I suck at summaries! This is an original character story- Alianna Winchester, twin sister of Sam. It starts off right around when Dean comes back from hell. Ali and Sam’s relationship has been fractured since he left for Stanford. She struggles to repair their relationship has they navigate the Apocalypse, her close relationship with Dean and beyond. Like Sam- She is special in a very different way. Truly the Ying to his Yang that causes a deep connection between Ali and Castiel.
✸ 𝑩𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑨𝑫 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑫𝑨𝑴𝑵𝑬𝑫.
and lately i've tried other things,
but nothing can capture the sting of the venom
...
Ballad of the Damned. (Dean Winchester)
→ premise: the one where where the daughter of the Devil's right hand is fighting against every natural inclination to burn the world to the ground. Running from every abuser, and shoving her trauma deep down until she could almost pretend it didn't exist. After five years hidden away from a life of hunting, and fighting, and trying to prove to her family that she could be good, the call of the life is practically forced back upon her when a dream of her demise forces her best friend's boyfriend to invite her along on a road trip to find his father, the monster she'd soon learn was more than a bit responsible for the role she'd play in the end of the world, and the harrowing, horrifying death waiting for her at the end of the line. (▬▬ Though of course, this certain death would have to get through Dean Winchester first, who despite claiming that Shauna Harvelle was 'absolutely not his problem', would rather throw himself into the bowels of hell a million times over before allowing anyone to make her into the monster she'd been bred to become.) .
→ pairing: dean winchester x fem!original character! (though it will be posted on tumblr as x reader so that more people can enjoy it )
→ warnings: angst <3 , based off 'iris' by the googoo dolls, 'wildflower' by billie eilish, 'haunted' by beyonce, 'two birds' by regina spektor, 'head over heels' by tears for fears, 'everybody wants to rule the world' also by tears for fears, 'bring me to life' by evanescence, 'bloody mary + judas' by lady gaga and 'sailor song' by gigi perez. this is quite literally a horrible, terrible story full of hurt and trauma, but there's a happy ending pls give me a chance aha.
<3
→ a/n: idk if this is pathetic, posting about a wattpad fic on tumblr, but i know that tumblr has a very big chunk of the spn fandom, and i wanted to stop being so weird and nervous about writing and just share it because i'm proud of it. <3
𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 and 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 were an unlikely duo, and unexpected surprise that came about after a year and a half of saving each other's lives, and more importantly protecting Sam Winchester like it was their sole purpose for existing on Earth (▬▬ and to Dean, it had always sort of felt that way.) Shaun was gentle, having had four years with Sam to learn him as the adult Dean had never met. She was annoyingly sweet towards the younger Winchester, oftentimes getting him in a way Dean didn't. If he was honest, it was the most annoying part of their whole arrangement, feeling like the stranger with his brother.
She called him Sammy, and he never had any quips or qualms about it, and when he'd fall asleep in the front seat of the impala, she'd slip black scrunchies from her wrists and make ponytails in the shaggy mop of hair he'd sported, and she never once received more than a playful eye roll. And she talked, a lot. Talked about anything and nothing at all, she was annoying, Dean knew that from the very first night they'd met. She grated on every single nerve he had, and seemed so oblivious to just how unwanted her presence was.
She laughed too loud, ate too slow, asked too many questions. Dean thought she slowed them down. Sam believed she forced them to be more careful.
But Dean didn't need to be careful, he needed for his brother to focus, and for the two of them (not the three of them) to find their missing father. Shaun Harvelle,who Sam always called Shaunie in the very same way Dean had always called him Sammy, was a roadblock. She was weird, borderline creepy with the way she was always the last one down at night, and the first one up in the morning. She wasn't forthcoming about her past, and could hardly explain why she as a 'supposed civilian' could take down a Wendigo like a seasoned hunter.
She was a freak, to that Dean could be sure. (but she was in good company with him and Sam in that regard.)
She wasn't a monster though. He knew that almost as much as he knew anything else. She was likely the bane of his existence, the one person he hated most in the world, but she was no monster. It didn't matter how much anyone tried to convince him otherwise, because no monster could take care of Sammy the way she did. No monster could tolerate him, and all his aggressively overprotective methods the way she did. Monsters were monsters, they couldn't be both good and bad, and while he could admit Shauna Harvelle was full of a lot of bad, he would light up the entire world if only to proclaim she was still the best of all of them.
𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 Dean had been taught to kill the monsters, and save the people. He learned how to protect, how to kill, how to be a damn good hunter. That sort of upbringing came with a few hard lessons, even harder truths, and pills that oftentimes left bitter lumps in their wake when they were forced to be swallowed. One such truth was the one that reminded Dean to never ever forget that a monster could not change. A monster could not be saved, and could not be fixed. There were no exceptions, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. If a monster was before him, it was his duty, his obligation to waste them, to send them packing.
Because a monster, no matter how docile, or innocent looking could not be trusted.
𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍 was one of those monsters. With her big brown doe-eyes that made it impossible to tell her no, and that annoyingly charming way she would scrunch up her nose when confused, or annoyed, or distracted. Or the stupid stupid way she smiled and made you forget that she was deadly. She was sirenic, alluring, and outright dangerous, but more than that she was settled snugly in the hearts of not one, but two Winchesters, which meant that no matter how many times someone exclaimed that she was making way for the devil's reign, Sam and Dean would go to the ends of the Earth to prove them wrong.
His father had said it on more than one occasion, something-something about a daughter of a friend that happened to be the spawn of a demon, and a nasty one at that. It wasn't like Dean had ever caught her name, wasn't like he'd ever really paid much attention to when his father mentioned other children to him. He had never even laid eyes on her, never listened closely enough to know exactly who this girl was, but the disgust, the disdain that stirred up in his father's eyes at the mention of this unnamed 'little demon girl' never left his mind. It was always enough to remind Dean that there was no room for mercy in hunting.
(Unlucky enough for him, he never had a real chance to protect himself from the snares of Shauna, she'd been entwined with him from the start. Even when he didn't know it yet. )
When he first got into the impala going speeds that should have gotten him a ticket, his goal was to grab his brother, and for the two of them to find their missing father. What he never accounted for, was for Sam to demand that some prissy, talkative, half-pint accompany them on this road trip of a lifetime. She wasn't family, she wasn't anything, just some girl he assumed Sam must have had the hots for deep down, so of course his answer is a resounding no. No strangers in the impala, and definitely no civilians in their personal family business.
If he had been smarter, luckier, maybe a bit more persuasive, he might have stood a chance. He might have been able to keep him (and Sam) from a lifetime of heartache, trauma, and near-death experiences. But he'd never been the best at saying no to Sam, and that's precisely why for the next year and a half Shaun (who Sam always called Shaunie in the very same way Dean had always called him Sammy) sat in the backseat of the impala offering her two-cents even when it wasn't needed. It was why songs like 'Everybody Wants to Rule The World', and 'Total Eclipse of the Heart', streamed from the impala more often than not.
