Warnings: angst. Seriously…like–way too much angst.
Summary: in one of the most heartbreaking moments of Dean’s life, he and Team Free Will say their goodbyes. (Dean’s POV)
She’s so beautiful. The way the light shines on her face makes me have to catch my breath every time. I look at her and it’s like staring into the sun, though I can never look away.
She does this thing when she’s thinking, she’ll just nibble on her lip without even noticing she’s doing it. Her skin smells like gentle lavender like the flowers just bloom under her skin. And her eyes–oh, those eyes take me somewhere far away with every glance.
On the horizon, I can see the sun beginning to set. The water is practically still, though the breeze still blows softly through her hair. She’s a force of nature all on her own.
As I study her with tears in my eyes, I watch the final colors left in the sky make her skin glow. Never have I longed for someone the way I do her, and I know that I never will again.
Summary: Dean broke up with you to get you out of the hunter life that you knew nothing about. What happens when you end up finding each other again after you had just gotten released form Crowley’s clutches?
Square Filled: torture (2021) for @spndarkbingo
Author’s Note: this is based on a tiktok! here is the link. go follow the person who made the video!
Much to Dean’s guilt, this is his tenth date that he’s been on since the two of you broke up. Half of the girls he goes out with, he doesn’t really have any interests in them, but it helps fill the hole where you once were. He didn’t break up with you because he lost feelings for you–he thought the world of you and was planning on proposing to you. It’s because of the fact that you weren’t a hunter, and you didn’t know how to protect yourself from any kind of monster.
If they somehow found out that you were his girlfriend, then they would definitely go for you to get to him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Crowley got his hands on you, only to torture you for information on him. He wouldn’t be a good boyfriend or a good husband if he dragged you into his shit only for you to get killed because of it.
That’s why he’s on yet another date with a girl he just met the day before. She is beautiful, like all the others, but no one compares to your beauty. All Dean can think about is you sitting across from him, throwing bits of bread at his face for something he said. Charlotte, Catherine, Caroline… whatever her name is, must sense how broken Dean is because she sets her fork down with a sigh.
“Everything okay?” Dean asks.
“I’m just trying to see why that girl keeps staring at you,” she says.
Wow, that is not what Dean was expecting her to say. He frowns and turns around, locking eyes with the one woman that he never thought he’d see. You’re standing there with such a heartbroken look on your face at the fact that he is on a date. No words are being said, but everything is said between the looks in your eyes. You shove your hoodie sleeves further down your arms to hide your skin from prying eyes.
Breaking the eye contact, you walk to the bar where a strong drink is calling your name. Why are you at this bar? Why did Sam lead you here? Did he know his brother was on a date? Unbeknownst to Dean, you’ve still been in contact with Sam because you didn’t want to lose him as a friend.
Dean watches you go to the bar with emotional eyes, turning to his date with tears in his eyes. He clears his throat and gives his date a smile to pretend like he’s fine.
“Is there something going on between you two?”
“Nothing at all,” he lies.
“Really? Because your eyes tell me a different story.”
Dean sighs and looks to the bar again, watching as you down a double shot. The end of your sleeve falls down, and his eyes widen at the scars littering your arm. They’re mostly long and jagged scars, but there are small circular scars as well. Where the fuck did you get those? He knows your body more than you do, and he would remember scars on your arms.
Someone did that to you while he wasn’t there to protect you.
You feel his eyes on you from across the room, but you ignore them. They burn holes into you, and you’re not sure you won’t crack under the pressure. The bartender mouths something to you, but you’re too overwhelmed to understand what he is saying.
“I’m sorry. Here you go.”
You toss double the amount of your drink onto the bar counter, not caring about the amount. Your bar stool screeches on the floor as you leave, and you rush out of the bar as quickly as you can.
“Y/N, wait!” Dean says ten seconds later.
You halt on the sidewalk and sigh deeply, wiping your eyes with the back of your hoodie before turning around.
“Dean, I didn’t know you were here.”
“Where did you get those?” Dean jumps right into it.
You knew he would ask about them if he saw them. You weren’t careful in hiding them apparently. What’s the point in lying to him at this stage? You’re never going to see him again, so what the hell?
“Someone named Crowley found me and hurt me until I told him where you were,” you say truthfully. “But I never gave in. He eventually let me go when he realized I was no ‘fun’ anymore.”
Shock is all that you can see on Dean’s face. This is why you didn’t want to see him. You knew you would break down if you ever saw his face again. You’re trying not to cry, not in front of him.
This is exactly what Dean was afraid of happening, and he wasn’t even there to protect you.
Dean is confused, though, because Crowley hasn’t shown up in a while. Neither has his demons, so if he was torturing you, then he must not have gotten what he wanted.
“Why didn’t you tell him where I was? I would have taken care of it!”
“If Crowley had found you, then he would have hurt you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you in pain.” The weight of your words settles on Dean’s shoulders, and his heart breaks in two. “Go back to your date, Dean.”
You shove your hands into your hoodie’s front pocket and turn away from him.
“I’ll see you around.”
Dean watches you with tears in his eyes, but he doesn’t stop you. You have scars from people that never should have been in your life, and it’s all because of him. You’re never going to be the same, and it’s all Dean’s fault.
Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why! Follow my library blog @queenofdeansbooty-writes where I reblog all my stories, so you can follow that if you can’t be tagged!
Request by @theothermrswinchester: You were in love with dean, he was in love with you. You admitted, but he wouldn’t for fear he’d lose you. You leave him,, and haven’t seen him for a few months. Dean turns into a demon now. Hunts you down, to admit he loves you. Since he knows nothing can get you now, and he’s not afraid.
Summary: Girl loves boy. Boy secretly loves girl. Girl leaves home. Boy doesn’t follow Girl. Months later, Boy finally finds Girl… but it’s not in good faith.
Square Filled: stalking (2021) for @spndarkbingo
Author’s Note: feedback is important!
The library is filled with silence as you and Dean continue to stare at one another. No one has said a thing in the past fifteen minutes after what was just confessed. It wasn’t real before, more of a hope or a feeling, but now that it’s out in the open, it’s as real as you and Dean. Sam walked into the room five minutes ago, and he’s been watching you and his brother since.
“Are you two going to say something to each other?” Sam asks, breaking the silence.
“I already said something. It’s Dean’s turn,” you say and continue to look at the older brother.
Dean wants to say it back. He wants to tell you everything you want to hear. He wants to tell you that he’s so in love with you that it hurts… but he can’t. If he says it, then it becomes real, and then you could get seriously hurt because of it. Too many people have died because of him, and he is not going to let that happen to you.
If he pushes you away, then at least you’ll be alive to hate him.
“There’s nothing I need to say.”
If the sound of a heart breaking could be heard, then both brothers would hear it. You know he’s lying. You know how he feels, so why is he denying it? Does he not want to feel this way toward you? Maybe you don’t know him as much as you claim to know. The Mark of Cain has really changed him, and it’s not for the better.
“Well then. I guess there is no point in me staying here any longer,” you say and stand up.
“What? You’re leaving?” Sam gasps.
“Unless I’m given a reason to stay,” you ask, looking at Dean.
“If you want to go, then you should go,” he says and grabs his beer to drink it.
Without another word, you leave the table and march to your room, closing the door with a soft slam.
“Are you insane? You’re just going to let her leave?” Sam barks at his brother.
“What? She’s an independent woman. I’m not going to be the thing to hold her here if she doesn’t want to be here.”
“You know damn well that’s not what she meant.”
Sam scoffs and leaves the library to try and convince you to stay here. Dean may be impossible at some times, but he’d never want you to leave. Sam didn’t spend countless sleepless nights with Dean to hear how supple your breasts look in certain clothes.
That was three months ago, and you’ve been on your own ever since.
You didn’t want to know what Dean was up to because you left to get away from him. You went through a new guy every week just to try to get over him. It never worked, but you’re going to keep trying until Dean is no longer on your mind.
While you were trying to get Dean out of your mind, Dean has been doing everything he could to get you back into his life. He has a new look on life, and he’s no longer afraid of small things like death or losing a loved one. He’d never let you out of his sight, so he doesn’t have to worry about you leaving him. He has new powers–demonic powers–so things like fear and emotions aren’t in his vocabulary anymore.
The second he turned to the dark side, he knew where you were. He kept you in sight for months, stalking you to figure out when the best time to grab you is. You’re not hunting anymore, but you do go to hunter’s bars to meet men there. It’s pathetic, really, but given your circumstances, he understands.
For the past few months, you knew there was something over your shoulder watching you, but you could never figure out who it was. You’d know it if it were Sam or Dean since they aren’t very good at being subtle. However, whenever you do look over your shoulder… there is no one there.
Some people have a sixth sense of knowing when they’re being watched, and your sixth sense has been going off ever since you left the Bunker. It’s not a good kind of watching either–not like an angel watching over you sort of shit. No, this is more sinister as if you’re in danger.
It’s hard knowing there is something out there watching you, waiting for the right moment to strike. Not knowing when that moment will come.
The bunker is the only home you’ve ever known, and you don’t have any money to grab yourself a real place. So, much like what Sam and Dean did before finding the Bunker, you live in and out of motels around the United States. You take on odd jobs to help pay for it. It’s not ideal, but it works right now.
Or it did.
You put the key into your door, walking in when you get it unlocked. You’d just come back from a night of hustling men for money at pool. It’s something Dean taught you how to master. You take one foot in the room and immediately freeze. The lights are off and it’s in the same condition that you left it in, but there is something off about the room. You’re not even sure you want to go inside right now, but you do anyway just to prove to yourself that nothing is in here.
However, when you turn on the light, that’s when whoever is in the room attacks.
You’re slammed into the door behind you, and you look into familiar green eyes that you left a long time ago.
“Dean? What the hell! You fucking scared me!” you gasp.
“It’s nice to see you too. Long time no see, Y/N. You broke my heart when you left.”
“When I left? You let me leave! You didn’t want to man up about how you felt!”
“Yeah, and now I couldn’t care less,” he smirks.
He blinks and his eyes turn pitch black. Your own eyes widen in shock. The anti-possession tattoo is peeking out from underneath his shirt, so he can’t be possessed. Then how the hell is he a demon?
“You see,” he continues, “I’ve spent months watching you… listening to you breathe at night… watching you fuck those men… and I’ve come to realize that you were never theirs. No, you’re mine and only mine. I let you go once, and I don’t plan on letting you go again.”
“How the hell is this possible?”
“Anything is possible, sweetheart.”
For the first time in your life… you don’t feel safe in Dean’s arms… and the thought scares you.
Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why! Follow my library blog @queenofdeansbooty-writes where I reblog all my stories, so you can follow that if you can’t be tagged!
Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail? Hunting had been your life since you were 4 years old. The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do. But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.
A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests. I’m not going to post the actual requests because…well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.
Words: 2671
Warnings: Violent imagery, traumatic experience, death of family members, blood and gore, language
I watched as he ran around to the driver’s side of the Impala and quickly pulled the door open. He slid into the driver’s seat so naturally, but he tensed up as he glanced over at me. Raising his right hand slowly to my face, he ran the backs of his fingers across my chin and cradled my cheek in his palm before adopting a serious expression and asking me if I was okay. I nodded sleepily as I blinked, letting my eyelids linger for a moment before meeting his eyes again.
The car roared to life as he threw the transmission into gear and we began moving. Turning my head away from him, I watched out the front windshield as I smiled to myself.
