18+. tw incest, mentions of abuse/grooming. this is sad. DEAD DOVE.
winchester!sister!reader who has a complicated relationship with sam and dean because john sheltered you. winchester!sister!reader who had a codependent and obsessive relationship with john that sam and dean didn’t know about. when john dies and you’re forced to hunt with sam and dean, it’s clear just how badly their father did a number on you. when they’re on a hunt and you’re trying to do your own thing, dean is strict— john’s little soldier, “i’m dad now, you understand that? he’s not here anymore so i’m the next best thing, and when i give you orders, you follow them.”
this command flips something in your brain, and later when they’re in the motel while sam is out grabbing them dinner, you take it as an opportunity to sit on your big brother’s lap. dean is confused at first, where did this sudden affection come from? when you starts pulling at his belt buckle, he’s stilling your hand by grabbing it with his own. “woah— hey, hey! what’re you doing?”
“thought you said you were dad now?” you look at him with a perplexed gaze. why is he stopping her?
“yeah, i did say that but… did dad let you do this?” dean’s stomach turns. the thought of his father and his sister nearly makes him sick, but the rejected look on your face is putting him in a tough position.
“uh huh,” you mutter, whining gently as you squirms your hand in his, “dad loved me so much. i was his special girl! just like mom.”
guilt consumes dean. the fact that this seems so normal to you, that in order to feel your brother’s love, you need to cross these boundaries is absurd. but dean isn’t a psychiatrist, dean isn’t a therapist, and dean has only ever been a big brother to sammy, which means he only knows how to put his siblings first. he went to hell for sammy, after all.
“what do you need from me?” dean questions, letting his sister’s hand go as he brings his other hand to caress her cheek. “tell me.”
heyyy i love ur ajax fics! idk if you’re into supernatural but if you are willing to could you do an ajax x reader where reader goes to nevermore but she’s a winchester sibling? and on parents day sam and dean come and they’re super put off abt meeting monsters and get really protective over reader when they meet her gorgon boyfriend?
Winchester Woe \ Ajax Petropolus x Winchester!reader \ Supernatural AU
wordcount: 2.8k
content/warnings: reader is Sam & Dean's younger sister, Dean is overtly anti-outcast, reader has a strained relationship with her brothers, protective big brothers, a little angst, eventual fluff/comfort.
a\n notes: I have not watched Supernatural in the longest time. Probably a good five years, so this was a real throwback for me and I loved it. Because I love the early seasons so much, I very much imagine early season S&D for this, even if the timeline doesn’t make sense that way. I also wanna do some hc’s to expand on this at some point! | masterlist
Nothing scared you.
You weren’t being tough or putting on a brave face. It was just a fact. With the way you were dragged up, nothing was able to put a single ounce of anxiety into you.
Except the idea that within the next hour, your brothers would step foot onto Nevermore grounds for the first time.
And Sam and Dean Winchester didn’t play well with outcasts.
Despite the parades of cars and bustle of parents coming to and fro, the cobbled plaza in front of the school was still relatively calm. You leaned against the cool stone wall watching. Several of your year mates were being pulled into rib crushing hugs, some resisting, some giving in.
You found Ajax in the crowd, somehow, your watch lingering as his mom’s cradled his cheeks, checking over him like he was a toddler fresh in from playing in the dirt. Your lips ticked up into a soft smirk as he protested, trying to push away from them gently despite the grin on his face. For a second, his eyes found yours as he glanced beyond them, his grin softening a little, looking as if he was about to point you out to them, only to be whisked off into another round of smothering.
The roar of an engine revving pulled your eyes away from the crowds, the unmistakable beat of AC/DC’s Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap blaring from open windows confirming your worst nightmare. They had come after all.
The tyres crunched the gravel onto the cobblestones, the black paint freshly washed and waxed, as always. Several groups parted as Baby pulled up, each one watching uncomfortably, a few of them muttering to one another under their breaths as the engine finally shut off – the music with it – and they climbed out, eyes searching over peoples heads until they spotted you, kicking off the wall.
You didn’t exactly sprint over to them as Sam rounded the car, Dean simply leaning against the closed drivers door, watching you with a slightly raised brow.
Your arms remained crossed over your chest, unimpressed, as you slowed in front of him. “Jerk.”
His grin finally broke, “Loser.”
A smile forced itself into your cheeks as you finally launched yourself at them, arms swinging around both of their necks as they lifted you slightly off the edge of your toes.
“How you doing, squirt?” Sam huffed as he put you down, heavy hand clapping you on the head and ruffling your hair.