Because he never stood a chance against her, and even with all the facts right there in his face, he couldn't find it in himself to give a damn. If Shauna Harvelle was poison like they claimed, he'd have no choice but to indulge until it killed him. He knew (the way everyone else seemed to) that no matter how hard he tried, monsters could not be changed, they could not be fixed, and they could not be anything more than monsters.
Unlucky enough for Shauna (who was prone to self-sacrifice and giving up) and anyone else stupid enough to come after her, him or Sammy, he was crazy enough to look whatever fate tried to impose itself, right in the eyes and scream fuck you loud enough for all three of them.
Title: In Bad Waters - part three
Word count: ±2200 words
Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline.
Part three summary: While Zoë learns about the first victim of her new case, Dean finds a lead of a different kind in a bar.
Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks.
Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 and @kittenofdoomage. Thanks, girls!
Thirty minutes later Zoë is seated in a restaurant of the Hampton Inn, tapping her foot, neurotically. Calming jazz music plays in the background as the warm morning sun comforts her restless mind, feeling pleasant from behind the glass. Zoë’s stomach rumbles as if there’s a war going on inside. It’s not strange that she’s hungry; the taco she had yesterday afternoon was her most recent meal.
“Here you go, Miss,” the lady, who just took her order at the counter, serves her an omelette, with freshly baked bacon on the side, together with French toast and a tall latte macchiato.
Zoë thanks her, takes the cutlery and prepares to dig in, pricking a mouthful on her fork. When she takes a big bite of her buttered toast with egg and crispy bacon, she can think of only one thing: long live limitless credit cards and fancy hotels. While closing her eyes the huntress enjoys the rich flavors. Nothing beats a big breakfast without a messy kitchen at 8 O’clock in the morning. It’s remarkable how food can swing someone’s mood; hers just improved amazingly. But if she’s being honest with herself, her high spirits probably have something to do with the line of speed she just snorted in the hotel room.
As she takes a sip of her latte, Zoë glances outside from her comfy leather seat, over the fields of Linwood Cemetery. Normally Zoë thinks of these places as cold, troubling, and dark, but on this sunny morning it seems to be a peaceful resting place. The rising sun shines an angelic light on the tombstones, which stand in line for as far as the eye can see. The huntress scoffs; if she’s dealing with a spirit, she sure hopes she doesn’t have to burn any bones. If she does, it’s gonna be a hell of a night, checking every one of those headstones for a name.
A business man walks into the restaurant and orders a coffee at the counter. He looks sharp in his dark blue suit and tie, an overcoat hanging from his arm, with a newspaper tucked tight to his body besides it. After the gentleman sits down at a table opposite of Zoë, he opens the paper. At first she doesn’t pay attention to the guy, who takes his time drinking his coffee and catching up with the news, until he flips the front page.
As she munches on her last strip of bacon, her eyes capture a picture and she coughs, the food almost shooting down her windpipe. ‘Esteemed doctor found dead in own home’ the headline says. Stunned she stares at the picture. There’s no way she could forget a face like that; it’s the bastard that beat the shit out of that little girl in her dream. She leans towards the man to read the smaller lines, but he pulls away his paper and eyes her, his brows knitted into a frown. She decides to ask for the paper, nicely.
“Excuse me, sir. Could I borrow your--”
“- you can get your own in the reading lounge,” he snarls.
Zoë cocks her head back and huffs at the attitude; and she thought she was moody in the morning. Somewhat annoyed with the suit, she gets up, greets the cook who was responsible for her lovely breakfast, and takes the free paper from the coffee table in the other room. As she walks out of the restaurant, she opens the paper and observes its front page.
Esteemed Doctor found dead in own home
PARAGOULD, AR November 25, 2005 - Dr. Ronald Shire (54), a surgeon at the local Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, was found dead Thursday evening in his home in Paragould. The cause of death is yet to be determined.
According to a press release by the Paragould Police Department, on Thursday at approximately 6:00 PM the PPD responded to a report of a dead body. Additional evidence gathered by police throughout the night have led investigators to believe that incidents of domestic violence did occur in the home. The Shire family was present in the house at time of death, yet they are not a suspect in the ongoing investigation.
As stated by local police, there was no forced entry, but suspicious circumstances were reported. A suspect has not been officially named in the case.
The death of Dr. Ronald Shire marks the second loss in the Shire family. This September Dr. Shire and his wife lost their ten year old daughter. As of press time the family has not begun making funeral arrangements.
There you have it; the first kill. Zoë still wants to do a bit of research on this, but she knows a seriously pissed off spirit when she sees one.
She folds up the paper and returns to her room. Normally it bugs her when she’s too late to save the first victim, but in this case, a part of her isn’t that torn up about it. Maybe it’s unethical considering her job, but the way he treated his daughter, it seems like he got what he deserved. Still, she has to get rid of angry Laura, because ghosts this violent, don’t usually stop. Who knows who else she might blame for her own death.
“I’ve got one of a rose right here.”
It’s 11 o’clock in the evening and Marcie’s Lucky Spot apparently is the place to be in Paragould. The 80’s style bar has a vibrant yet cozy atmosphere, the music volume not too high, allowing casual conversation. I’m On Fire by Bruce Springsteen is playing on the stereo system, the locals seemingly having a good time. It’s somewhat crowded, all the booths occupied just like the barstools, while a few people hang over the standing tables while nursing a drink.
A pretty blonde, dressed in a low cut white top, a pair of skinny jeans and high heels, is sitting at the bar and shows Dean her subtle tattoo on her wrist. Dean grins at the sight; nothing sexier than a bit of delicate ink on a gorgeous girl.
“A rose, huh? I presume that stands for beauty,” he comments, flirtatiously.
The look that he gives her would blow every girl’s mind. Then there’s that smile, the one of a handsome bad boy up to no good, the one that pulls at the dimples in his cheeks. The young blonde chuckles and looks down, blushing.
“You don’t happen to have your boyfriend’s name written somewhere, I hope?” Dean checks.
Again she giggles and shakes her head.
“No, I don’t have a boyfriend,” she assures him.
The man opposite of her averts his eyes with a relieved expression on his face.
“Thank God for that. But tell me, how can a girl like you be single?”
“They’re not all charming like you, I guess,” she returns.
He chuckles at that; he's reeling her in like a fish on a hook and she doesn't seem to mind at all. He gently puts his hand around her wrist to have a better look of the tattoo.
“You have more of these pieces of art?” he asks, curiously.
“I do actually, one other.” Her blue eyes look deep into his, she comes closer to whisper something in his ear. “It’s a little arrow, down there.”
Dean can’t stop himself from glancing down at the lower part of her body before his eyes flick up at hers again. Okay, that is hot. Wanting, he looks at her, then challengingly drops his gaze to her full lips, before he runs his tongue over his own.