“You can rest if you want. We’ll be there soon, but you need your rest.”
I chuckled as I let you a breath of air through my nose. “I wouldn’t call an 8-hour car ride ‘soon’,” I said, laying my head back against the window, wedged between the glass and my seat. “But you’re right, I am tired.”
“8-hours?” he questioned. “We’ve got maybe a fifteen-minute ride to the hotel.”
My head perked up quickly; too quickly according to the ache in my head and nausea filling my abdomen. “Fifteen-minutes? You got some teleportation device that you haven’t shared with me up until now? We’re easily 8-hours away from home.”
He gave me a less-than-pleased side-eye as he grimaced. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
I kept my eyes fixed on him but remained silent.
“Forget it, Y/N. It’s not happening! You’re barely patched together. No way.” His voice was stern and resolute. But as I crossed my eyes and continued glaring at him, I could feel his resolve wane.
“Come on, sweetheart. Cut me a break. I already took you out of the hospital way before anyone with any sense would have. You’ve gotta give me something.”
I raised my eyebrows at him suggestively. “Oh, Dean,” I crooned, putting on my best seductive voice. “I fully intend to give you something.”
He snapped his head towards me, his eyes wide with surprise and excitement as I slowly pulled my bottom lip between my teeth.
He shook his head as if trying to recenter his focus. “Woman,” he almost shouted. “Hotel.” I rolled my eyes as I smiled at him. “You’re no fun.”
I woke up with a start as Dean opened my door and gingerly wrapped his hand around the back of my neck.
“Hey,” he whispered. “We’re all checked in. We just need to get you inside.”
I blinked slowly, clearing my vision. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than few minutes, but I felt the wave of confused exhaustion bowl over me. I began pulling myself out of the car, swinging one leg out and placing my foot on the ground. Dean’s strong, calloused hand snaked itself under the knee that remained in the car, carefully placing it outside and allowing my foot to meet its pair on the ground. He squatted down carefully next to me, winding one arm around my torso, and holding onto my hand around his neck with the other. “Here,” he ordered. “Lean on me.” I did as he asked as I stood on shaking legs that felt as if they wouldn’t hold me for long.
One foot in front of the other, I told myself, bringing each leg up in succession as I forced myself to walk.
“I could carry you, ya know.” His offer elicited an eyeroll from me. One that he didn’t miss as I felt his shoulders tense. “That’s it,” he groaned as he wrapped one arm under my knees and rested my back against his other. “You don’t always have to be so damn stubborn.”
“And you don’t have to be so dramatic.” My words were flippant, but they hit their mark as I felt him hesitate as he stepped forward.
“I’m serious, Y/N. Just let me help you.”
I tucked my head into the crook of his shoulder as I held my arms around his neck, attempting to ignore the worries in my head. He’s going to break his back carrying you, cow. You’re definitely hurting him. Nobody’s strong enough to hold you without folding in two.
“Stop it,” he whispered in my ear as he pressed his lips to the crown of my head. I buried my head deeper into him as my answer.
He walked us into a lobby much fancier than I was used to. There were chaise loungers all over, with cushioned, upholstered chairs sporadically scattered in between end tables with built in lighting. A chandelier dangled from the ceiling, tossing tiny rainbows of light across the ceiling. I felt him nod to someone at the front desk as he boarded the elevator.
“Can you,” he began to ask me.
“What floor?”
“Sixteen.”
I stretched my toe out through my flip-flop and pushed the button labeled 16 until it lit up. “You and your damn monkey feet.”
“You’re just jealous,” I drawled out sleepily.
The elevator came to a smooth stop and he stepped out quickly, making a right turn into a hallway, stopping at the first door to our left. He pressed his hip gently against the keypad and it beeped, ever so faintly before he pushed the door open.
“Um,” I began awkwardly. “Maybe we don’t do the whole carrying-me-bridal-style-into-a-hotel-room thing?” My voice quivered with anxiety as he smiled and carefully set my feet down on the ground. Allowing my own legs to bare the brunt of my own weight, I brought myself back to standing and took cautious steps into the room.
The flooring was striped carpet with reds and silvers, giving off a much more eloquent vibe than the 1990’s motif I had become accustomed to. The room was ridiculously long, with a dedicated office area off to the left, complete with a computer monitor and notepad. A large king size bed with a plus white down comforter sat across from it and immediately to my right was a beautiful in suite jacuzzi. I ran my hand along the tan tile that lined the tub, letting my fingers drape down into the white ceramic. “Dean,” I whispered.
He walked up behind me, draping one hand lovingly on my hip as he nudged me towards the bed.
“Rest,” he said as I slowly sat down on the edge of the mattress. He lifted each leg so that I was sprawled out across it and pulled the comforter over my legs, tucking me in.
“But,” I began, whining. “There’s a jacuzzi.”
“Not with an open wound,” he said, motioning towards my side. I rolled my eyes in response and turned myself over so that I was laying on my side, my back facing him.
The bed in front of me depressed lightly as I felt him crawling under the covers to join me. His warm hand ran itself down the side of my face, tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. His fingers ran through my hair, gently raking their way through the strands.
“Mmmm,” I moaned. “That feels nice.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead before leaning his head against mine. “I’m going to run to the pharmacy. Pick up your meds. I’ll be right back,” his words were full of intensity. “Do you need anything?” I shook my head in response, allowing my eyes to close.
The warmth of his body suddenly pulled away. Reflexively, I reached my arm out, wrapping my hand around his upper arm. “Don’t go,” I pleaded.
“Gotta. But I’ll be right back.” He leaned forward, locking his lips to mine ever so gently. I returned the all too chaste kiss, hungering for more even as he pulled away.
“You’d better,” I murmured as I drifted off quickly to sleep.
I woke with a start, feeling a sharp stab of pain in my side, as I glanced around the room. The sun was down and the only light in the room emanated from the small bedside lamp. Sam leaned over me. “Sorry!” He held his hands up as if in surrender. “I was just changing your bandages. They looked like they needed it.”
I quickly caught my breath, allowing the panic in me to fade. “How long was I out?”
“Well,” he began, putting on his chastising voice. “Assuming you got here the same day that you checked out of the damn hospital, which was way before you should have, then two days. Maybe three.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Where’s Dean?”
Sam shrugged. “I was hoping you’d know.”
I shook my head. “He went out to get my meds.” I rubbed my hands across my face, feeling the slickness in my hair and the wear on my face. A shaking sound pulled my attention back towards Sam.
“These meds?” I nodded.
“They were here when I got here yesterday.”
I pulled the comforter off me, kicking my legs out of bed. “Where’s my phone?”
I found it laying on the nightstand next to me, plugged in and with a full charge. No missed calls, I thought to myself. I immediately began scrolling through my texts, seeing three unread waiting for me.
One from the hospital, asking me to rate their service. Another from a random number, asking me to click on this link and rate the sender’s steamy photos. And the last was from Dean.
I read through it twice before being able to read it out loud.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t. I’m sorry.” The words seized up in my throat which suddenly felt as though I’d been breathing in sand for days.
“What?” Sam’s eyes furrowed together, as he shook his head in confusion.
“I need to shower.” My words were stoic as I pulled myself to my feet, finding moving to be less stressful. My duffle bag sat on the luggage rack right outside the bathroom door. I grabbed it quickly as I walked inside, slamming the door behind me.
I can’t believe this I thought to myself. I knew it. Knew it was too good to be true. Why would someone like him want someone like me? I stared at myself in the mirror, holding onto the counter beneath it as if it were the only thing keeping me steady. I took a deep breath, calming myself, as I began disrobing. I pulled my shirt off slowly, worrying over the wound on my side. The bandage that had been on was now gone and the angry, bright pink skin showed the intensity of my healing so far.
I held my side as my sweatpants fell to the floor. I stepped out carefully and lifted my foot over the edge of the tub, standing up in the shower. The hot water flowed down my back, pleasantly prickling my skin as I began scrubbing myself clean.
I stepped out of the bathroom as I finished pulling a freshly cleaned shirt over my head and smoothing it down my torso. It felt looser than it used to.
“I can get that bandaged back up for you,” Sam offered, holding out a hand full of gauze as he glanced down to my waist. I shook my head, rejecting his offer.
“It’s fine,” I explained. “Looks like it closed up.”
“Let me at least take the staples out.” Sam walked over to me, lifting the bottom of my shirt up just enough so that he could examine me. His eyebrows pursed together again, as he pulled back away from me, still holding the fabric of my shirt up. “They’re gone.” His voice carried all of his surprise and my face surely revealed my own.
“I didn’t even notice,” I said. “I mean I looked at it in the shower but…” I hesitated. “He must’ve taken them out before he bolted.” I pulled the hem of my top from his hands, pulling it down and setting myself back to normal.
I picked up the television remote, quickly flipping the channel over to the Room Maintenance setting and selected the option to check out.
“Does that mean you’re leaving?” Sam asked me, concerned.
“Time to get out of here. There’s plenty of monsters still out there,” I held my breath for a moment, suppressing the sensation of my heart breaking as I held tears at bay. “They won’t gank themselves, Sammy.” I gave him a sad smile as I slung my duffle over my shoulder.
My eyes lingered on the hot tub as I walked towards the door. I reached out and ran my fingers across the tile of it once more before dropping my eyes, taking a deep breath, and walking out the door.
Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail? Hunting had been your life since you were 4 years old. The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do. But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.
A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests. I’m not going to post the actual requests because…well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.
Words: 2671
Warnings: Violent imagery, traumatic experience, death of family members, blood and gore, language
I lay as still as I could in my bed, not allowing myself to make eye contact with him. I knew that if I did, tears would flow and he would pull words from me that I wasn’t ready to say.
“Y/N,” he prodded. “I know there’s something you’re not telling me. Come on.” His words overflowed with irritation and his body was tense. “Just spit it out!” His words came out gravely and a few octaves lower than his normal voice. I had heard him this irate before, but never with me.
“No,” I said, my lips tight as I wrapped my arms around myself. I turned my face towards him, taking in his wide eyes and his gaping mouth as he stared at me in disbelief.
“No? What do you mean, no? No isn’t an option here, Y/N.”
I ran my fingers through my hair, making a mental note to shower as soon as possible. “I can’t. Don’t ask me to.” I pulled my knees into myself, ignoring the twinge of pain it caused as my muscles stretched.
“Too bad,” he decreed, his voice full of imagined authority. “You’ve gotten us here by keeping secrets. By going it alone. That isn’t an option anymore. Just…” His tone softened as he took a breath. “Tell me, please. Tell me what’s going on.”
I inhaled deeply, feeling my chest expand as I attempted to calm myself down. Dean hadn’t known about my past. Not one detail about my family or the monsters that took them from me. Just that I had grown up in the life. Everything in me wanted to keep it that way, but knowing the insistence on his face, I knew I had to give him something.
“They were the ones that killed my parents.” I began, watching him tilt his head like a confused puppy. “The pack. The wolves we came here for.” I took another deep breath in through my nose in another futile attempt to keep myself calmer than I ever could be. “We were at a museum that day. Some anatomy thing where you could climb through a heart like a jungle gym. Spent the whole day there. But, on the way home, the tire blew out or something. Car broke down.”
I swallowed hard now, desperate to stop reliving my worst nightmare. “Dad got out to check it out. Told my mom to stay put. It was some backwoods road. There weren’t any streetlamps and the nearest gas station or house was miles away. The car phone had died on the way to the museum that morning and cell phones weren’t really a thing back then.”