You cringed, ducking a little to escape it. “I’m good. School’s good.”
“You sure?” Dean held your gaze intently. “I have a to go bag in the trunk, you can be outta here in under 60 seconds fla–”
“Dean,” you stopped him, lips pursed, unimpressed. “We are not having this conversation again.
He huffed, rolling his head to the side and clenching his jaw. “I really thought you would be through with this whole… outcast thing by now.”
Sam glanced between the two of you for a moment, swallowing thickly. “I think what Dean is trying to say is that we miss you,” he tried, offering you an apologetic smile.
“Hey, you’re the bad influence here,” Dean corrected him, holding up a finger, “You’re the one who said school was a good idea.”
“School is a good idea,” he stressed.
“I didn’t bother, and look at me. Just fine!” Dead held his hands out to the side, you and Sam simply glanced him up and down, nodding slowly.
“Yeah—” you drawled, “The picture of stability.”
He frowned as you started walking off, tucking his hands deep in his jacket pockets as they followed after you. “At least Sam went to a normal school.”
You span on your heels, pacing backwards a few steps. “Will you keep your voice down?”
He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just sayin’, a Winchester surrounded by outcasts? What would dad say if he found out.”
You stopped dead, nearly tripping both of your brothers up.
“Dean, I’m an outcast. Sammy is too!”
“Yeah, well–” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, “you two are different.”
“Different how?” Sam joined you in crossing his arms over his chest, turning with raised brows to watch your brother flounder. You had to fight a self-satisfied smirk.
He just looked at you for a moment, lips opening and closing a few times.
“Point proven,” you huffed.
“I just—“ he pressed his lips into a firm line. “I don’t get why you had t’ come here. Why not join the family business?”
You scoffed, “you know exactly why. You—“ you jabbed your finger into his chest “—would smoke this entire school in an instant if I wasn’t here.”
Sam’s hand on your shoulder had you stepping back before Dean could rebut. “Okay, I think that’s enough. Let’s just—“ he swallowed thickly, glancing around before settling back on you “—try to make it through lunch. At least.”
“Fine.” You huffed.
“Good.”
“Great.”
“Fantastic.”
Dean just had to have the last word.
“So, what are your classmates like?” Sam asked with a soft smile as you pulled apart your sandwich. Dean only continued to glance around the quad, chewing a little obnoxiously though his heaped plate, as if surveying for his next move.
“They’re nice – really nice,” you started, relaxing a little when Sam’s smile turned more genuine. “It feels good to be around others who know what it’s like being different, you know.”
Sam nodded as he swallowed the bite of his food. “Are there many others? Like us, I mean?” His voice quietened a little on instinct, as if forgetting that this was the one safe space he could talk about it. Dean finally snapped back to paying attention.
“Yeah,” you breathed a soft laugh, “there are loads of psychics – different types, too. There is one guy thiugh – my friend Xaiver – he has visions like ours. ‘Turns them into art.” Sam’s eyes widened a little with intrigue.
“Art?” Dean scoffed a little, picking up his fourth sandwich.
“It’s impressive. He can bring them to life, too,” you defended, turning back to Sam with a smile, “It’s crazy.”
Dean huffed a laugh, “Yeah, sounds it.”
Sam shot him a disapproving glare on your behalf.
You only rolled your eyes, dropping the rest of your sandwich back to your plate. Your gaze drifted a little, flicking each of your friends as they chatted with their families, most of them happily – Ajax in particular. Your gaze softened as you focused on him, his eyes meeting yours as if by chance between the throngs of people, instantly breaking into a boyish smile.
“Who do you keep looking at?” Dean twisted in his seat with a scowl, eyes trying to follow yours.
“No one!” You rushed, swallowing thickly and going back to moving your food around your plate.
“Oh yeah?” Sam had turned around too by now and you finally glanced up, feeling the blood drain from your cheeks.
“Guys, really, it’s–” Your heart stopped as you watched Ajax stand, excusing himself from his table quickly. You had told him about your brothers – well, mostly. Kind of. He knew they existed, at least. But you were mostly hoping he would be so busy with his moms all day that you could avoid them being any closer than 12 feet at any one time.
“Hey, (y/n), are these your brothers?”
“Ajax!” You offered a tight lipped smile, hoping desperately that he could see the warning in your eyes. “Y-yeah this is Sam and Dean,” you gestured to each respectively, risking a glance at them.
It took a swift two kicks under the table to stop them staring, their eyes fixed firmly above his eyes as his beanie twitched slightly.
“Mind if I join?” Ajax turned to you, the light confused furrow in his brow evening out as his eyes tore away from your brothers. “My mom is putting Xavier through 20 questions and I fear I’m next.”