“Sweetheart, I don’t need directions,” he returns, grinning.
With that smooth line he moves closer and kisses her. Without a doubt she returns the kiss, closing her eyes as she reaches for him.
Her slender fingertips press into the back of his neck, carding through his short hair slightly, and urging him to take the kiss further. He can taste the gin & tonic on her tongue when he does so, the strawberry gloss on her lips. After a blissful ten seconds, he parts from her, his emerald green eyes sparkling. For a moment she seems overwhelmed and drowns in his gaze, pleasantly surprised.
“Do you wanna go elsewhere?” he suggests.
“Sounds good,” she answers, biting her lip, sensually. “Just give me a sec to tell my friends that I’m leaving.”
She gets off her stool and walks away, glancing at her catch for the night over her shoulder. The pretty blonde’s heels click on the wooden floor as she prances over to her girlfriends. Dean checks her out, whistles softly and looks over at his brother, who’s sitting in a booth, alone, reading and making notes. The facial expression of the oldest Winchester brother falls and he can’t help but to shake his head pitiful. The contrast between the two Winchesters couldn’t be bigger at this very moment; sometimes he can’t believe they are related.
“Hey, Hermoine. Why don’t you pull your nose out of those books for once, huh?” Dean crashes on the chair opposite of Sam.
Sam looks up from his reading material and considers to answer, but decides to ignore his brother instead. He directs his gaze back to an old looking book and continues to make notes.
Dean sighs. “Sam, c’mon. We’re not even on a job here.”
“I’m looking for more information on Dad,” Sam informs, as a matter of factly.
“In a book?” Dean huffs, disbelieving.
“I’m trying to figure out how he’s hunting these days,” Sam says, looking up from his notes again. “You know he uses weather patterns?”
Dean scoffs. “Yeah, I know. You could’ve just asked me. I’ve been the one backing him up for the last four years.”
His remark doesn’t sit well with Sam, who finally lifts his eyes from the book to glare at his brother. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dean shakes his head, more to himself than to his sibling. He shouldn’t comment on Sam’s time away from the family, that won’t do anyone good.
“Nothin’, never mind. But how about you let the search rest for a day, huh? Look at the girls in this bar, Sam!” Dean glances at the pretty blonde, who flirtatiously waves at him when their eyes meet.
“Not interested,” Sam makes clear.
Dean waves back at the blonde and turns at his brother again. “Seriously, just admit that you’re gay then.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the one who had sex with that shapeshifter,” Sam brings up.
“I didn’t have sex with her,” Dean snaps harshly, then doubting his words and correcting himself. “It? Her? Whatever.”
“Him,” Sam corrects.
Dean shivers, clearly uncomfortable.
“Look, if you wanna go all Redemption of the Nerd here, fine. But the motel room is mine.”
Sam's eyes dart up again, unpleasantly surprised; apparently he doesn’t agree at all. “Again?”
“Dude, that damn shifter scarred me for life! I need to take away this pain and my medicine is standing right over there, know what I’m sayin’?” Dean nods at the girl he just made out with.
Sam chuckles. “Fine, but I want the car.”
Dean sighs, but agrees with that compromise.
“Whatever, but don’t you leave a scratch on her. What are you doing tonight anyway?” he asks, hoping that his brother might get out and shake the depressing mood that is still clouding his mind.
“I’m gonna try to find Zoë,” he lets Dean know, as a matter of factly.
“Do that. You can have some fun with her,” Dean wiggles his eyebrows and gets up. “Maybe you won’t be so fucking grumpy all the time.”
“Did you call?” Sam wants to know, once again ignoring his sibling’s remark.
“No. She said to call her in a few days, not today,” Dean reminds him.
“So? Just call her.”
“Yeah, ‘cause that’s a real turn on for my hook up. ‘Hey Zo, wanna meet up again? I wanna pick up my shit’,” his brother responds, sarcastically.
Sam raises his eyebrows and nods, admittingly; touché.
“Just give me your phone then.”
“Na-ah.”
Dean walks towards the exit, where his one night stand to be is waiting for him.
“Dean, come on!” Sam pleads, annoyed.
But the door closes behind the couple and Dean walks past the window with his arm around the pretty girl’s waist. As he passes by, he gives his brother a thumbs up while making a face. Sam shakes his head, scoffing at the typical childish behavior. For a moment, the younger Winchester goes back in time, coming to the conclusion that even though they were separated for four years, Dean didn’t change a bit. Always after the girls, always nagging his little brother, always making the best of the worst situation.
He closes both books and takes them under his arm as he rises up. Dean has a point; he will not find anything in these books. In order to get back on the road to find Dad, he needs to find Zoë Sullivan first. With a laptop and his phone she’d be a tough one to track, not to mention without. Time to ask some questions and visit a few motels. A blind search, maybe, but this town isn’t that big and the night is still young. Who knows who he might run into.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).
Characters: Female OFC Echo, Gabriel, two angry men, and some extras.
Word count: 2.9K
Warnings: Language, kidnapping, torture of sorts, angst, snark, and mentions of blood (let us know if we missed anything)
Summary: Gabriel encounters a girl who needs his help. On their adventure together, they discover something quite intriguing.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading this fic. This is the first one we have decided to post together. I really hope you like it and we are opening a tag list if you want to read future parts. Send us feedback! Also, we know, we know, Gabriel isn’t acting like Gabriel… yet. Just wait.
Much love,
Rainie (main writer)
Abby (editor)
.o0O0o.
As soon as she walked in, she felt the tension. She knew something was off the moment she stepped through the doorway of Auntie Jean's Saddle Resale, though she couldn't put her finger on what it could be. Warily, she walked through the rows of saddle racks, running her hand along the seats of each one. A certain saddle, one covered in hand-tooled leather and ornamented with turquoise conchos, caught her eye. The price tag, however, was not so pretty. She shook her head and chuckled at herself but moved off anyway.
Behind her, a voice made her leap out of her skin and twist around. As if from nowhere, a man had appeared and was looking at her with a dark smirk on his face. Immediately, the fear that sprang up in Echo’s heart told her to just get out of there, but her feet wouldn’t cooperate. Then, the man spoke, his voice nothing more than a hostile murmur. "Somehow I don't think you'll be needing one of these."
With that, the man wrapped his hand around her upper arm and whirled her around. A second later, she felt the cold tip of a gun pressed against her back. "Move," the voice growled.
He shoved her forwards, nearly causing her to fall. As they passed the front of the store, the cashier blatantly ignored the scene, reading his register as if nothing odd was happening.
Before the girl knew it, they were out in the sunlight, walking down the sidewalk, passersby completely oblivious to her situation.
.o0O0o.