I watched as Dean shook his head, absorbing every word I’d just said.
“Wait, how long ago was this?”
I attempted to rid myself of the giant lump that had now formed in my throat. “I was four.”
The look of pity on his face was heartbreaking and I had never imagined it would ever be aimed at me.
“Dad was outside maybe five minutes when we heard it. Gnashing teeth and ripping flesh. And this gurgling sound. Like a clogged waterfall.” I rubbed my neck with my hand, wishing the conversation was over. “Mom got out to help. But she hadn’t even closed the passenger door when her head was smashed through the window. Hard enough for the blood to spray onto me in the backseat.”
“Shit, Y/N.”
I shook my head, dismissively. “I was four,” I shrugged. “I didn’t even know to scream. I just waited for it to get quiet and went and looked for my parents.” I reached out and grabbed the cup of water that sat on my bedside table, taking a slow sip. “Dad’s body was still on the ground by the hood. The gurgling sound was still there.” I looked up at Dean again. “It was his own blood. They’d ripped his throat open. Too impatient or hungry I guess. But Dad’s eyes were open. Completely dead inside, but open, starring at me, while his corpse finished bleeding out.”
“You don’t have to-“ I cut Dean off.
“Mom was a little further away. Her, they were quick about at least. Snapped her neck when they bashed her head in I guess. Still ripped her heart out though. Left her body on the side of the road.”
Dean stood up and took a seat on the sliver of mattress that my bent legs had left exposed at the foot of it. His hands were running up and down my thighs in an attempt to soothe me.
“What happened to you after that?”
I shrugged my shoulders again. “I wandered for a while. The pack was long gone, and I didn’t know where we were. What to do. Just walked. Until I couldn’t walk anymore.”
“Wait, you walked? Like little four-year-old you, wandering the woods alone? How long?”
I pulled on my earlobe, yanking it between my thumb and forefinger. “Few days I guess? Some locals found me passed out and starving little less than a week later.” I laughed morbidly at myself. “If I had walked ten more yards, I’d have made it to their front door. Just my luck I guess.”
Dean’s silence filled the room as he clenched his fingers around my knees. “I shouldn’t have made you….I’m sorry.” I turned my head from side to side, dismissively.
“Not your fault. I probably should’ve told you a while ago.” I gave him a forced smile, restraining the tears that threated to get loose.
“Well, whatever the past, you ganked ‘em in the end. Not that I approve of how you did it, but you got them.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Sweet victory.” My tone was insincere as I leaned the side of my face against my crossed arms. “Dean, I’m pretty beat.”
“Yeah, of course,” he accepted. “Get some sleep. I’ll just head-“
“Don’t leave,” I begged, grabbing at his hands as they began to move away from me. “Please. Stay? I’d feel better if you stayed.” I hadn’t realized how terrified the premise of being alone would leave me. “I mean, only if you want to.”
Dean ran his fingers over my face, tucking in a stray bit of hair. “Always,” he whispered.
I moved to lay down, turning myself onto my side to make room as Dean spread himself over the bed. “Need me to scootch over?”
He looked at me as if I were crazy. “It’s your bed, Y/N. And you’re the injured one. I’m not that big of an ass.” He tucked me into his side, resting his hand on my shoulder as his arm would around me. “Sleep.”
I shut my eyes slowly, taking in a deep breath and filling my lungs with the distinct scent of Dean. But as soon as I began to drift off, the sing-song voice of a nurse came in declaring that moment to be the opportune time to check my vitals.
I whined in response as she pressed a button on one of the screens resulting in the cuff around my arm to start squeezing. “Can we be done with that?”
Dean had gotten out of the bed but stood just next to me, continuing to hold my hand.
“Sorry sweetie,” the nurse answered. “Every four hours until you’re discharged.”
“Then I’m discharged now.” I answered coldly, my eyes squinting shut.
“Not funny,” Dean chastised, squeezing my fingers tightly.
“Not joking,” I followed up. “I want to go home. Now.”
I looked over to the nurse whose stunned expression told me she would not be on my team on this one.
“I mean it. I’ll sign whatever papers I need to, do whatever. But I’m going home. Now.”
Releasing Dean’s hand, I threw back the covers and kicked my legs off the side of the bed, quicker than I had intended. The dizziness had me wobbling as I stood, getting onto my feet. Instantly, he was at my side reaching to help steady me. I held my hand up, keeping him at a distance.
“Damnit, Y/N.” Dean muttered under his breath but just loud enough for me to hear him. I glared at him in response.
“Leaving against medical advice is not usually a good solution. Especially in your condition. You’re going to need physical therapy and a lot of care. We can provide that for you.” The nurse was doing her best to convince me to stay, but with my mind already made up, I began opening cabinets until I found the bag with my clothes in it. One of the boys had brought my duffle to the room for me and I quickly found a set of clothing that was clean enough.
“I get it,” I snapped back. “Not a good idea. I’m leaving against medical advice which is obviously against medical advice.” The frustration in my voice was tangible as I slipped a pair of black yoga pants out of the bag and began dragging them up my legs. “Doesn’t change the fact that it’s what I’m doing.”
The nurse breezed passed me as she muttered under her breath that she’d get the paperwork. I pulled out my oversized nightshirt; an old white band tee for a concert that I hadn’t attended in a city that I’d most likely never been to. But it smelled like home and wrapped me in the warmth that I so desperately craved.
“Hold this for me, will you?” I held my duffle bag out towards Dean, expecting him to grab it but was left wanting. Slowly, I raised my eyes to his and lifted my eyebrows, inclining my head as if to ask him what he was waiting for.
“You realize this is insane right? What, do you have a death wish or something?” I rolled my eyes at him in response, tossing the bag to the ground as I let go of the straps I had been holding onto and turned my attention back to the cabinets, ensuring all of my personal items were accounted for.
“I think that’s everything. I’ll sign the papers, and then we go, yeah?”
Dean chuckled louder than I was used to as he shook his head and said, “No way.” I looked at him expectantly, resolute with my decision.
His amusement died down and his face grew serious as he wordlessly pulled out his phone and brought it to his ear.
“Yeah, it’s me. Look, she’s trying to leave the hospital. Yeah,” he paused. “I know. She’s being a stubborn ass.” He said the words pointedly as he glared at me. “Well then, Sammy, you try to talk some sense into her cause she’s not listening to anybody over here!”
Rolling my eyes again, I began removing the various tubes and monitors that still connected me to the machines. The oxygen came off without a hitch, and the blood pressure cuff was simple enough. But the IV that was plastered to the back of my hand proved more difficult.
“I’ll do it,” the nurse sighed angrily as she stormed back into the room, setting a small stack of paperwork down on the table as she did so. Her fingers expertly pulled at the tape and removed the needle from my hand without a fuss. “You’re going to need a ton of fluids,” she began giving me my discharge instructions as she handed the paperwork over to me.
Dean hung up the phone and began listening intently, hovering over me as he did so.
“I mean a ton of fluids. No coffee, tea, soda. I mean water. Electrolytes. Fluids that aren’t caffeinated or carbonated. There’re four prescriptions in her. One for a very strong antibiotic, one for an anti-inflammatory drug, strong pain meds, and one to help with the nausea that the others may cause.” She pointed out each on the paperwork as she went through it. “Take them. All of them.” Her intense gaze and stern tone let me know she wasn’t exaggerating. I nodded affirmatively.
“Good,” she responded. “Bed rest for the next few days. No strenuous movements,” she turned her gaze to Dean then. “If she pops another staple outside of the hospital, her chances of infection or bleeding out again are very, very high.” He nodded in acceptance.
“You need to do physical therapy. Hire a therapist, do simple exercise, use a cane, whatever you need to do. Just keep moving a little each day.”
She turned to the last page. “This form releases the hospital from any and all liability. It confirms that you’re aware that you’re leaving the hospital against the best of medical information and against the physician’s wishes. You’ve every right to do so but, just so we’re clear, we think this is a very bad idea.”
I gave her a small smile. “Yes ma’am, I am.” I picked up the pen that was laying on the table where the paperwork had been and signed my name quickly. “All done?”
The nurse shook her head disapprovingly. “That’s all the paperwork and you’ve already taken the liberty of disconnecting everything. I’ll go get a wheelchair and you can be on your way.”
I thanked her as she walked out of the room and could feel Dean’s eyes boring into the side of my face.
“What?” I snapped, turning my head quickly to look at him.
“You’re an idiot.”
“So, I’ve been told. But there’s that whole thing about it takes one to know one.” I smiled at him wickedly as I waited for the nurse to return with the wheelchair. It only took a few minutes, and I was settled into my wheeled escort, being pushed gently through the halls towards the exit.
“Sir,” the nurse spoke up, gesturing to Dean. “You may want to run ahead and pull the car around, so she doesn’t have to wait outside long. It gets pretty chilly a night.” Dean did as he was asked, putting one foot in front of the other in a quick jog as his bowed legs carried him ahead and out to the parking lot.
“You’ll be the death of that boy if you keep carrying on like this you know,” the nurse joked. “Or he’ll be the death of you. Either way, just be careful, yeah?” She rested her hand on my shoulder as I laughed, giving her my word.
I heard the familiar growl of the Impala’s engine pull up just outside the door as we triggered the auto sensor for the automatic sliding doors. Dean was running around the back and pulling the passenger side door open when we rolled up. The nurse locked the wheels of the chair in place as I slowly pushed myself up to standing, using Dean’s offered arm as leverage to assist me.
The nurse handed him my folder full of paperwork which he then securely held in his hand. “If I could get her to stay,” he began. The nurse shrugged in a what-are-you-gonna-do fashion and waved at me. I lazily returned the goodbye as I rested my head back in my seat and reached for my seat belt. Before I could grasp it, Dean’s hand was pulling the belt across my lap, gingerly tucking it into the buckle and adjusting the belt across my lap, avoiding my injury as best as he could.
Shaking his head lightly, he slowly leaned his face towards mine, capturing my lips with his own as they worked against me. The heat of his mouth breathed into my own as his tongue grazed the tip of mine, and the breathtaking feel of his soft, full lips against mine was dizzying. He pulled away slowly, pressing one last chaste kiss against my lips as he did.
“Keep kissing me like that, and we’re going to need to pick up one of those oxygen tanks,” I joked.
“Stubborn. Ass.” He breathed out the accusation as he closed my door for me and walked around to the driver’s side and taking his seat.
Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail? Hunting had been your life since your were 4 years old. The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do. But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.
A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests. I’m not going to post the actual requests because…well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.
Words: 2438
Warnings: Trauma, medical terminology, stress, hospital waiting room, all the angst
I hesitated to open my eyes, for fear that I’d wake up and it would all have been a dream. My lips felt warm and pleasantly swollen as I reached my hand up slowly to touch them, keeping my eyes shut. I took a deep breath and lifted my eyelids, coming eye to eye with Dean as he lay next to me staring.
Sheepishly, I smiled and released a small chuckle with my fingertips still glazing over my bottom lip. “Well,” I said meekly. “Not a dream.” His eyebrows were still knitted together as if he was unsure as to what my reaction would be. But the corner of his mouth twitched upward as the hint of a smirk began to spread.
“Kinda was for me,” he said through an exhale of breath as he ran the back of his fingers along my cheek. I leaned into his touch, relishing in the delightful feel of his skin on mine.
“How long,” I asked him.