You are not going to like what’s about to happen here, then, you thought.
It was Sam who spoke first, “of course.” His elbow connecting with Dean’s side propped a forced smile onto his face.
That’s when Ajax made the worst mistake he possibly could have. As he climbed into the bench beside you, he pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head, his hand running down your back.
It was force of habit, you knew that. He did it every meal time when he found you in the cafeteria.
Your whole body tensed, and as he settled and looked back up, you felt him tense too, his eyes widening.
Sam and Dean were the picture of livid. But that quiet, dangerous kind that had their brows down turned, lips pressed tightly. Glaring daggers into Ajax’s skull.
You swallowed thickly, your hand finding Ajax’s under the table.
“Sam, Dean—“ you started nervously, “—this is Ajax. My boyfriend.”
Their glares did not budge.
Then the next worse thing that could of happened, did.
Whether it was because they sensed your heat beside them or what, one of Ajax’s snakes slipped from beneath his beanie, reaching out tentatively towards you.
Your brother’s eyes fell on it immediately.
You cleared your throat.
“He’s a gorgon…”
Barely a beat passed before they finally exclaimed in unison “gorgon?” “Boyfriend?”
Dean’s voice was louder, his eyes flicking between you with a dry laugh. “Nah ah, we ain’t doing boyfriends around here.”
“Really?” You scoffed, almost phasing out the fact Ajax was beside you entirely. “That is your problem?”
“I think I should go-“ Ajax started to rise beside you, your brothers snapping back to him in unison-
“Sit.”
Ajax fell back to the bench with an almost comical gulp, his hand gripping yours again under the table.
Sam leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “You’re a gorgon. You turn people to stone?”
Ajax cleared his throat. “Uh—only if I take my beanie off. And I don’t… you know. Not unless it’s an accident. Which doesn’t really happen anymore.” He gave a sheepish smile, but it fell under the twin glares he was getting.
“Accident?” Dean barked out a laugh that was anything but funny. “That’s comforting.”
You shot him a glare of your own. “Ajax hasn’t hurt anyone. He’s not dangerous.”
“Not dangerous?” Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam. “Didn’t we just see one of his… little head-friends try to cuddle up to her?”
“They like her,” Ajax blurted out, then immediately went scarlet. His snakes wriggled, betraying him.
“Doesn’t matter. The problem here is boyfriend. As in our sister’s boyfriend.” Dean’s tone dripped with disdain like it was the dirtiest word he’d ever had to say.
You threw your hands up. “Seriously? He’s literally the nicest guy I’ve ever dated and that’s your problem?”
Ajax perked up at that, giving you a shy smile. “Nicest guy, huh?”
“Don’t get comfortable,” Dean snapped at him, then jabbed a finger toward you. “Because you are way too young for a boyfriend.”
“Dean!” you protested, heat rising in your cheeks.
Sam finally chimed in, his voice calmer but no less protective. “You’re still our little sister. That doesn’t change.” His arms crossed. “So you think you’re good enough for her?”
Ajax hesitated, swallowed, then looked both brothers dead in the eye. “No. Probably not. But I’m gonna try like hell anyway.”
For a moment, the air in the quad went still, like even the hum of conversation around your table seemed to have faded.
Dean snorted, shaking his head. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.” He jabbed a finger at Ajax. “But if you hurt her—gorgonzola or not—I swear to God I’ll find a way to salt-and-burn your snakes one by one.”
“Gorgon.” Sam corrected quietly, still staring Ajax down.
“Whatever.”
Ajax paled. His snakes froze.
You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Great. Exactly how I pictured this going.”
The rest of lunch passed in horrifically awkward silence. Only the sound of chewing and Dean’s teeth grinding breaking it.
Ajax had finished off the rest of your food. You were far too irate to swallow another bite.
Miraculously, you had managed to swerve your brothers when Sam had to take a call, you had only rolled your eyes when he had answered as Isaac Angus, pest control and stalked back to the car.
You had followed them, partially driven by curiosity, to the edge of campus, lingering against the wall.
“Hey,” Ajax’s voice made you jump. “I thought I saw you disappear this way.” You were greatful when he stopped beside you, letting you lean some of your weight into his side, his arm sliding around your waist the perfect comfort.
“Yeah, sorry.” You offered him a poor attempt at a smile, your eyes quickly going back to Sam, trying to read his lips and piece things together.
“Your brothers are… nice?” He tried, brows furrowing in confusion as you both watched them from the gates, Dean trying to get info from Sam as he paced around the car, still on the phone.