"Coffee, please," Gabriel said flatly to the barista, placing a five down on the counter. She nodded unenthusiastically and turned towards the back. Absentmindedly, Gabriel peered out the window at the thin layer of mist that coated the road before picking up the coffee that had been placed in front of him. "Thanks."
Without much purpose, Gabriel wandered outside and sat down at a small table just outside. People-watching was a favorite pastime of Gabriel's, seeing as he loved to judge whether or not each person deserved the wrath of a Trickster.
The coffee didn't last him long, and as he got up to throw away the cup, he noticed a small commotion out of the corner of his eye. He'd seen a lot of weird things happening on his people-watching endeavours, but this took the cake.
A young girl was being forced along from behind by a man with a gun, and though plenty of people were passing, none of them took any notice. The man shoved the girl inside the van. The door slammed. And the only one to see any of this was Gabriel.
He looked around, in shock that no one had seen the event. Since it seemed that he was the kid's only hope, he threw away his empty cup and took off for a grey sedan. The grey sedan was owned by a man who had stalked into the coffee shop moments after him. This man had gotten angry with the barista who wasn’t giving him his coffee quickly enough because obviously, that man was the only person on the planet and he needed his coffee before the other people in the shop who had been there longer got theirs.
Gabriel easily popped the lock of the car door with nothing more than a zap of grace. On any normal occasion, Gabriel would just have flown after the van, but he felt like a man popping in and out of existence at random intervals of time would be more noticeable than a car that was probably owned by at least thirty-five percent of all Americans.
He snapped his fingers and the car jumped to life. The van with the teenage girl was headed west, toward the farmlands and forests. He whipped the vehicle around and gunned it to a decent following distance, at which he stayed until the van disappeared.
Quite suddenly, the van had torn around a corner onto a dirt road and disappeared into a treeline. Gabriel pulled onto the same road and parked the car on the shoulder. A quick scan around revealed the the van had completely disappeared from view.
He crept toward the van's last known location, cautious of his surroundings. A small rustle of grass alerted him to the presence of someone else, but upon turning around, he found himself being knocked to the ground by a hard punch to the cheek. When Gabriel opened his eyes, he caught sight of the brass knuckles carved with Enochian runes that were settled on the man's fingers. That answered any questions that Gabriel had had about the identity of the man. He was a Man of Letters, and by the looks of it, a rogue. Before Gabriel had any chance to counter or even block the man, he had been hauled up by his collar and the man's knuckles connected with his nose. He could feel blood pouring out of it, but he was far more concerned about the fact that the man was rearing back for another punch.
However, the man seemed to think it wasn’t worth his time. Instead, he dropped Gabriel to the ground, stepping on his chest as another man brought over a syringe. Just by the dangerous glow that was coming from the liquid within, Gabriel knew exactly what the substance was. Holy Oil. Holy Oil, the one substance that could leave even him unconscious for days. Angels had a similar reaction to Holy Oil as demons to Holy Water, but much worse. Gabriel felt the needle pierce his skin. The burning spread through his body, forcing blackness to creep in from the edges of his vision. The pain was indescribable. Despite his efforts not to show weakness in front of these men, the scorching ate its way through his body until he cried out in agony.
The men swung the door of the van open and threw him inside. The last thing Gabe saw before he blacked out was the girl the men had taken just a few minutes earlier lying, unconscious, across the floor of the trunk of the van a few feet away. The last thing he heard was driver saying, “An archangel too? Nice, now we’ve got two toys. We got an endless reserve of Grace with an archangel now. How about we see how close to human we can get the other one?”
.o0O0o.
When he finally came to, the first things he was aware of were the chains wrapped tightly around his wrists and ankles. He tried to free himself from the bindings, but it did nothing but rub his wrists raw. He looked up from the chains, not looking scared, just highly confused.
“Don’t bother,” a voice rough from disuse said. He looked up to see the girl he had followed bound with the same chains. Although it was dark, he could see her sunken eyes and bloody wrists. “I tried that already.”
He looked down and tried to zap the chains off with his Grace, but nothing happened except his eyes flashed gold. “Oh… Damn.”
“What’d you think that was gonna do?” she snapped, her tone still laced with tiredness and pain despite her snark. Gabriel simply tossed her an impressive bitch-face.
The two men entered the room with an empty syringe. Gabriel’s eyes snapped up to see them approach the girl. “Who the hell are you?” he growled.
He didn’t get a response. Instead, the men took the chains off of her and dragged her, screaming, into another room.
“What are you going to do to her?” Gabriel half-shouted. When the huskier man glared back with a look telling him to be quiet or suffer the consequences, the light left Gabriel’s expression. “Don't hurt her, she's just a kid. She isn't useful to you,” he pleaded, trying to keep his voice from trembling.
“You’ll get your turn,” the other man said. For now, Gabe was left alone.
.o0O0o.
About two hours later, the men came back into the room with the girl, securing her again to the chair. She looked as if she was thrown against the wall a few times. Her eyes were bloodshot and she had scrapes and bruises all over her body.
The men turned to Gabriel. However, he didn’t just let them haul him up. Gabriel attacked the people as soon as he was unchained. He knocked one down, but the other immediately swung and hit him hard with the brass knuckles. The other man, having stood back up, kicked him square in the back, knocking him onto all fours. He was dragged back to his chair and chained back up. "Alright, I guess we're doing this here." He injected a syringe into Gabriel's neck and dragged a full vial of golden grace from him. He cried out in pain as the small piece of him was torn unwillingly from his vessel. It was as if they'd cut into him-- not his vessel, him-- with a white hot angel blade. When the man removed the syringe from his neck, it took him longer than he would have liked to recover. The last thing he needed was for these men to think they could make him hurt.
"If I were you,” he said through labored breathing, “I'd give that back," Gabe protested.
The men paid no attention to the angel.
“Hey, dickbag! I said give that back!”
One of the men whipped around and got right in Gabriel’s face. “Do you want another shot o’ holy oil, angel? You say one more word, ONE more word, and we'll give you another dose.”
Gabriel wanted so badly to keep antagonizing the guy, but he couldn't risk being shot up again. “Just leave her alone,” he begged.
“Not likely.” With that, the man turned and stalked out of the room while Gabriel glared daggers into his back. He turned away once the man slammed the door behind him.
“Dick,” Gabriel snarled before looking upon catching sight of the girl staring at him with something akin to wonder, or more accurately, respect. Gabriel stared back, expecting some sort of snide comment.
“Name’s Echo.”
.o0O0o.
After 4 more days of having his grace stolen from him and injected into the girl, the holy oil that the man had injected into him had run its course and burned itself out. The moment it had left, Gabe sighed in relief. It didn't last long, however, because a moment later, he felt the sharp prick that meant they were taking more of his precious grace. While they were occupied doing that, he carefully pulled on the bindings a little, testing their strength. Thanks to the fact that the holy oil wasn't burning away at him, he was able to strain them, but with difficulty.