“How long what? How long have I wanted to do that?” He paused, leaving the silence pregnant with anticipation. He let out a quick breath, looking to the ceiling as he thought. “Six years ago, St. Patrick’s Day. I told you to kiss me cause I’m Irish. You called me an idiot and threw a pillow at my face.” I laughed at his response. “Been hooked ever since.”
I could feel heat rushing to my cheeks as they blushed and a coy smile wound itself across my face.
“Or did you mean how long have I known you wanted me to? Cause that’s a very different answer.”
I ducked my head down, attempting to hide from his view, and buried my nose into the crook of his neck. “I mean, I’d be happy to answer that one for you, too, sweetheart but I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” His words dripped with sarcasm as he pursed his lips and left a trail of kisses from the crown of my head and down the side of my face, slowly pulling my head back up to face him.
“See, when things weren’t looking all that great for you? I wasn’t doing so well. I wasn’t the pillar of strength you’re used to on the day to day.” His face returned to seriousness now, and my eyes fixated on him. “I kind of fell apart. No, that’s not true. I completely fell apart. A world without you in it? That’s not a world I want to be in.”
I felt tears pooling in my eyes, but I held them at bay.
“So, my baby brother, he decides he needs to cheer me up. See, he yanks me up to my feet, slams me up against a wall and tells me to stop being a selfish prick. Tells me I can help you by just keeping it together, by staying with you.” Dean’s hand lifted as he pushed my hair gently behind my ear. “Now I’m lost at this point. He’s talking crazy and all I want to do is hide from the world. But the big oaf that Sam is, he wouldn’t allow that.” He leaned in towards me again, pressing a short, chaste kiss to my lips before tucking his chin over the crown of my head.
“Instead, he looks me in the eye, tells me I’m a moron, and lets me go. But not before just blurting out ‘She loves you, you jackass,’ and proceeding to lecture me about how dumb I am.” The smile on his face is beyond genuine and my entire body feels as though it’s turned to gelatin. “That true,” he asks me, his eyes back on mine. The confident smirk on his face is betrayed only by the pleading desperation in his green orbs that are so focused on mine that I dare not even blink.
Slowly, I nod my head, feeling that same blush rise in my cheeks again. “Yeah,” I said, my voice cracking as I did so.
“Thank god,” he breathed out as his lips once again plastered themselves against mine, knocking the air out of me as he slowly wound his arm around my waist. He leaned into me, rolling me over onto my back as he rested his body on top of mine, his hips jutting against my own. I could feel his calloused hands wandering; one tangled in my hair as his fingers deftly caressed my ear lobe as his other held our bodies closer together.
I had wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him with desperation. Dean pushed against me harder as I felt his excitement growing against my groin. I broke our lips apart, breathing deeply as I lifted my hand to the back of his head, entwining my fingers in his hair. He began grinding his hips against me; an act I longed for but subsequently found intolerable. Shocks of pain tore through my abdomen in waves and I cried out, gasping for air as I ground my teeth together.
“Fuck,” I grimaced, wincing. Dean instantly backed away, holding himself almost as if he were doing a pushup.
“What’s wrong?” His panicked voice rang out as his eyes examined me.
I removed one hand from his firm waist and grabbed for my side, desperate to alleviate some of the pain.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath, looking down towards my waist. It seemed instantaneous that I sprang off the bed and frantically searched for the remote control with the nurse call button. A few seconds passed and the pain had ebbed.
“Dean, I’m fine, really.” My attempt to settle him did nothing as I spoke to his back. He was running towards the doorway now, yelling for help.
I rolled my eyes, knowing that he was surely overreacting. Pulling my hand away, I glanced down and took in the sight of dark red blood pooling slowly on the sheet beneath me. “Well, crap.”
Dean walked back into the room, a female nurse clad in dark purple scrubs in tow. He raised his hand and pointed towards my wound, and she immediately got to work. My gown was quickly pushed to the side as she took a look at the damage that had been done.
“You’ve popped a staple out. Haven’t seen that too often!” Her voice was cheery and calming as she smiled sweetly at me.
“I’ll get the doctor and we’ll get you patched up again in no time. Good as new, huh? How are you feeling in the meantime? What’s your pain level?”
“I’m good,” I answered simply.
“Are you sure, darlin’? You look a little flushed.” Her eyes were intent now, taking in every physical cue that she could.
“That, uh,” Dean began with that devilish half smile of his. “That could be my fault.” He held up a finger as if claiming victory. I rolled my eyes in response and watched as the nurse did the same.
She turned her head to face him and took up the absolutely accurate stance of an angry mother about to berate their petulant child. “You do know that she’s recently had invasive surgery, yes?”
I watched as Dean shrank under the nurse’s stare. He nodded solemnly.
“And that a team of highly trained surgeons spent several hours fixing her up and putting her back together again with slim odds that she’d even wake up, let alone thrive and begin healing?” Her question was obviously rhetorical. Dean held eye contact with her and nodded.
“Yes, ma’am.” He’d never sounded so young and childlike.
“So maybe, just maybe, we can pause on the hanky panky funny stuff until after she’s discharged, yeah?”
I stifled my laughter as Dean nodded again, and the nurse exited the room, patting his shoulder as she walked by; the smile on her face betrayed the entertainment she had felt at Dean’s expense.
Dean skulked back towards me, lowering himself into the chair beside my bed. The laughter that I had been withholding came pouring out of me, eliciting more pain as I again held my side.
“Geez, Y/N, you’re going to open yourself up more.” Dean placed his hands on my arms, attempting to hold me still.
“Yeah, well. You started it.”
His eyes went wide with incredulity. “How do you figure?”
“You were the one who opened up first!” My cheesy joke landed flat.
Dean rolled his eyes, leaning backwards in his chair as he sighed dramatically. “Good to see you didn’t lose your awful sense of humor.”
I smiled at him exaggeratedly. “I’m delightful.”
He smiled at me again, reaching over and raking his fingertips down my cheek. “Yeah,” he paused. “You are.”
The doctors had swooped into the room, getting me all stitched back together in a blur of lights, antiseptic, and latex gloves. The same nurse had accompanied them, insisting on administering more morphine when she did so.
They moved me into a wheelchair as they waited for my bedsheets to be taken out and laundered. I was struggling to keep my head up as I leaned my temple against my palm, fighting to hold my eyelids open. I could feel Dean’s warm hand drawing comforting circles on my back, but my head was swimming. His soothing voice rang out every few minutes, letting me know that it was okay if I wanted to fall asleep. Encouraged even. But stubbornly, I refused, shaking my head and insisting on waiting until Sam came back.
It wasn’t too long until Sam peaked his head into my room; his long hair unkept and falling in his face.
“Hey, Tarzan,” I mumbled, giggling at my own joke. Both the boys stared at me quizzically as my eyes closed and I leaned further over onto the side, my chuckles growing quieter.
“Tarzan? I thought it was Thor.” Sam’s voice drifted in as if he were speaking through static.
“She’s out of her mind on morphine, Sammy. Don’t worry.” I could hear the jest in Dean’s voice as he spoke from just behind me.
There was a small hint of commotion as an orderly came in with a rolling tray full of food for me. With my eyes still closed, I took a deep breath, attempting to smell my meal. But my sense of smell reacted negatively as I breathed in the scent of hard-boiled eggs, squash and fish.
“Gross,” I protested, grabbing at the wheels of the wheelchair I sat in and attempting to push myself away.
“No. Don’t want that,” I murmured as I shook my head. There was a strong hand grasping my shoulders as someone gently whispered in my ear to relax. “Mom made me lasagna,” I groaned, as large tears overwhelmed my lids and began cascading down my cheeks.
I felt warm fingers press against my cheeks as Dean’s familiar voice repeated my name softly.
“Hey, Y/N. Can you open your eyes for me?”
I stubbornly shook my head, opting for the darkness my closed eyelids afforded me. I could feel panic rising in my chest, and my breaths began coming in stuttered waves. Sam’s voice was screaming into the hallway, demanding a nurse or any sort of help. But my head was swimming. I could still smell the garlic and tomatoes as the cheese bubbled on the top of my favorite dish. I could hear my mother’s voice as she spoke with me. My father’s warm, teddy-bear embrace still ghosted over my arms. But all I could see was black. I longed for the comfort their memories had afforded me.
“Daddy,” I mumbled out as I felt the familiar push of medication run up my arm as forced, restless sleep overtook me.
I woke hours later. Days possibly. The sky outside my window was still dark and the light in the room too dim. Running my dry hands down my face, I pulled myself slowly to sit up in the bed. The ache in my side not entirely unnoticed. Every muscle in my body was sore and resisted moving. I kicked my legs out gently over the bed, glaring at my thighs as I balanced myself on them with the palms of my hands.
“Don’t even think about it,” Dean’s voice was stern as he spoke from the chair in the corner of the room. I watched his arms flex as he walked towards me, squatting effortlessly in front of me as his eyes locked onto mine.
“Back in bed.” His words were stern, but his eyes betrayed some sadness that lingered on his face.
“Dean?” My voice was groggy and sounded foreign to me.
“Y/N get your ass back in bed, now.” He sounded almost defeated; an unfamiliar tone for him.
I acquiesced and pulled my legs back onto the uncomfortable air mattress, keeping my eyes set on his face. “What’s wrong,” I asked him. “You seem grumpy.” He took his seat again in the lounge chair next to me, leaning on his knees with his elbows.
A forced, quick breath leaked through his nostrils, full of incredulity. “Grumpy, huh?” He paused. “Can’t imagine why.” His eyes fell to his hands, focusing on the thin piece of fabric that he was fiddling with. He flicked his gaze up to me, following my gaze back down to his hands.
“It’s part of your shirt,” he explained. “Or, well, was.” He paused again. “It tore off in your back there,” he gestured towards my side. “Had to dig it out on the way here.”
I took a deep breath, attempting to steady my surprise. “I’m sorry, Dean.”
He pursed his eyebrows and looked up towards me slowly. “For what? Getting stabbed? Not your fault.”
I reached towards him, surprised when I watched him pull away and lean back into his seat. “See, getting stabbed? Hurt? Happens to all of us. But you,” he said, holding the fabric up towards me. “You were reckless. You ditched me and Sam and did your damnedest to be in more danger than you needed to be.” His eyes shot up towards mine again, that same pained sadness shooting out of his eyes as he let silence stretch between us.
“And here, in this hospital. Some of the things you’re saying, been saying. They’ve got me wondering.”
I let his statement stand, wanting desperately to not discuss the topic at hand. “See, I’m wondering if there’s not something you’re hiding. Something you didn’t or aren’t telling me. And that? That won’t work. That’s something else.” He dropped his head, clenching his hand into a fist as he held onto the scrap of clothing. “So, talk.”
Summary: Takes place S13e10. Dean and Sam are trapped in Apocalypse World, as the Wayward Daughters do everything they can to rescue them. Will their plan be enough? Will the reader be able to move beyond her past with Dean in order to save him?
Words: 4793
Warnings: Trauma, breakup, Bad Place, martyrdom
It had been a hell of a night. I had been scouring the town for any explanation of the haunting at the bus depot but had come up with more suspects than answers. Homeless people that had passed away at the bus station, accident victims of cars gone astray or out of control in the parking lot. There had been a mountain of possibilities. But the silvery, shrouded woman that had continually thrown me against, and eventually through, the wall of the bar across the street eventually narrowed my suspicions down to one.