“They’re impossible.”
Ajax’s shoulders relaxed instantly, his smile turning more genuine. “Yeah, they’re kinda intense.”
You snorted a laugh. “You don’t even know the half of it.”
“Is that why you don’t talk about them much?”
You hesitated for a second, your fingers reaching out to his as you turned and leaned against the wall. You fixated on them as you played with them aimlessly. He simply let you.
“Partly, I suppose. It’s… complicated.”
“And your parents?” He asked even more softly, not an ounce of pressure in his tone.
“Even more complicated,” you huffed, defaulting to humour to push back the burning in your eyes. “Dean basically raised Sam, then they both kinda did their best with me.”
Ajax nodded slowly, wetting his lips. “Well, I’d say they did a pretty good job, all things considered.” He squeezed your hand gently and you finally looked up, finding his eyes already trained on yours.
You failed to fight the edges of your mouth as they pulled up into a lopsided smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But don’t let them hear that, it will go straight to Dean’s head.”
“Are they like you too?” Ajax glanced back at them again. Sam had hung up now, the two of them bickering a little by the car.
“Psychic?” Ajax nodded. “Sam is, but he was never really taught how to use it. It’s…” you paused again.
“Complicated?” Ajax finished for you. You could only chuckle in response.
“They’ll come around eventually,” you offered quietly. Ajax only scoffed.
“I don’t know about that—”
“They will. I’ll show them,” you leaned up, pressing a gently kiss to his cheek, feeling him flush.
“Oi, loser!” You had become so wrapped up in finally finding a bit of peace that you hadn’t noticed that either of your brothers were making their way back over to you.
You pulled your hand from Ajax’s on instinct, but did nothing to step away.
Dean’s eyes flicked between you uncomfortably. “Look, we have to go, there’s a situation at work,” his cover was flawless, as always.
Despite it all, your stomach still twisted. “Anything serious?”
Sam shook his head, burying his hands in his pockets and glancing at Ajax for a moment before turning back to you. “Shouldn’t be too bad. The systems look fine, they’re just not running as usual.”
Potential demon.
Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Probably just need to bleed them.”
Exorcism, then.
“Right,” you smiled tightly, thankful for once that Ajax was sometimes a little slow to catch on.
“Look, before we go—” Dean started, clearing his throat awkwardly and avoiding looking towards Ajax as he hovered behind you, “—we wanted to…” He winced, as if the words were painful. “Apologize. For being… kinda jerks.”
You blinked, surprise flickering across your face before you could hide it. “You don’t have t—”
“We do.” Sam sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “That being said… we still don’t love the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing.”
Dean shot Ajax a pointed look. “No offense, Medusa Jr.”
Ajax’s snakes twitched, but he nodded quickly. “None taken, sir.”
“Sir – I like that,” Dean muttered with a smirk. You could only roll your eyes at his self-satisfied grin.
Sam, ignoring him, leaned forward a little, his expression dead serious as his eyes fixed on you. “What matters is, it’s your choice. If you ever want out — you call us. Anytime. Day, night, doesn’t matter. We’ll come get you.”
Dean nodded firmly, “No questions asked.”
Your chest tightened, warmth and exasperation tangling together. You rolled your eyes with a laugh, shoving lightly at Dean’s arm. “God, you two are impossible.”
But you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.
With that, they turned and headed for the car, Dean stopping only to turn back, finger raised towards your boyfriend. “Don’t hurt her.”
Ajax didn’t need to know what your brothers were capable of to stiffen in fear, his fingers brushing your wrist for comfort. You could only scoff a laugh.
You weren’t even sure they heard you as you shouted for them to be careful, the engine starting up with a roar of AC/DC once again.
“See ya later, loser!” Sam called from his window.
“In a bit, bitch!”
Ajax slid his hand back into yours, glancing between the car and you a little confused as it pulled away.
He murmured under his breath once they were gone, “I think that went… okay?”
You laughed again, softer this time, and squeezed his hand. “For them? Yeah. That was basically a blessing.”
imagine you're jack's pretty little girlfriend who's pretty mysterious about her past. He doesn't mind, knows it's hard to open up sometimes, all he knows is that she ran away to escape your father. He notices the way you flinch at the darkness, how you always seem alert even when he thinks there's no reason to be, like you're sensing something he can't, but he doesnt push
you manage to keep things from him, it's easy to lie about that world... Until you're visiting him in the er and your brothers and father come in after a car accident...
I adore fanfics where a group of dysfunctional (young) adults gain custody of a small child and have to grapple with the fact that they are the best choice of guardians this kid has.