The man walked over to Echo and gave her the grace that he had just taken, while the other walked in holding a vial of blue grace as opposed to Gabriel's gold.
"How are you feeling?" One asked after giving her both vials.
"Like you just gave me one Hell of a power up for me to use to kick your asses," she snapped in her thick southern accent.
The man laughed, cold-hearted and cruel, and then accompanied his companion out the door. As soon as they were out of earshot, Gabriel yanked up on the chains binding his wrists. After his first effort failed, he pulled harder, releasing himself from the chains and earning a look of complete surprise from Echo. He snapped his ankle bindings as well before making his way over to her.
He didn't quite reach her before the doors slammed back open and the rogues came back in, their enochian brass knuckles prepped for a fight. Gabriel didn't even think twice. He tapped into his grace, indescribably thankful that no one was ever going to take any more away from him. As soon as the first man reared back to hit him, Gabriel simply held out his hand. The man stopped dead, gasping for air. The other ran to Gabriel as well but Gabriel did the same to him as well. He made a point to look them both in the eye before sending tendrils of light into each of them, burning the eyes straight out of their bodies and destroying their brains, leaving them a bloody mess on the floor.
"You ok?" he asks Echo quietly.
"Yeah, I've wanted to do something like that to them for a while now."
"Yeah, me too. Let's get outta here." Gabriel and Echo began to make their way toward where they guessed the entrance was, hoping that those two truly were the only ones there.
"Father, how big is this place?" Gabe said exasperatedly.
"Hey, Tawny?" Echo said, sounding just a little more than a little shocked.
At first, Gabe doesn't register who 'Tawny' was, but once he did, he stopped dead and turned.
"Tawny? Really? You could just ask my name." Just hearing his voice, Echo knew he was rolling his eyes, not taking hers off the door.
"Could, sure, but I'm callin' you Tawny. Anyway, I think there's someone here. I heard something."
Gabe thought for a second before realizing they couldn't be alone. There had been another angel's grace, hadn't there?
"Yeah. Yeah, we need to split up."
"Don't think that's necessary. I said I heard something, and that something is in this room," she said, placing her hand on a door to her left.
Gabe walled slowly and lightly back towards the door, not wanting to let whoever was in there know they were there.
"Alright... yeah, ok. Follow me."
"Why am I following you?"
"Because I'm the archangel here."
"Yeah but I got two sets of Grace in my veins right now, and half of it's yours, Tawny. And as far as I know, two is better than one."
"That is not how that works." And with that, Gabe blasted the door open, sending splinters of wood everywhere.
They darted inside through the dust, only to come face to face with...
An incredibly young angel. He was bound to a rickety old parlor chair with chains not nearly as strong as the ones that had bound Gabriel and Echo. The angel's eyes had a broken look to them. He caved in on himself when he saw the pair entering the room, thinking they were hostile.
Gabriel's Grace burned with anger. How dare these guys do this to this little one? He was barely old enough to not be considered a fledgling.
His Grace was young, easily damaged, barely used. The angel was secured much in the same manner as Gabriel had been, and since the young one was an angel, Gabe could only assume that these rogues had injected him with holy oil, too.
The small angel had his eyes clamped shut, his head bowed against the blast. When he looked up, he looked terrified.
At the sight of this poor little thing, Gabriel immediately snapped into his old big brother mode, one that he hadn't used since Heaven all those years ago.
"Hey there, little brother,” Gabriel crooned. The young angel looked up, his face plainly showing utter terror.
"Who are you? Are you... do you work with them? Those men?" he whimpered, trying to recoil as much as he could from the power radiating off of the older angel.
Echo spoke up, her usual brash tone completely gone. "It's alright, sweetheart. How 'bout I get you outta there, does that sound good?" She stepped past Gabriel and reached out to the young one.
"N-no! Don't touch me!" He yelled at her. She quickly stepped back away from him, but she didn't look insulted. There was more worry in her face than anything else.
"Easy there. Hey, what's your name?" Gabe asked tentatively.
The little angel dragged in a shaky breath before managing to make his voice work. Even so, it only came out barely above a whisper. "Samandriel..."
"Samandriel. Alright, Samandriel. What do you say you let me and Echo here untie you?” Gabe asked calmly.
"Who are you?" Samandriel demanded again. He tried to sound severe, but the shakiness in his voice betrayed him. By his trembling form and watery eyes, Gabriel could tell that Samandriel expected to be tortured again.
"My name is Gabriel,” he explained, placing his hand over his own chest as an indicator, hoping that the gesture made him look less threatening and more welcoming.
"Gabriel?" Samandriel repeated in a squeak. "The archangel?"
"Yeah. Alright, let's get you untied, ok?"
"No, please! You're... you're an archangel!" Samandriel cried, his eyes finally spilling over in fear.
"Yeah, I am. Now let me help you." Gabriel moved toward Samandriel, who flinched away from him violently, despite being bound. Immediately, Gabriel snapped backwards, shocked that his little brother held such distrust.
"It's ok, sweetie. We're not gonna hurt you, calm down," Echo said, powerfully yet calmly.
“Samandriel...” Gabriel was dumbstruck. He would have stood there for hours gawking if Echo hadn’t dragged him back into reality.
“Hey! You’re takin’ longer than a month of Sundays. Get on with it!” Echo was already working on untying the knots binding Samandriel.
Samandriel watched intently as Gabe and Echo worked on his bonds. When he was finally free, he made no move to escape.
"You comin', Sweetie?" Echo said softly.
"Thank you for freeing me, but I can't come with you,” Samandriel said, turning away from his saviors.
"Why's that?" Echo cooed.
"Because of him." Samandriel pointed at Gabe, not making eye contact with the older angel.
"Me? What'd I do?"
"Nothing! Nothing, it's just... I'm just a grunt. I'm worth nothing. You're an archangel."
"No, brother. I'm an archangel, sure, but you? You're too young to be by yourself. You're just a Wingling. I'll take care of you, alright?" Gabriel said, confusion filling him once again.
"Come on, sweetheart. I won't let the big, mean archangel hurt you,” Echo joked.
"I'm not gonna hurt him, Echo, shut up! I'd like it if he trusted me and you're gonna scare him!" Gabe snapped, causing Samandriel to jump and whimper. He began to shake in fear.
"Easy there, Tawny. Now you're scarin' him."
Gabriel took a deep breath. He knew she was right, but that didn't make him happy about it. "Alright, Echo? Can you go scope out the joint, see if you can find an exit?"
"Why don't you go find an exit?"
"Because he's hurt. He's likely got holy oil running through his veins, and he doesn't feel good, alright? That's what they did to me when they took me in, and because he's younger, it doesn't wear off as fast. He needs another angel's help. You're a nephilim at best. Nothing more than a half-breed. Need I go on?" Gabriel said calmly.