The woman had just turned twenty-one and had gone out to celebrate. Only to end up being horrifically assaulted and left to die in the freezing cold behind the defunct busses that had been permanently parked. The ghost’s strength was evident in the bruises that battered my face. I looked into the rearview mirror, sighing and wincing as I attempted to clean myself up. The cuts were fairly superficial, and I didn’t think I needed any stitches. But the thin cut that tore across my bottom lip was still bleeding, coating my chin in the sticky liquid.
My cell phone had been laying in the passenger seat and now, it made a low hum as it vibrated against the leather. I hesitated before reaching for it, knowing that the last few dozen missed calls I had had were from him. The ex. The almost was. The not anymore. The One that Got Away. Whatever you preferred to call him. And I didn’t relish the thought of seeing his name flash up on the screen yet again.
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes tightly, ignoring the pain that shot through my right eyelid from the black eye that was beginning to flourish. Turning the cell phone over in my hands, I opened my eyes as the screen lit up. “Jody,” I whispered as I read the name of the missed call aloud.
Quickly, I pressed Jody’s name, listening to the dead air as the call connected.
“Y/N?” Jody’s frantic voice picked up almost immediately.
“Hey, sorry I was finishing up a job. What’s up?”
“Oh, thank God you’re alright.” The relief that flooded Jody’s voice stunned me.
“Yeah, Jodes, why wouldn’t I be?”
There was a beat of silence as my question went unanswered. “Y/N, I need you to come home. Now.”
“Jody, what’s going on?” Jody had never been so adamant before, or so worried. It had been three months since I had moved in with Jody, using the Sheriff’s Sioux Falls home as my home base. Jobs had taken me away fairly regularly and I hadn’t spent more than two consecutive nights in the bedroom that had been designated as mine. But that didn’t change the fact that it was home.
“You just need to get here now, okay? I mean it. Get on the road now. I don’t care if you’re in the middle-”
“I just finished the job, Jodes.” I cut her off. “I’m only about an hour away. I’ll be home soon, okay?”
“Just….” Jody hesitated. “Hurry.”
The phone call disconnected and I sat starring at the cell phone in confusion before turning the ignition and pointing the car towards home.
I made the hour-long drive is just under 40 minutes, having put the gas pedal to the floor. Flinging the driver’s side door open, I practically sprinted up the steps, slamming the unlocked front door open in my wake.
“Jody,” I called out in a panic.
She quickly stepped out of the kitchen and walked directly towards me; arms outstretched and tears in her eyes.
“I’m so glad you made it home,” Jody whispered, pulling me into her tight embrace.
“Hey,” I began. “I’m okay. I’m here. I’m right here, Jody.” I wrapped my arms tightly around her, holding her as she trembled. “Jody? What’s going on?”
Slowly, she backed out of my embrace, swallowing hard as her eyes fixated on the floor between my feet. “Y/N,” she began, her words coming out as if she were choking on them.
I waited in silence, knowing she’d tell me once the words were there. But before she could, a face peered out at me from the kitchen. It was a face I didn’t recognize. A girl with dark olive skin and black wavy hair that barely touched her shoulders. She was holding a bowl and quickly throwing popcorn kernels into her mouth as she stepped closer to us.
“Hello,” I said, attempting to sound as normal as I could muster. “I’m-”
“I know who you are,” her voice was high, but cracked as she spoke. “Did you tell her?” The stranger looked at Jody expectantly as Jody shook her head.
“I was just getting to that.”
“Tell me what, Jody?” My voice was full of panic now. Secrets never gave me the warm fuzzies and now that this stranger was in on it, my anxiety was skyrocketing.
“Y/N, this is Patience.” Jody gestured towards the newcomer as she introduced her. I nodded my head as I inclined it towards her by way of welcome.
“Nice to meet you,” I grunted, crossing my arms and waiting for the shoe to drop.
Loud footsteps came stomping down the stairs to my right as I heard Claire’s voice ring out. “Y/N? Is that you? You aren’t dead?” The surprise and outrage in her words left me wide eyed.
“What?!” I yelled. “Why would you think I was dead?”
Claire hopped over to me, tucking herself into my shoulder as she gave me a quick one-armed hug, her eyes focused on Patience’s face.
“Ask the psychic,” she explained.
I turned my face to meet Patience’s, my face set in a hard line and my eyes bugged out of their sockets. “Why does she think I’m dead?”
Jody took a step closer, placing herself between Patience and I. “Claire’s right,” she started to explain. “Patience is a psychic. She’s Missouri Moseley’s granddaughter.” Her words were succinct, and I knew right away what she was implying.
“Patience,” I began, my voice low and empathetic. “I’m so sorry. Your grandmother was,” I hesitated. “She was a very special woman. Very beloved.”
I watched as Patience absorbed my words but she gave no response. Jody had let me know about Missouri’s passing when it happened. I had been on a case in Iowa, clearing out a Rugaru issue when the Winchester’s had worked with Missouri for the last time. It was the only time in the last few months that I regretted my avoidant personality.
“I still don’t get it. Why did you think I was dead?”
“Because I saw you die,” Patience explained, her words matter-of-fact, if not unfeeling.
I looked at her incredulously. “What?”
After an hour that seemed to last for days, Jody and Patience had explained everything to me. Patience’s visions, her seeing me die, and the fact that the Winchester’s were in some alternate universe that just so happened to be the same one where I died. My mind was swimming and I couldn’t seem to get my head above the water to take a breath, let alone understand.
“Y/N?” Claire rested her hand on my shoulder, giving me a slight shake as she tried desperately to get my attention.
I brought my eyes up to meet hers, but couldn’t find any words.
“We’re going to get them back, Y/N.” Claire’s attempt to reassure me fell flat.
“Sam and….” I swallowed hard. “And Dean. They’re missing?” I could hear my heart pounding in my ears and my breathing felt like it was getting shallower and shallower as I struggled to maintain my calm, something I was failing at desperately.
Jody shook her head slowly, confirming my fears. “But we know what we need to do.”
I looked at her, my eyes pleading with her to give me more information.
She rolled her eyes in return. “They were working with a girl, Kaia. She knows where they’re at and how to get there.”
“Okay, so let’s go!” I stood up dramatically, pushing my chair back as I did.
“Wait,” Jody said, reaching out and grabbing my hand. “We can’t talk to her”
While I hadn’t thought my eyeballs would be able to stress themselves beyond my skull any further, her words quickly proved me wrong.
“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t we talk to her? Jody, what the hell!?”
“She bolted,” Claire explained. “She was in the hospital, I went to talk to her, and she bolted. There were these bizarre monsters outside that attacked her,” my eyes widened even more. “We took care of it,” Claire stressed, holding her hands out to me as if to stop me from running. “But she’s down for the count. They got a few good licks in and she went down. She’ll be okay. Alex is patching her up, but, Y/N,” Claire hesitated, taking a deep breath. “She’s from that universe. Where Sam and Dean are. The Bad Place, she calls it.”
Claire’s face was that of a repentant child, as though any and all of this should fall on her shoulders.
I took a few deep breaths, attempting to steady myself as I pinched the bridge of my nose with one hand, resting the other on my hip as I began to pace. “So, you’re telling me that Sam and Dean are in some bizarro world, and the only person that can get us there is too busy having her boo-boos kissed to tell us how to get there?” My voice rose in volume with each word, my illusion of calm rapidly fading.
“It’s more than just that,” Jody said, standing up and slamming her hands on the dining room table. “Y/N, you’re missing a vital part of this puzzle.”
“What part, Jody? Sam and Dean are missing and we’re supposed to, what, sit on our thumbs and wait? I don’t think so!” I began walking towards the garage, knowing Alex would have the girl that was the key to all of this in there with her.
“The part where you die, Y/N!” Claire screamed at me with tears in her eyes.
“I don’t see how that matters even a little bit!” My answer bit at her, and I watched her recoil, surprise evident on her face as she did so.
“This isn’t negotiable.” Jody’s voice was deceptively calm and firm. “You go over there, you die. You aren’t leaving this house, do you hear me?” Jody squinted as her words came out full of anger.
“If Dean’s over there,” I caught myself. “If Dean and Sam are over there, then there’s absolutely no question as to where I’m going to be. My place is there. Saving them. And you know it.”
“I can’t lose you, too!” Jody’s exclamation took me by surprise.
“Jodes,” I began, but she held her hand up, effectively silencing me.
“No. Y/N, no. Okay? You’re staying here. I won’t lose another child.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears and my heart lurched at her words. “I won’t do it, Y/N.”
I let out a deep breath. “It’s Dean,” I whispered.
“Yeah, I know it is. I know you two had a nasty breakup. I know you haven’t spoken in months and I know you regret it every day. But you cannot be the one to go over there. I won’t let you. If you go, I lose you, and I am not about to lose you, or anyone else. Is that clear?”
I attempted to swallow the lump in my throat that refused to diminish. “All that matters is Dean, Jody. I have to go-”
“Damnit Y/N, if he was all that mattered to you then you would’ve said yes when he proposed to you instead of turning tail and running for the hills!”
I took a step back to steady myself as my eyes focused on Jody. “Look,” Jody began, her voice calmer now. “Donna and I will go over there as soon as Kaia tells us what she knows. We’ll take care of this and you will stay here. There’s no other plan. This is it.”
My eyes flitted from Jody to Claire and back, both of them giving me the same pleading expression and both too stubborn and strong-willed to change their minds.
I nodded my head slowly, agreeing to their plan out of necessity, as Alex came running in through the garage door. “It’s Larsen’s,” she blurted out. “Larsen Brothers Shipyard off Route 14. That’s where the door is.” A small, dark haired girl with scratches adorning her face walked in behind her.
Jody and Claire were already grabbing supplies as we all piled into our vehicles and headed for the shipyard.
We arrived in less than ten minutes and gathered at the sidewalk in front of the entryway.
“Donna and I have got this. But that door, it’s been open for a while and there’s no telling what crawled out in the meantime. So, you guys? You’re playing defense, okay?” We all nodded in the affirmative as each of us armed ourselves accordingly.
Donna was standing at the end of the sidewalk, hugging Claire and Patience as they walked by her. I kept telling my feet to move, but no matter how loudly I shouted at them in my head, they wouldn’t respond. I felt an arm snake its way over my shoulders, pulling me into a half hug.
“He’ll be alright, Y/N,” Donna’s friendly voice sang out to me as she pulled my head towards her.
“I know,” I acquiesced. “Just bring him back safe, okay?” She gave me a quick nod and a smile before I watched her and Jody disappear into the building.
It had been a while since Jody and Donna had gone in. Too long. Claire, Kaia, and Patience had all begun to get antsy a while ago and my trigger finger was more than itchy in their absence as I reacted to each and every sound that came out of the building in front of us.
We heard a gunshot and all of our breaths stopped as we collectively stared at the building. “That’s it,” I said, cocking my handgun and holding it down to my side.
“You guys can stay here but I’m going in. Something’s wrong.” I began walking towards the front door, just as Claire wrapped her delicate hand around my wrist.
“Wait,” she said. “You can’t.” She flicked her eyes over to Patience and stared at me silently.
“It’s Dean,” I offered her as my explanation. “What good is being alive in any world if he isn’t in it?” I could feel moisture building in my eyes and I did my best to hold my tears at bay.
“I’ll go with you.” An unfamiliar voice sang out from the crowd as Kaia stepped forward. “You won’t know where you’re going if I don’t. I know where to go. And where not to.” She looked down at her fingers as she fiddled with her nails, nervously.
All four of us walked into the building, our eyes searching endlessly for any sign of Donna or Jody.