Dean: Okay, you’re not gonna help save the world? Then what? What are you going to do?
Castiel, holding child!reader in his arms: I will do what human failures do. I will ignore my horrible life by being a parent and passing my resentment on to my children.
Dean: “Children”?
Claire, opening the door: Can you keep it down? I’m sleeping!
Castiel: I adopted Jimmy Novak’s daughter, Claire.
Dean: ….damnit
Castiel: Oh, do not think of slamming that door, Claire! You are not sleeping this day away! I am signing you up for soccer practice.
Request are open but ONLY if they’re Twilight or Supernatural! <3 Have a nice day/night
<3 Have a nice day/night
Castiel x Fem!Winchester!Reader
Word count: 1278
Warnings: Head injury!
Y/N/N: Your Nickname
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Dean always said I don’t go down easy. Usually, he means it like a brag. Like it’s something carved into the Winchester DNA right alongside bad decisions and worse timing. Tonight, it feels more like a warning. The hunt went wrong fast. One second, we’re sweeping the farmhouse, EMF screaming in Sam’s hand, and the next, the wall explodes.
There’s a crack like a gunshot inside my head. Something heavy clips the side of my skull, and the world tilts violently. I stumble, barely catching myself on one knee, vision blurring at the edges. White sparks burst behind my eyes, but I don’t black out. I’m painfully, vividly awake. Too awake.
“Y/N/N!” Dean yells.
I hear him. I hear everything- the ringing in my ears, the static hum of the EMF, my own breath coming too fast. My hand flies to my head on instinct. It comes away wet. Warm. That’s… not great.
“I’m fine.” I say automatically, even as my stomach rolls. My voice sounds wrong to my own ears, like it’s echoing inside my skull.
“Don’t stop! It’s still here.”
Dean’s boots skid to a stop in front of me. I feel his hands on my shoulders, firm and grounding. Sam’s face swims into view, eyes wide with a fear he’s trying ard to hide.
“You’re bleeding.” Sam says.
“Yeah, I noticed.” I mutter.
The blood keeps trickling, soaking into my hair, sticky and heavy against my neck. Every movement sends a dull, pulsing ache through my head, but the spirit hasn’t left yet. If I stop now, this all means nothing. So I stay upright. I finish the job with blood dripping down my cheek and onto the floor, Dean and Sam backing me up. When it’s over, my knees finally threaten to give out. Dean catches me instantly.
“Okay. That’s it, we’re done.”
I open my mouth to argue. He cuts me off with one look.
“Don’t.” He says. “You win this one by staying alive.”
The ride back to the bunker is a blur of headlights and nausea. I keep my eyes open the whole time, answering every question they throw at me just to prove I can. My hair is stiff with drying blood by the time we get inside. The bunker feels too bright. Every sound hits too hard. The lights, Dean’s pacing, Sam’s worrying. I sit on the edge of the war room table while Sam cleans the wound, his hands gentle but precise.
“It’s not shallow.” He says quietly.
I swallow. “Am I making sense?”
“Yes,” He answers immediately. “You’re coherent. But you’re not okay.”
I don’t argue. I’m too tired. Then the air changes.
“I felt a disturbance.” Cas’s voice is quiet, but lands like a thunderclap.
I look up.
He’s standing near the doorway, trench coat rumpled, eyes already locked on me. The moment he sees the blood, the way my hair is matted dark against my skin, something sharp and ancient flashes across his face. He’s at my side in seconds.
“You are injured.” He says, voice low. Controlled. Dangerous.
“I didn’t pass out.” I say quickly. “I swear, I stayed awake.”
His hand hovers near my face like he’s afraid to touch me. I can feel his grace stirring- warm and restless, strained with effort.
“You are bleeding excessively.”
I manage a weak smile. “You should’ve seen the wall.”
Dean snorts somewhere behind me. Sam doesn’t laugh. Cas doesn’t either.
His eyes flick up to Dean for half a second, then back to me. That’s when his hand finally moves. He cups the side of my face carefully, thumb brushing against my cheekbone, avoiding the worst of the blood.
“I am healing you.” He says, not asking.
“Cas-” I start, but my protest dies the second his grace pours into me.
It’s warmth first. Deep and steady, like sunlight sinking straight into my bones. The pounding ache in my head dulls almost immediately, the pressure easing as if someone is slowly loosening a vise I didn’t realize was crushing my skull. I gasp softly despite myself.