"Alright, fine. I'll find a door and then come back for you guys. Y'all just stay here for now. You ok with that, sweetie?" She explained, aiming the last part at Samandriel.
Samandriel simply looked up at Gabriel, lingering skepticism clear in his eyes.
"You'll be alright with me, little brother," Gabe said reassuringly.
"Be back soon," Echo assured before trotting off to find an exit.
Characters: Reader, Sam, Dean, OFC Addie, and a few special friends
Word Count: 1,880
Warning: This talks about child abuse, but Addie does live, and gets to safety. This is very fluffy though, with very angsty parts. If you want to talk about the specifics, message me and we can figure out if this is a good fit for you.
Pinterest Prompt: A little girl is terrified of the monster under her bed, but what she doesn’t know is that the monster under her bed protects her from the true monsters...her parents
A/N: As I said, this is an angsty piece that delves into child abuse. The reader is the “monster” that helps Addie to a new life. It follows the prompt really well. I personally think it’s a piece that’s worth reading because although there’s the darkness, there’s also big pieces of fluff.There are ADORABLE pictures in there that were drawn by me with my left hand so they look like a child did them. I’m actually really proud of this piece. Enjoy!!!
“Mom, mom I’m scared!” Addie yelled from her bed, hiding under her blankets. “Mom! Mom! He’s back!” She started to cry.
This was the third night in a row that she was screaming. Mom was out in the living room, listening to music and online shopping. She heard Addie, but then again Addie was usually screaming about something.
Addie whimpered and slowly fell asleep, terrified of the monster she saw again.
You peaked up and around the edge of the bed. Damnit. This was your first week with Addie and you hadn’t been able to reach her. Sliding back under the bed, you tried to figure out a way to let Addie know that you are there, but you aren’t there to hurt her.
It was the 6th night when you said to hell with it and jumped out from the bottom of the bed. Addie had been screaming for close to 10 minutes now. Running down the hall you peaked around the corner. It was one of your worst nightmares.
Mom finally shoved her back into her room, and locked the door. Addie screamed even more the second she saw you. You held your arms out in front of you.
“Addie, sweetheart. Addie, I’m not going to hurt you. Addie, I promise you’ll be okay.” She started to cry a little less, but was still bawling her poor eyes out. “Addie, Mom hurt you. Let me look at your leg.”
Addie slowly moved herself back, but stuck her leg out to you. Slowly approaching, you gently placed your paws on her leg. The cigarette burn was bright red.
When the front door slammed, you looked out of her room. “Addie, I’m getting you ice, okay?”
She started to wipe her tears as you slowly left the room. You almost crushed all the ice in your fist you were so pissed. Sure, she screamed, smacked, spanked...but that woman hadn’t done damage like this before. You took a moment to compose yourself before walking back in.
“Addie, sweet pea, I’m putting this on your leg. It’s going to sting a bit, but it will help.”
Addie looked up, her eyes studying your face, tears still streaming down. Her posture started to soften a little.
“Um...you’re a monster.” You smiled back at her. “Why...you aren’t hurting me.”
“Sweetheart I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to protect you. Mom...she’s hurting you. That shouldn’t be happening.”
“But...but she...I didn’t make the dinner!”
“Addie, you’re 7 years old! You aren’t supposed to make dinner. That’s what Mom is supposed to do. Not hurt you.”
Pulling back the ice you took a look at the burn. There wasn’t any hope for this. It was a fresh lit cigarette and she held it on there for too long. That bitch. This….you didn’t have words for it.
“Addie, we need to get you out of here. It’s not safe.”
“But Mom!”
“Addie!” When you raised your voice a bit she pulled back and curled up into a scared ball. “I’m so sorry! Sweetie oh I’m so sorry! You didn’t do anything. Mom just makes me so mad. Doesn’t she make you mad?”
“Yes.” Addie nodded, still scared. “But, Mom says I’m bad, so it has to happen.”
Slowly moving, you sat next to her and pulled her into your lap, holding her tight. She felt like a solid little ball, but within seconds she was burrowing into your fur and crying. You finally broke. You were trying so hard to stay strong for Addie, but you just couldn’t anymore.
Rocking Addie slowly to sleep, you started to doze a little too. Mom slamming the door with a man’s voice made you practically throw Addie out of your arms as you buried her under the covers.
“What! Stop!” You put your hand over her mouth.
“Addie, you have to listen to me. Pretend to be asleep. Mom’s home with a boy.”
Her eyes went wide and she slammed her head into the pillow. You sat at the foot of her bed all night. You heard all the drunken slurs and the smoke from the weed wafted through the house. The noises of sloppy, borderline homicidal, sex made your bones shake.
Thankfully, after that night, Mom was out with that man basically every night. She left a few frozen pizzas, out of Addies reach, for her to live off.
You helped her with homework, a school project for the 100th day of school, and living on her own. She made a drawing of the two of you that you would keep forever.
One of the nights Mom was gone, you decided to bring up a conversation you didn’t want to start. It was time though.
“Hey Addie, do you ever think about what it would be like if you didn’t live with Mom?”
“I don’t.”
“You haven’t thought about it?”
“No. I just don’t live with Mom.”
“What?”
“She said it was her house. Only her’s. So I don’t live here I guess.”
You weren’t sure if you were going to explode, cry, or...you couldn’t even think of anything else.
“Addie, I think we need to leave.”
Her head shot up. “What? We can’t! Mom said I can’t leave the yard unless I’m on the bus to school!”
You knew she wasn’t going to leave on her own. You were going to need help.
“Hey, Addie, I’m going to make a call to a special friend. Keep going on those numbers, okay?”
“Yep!”
Stepping into the living room, you closed your eyes. “Sully, I need you!”
You opened your eyes.“Sully, oh thank god!”
“How can I help?” Sully looked at the house and was horrified. “We need to get her out! I don’t even need to see the rest, or Addie. Get her out!”
“That’s what I need help with!”
Sully thought as he looked around. “Okay, let me talk to a buddy of mine.”
“Sam?”
“Yep! Give me a bit. I’ll be back as soon as I can with an escape. Keep her safe till then.” Sully gave you a big hug, and then vanished.
Something loud thumped on the front door and you booked it to Addie’s room.
“Hey! It’s Mom! Get your book and hide in bed to read in your cave. I’ll be right here.”
Abby burrowed under her covers. The noises got louder and the door slammed hard.
“You fucking bitch!” The man was screaming and then there was a slap. “Get your shit and let’s go!”
“No!” Mom yelled back and tried to hit him you thought because there was a huge crash. “Stop! Please! My baby is here!”
“Fuck your baby. You don’t even give a fuck about her.”
“Yes I do!” There was another huge crash and wailing. He must have really hurt her this time.
“I’m gonna kill your little waste of a space daughter!”
Addie’s head shot out of her covers, tears in her eyes.
“No!” Mom’s voice was faint. She must have been really hurt. “Please!”