“Jodes!” I yelled into the emptiness. We heard the beating of feet above us as I dove for the staircase, yelling for the others to follow me.
By the time we found them, they had been surrounded. Unfamiliar monsters with sickly glowing red eyes stared at them as if they were a feast. I raised my gun and pulled off two shots directly into the back of their skulls. I watched as their bodies slumped to the floor in front of us, and Jody and Donna each turned their heads towards me.
Just beyond them, there was a glowing orange line that seemed to spark and fade.
“There,” Kaia yelled, pointing her hand towards it. “That’s the door!”
I watched as it slowly began to shrink. “No!” I shouted as my feet broke into a sprint with Kaia close behind me.
We leapt over Jody as she lay bruised and beaten on the floor, and made a break straight for the gateway. I tumbled to the ground, taking in the monochromatic surroundings I found myself in. Glancing back towards the rift, I could see it was still open, but just barely. And there was no telling how long it would remain that way.
“Come on,” Kaia said as she stood up, her teeth chattering in fear as she turned away from the door and walked away, beckoning me to follow her. My handgun remained clenched in my hand as I reached for the pocketknife that had been tucked away in my back pocket.
“Lead the way.”
We seemed to be walking for hours and I was sure that any portal that there had been had closed by now. Kaia continued to assure me that we hadn’t even been there an hour yet. I ran my hands through my hair, tugging at the ends as I tucked it behind my ears.
“We have to find them, Kaia,” I begged. She gave me no response but continued on until we heard the sounds of breaking twigs and crushed leaves. Kaia hunched down in front of me, getting as low to the ground as she could as she held a finger up to me, insisting on my continued silence.
We peaked out of a threadbare bush to try to identify where the sound came from, when two figures began walking towards us, their movements tentative and quiet.
“Dean?” I whimpered as I lunged myself out into the clearing and towards him.
My name hadn’t fully left his lips when I crashed into him, my arms wrapping around his neck as tears forced their way down my cheeks. My breathing was ragged, but I’d never been so relieved. I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me into him as if he needed to know I was real. He repeated my name again as I sobbed into his shoulder.
“I thought,” I cried. “I thought I’d lost you.” I leaned back and released my hold on him, finally meeting his eye.
He was blinking fast, confusion coloring his entire face and stance. But his eyes held mine as I stared into the deep emerald orbs that had always captivated me. He raised his hand, wiping the tears that had been falling down my face away with the gentle pad of his thumb. I closed my eyes, relishing in the feeling of his touch; his calloused fingertips smoothing over my skin sending shockwaves through me.
“Same here,” he said, as his jaw set into a hard, locked line, his eyes still focused on me.
“I’d hate to interrupt,” Kaia spoke up from behind us. “But we’re running on borrowed time here, if we aren’t out of time already. We’ve got to go.”
I pulled myself away from Dean, going against every urge in my body as I did so. Wiping my hands down my shirt to smooth it out, I dusted myself off and attempted to focus yet again.
“Hey Y/N,” I heard Sam’s voice calling from beside me. Turning my head to him, I took in the smile that was plastered on his face, giving him my own smile in return. “Heya Sammy,” I called as he reached out and squeezed my shoulder.
I turned around to face Kaia again, gesturing for her to lead the way. She seized the opportunity and began walking quickly back the way that we had come. I followed behind her with the boys in tow. The trek back to the gateway seemed to go faster, as if time had sped up now that Sam and Dean had been found.
A few minutes into our hike, Dean’s hand wound its way into mine, interlacing his fingers with mine as he squeezed my hand tightly; a gesture he had often given me when he knew I was uncomfortable or stressed. I turned my head to make eye contact with him again as we continued walking.
“It’s just up there,” Kaia pointed ahead of us as she continued, panting. We could see the orange break in space hovering above the ground. It didn’t seem to have shrunk in size, but its vibrance had died down significantly.
“Run,” I instructed them, pushing Sam and Dean ahead of me as Kaia took off towards the rift. I followed behind, close on their heels.
We were feet away from the doorway when I felt it. A menacing, hooded figure clad in black sneaking up from behind. When I turned my head, I could see them throw their arm forward as the long, aerodynamic weapon they were holding came flying towards us, pointed directly at Dean.
“No!” I screamed, diving at him as I shoved him towards the doorway and put myself between him and the spear. I watched in slow motion as Sam and Kaia made it through to the other side. But, to my horror, Dean had stopped to turn around and face me, watching as the head of the spear sank itself into my back.
“Y/N?” Dean was screaming my name repeatedly as he reached for me, glaring over my shoulder at my assaulter and his would-be murderer. I fell forward, kneeling to the ground as I turned my head to look at the hooded figure again. I watched as the black hood fell back, revealing a familiar face and a sinister grin. “Kaia?” I whispered.
My vision began to go black as I felt Dean’s arms wrap around me, jerking me up to my feet before he lifted my legs in one arm, cradling my shoulders in the other. My head lolled back and in an instant, everything went black.
Dean was pacing the floor in Jody’s garage as Sam and Alex examined Y/N’s wound. She’d passed out before they had even made it through the doorway, but Dean had made sure that they came back home safely. The rift closed almost immediately after they came through.
“Dean?” Sam had called to his brother once they were back in their own world. But the only response he received was the garbled cries of Dean’s anguish.
“No,” Sam had uttered beneath his breath as he ran towards them, convinced that what he was seeing couldn’t be real. “No, she’s fine, Dean. She’s going to be fine. Let me take a look at her.”
He pushed his way to his brother, every step feeling like his feet were made of lead and concrete. But when he pressed his fingers to her neck, feeling the small pulsations of her carotid artery, he let out a sigh of relief.
“She’s got a pulse. A weak one, but it’s there. We need to get her some help. Now.” Sam reached out for her, wanting to remove the physical burden from Dean as he watched his brother collapse to the floor. “Dean!” Sam was yelling, desperation flooding him. “We have to go.”
Jody ran up to them, taking in the sight that she had feared. “We didn’t stop it,” she muttered. Patience walked up behind her, holding her hand over her mouth as if in astonishment.
“This is it,” she said. “My vision. This is what I saw.” Jody gasped, allowing the panic and heartbreak to set in.
“We’ve got to move her,” Sam told them. “She’s got a pulse, but she won’t for long if we don’t get her somewhere safe.”
Jody shook her head slightly, focusing yet again. “Get her to the car out front. Alex’ll patch her up at home.”
Before her sentence was finished, Sam was bolting towards the car, taking the steps down two at a time. Dean followed behind, his movements empty, as if a man possessed.
Jody wove her arm through his, hanging onto his elbow as they walked quickly towards the exit and to the car.
“I just got her back,” Dean said. “I just got her back. She can’t be gone already. I can’t…” He left his sentence unfinished as Jody rubbed a loving hand up and down his back, attempting to reassure him.
“It’ll be fine. She’ll bounce right back. She’s a fighter, yeah?” Jody opened the back passenger door of her car, urging Dean into the seat as Sam was laying Y/N across from the other side, resting her head on Dean’s lap.
Jody jumped in the driver’s seat, throwing the car into reverse as she pushed the “Talk” button on the steering wheel and called Alex.
“It’s Y/N,” she said succinctly. “We need you. It’s…” She hesitated, looking up into the rearview mirror at Dean. “It’s not good. We’re a couple minutes away. Be ready.” The one-sided conversation was quick, direct and to the point.
The tires squealed to a stop as Jody parked the car in the driveway, slamming the transmission into park and flicking the engine to the off position before everyone began hopping out of the car. Dean stayed where he was, slowly stroking Y/N’s hair as he attempted to soothe her into waking.
Alex was running out of the front door towards them, her scrubs still stained with Kaia’s blood from patching her up earlier, and her stethoscope still hanging from her neck. “Bring her inside!”
Dean did as he was told, sliding out of his seat, careful not to let Y/N’s head fall as he slowly pulling her out of the car and cradling her in his arms. In seconds, they were all standing in the garage as Dean laid Y/N down on the gurney and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Everyone, take a step back,” Alex ordered, listening to Y/N’s heart as she did so. “Jody, I need you to bring me an IV bag. We’re going to need to get some blood in her now along with as many antibiotics and as much saline as possible. She’s losing blood fast.”
The words seemed to all blur together as Dean dropped into the chair behind him, cradling his head in his hands. “This can’t be happening,” he repeated to himself, his eyes fixated on a drop of her blood as it fell to the floor.
Two hours later, Dean was sitting next to Y/N again, squeezing her hand between both of his as he stared intently at her face. Alex had assured him that she was fine. That she’d been all patched up, that the dehydration and blood loss had been combated, and that everything was going to be just fine in time. But he longed to see her eyes open and looking at him like she always had. Like she could see into his soul. He yearned to hear her voice, even if she yelled at him and never wanted to see him again. As long as she was alive.
He lowered his head, muttering “Please,” to himself over and over.
At some point, he must have drifted off to sleep, her hand still clenched in his, with his head resting on the side of the bed. She began to stir, grunting as she did so and squeezing his hand back.
My eyes were heavy and hazy. The pain that had flown through me on our way to the doorway seemed a distant memory and my body felt as though I were floating in the ocean; one wave after another pushing me closer to shore. I opened my eyes tentatively, hesitant to take in my surroundings for fear that the monochromatic world would still be surrounding me.
But in my hand, I could feel the warm familiarity that was Dean’s fingers interlaced with mine. I squeezed my hand around his, desperate to prove to myself that it was truly him.
“Y/N?” He woke with a start, his eyes focusing on my face as he brought one hand up to cup my cheek.
I gave him a smile, my eyes closing in a slow blink as I opened my mouth. “Hey there stranger.”
Dean leaned down quickly, pressing his lips firmly against mine, seeming to blow life into me with his kiss. The one that never failed to take my breath away.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again, do you understand?”
I nodded as I laughed quietly, Dean’s forehead pressing down into my own.
“You got it,” I confirmed for him.
“Marry me?” The question came out as a plea as he pushed his head closer to mine, rubbing our noses against one another. The same question I’d run from so many months ago. But now, after all this time and after all that had happened, there was only one answer that I could give.
I smiled at him, holding my breath as my cheeks began to ache from the tension.
Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail? Hunting had been your life since your were 4 years old. The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do. But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.
A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests. I’m not going to post the actual requests because…well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.
Words: 2167
Warnings: Trauma, medical terminology, stress, hospital waiting room, tears, anesthesia
Dean stood alone in the washroom; the mortar full of ingredients sitting scorched on the floor. He swept his hands through his hair and walked over to the sink, quickly grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser and beginning to work on cleaning up the paint from the trap on the floor. It took mere moments, but it felt like an eternity. While he was tossing the remnants of his spell into the trash bin, a loud insistent knock was again rapping at the door.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “Keep your shirt on.”
“Dean!” Sam was yelling outside the door, continuing to pound on the cheap, grey wood.
Shit, Dean thought to himself as he rushed to finish the rest of his cleanup. Once the last of the traces of his work had been disposed of, he yanked the door open and breezed past his brother wordlessly.
“What the hell, Dean?” Sam’s indignant voice trailed behind him. “What did you do?”
The accusation in his words was not unfounded, but still, it left Dean enraged. “What are you talking about, Sam?” Dean’s voice was sharp and dismissive as he spat the words at him, his face scrunched up into a defensive glare.
The youngest Winchester caught up with him within a few strides as he reached out and grabbed Dean’s shoulder, forcing Dean to turn around and face him.