Cas’s other hand comes up, fingers threading gently into my hair near the wound. I feel the strange, humming pull beneath my scalp- skin knitting, vessels sealing, pain retreating like it was never welcome here in the first place. The dizziness fades. The nausea lifts. The world snaps back into sharp, merciful focus. The blood dries, then vanishes entirely beneath his touch.
When he pulls his hand away, I’m breathing hard, heart racing- not from pain, but from the intensity of it. Cas’s grace always feels personal, like he’s touching something deeper than skin. He doesn’t step back. Instead, his jaw tightens.
“What happened?” He demands, voice edged with something dangerously close to anger.
Dean opens his mouth. Sam beats him to it.
“Ghost,” Sam says, steady but tight. “Farmhouse. Residual spirit. It snuck up on us and brought half the wall down before we could salt the room.”
Cas’s eyes snap to him. “It snuck up on you?”
“We handled it,” Dean says quickly. “She stayed conscious the entire time. Finished the hunt.”
“That does not make this acceptable.” Cas snaps.
I blink at him.
That… is not a tone he uses often.
“She could have died!” Cas says, turning back to me now, voice low and shaking with restrained fury.
“A head injury like that- human brains do not respond well to trauma. You bleed. You rupture. You-”
“Cas,” I interrupt softly. “I’m okay.”
“That is not the point,” He says immediately. “You were not okay.”
The room feels smaller suddenly.
Dean straightens, crossing his arms. “Alright, easy there, angel.”
Cas whirls on him.
“She is not expendable,” Cas says sharply. “She is not bait. She is not collateral damage-”
“Whoa,” Dean cuts in. “Nobody said she was.”
“You left her vulnerable,” Cas continues, clearly on a roll now. “And she was injured because of it.”
Dean steps forward. “Hey! She’s our sister!”
“And she is my partner!” Cas fires back without hesitation.
The words hand in the air like a live wire.
Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, no. No, no, no. You do not get some weird angel-claim on her just because you’re dating her.”
Cas bristles. “I am not claiming-”
“You’re acting like it,” Dean snaps. “Like you’re the only one who gets to worry.”
Sam steps between them automatically. “Guys, stop.”
I clear my throat. “I’m still here.”
They both freeze.
Cas looks at me instantly, all that anger draining out of his expression, replaced by something raw and worried. Dean exhales hard, running a hand through his hair.
“I chose to hunt.” I say quietly. “No one pushed me. No one screwed up.”
Cas kneels in front of me without warning, bringing himself eye level with where I’m sitting on the table.
“You should not have to be this strong.” He says softly.
I reach out and rest my hand over his. “But I am.”
He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s steadying himself.
Dean sighs. “Look, Cas… we protect her. Always have.”
Cas opens his eyes, gaze flicking to Dean. “So do I.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then Dean nods once.
“Yeah, I know.”
Then tension eases, just a fraction. Cas turns back to me, thumb brushing gently over my now uninjured temple.
“You frightened me.”
I manage a tired smile. “You should’ve seen their faces.”
That earns me a weak huff of a laugh from Sam. Dean shakes his head. Cas doesn’t smile, but his hand tightens around mine just a little.
notes: challenge fics my beloved !! this one's for @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth's fluff-fest <3 pls check out their works !! (header is also hers)
Sam jumps when the motel door slams shut, and the cold gust of wind that comes with it rustles the pages of your book. Your note page blows sideways off the table, and in reaching for it, you knock heads with Sam.
“Dude what was that for?” you say, glaring at him.
“Don’t look at me. I didn’t close the door, did I?”
You both turn at look at offender, and Dean glares right back, almost challenging.
“Oh, come on, you guys are fine. ‘Bout time you stopped workin’ anyways,” he says gruffly, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto his bed.
“Wh- Dean, this is a case,” Sam says, accentuating the word ‘case’ with a pointed look.
“Yeah Dean, a case. You know, the stuff we do for work,” you join in. You lock eyes with Sam over the table, a mischievous grin spreading on his face. Before you can even say a word, Dean’s already stomping back to the table.
“You’re doin’ that thing again.” He slams Sam’s book closed, tossing it into the duffle by the bed.
“What thing?” you ask innocently.
“You know damn well what thing. The one where you look at each other and then come after me because you two’re on some psychic frequency or somethin’.” Dean’s trying to look annoyed, but he can’t stop a smile from spreading on his face. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything!” you and Sam say in unison, and you raise your hands in mock surrender. Dean gestures helplessly between the two of you, as if to say see what I mean?
“Pack it up nerds, I got somethin’ better planned for us tonight.” He starts rummaging through a plastic bag you hadn’t noticed him carrying. Sam raises an eyebrow, glancing at you before sighing and starting to clear away the books and notes. Dean’s already so absorbed in his task, setting things out on the counter, that he doesn’t notice you creep up behind him.
