I'm talking to myself, see you're making me crazy with your story ! lol). Anyway, that's really beautiful. I can't wait the part when Dean will discover all the truth.
I am starting to kinda get scared about part 10 now! *Waves sweetly* For when you read it, remember that you somewhat like me! ;) *Grins cheesily*
You really are TOO KIND to take the time out to tell about how you feel about each chapter!! It really makes my day! *Takes a bow* THANK YOU SO MUCH! All the hugs and kisses and love, Darling <3
"Stroke of Luck Pt 8" was so freaking great. I just don't know what to say. I love the interactions between Dean & Violet/Sam. I love where we're heading with that reveal. I love how super excited Sam is about having a niece. This series is just so great. Thanks for the hard work.
Thank YOU for your kind and lovely words, really. One thing I was perfectly clear was that Violet needed to have a defined character, and that people needed to like her before SOL 8 came out, or else all the little moments would lose their meaning.
You have no idea how much it means to me when you say that you love the Dean/Vi interaction. It actually inspired the whole series. And I’m so looking forward to writing uncle!Sam :D
I really can’t thank you enough for the appreciation, Darling. All the love- Ana <3