“Don’t do that,” Sam pleaded. “Just don’t.”
“What, a guy can’t take a dump?”
Sam glared at his brother, leaving the silence between them thick and expectant.
“Come on Sam, we have to get back in there. Y/N’s depending on us.”
Sam nodded his head, disappointment evident in his stance, as they both walked back towards the waiting room.
Immediately, Dean began pacing between the aisles of seats, his long legs bowing out as he did so. He was listless and his hands alternated between running through his hair and yanking on his own neck in a vain attempt to relax the beyond strained muscles.
The doors to the surgical hallway flew open and the same doctor that had spoken with them before came rushing towards them, her eyes bulged out in surprise as she locked onto the boys.
“Doc,” Dean’s voice was full of anguish as he strode up to her, meeting her just outside the rows of seats. He remained silent, waiting for the update she undoubtedly was there to give him.
“Tell me she’s alright,” Sam whispered, walking up next to Dean. The doctor remained silent. Dean let out a sigh, lowering his head over his crossed arms. He was all stress, panic and anxiety in human form.
The doctor opened her mouth to start speaking but came up empty as her mouth closed again. After several false starts without explanation, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
“We’re going to need some sort of words here, doc.” Dean’s jovial voice was hiding his tension and impatience, but he remained unsatisfied as the woman continued her silence.
“She’s not,” Dean began, unwilling to finish the sentence. “No,” he stuttered. “No, she can’t be. She’s not gone. Tell me she’s not gone.”
Sam laid a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder and stepped in front of him. “Dean, it’s okay.” He sniffed, unable to control the tears forming in his eyes as they began to fall.
“No,” Dean began muttering to himself, his eyes wide and fixated on the floor. “No, she said…she was supposed to fix it. We had a deal.” His words strung together haphazardly. Dean could hear his own heart pounding faster and faster. “No,” he whispered.
I opened my eyes violently; the dryness of them sending pain and discomfort through me. I could feel my head pounding, but the pressure in my chest overrode all of it. As much as I tried, I couldn’t take a breath. My lungs felt as if they were solid bricks, useless in their emptiness. I struggled against whatever was blocking them, attempting to take gasp after gasp of fresh air that wouldn’t come. All I could feel was pain. My pounding head, aching eyes, useless lungs, and beyond bruised body fought against every survival instinct I had.
“Oh my God,” I heard a man’s voice yell out. I lifted my hands to my face and began clawing at the foreign objects that seemed stuck inside of my mouth, arms and chest.
“No, no, no!” Panicked voices surrounded me as blurred shadows began rushing around me, poking and prodding me at every juncture, as though my threshold for pain was exponentially larger than it actually was.
“Calm down, Y/N.” A soothing voice rang in my ear. “We need to close you up now,” she sang. “But to do that, you have to sleep.”
I attempted to speak, wanting nothing more than to scream at the people around me, to tell them no, to make the torment stop, but words were beyond my reach. “The machines are breathing for you, Y/N. Don’t fight them. A little more rest and you can wake back up. But for now,” she crooned. “You need to sleep.”
I watched her fingers grabbing at a tube as another set of hands gave her a vial which she quickly depressed into the tubing between her fingers. Within seconds, my eyelids drooped, and my head became heavy, my vision fuzzier than before. And before I could protest, I had drifted into a dreamless, nightmarish sleep.
The panic in Dean’s chest had begun to consume him as it seemed like the very ground beneath him had given way. He sank to his knees, kneeling on the floor with his head cradled between his hands. His cheeks were covered in the salty streaks of his own tears as he took deep breaths, attempting to find some hint that this was all an awful dream.
Sam moved in front of him, his legs blocking Dean from view. The doctor stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes, as if she were in shock.
“You need to say the words, Doc.” Sam crossed his arms, swallowing the lump in his throat as the tears that his eyelids had been successfully keeping at bay finally fell. “I need to hear the words, or I won’t believe it.” He stressed each word, holding on to hope that all of their assumptions were wrong.
He watched as the doctor finally raised her line of sight to meet his eyes and shook her head slightly as if bringing herself back to the present. “She’s awake,” she said.
Sam’s eyes lurched open as his arms fell to his sides. “What?”
The doctor shook her head again, confusion clearing as she did so. “She woke up. During surgery. She woke up momentarily.” Her explanation did little to settle the worry that laid heavy throughout the room. “We had to sedate her, but she did wake up for a moment.”
Sam lifted his hand and pulled it down his face, grasping his chin as he did so. “What does that mean?” His question came out much calmer than he felt.
“It’s a good sign,” the doctor began. “Typically, with this kind of trauma, there wouldn’t be more than a ten percent chance of survival.” Her words did little to provide any comfort. “But we’ve repaired the damage and she’s in the recovery room now. It’s going to take a while for her to wake up since we had to sedate her again, but it’s a good sign.”
Sam took a deep breath, reaching down behind him to grab Dean’s arm. He pulled him up and forced him to stand. “Dean,” he said, smacking his hand against his brother’s chest and pointing towards the doctor.
Dean looked up hesitantly as he made eye contact with the doctor again. “She’s in the recovery room,” she explained again. “It’ll be a couple of hours before she’ll be in her own room, but once she is, you’re welcome to see her.”
“Her body, you mean.” Dean’s words were painted with defeat.
“No, Dean.” Sam turned around, looking at his brother pointedly. “She’s alive.” Dean’s eyes flicked over to his brother’s as he let out a breath, allowing more tears to fall down his cheeks.
My eyelids were so heavy. Like steel doors that had been locked shut, and I was powerless to move them. But I could feel the moisture of my own tears leaking through them as they dripped down my cheeks and across my lips. All I could feel was pain. The gravel in my chest that seemed to expand with each involuntary breath that I hadn’t initiated. The sharp, shooting pain that was radiating out from my back. The pounding in my head that felt as though my temples were trapped in a vice that was constantly being tightened. It was unreal and I didn’t think I could, or that I’d want, to cope with it.
Every part of me was scorching. That same sort of burning feeling that only seemed to happen when you were too cold, freezing from the inside out. I attempted to move, urging my knees to bend and scoot me away from the frozen fire that felt as though it were seconds away from consuming me. My lazy, thick voice whined into the emptiness as I urged myself to plead for help. The only sound that came out was muffled and nonsensical.
But within seconds, I felt warm fingers snaking themselves around my hand, intertwining my fingers with them. The warmth and comfort that originated there began to spread, and I poured all of my strength into flexing my fingers and squeezing the hand of my hero that had alleviated some of my agony.
“Mom?” My voice was almost unrecognizable. As though I was speaking through a thick layer of fabric that had been woven over my voice box.
“Shhh,” a soothing voice rang out as another hand swept across my forehead. “You’re going to be just fine, Y/N.” I knew that voice. I would recognize it even if I were dead. And yet, I couldn’t identify it for the life of me.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Two lips pressed themselves gently to my forehead, leaving an aura of safety and respite from my aching body.
“Dad?” I questioned.
“Y/N?” Another voice called out to me, but from the other side of the room. “We’re here, Y/N. Sam and Dean,” it answered me. “We’re right here.”
I pursed my eyebrows together, still unable to open my eyes. Sam and Dean were there. I knew that their presence meant I was safe. That the terror of not knowing where I was or why everything hurt so much should ebb away. But every part of me wanted to scream at them. To push them away for pulling me back from the perfect peace I had found with my parents. I could still hear the waves crashing on the beach and remember the feel of my mother’s hand in mine. But all the contentment and ease had gone and been replaced with suffering.
“Hey, hey relax Y/N. It’s okay.” Dean’s voice attempted to soothe me as he pushed my hair behind my ear, gently cradling my face.
“No,” I murmured. “I want to go back.” My words came out as whispers, but their intent was sincere.
Dean relaxed his grip on my hand. “What?” he asked. But no more words were able to push through my lips. The tears that had been quietly dripping slowly from my eyes now became a deluge as my eyes and chest were wracked with sobs. The pain that shot through me with each violent spasm was disorienting and overwhelming, but the tears wouldn’t stop, and my heaving breaths were undeterred.
My fingers dug into Dean’s hand, desperate to keep him close to me as I pulled him towards the bed. I was able to curl my legs up into myself, ignoring the pain shooting through my abdomen as I did so, as I pulled Dean’s hand ever closer to me.
“Hey, hey, hey,” his voice rang out like velvet. “I’m here,” he said as I felt the bed depress next to me as his legs pressed against mine. His arm wrapped around my shoulders as he slowly released my hand, holding me close to him and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
The sobs that had sped through me began to calm as I buried my face into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of evergreen and freshly cut wood.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his arms keeping me enveloped into him.
Deep breath after deep breath of his intoxicating musk had calmed my tears and slowed my breathing back to normal. The sharp stabbing pain had localized and no longer radiated out to every molecule of my being. Within minutes, I drifted off, terrified of any dream that I may have that could never compare to where I had just been.
Honestly, the lyrics tell you everything you need to know.
Link to my favorite version if you want to give it a listen: If It Kills Me by Jason Mraz
Hello, tell me you know Yeah, you figured me out Something gave it away And it would be such a beautiful moment To see the look on your face To know that I know that you know now
And baby that’s a case of my wishful thinking You know nothing Cause you and I Why, we go carrying on for hours, on and We get along much better Than you and your boyfriend
Well all I really wanna do is love you A kind much closer than friends use But I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through And all I really want from you is to feel me As the feeling inside keeps building And I will find a way to you if it kills me If it kills me
Well how long, can I go on like this, Wishing to kiss you, Before I rightly explode? This double life I lead isn’t healthy for me In fact it makes me nervous If I get caught I could be risking it all
Baby there’s a lot that I miss In case I’m wrong
Well all I really wanna do is love you A kind much closer than friends use But I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through And all I really want from you is to feel me As the feeling inside keeps building And I will find a way to you if it kills me If it kills me
If I should be so bold I’d ask you to hold my heart in your hand Tell you from the start how I’ve longed to be your man But I never said a word I guess I’m gonna miss my chance again
Well all I really wanna do is love you A kind much closer than friends use But I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through And all I really want from you is to feel me As the feeling inside keeps building And I will find a way to you if it kills me If it kills me
If it kills me I think it might kill me
And all I really want from you is to feel me It’s a feeling inside that keeps building And I will find a way to you if it kills me If it kills me If it kills me It might kill me
Summary: You weren’t supposed to be in this mess. Hunting wasn’t your thing; you much preferred the safety of research sitting behind a computer screen.
Now as you looked across the space at your best friends, it was everything you could do not to give up.
You had to hold on, though. For them.
For him.
Triggers: torture, swearing, sexual abuse
A/N: I do not own any pics or gifs. HUGE TW. Please heed the warning!
“No! Y/N!” he screamed as he fought as hard as he could against his restraints. His heart was shattering; he couldn’t lose you.
He cursed himself for being such an idiot–for wasting so much time. He should have figured out how he felt long ago. He had been afraid to even think about it; he was sure that if he got too close he would lose you.
Now he was terrified that he wouldn’t even have the chance to get close.
Suddenly, his bindings gave way. Whipping his head around, he saw Castiel moving to his brother’s ropes and making them disappear with a flash.
He wasted no time with explanations. He had to get to you.
He rushed forward on wobbly legs, skidding on his knees to kneel beside your limp form. Dean and Cas weren’t far behind, Dean removing his jacket and laying it over your naked body that was now pulled to Sam’s lap.