The noise of his footsteps turned away from the hallway and back into the living room where Mom was whimpering.
“Addie! Go!” She froze and looked at you. “Out the window! I’ll help. You need to go!”
Pushing the dresser you blocked the door. Addie was grabbing her bear and blanket. You shoved open the window, pushed Addie up, and shot through the wall so you could catch her on the outside.
You guided her to a neighbor’s house. “Knock! Addie knock as hard as you can!”
She started wailing on the door while you kept an eye out. The door started to open and she barged her way in.
“Please! Help me! He’s hurting Mom! He’s gonna kill me!”
“Woah, woah,” the woman squatted down to Addie’s height as her husband locked the door behind them. “Where? Where are they sweetie?”
“At my house! Two houses that way!” She pointed towards the right. “Call someone!”
She collapsed into the woman’s arm’s as her husband ran for the phone.
Within minutes the cops were swarming the house. Ambulances came onto the scene as shots rang out. Addie buried into the woman’s arms, sobbing.
An officer came to the door and started talking to Addie. You stood in the corner, never taking your eye off of her. She told everyone what had been happening in the house. She said that she did her own cooking with the help of a stool, and her own homework. Between the abuse and the abandonment, no one could hardly comprehend it.
You kept sending messages to Sully. “Hey, I need you. Come on man. Please.”
There was a knock at the door as two tall men walked in. You smiled, and nodded to Addie.
“Hello, I’m Mr. Lennon, and this is Mr. Harrison. We are with Child Protective Services.”
The cop nodded and waved them into the living room. The interviewing cop took the boys to the side.
“Her mother is dead. The boyfriend used her body to shader the glass coffee table and beat her to death. He’s dead. Came out charging and was shot on the spot. What’s your plan for the girl?”
Sam looked back at Addie. “We’ll take her. We will get her a home, and take it from here. If we need more from you, we’ll let you know. Here’s our card if you need to get ahold of us.”
Dean walked over to Addie, squatting in front of her. “Addie, I’m Dean. This is Sam. We are going to take you with us. We’re going to find you a home.”
On the ride back to the Bunker, Addie curled up in your lap, and you couldn’t stop thanking everyone.
Dean lead you to a room for Addie. Sam and Sully caught up for a bit. You laid her down gently, and when you covered her up, she stirred.
“Y/N, where am I?”
“We are with a friend. You are safe. I will be right outside the door before I come in and watch you overnight. Okay pumpkin?”
“Yes.” Addie gave you a quick smile and bundled up.
The next morning Addie came into the kitchen holding your hand. “Addie, this is Sam and Dean. They are letting us stay here for a while.”
“I made pancakes,” Sam smiled. “I hope you like pancakes?”
“Yes!” Addie lit up. “Yes, yes YES!”
She ran to the table and Dean got her all set. Everything was set out for her and the three of you went into the library.
“So, Y/N, why the big scary monster?” Dean looked you up and down.
“Monsters Inc. It’s one of her favorites. She had so many real people let her down, I figured a nice, almost familiar, monster might help.
“Well, hey,” Sam held out his hand for you. “You did a damn good job. You saved her life.”
You beamed. “That’s what I’m here for!”
Addie came running into the library with a picture in her hands.
“Look! Look! I drew our family! Our big new family!!”
A/N: So it seems like I have gotten the groove back for this series. YAY. Thank you all for your feedback, and as always, a special shout out to my beta @thorne93, she's fantastic.
Characters: Dean, Sam, Louisa (OFC).
Warnings: Talk about a crappy relationship, not much, but it's there. Italics are flashbacks.
Wordcount: 2088
Catch up HERE
Asthetic made by the beautiful @hanny-writes-spn
Sam, as usual, was the first one up the next morning, and from what he could tell it was gonna be a while before the other two got up. Empty bottles and glasses littered one of the tables in the library from the night before.
After Sam had cleaned up in the library, he started on breakfast. He knew very well that the moment that the smell of bacon hit Dean's nose, he would wake up. While Sam was cleaning up, he had received a text from Garth, pointing him in the direction of a case, so he needed his brother up, fed, and ready to go.
Dean was the first to emerge from his room, his hair sticking up in all directions and his old man robe hung loosely on his shoulders.
“You look like death,” Sam noted, looking up from his newspaper.
“I look better than I feel then,” Dean mumbled as he poured himself some coffee. “Did I smell bacon?”
“In the oven.” Sam folded up his newspaper. “We have a case.”
“Shoot.” Dean's voice was muffled from all the bacon he had just shoved in his mouth.
“Well, Garth seems to think it's a demon collecting his deals early. So far there has been two deaths, a man and a woman both in their thirties, both getting successful overnight a couple of years ago, both died in weird accidents,” Sam explained.
“Sounds like it's worth looking into,” Dean said just as Louisa joined them.
“Good morning,” Sam offered with a wide smile.
“Too loud.. And too enthusiastic this early,” Louisa said grumpily, walking over to the fridge and getting a bottle of water. “And there's nothing good about this morning,” she said after taking a big gulp of water, joining the brothers at the table.
“You ready for your first case?” Dean questioned.
“Today?” Of course it had to be today when she was nursing the worst hangover in history.
“Yes, today. We leave in a little while.” Dean ignored the look he got from his brother, Sam was clearly shocked that he invited her to tag along.
“I'm gonna go grab a shower and pack, and I'm good to go,” Sam said, excusing himself from the table.
Silence fell between Louisa and Dean, neither of them knowing how to start a conversation after last night's confessions.
“Soo…” Dean started.
“Soo…”
“About what you told me last night, you know, about your ex…”
“Look.. I blame the alcohol. I didn't mean to unload all that on you,” she said without meeting Dean's eyes.
**
Louisa’s phone kept ringing, but she kept sending it to voicemail, until she just turned off her phone completely. Dean was curious to know who kept calling her at this hour, but he didn't feel like it was his place to ask. After she had turned her phone off, her smile disappeared from her face and it was like she got a little withdrawn, a look of sadness in her otherwise bright, blue eyes. Dean felt anger rise within him, anger directed to whoever was on the other end of that phone, and with another sip of his whiskey he got the courage to ask.
“Who keeps calling at this hour?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.
“Just my ex. Probably drunk dialing me.” She shrugged.
“And you don't want to talk to him?”
“No.. I just.. I need a new phone number,” she said, nervously picking at the label on her beer bottle.
“Bad break up?” Dean pressed.
“Bad relationship.. Quick break up. We broke up the day that I came here,” Louisa explained. “I wasn't planning on breaking up with him, but he told me that if I left it was over. I'm really glad now tho. Now that I’ve had a little distance I can see that it wasn't exactly a healthy relationship.” She had no idea why she was telling him all of this. For one, she wasn't exactly the type of person to get so personal, and secondly, she hardly knew Dean.