“So, whatcha doin’ Dean?” you say, and he jumps.
“Every time! Quit creepin’ up on me like that,” he accuses, brandishing a potato at you like a knife.
“That’s not how you use a yam,” you say accusingly.
“First of all, yes, it is, if you use your imagination. Second of all, it’s not a yam.”
“What happened to your hunter’s instinct huh?” you tease.
Dean mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “Don’t need it when you’re both in the same room as me,” and you give him a soft smile.
“Yeah, Dean, what exactly is it we’re doing?” Sam chimes in. He’s finished cleaning the table off and has now hooked a finger over the edge of the plastic bag, peeking inside cautiously.
“We are takin’ a break.”
“Really? Now?” Sam says, frustration creeping into his tone.
“A break?” you ask at the same time.
“Jeez, is there an echo in here or something? Yes, a break. Now. So, either start helpin’ me out or move your asses outta my kitchen so I can make my mashed potatoes in peace.” He prods a wooden spoon at you, and you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it. Dean Winchester, getting territorial over a kitchen?
“Okay Master Chef, what’s my job?” you ask, giving Dean a mock salute.
He rolls his eyes before gesturing to a slightly lumpy paper bag of small potatoes. He hands you his pocketknife. “Cut ‘em up. And be careful with my knife or I will make you our next case,” he says, turning back to a sad looking package of shredded cheese. He takes a small carton of milk from the bag, pouring some of it into a chipped mug and setting it in the microwave.
“What about me?” Sam says from the corner. You’d almost forgotten he was there he was so quiet.
“You? Uh, let me think,” Dean says. Obviously, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “There’s a couple of mugs in Baby still. Get those and bring ‘em in.”
“Why don’t I get the important jobs?” he complains.
“Because we don’t have time for you to measure out perfect little squares of potato,” you say from your spot at the counter. Dean snorts a laugh while Sam tosses you a glare over your shoulder, his smile betraying his anger.
“Careful there, or I just might make you use the bad mug.”
You gasp, dramatically placing a hand over your heart. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh yes I would.”
“You can’t. I’m older.”
“And I’m older than both of you. Shut up and get the mugs Sammy,” Dean says in that older-brother tone that means ‘quit arguing’ but also ‘this is home’.
Once Sam’s disappeared, you turn to Dean again. The pile of cut potatoes grows larger on the counter beside you, and the microwave beeps aggressively when it’s done heating the milk.
“Why is this damn thing so loud?” Dean mutters to himself.
“We’re in a motel in the middle of nowhere Dean, be glad it even works,” you reply. “What’s all this about, anyways?”
Dean looks at you for a long moment, clearly deciding whether or not he should tell you. Everything in him is saying don’t tell the kids what’s going on, but he can never say no, not when you ask him like he’s important.
“Just, uh, wanted a break. After that last one I guess I just needed to-.” His breath catches on the inhale. “To remind myself what matters. That you and Sammy are still okay. That I’ll be okay, if I give it time. So, I thought…” he trails off.
“Hey. It’s alright. I’ll be honest, that one kinda got to me too. Seeing those kids just-.” You shiver slightly at the memory. It was a werewolf preying on children. When you’d finally tracked it down, you’d been just a second too late. You and Dean had walked in just in time to see the thing go after a little girl, and her older brother couldn’t do anything but watch. You’d pretended not to notice the way Dean flinched at the sight, and he’d conveniently ignored the way you instinctively reached back for Sam protectively. “We’re here now though, that’s a thing of the past.”
“Yeah. Guess so. But still…if anything happened to my little siblings I swear to God.” Dean’s getting worked up now, and you rest a calming hand on his shoulder, just as Sam bangs the motel door open again, hands full of mugs.
“Am I interrupting something?” he says, smile on his face disappearing once he sees Dean’s expression. “Not a good time?”
“No Sam, you’re fine. Hand me the mugs,” you say.
“We’re good Sammy. Just talkin’.” Something about Dean’s tone makes Sam file it away for later under ‘things we’ll talk about when we’re ready’. He doesn’t miss the way Dean’s eyes linger on him at the door, just to make sure this was all still real.
You elbow Dean’s ribs, drawing his attention back to your cut potatoes. He inspects them carefully, making a show out of it by holding a few up to the light and turning them over in his hands. Seemingly satisfied, he nods and gives you a pat on the shoulder.