“Does this have anything with why you froze tonight, with that douche?” Dean asked when an eerie feeling settled in his stomach.
“Maybe… I guess. There was something about him that reminded me of Heath, that might have played a part in it.”
“Did he ever hurt you?”
“Nah.. It wasn't like that. It was more a total disregard for my feelings. Like he didn't help me clean out my father's apartment after he died, because he had plans with friends and then he came crawling through the door at two in the morning with a hickey on his neck. And he had a tendency to turn into a massive dick when he was drunk, and he was drunk a lot. But he never physically hurt me,” Louisa reassured.
“He sounds like a dick,” Dean said, taking another sip of his whiskey. He couldn't help but be angry at this guy, and he couldn't help but feel like there was more to the story. “Anything else you’re not telling me?”
Louisa looked up at Dean. She felt safe with him. She felt like he actually wanted to know, that he wasn't just asking to be polite. She battled with herself for a moment before the words just started spilling out. She told Dean that Heath had become more and more controlling and manipulating the further they got in their relationship. “I think that when he started cheating on me, that he feared I would do the same to him, so he started putting me down. Eventually I just figured that my life would be a lot easier if I just let him do his thing and not protest or argue with him too much. I understand now that I could have saved me a lot of heartbreak if I had just left him earlier, but I was starting to believe the things he said about me, and he had me convinced that he was the only one who would ever love me. So I stayed.” She blinked away a few tears, but not before Dean had noticed. He walked over to her and wrapped his hand around her, hugging her to him.
“Want me to kick his ass?” Dean asked in a soft voice.
“I kind of do,” Louisa answered with a slight chuckle.
**
“You know you didn't deserve all that, right?” Dean asked, looking into her eyes.
“Look, I appreciate that, but I really don't want to talk about it.”
“That's fine,” Dean said as he stood from his chair. “If you change your mind, I’m here.”
“Thank you.”
**
Louisa didn't eat anything for breakfast, she knew that the best hangover cure for her was a gallon of water, some sleep, and after that, the greasiest burger she could get her hands on.
When they had loaded everything in the car, she laid down in the back seat, using her jacket as a pillow, and within minutes she had fallen asleep. Dean kept stealing glances at her in the rear view mirror. She looked so peaceful when she slept, and for a second he let his mind wander, imagining how it would be like to fall asleep next to her, to have his hands wrapped around her as they slept.
The stolen glances didn't go unnoticed by Sam, but he chose to let it be. He had been a little smitten by Louisa at first, but she had become more like a sister to him and all those feelings had gone away. Now he was rooting for his brother. Dean had been forced to grow up way too soon when their father had set out to avenge the death of his wife, their mother. Dean had done his absolute best to take care of his brother, but Sam hadn't always made it easy on him. It wasn't until he had grown up that Sam realized how much his brother had sacrificed for him, to give him a chance to be a ‘real’ boy. Dean deserved to be happy, he deserved to find love. And Sam had no doubt in his mind that it could be with Louisa.
**
They had been on the road for a couple of hours when they stopped for gas. While Sam went in to pay, Dean had taken off his jacket and carefully laid it across Louisa’s sleeping form. She stirred a little, but she didn't open her eyes.
Three more hours went before Louisa finally woke up. “I need a giant burger, and all the mozzarella sticks,” she said, her voice groggy from sleep.
“It's aaaliiive,” Dean joked, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
“Yeah, yeah… now.. Where did we land on the food?”
“We still have a few hours of driving ahead, but I'll stop at the next diner.” Dean suggested.
“Awesome.”
**
When they reached the hotel, Louisa was finally starting to feel human again, but she was grateful that it was late and actual work would have to wait until morning. Sam had gone to the police station to see if he could get the case files so that he could start going over them, and Dean had gone out in search of more food, Louisa took the opportunity to grab a shower before the boys got back.
Sam and Dean had both apologized profusely for only getting one room, but she had tried to assure them that it was okay. There was only two beds, but there was a small couch she could curl up on. Hopefully it was just for a couple of days.
Louisa stepped out of the shower and dried off, cursing herself when she realized that her bag was still in the other room. She carefully opened the door. “Sam? Dean?” No response. She wrapped the towel around herself and then stepped into the room to get her bag. She had just picked it up when the front door opened and Dean walked in.
“Oh.. I'm sorry. I didn't mean.. .I should have knocked,” Dean rambled, locking his eyes on a strange stain on the carpet.
“It's fine, Dean. I'll just go get dressed,” she said. The whole thing felt a little awkward, but she tried to just shrug it off.
She got dressed and brushed her hair in a hurry, and when she came back into the room, Sam had returned.
“So, did you get the files from the cops?” Dean asked as they started on the pizza he had brought.
After that they all fell into a conversation about the case. Louisa didn't say too much, she just sat back and listened, watched them work. She wanted to soak up every last detail, she wanted to learn. Besides, it was hard to take her eyes of off Dean as he concentrated on reading the files. His eyebrows scrunched together, his jaw clenched, and his emerald eyes turned brownish.
“I think I'm gonna try and get some sleep,” Louisa said, following up with a yawn. She took a pillow and a blanket from one of the beds and then curled up on the small couch.
“You can take the bed, and I'll sleep on the couch,” Sam offered.
Louisa gave him a snarky look. “Dude. You’re like forty feet tall. I appreciate the chivalry, but I'm good on the couch,” she said honestly. She wrapped herself in the blanket and closed her eyes, effectively stopping the conversation.
Sam and Dean weren’t far behind her. They knew that tomorrow was going to be a long day, and for once they had an opportunity to get a few extra hours of sleep, so they took it. Sam took the bed that was closest to the bathroom and Dean got the one closer to the couch where Louisa was curled up. There was a small stripe of light coming from between the curtains, that hit Louisa’s face, and Dean couldn't help but stare at her. He regretted how he had treated her in the beginning, that he hadn't even given her a chance. If he had, he might have noticed sooner how amazing she was. She was smart, funny, strong and independent, and she was quite possibly the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He didn't like the realization that dawned on him in that moment, that he was absolutely captivated by this girl, that he was falling for her, that he had started imagining a future with her. He laid awake for a while, just looking at her.
Would there be any interest in an OFC writing challenge? Song prompts, far away due date, AUs welcome. I'd let it be pretty open, just like the Baby Challenge, aside from the Original Female Character requirement. Thoughts? Interest? (Tagging an incomplete list of people while I'm on mobile...) @anotherwinchesterfangirl @babypieandwhiskey @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @demondean-for-kingofhell @helvonasche @ilostmyshoe-79 @idreamofhazel @impala-dreamer @kittenofdoomage @kayteonline @iwantthedean @littlegreenplasticsoldier @mrsjohnsmith @notnaturalanahi @one-shots-supernatural @roxy-davenport @supernatural-jackles @winchestersinthedrift @wheresthekillswitch @seenashwrite