“Hey Sammy, wanna come break some stuff?” he shouts over his shoulder. Sam’s sitting on the chair, untying his shoes, but his head pops right up when Dean says ‘break’. His eyes practically light up with joy, and he yanks his shoes off without fully undoing them. You laugh at Sam’s eagerness to destroy some poor potatoes.
“Hell yeah I do. What am I breaking exactly?”
Dean hands Sam a fork.
“Potatoes.”
“Oh, so you’re gonna make me cut ‘em up all nice and perfect and then Sam’s gonna destroy them anyways?” you huff.
“You win some, you lose some. Go find a blanket that isn’t full of holes for me, would ya?” Dean asks, gesturing vaguely at the beds. You think you know where he’s going with this; the microwave mashed potatoes, the packets of popcorn sitting on the counter, requests for a nice blanket. It’s just like in motels when the three of you were kids, sitting huddled together and watching some old movie, pretending the world outside didn’t exist for a few hours.
You search for a suitable blanket while Sam takes his anger out on the potatoes. You pick your head up when you hear them bickering, shaking it with a laugh when you find out it’s over which one of them gets the green mug. Dean claims it because he’s “older and therefore better”, and Sam just sighs before giving in. You both know it’s because it’s Dean’s favourite colour, but you’ll let him have the satisfaction of winning the argument. Sam would have given it to him anyways.
The microwave beeps again, and the mugs of mashed potatoes come out steaming. Dean mixes them around with the milk and some shredded cheese before sticking a spoon in each one and sauntering over with all too much pride for a man who just stuck them in a microwave for a bit. You’re already sitting on the bed with Sam; blanket stretched over your laps and feet tucked under his legs. He’s flipping through the channels on the TV, searching for a movie.
Dean drops heavily into the mattress on your other side, handing you and Sam both a mug. He makes sure to give Sam the bad mug, just because he’d threatened you with it earlier.
“Oh, come on, why do I get the bad one?” Sam whines, taking it with both hands and prodding the potatoes with the spoon.
“Because you threatened it in the first place. Move over,” he says, turning his attention from Sam to poke your leg. You shuffle over awkwardly, leaving just enough room for Dean to stretch out under the blanket.
Later, when the mugs are stacked by the rickety motel sink and the smell of microwaved popcorn fills the air, you sink into the mattress between the brothers. Sam is on your right side, watching the TV with half-lidded eyes. Dean is on your left, slightly more intrigued by the movie, but you don’t miss the way he keeps checking on you and Sam every few minutes.
“Hey. Dean. We’re all here, it’s fine,” you say gently. Sam perks up at that, shifting under the blanket to a more upright position.
“Yeah, I know. Can’t help it, I guess. Gotta keep an eye on my kiddos,” he says with a smile.
You lean a little into his side, and he wraps an arm about your back. His hand rests over where your shoulder touches Sam’s, and even Sam shrugs into the touch a little. Dean tugs the blanket higher on his shoulders, returning his attention to the final minutes of the movie.
When the light from the TV stops flickering across the ceiling, Sam’s trying desperately to pretend he’s not falling asleep where he’s sitting. His head keeps tipping to the side, and he keeps jerking it back upright with a sheepish grin. Even Dean’s eyes have started to close.
“Hey, Dean?” Sam says, sounding half-asleep.
“Yeah?” Dean answers.
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“I- Tonight? Everything? I mean seriously, we’re here because of you and I don’t think we tell you that enough.”
“He’s right Dean. You’re always there, and I guess it’s just about time we let you relax too. You don’t need to protect us tonight, okay? Just for once. We’ve got you,” you say softly.
Dean opens his mouth to make a joke, closing it again when he sees the sincerity in both your and Sam’s gazes.
“Yeah. Alright. Just for tonight.”
It’s quiet for a while before you hear Sam laugh gently to himself under his breath. He pokes his head up, a goofy look in his eyes.
“Hey Dean?”
“What now?”
“We are pickin’ up that case again tomorrow, right?”
Dean rolls his eyes, sighing loudly. “C’mon Sammy, already? Just shut up and go to sleep.”
You and Sam exchange a look before bursting out laughing. Even beside you, Dean’s shoulders shake as he tries and fails to pretend he’s still asleep. Eventually, Dean shrugs further into the blanket with a contented sigh, and Sam mirrors him on your other side. You fall asleep to the sound of their steady breathing; Dean’s heartbeat in your ear setting a comforting backtrack to the night, and Sam’s head on your shoulder a grounding weight. They’re warm and comfortable, and it’s just like the good old days. The three Winchesters, never far from each other. Because that’s what family is for; cozy fall nights in cold motel rooms, sharing comfort food with your comfort people.