“Cas, can you help her?” Sam pleaded, brushing your hair away from your eyes. You were still unconscious, but he could tell that you were at least breathing.
Cas furrowed his brow and stepped forward, kneeling to place two fingers to your forehead. Sam watched as the cuts littering your body closed, leaving just dried blood behind.
“Cas?” Sam asked expectantly when you didn’t wake up.
“I’ve done what I can, Sam. Her brain is trying to protect her by keeping her unconscious. Physically, though, she is healed.” Cas shared a look with Dean that Sam recognized as pity. He ignored it and placed a hand on your cheek, stroking it with his thumb.
“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “Come back to me.”
“Sam! We’ve got company,” Dean said, taking the angel blade Cas offered him.
Sam kissed your forehead before carrying you to the side of the warehouse, out of the way of the fray that was about to happen.
Dean tossed a second angel blade to Sam, who caught it with ease and ran straight for the demons who had returned. He was seeing red. It was an anger like he’d never felt before. He charged at Agares barely registering the attacks the demon made with his own blade. The combat was short, the adrenaline, Sam’s rage, and the small meat suit giving him the upper hand. He saw the flashing orange light and smiled, only wishing he’d been able to make the demon suffer more. He didn’t have time for that, though. He needed to get back to you.
Sam wiped his brow and jogged over to where you still lay, glad that Cas and Dean took care of Malphas and were beginning to drag his and the other demon’s bodies out of the warehouse.
He sat again, pulling your limp body onto his lap. He stroked your head, a tear dripping from his chin onto your forehead.
“Never, ever again, baby,” Sam whispered. “I will always protect you, I promise. Just come back to me.”
You
Your mind became aware and you laid with your eyes closed, trying to take in what was around you without looking, in case you were still trapped in your living nightmare.
The first thing you noticed was the smell. There was no longer the metal smell of blood filling your nose. Instead it was something familiar; something faint that you couldn’t yet place.
Next you felt that you were no longer on the concrete floor of the warehouse, but on a soft bed with covers gathered at your hips.
You also felt something extremely surprising–something that had you wondering if you were even still alive–the absence of pain.
Finally, you realized you no longer heard the harshly whispered arguing of the Winchesters. In fact, all you could hear was the sound of light breathing that you thought must be someone sleeping nearby.
Taking a deep breath, you slowly opened your eyes. You squinted them, blinking in the light around the room even though it was dull. You recognized it immediately, and sighed in relief. You were home.
You looked to your left to see Sam, sitting next to the bed, slumped over in his chair and resting his head on the bed. You knew then what the faint smell was. It was him. Just a smell that was heavenly and just…Sam. He slept soundly, and you decided to wait a minute before waking him.
You tried to remember what had last happened before you lost consciousness. You shuddered at the memory of your assault, shoving that in another part of your mind for the time being. You remembered flashes of Sam’s face and comforting words. As it came back to you, you were more and more sure you had dreamt the interaction. It was just too good to be true.
You pulled the blanket off the bottom half of your body, inspecting yourself up and down and finding no open wounds or even scars.
Cas, you thought to yourself, figuring the angel must have healed you. You sent him a quick prayer of thanks.
You bit your lip, looking at Sam and wondering if you should disturb him. Watching him sleep, you could pretend that what you dreamed was true. You could carry on the fantasy that Sam felt the same way about you that you had felt for him for so long.
You shook your head. It was no longer the time to be hesitant. You needed to tell Sam how you felt, even if it meant rejection. You had learned all to well that life is short, and you needed to really live while you still could.
You placed a hand on his arm gently, giving him a little nudge. “Sam,” you said softly.
Sam shot up, alarmed and looking around the room for danger.
“Whoa, it’s okay, it’s me,” you said gently, keeping a hand on his arm. His eyes found yours and his face relaxed. A smile spread wide on his lips and your heart sped up.
“Listen, Sam, there’s something I need to–”
You were cut off by his lips meeting yours. You froze in shock for a moment before having the best realization of your life.
It wasn’t a dream.
Sam Winchester loved you.
You returned the kiss in full after that, relishing the feeling of his lips against yours for the first time.
When you pulled apart he cupped your face in his hands, his eyes dancing between yours.
“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” he asked quietly.
“Not in my body,” you said, your eyes shifting away for a moment. You knew Sam understood you meant that your mental health would be messed up for a while.
“I know,” he said. He kissed you softly on the lips, cheeks, and forehead. You let your eyes flutter closed, enjoying the distraction from the swirling thoughts in your head. “Y/N…I meant what I said. I love you. I love you so much.”
You smiled. “I love you, too.”
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he said, bringing one hand down to hold yours while the other ran angrily through his hair. “It was there. Youwere there, all along. But I was an idiot.”
“Don’t say that–”
“Please, let me finish,” he said gently, giving your hand a squeeze. You nodded for him to continue.
“Seeing you up there like that…seeing what those thingsdid to you…it was almost more than I could take. Just ask Dean,” he said, glancing over your shoulder toward the door. You turned to see Dean standing there, his arms crossed over his chest.
“It’s true. I’ve never seen him like that. And I’ve been through an apocalypse with him,” Dean said with a half smile.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m done wasting time,” Sam continued. “I love you, and I am all yours if you’ll have me.”
You didn’t know your heart could feel so full. You smiled the biggest you ever had, and Sam excitedly swept you up in his arms, carrying you bridal-style toward the door. You laughed, unable to contain your joy any longer. When you reached the door, Dean didn’t move. Sam set you down so you were standing, your legs a little wobbly.
Sam slipped an arm around your waist for support–a subtle gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by you.
Dean stood up straight, his eyes looking you up and down. He came a little closer, placing one hand on your cheek and leaning down to your eye level.
“You okay?” he asked simply.
“I’m okay,” you said. You both knew that wasn’t entirely true, but for the moment, you were good. And your best friend needed to know that.
He smiled that same half-smile, backing up and gesturing for Sam to continue. You laughed again as he swept you off your feet, quite literally. Sam brought you through the door, and you smiled. You knew it would take a long time to get your head right, but for now–and hopefully forever–you’d have Sam there along the journey, and that was all you needed.
Summary: You weren’t supposed to be in this mess. Hunting wasn’t your thing; you much preferred the safety of research sitting behind a computer screen.
Now as you looked across the space at your best friends, it was everything you could do not to give up.
You had to hold on, though. For them.
For him.
Triggers: torture, swearing, sexual abuse
A/N: I do not own any pics or gifs. HUGE TW. Please heed the warning!
Sam turned his head, what little contents he had in his stomach spilling out on the floor next to him. He spit to rid his mouth of the bile. Nothing could have prepared him for what he just saw, and by the queasy look on Dean’s face he wasn’t the only one.
When he somehow managed to regain his composure, he called out to you. You didn’t acknowledge him, and it seemed you were in a state of shock.
“I’m fucking telling them, Dean,” Sam said, tears running down his cheeks. “This has to stop!”
“I am with you, Sam, I really am,” Dean replied, his jaw set tightly.
“But?” Sam said, knowing there was more.
“But we said we’d respect her wishes.”
“I didn’t say a fucking thing!” Sam yelled. “Look at her, Dean!” Dean didn’t, and Sam knew why.
Red was blooming all over your skin, the cuts from earlier bleeding freshly. You had new bruises where fingers had dug into your skin, and bite marks all over your neck, chest, and abdomen. Sam kept his eyes from staying lower for too long, the sight of blood trickling down your thighs too much for him to bear.
“Y/N, sweetheart, please!” he yelled suddenly. It was like he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed something from you, anything, to know you were still in there. “Baby, I need you to stay with me! Please, please look at me!”
“Y/N, stay with us baby girl,” Dean added, knowing there was little else he could do. “You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna makeit okay,” he said, almost as if reassuring himself.
Your eyes blinked slowly, and Sam felt a little flutter of hope that maybe something was getting through.
“That’s it, baby, I know you can hear me,” Sam said, trying to coax you to look at him. “Sweetheart come on, I need you to look at me.”
Dean continued encouraging you as well, but Sam tuned him out. He wanted more than anything to get through to you. He wanted you to feel his love and desperation from across the room–to break through whatever it was you were feeling in that horrible moment.
Your eyes shifted around the room, and Sam kept it up, not giving up on you any time soon.
You
A voice was trying to break through your numbness. Every time you started to let the wall down, though, the physical and emotional pain came rushing in, and it was too hard to deal.
“Baby, please,” you heard. They were the only two words that didn’t sound muffled and far away. The words were filled with pain, the voice that said them cracking and shaky. Your eyes fluttered around the room, as if you couldn’t make them understand where the voice was coming from.
Surely it was some part of your psyche telling you that the voice you heard was Sam’s. You knew Sam cared about you, of course. But he’d never called you “baby.”
“Y/N, please…look at me. I need you.”
You laughed at yourself internally. Sam Winchester needed you? Right. He was the baddest hunter around. He had literally been to Hell and back–fought the Devil himself. What would he need with some loser bookworm like you?
“Baby, please don’t leave me. I love you.”
Love? That word made you pause. It was everything you wanted to hear from Sam for a long time. But now you knew you were dreaming it. Sam could never want a used up, bloody, whimpering mess like you.
Despite the things your mind was telling you, you finally found the younger Winchester’s eyes, unable to keep yourself from hoping. Whether he was real or a hallucination, you weren’t sure. But in that moment, you didn’t care anymore.
“That’s it, sweetheart, keep your eyes on me,” Sam said. You felt yourself smile, a warm feeling spreading through you as your eyes stared into his.
Your eyelids started feeling heavy, and you could feel that the stress on your body and the blood loss was too much.
“Y/N, please, keep your eyes open! I love you, Y/N!”
Summary: You weren’t supposed to be in this mess. Hunting wasn’t your thing; you much preferred the safety of research sitting behind a computer screen.
Now as you looked across the space at your best friends, it was everything you could do not to give up.
You had to hold on, though. For them.
For him.
Triggers: torture, swearing, sexual abuse
A/N: I do not own any pics or gifs. HUGE TW. Please heed the warning!
“You’ve tried praying to Cas, right? Maybe he can’t hear me for some reason.”
“Yeah, man, I’ve tried. Maybe this place is warded.”
“Well, there’s gotta be some way around that. We just gotta think.”
You could hear the brothers talking before reality came screaming back to you. Your entire body was on fire, and you couldn’t even focus to know which part hurt the worst.
You could feel yourself slipping back into unconsciousness, and thought maybe you had for a little bit before water hit you square in the face, turning your veins to ice.
“Rise and shine, honey,” the skinny demon said with a sneer. You could hear Sam and Dean struggling with their bindings behind him again, but ignored it.
With what little strength you had, you spit the mixture of freezing water and blood that had pooled in your mouth into the demon’s face.
He chuckled, licking his lips like he enjoyed it. “Well aren’t we the stubborn one.” He wiped a hand down his face, turning to Sam and Dean. “You boys sure you don’t want to just end this now?”
You could see on their faces that their resolve was slipping.
“Fuck. You.” you said, drawing his attention back to you.
“Hear that, Agares?” the skinny one said. “Sounds like the bitch is ready for more.”
The demon in the suit–Agares, apparently–sniggered and licked his lips. “You go ahead, Malphas. I’m gonna think about what I want to do to that pretty little face.”
“Wow,” you said hoarsely. “You guys couldn’t have come up with some modern names now that you’re topside? Why don’t you just sprout some feathers and hop on a crocodile and be on your way?”
Both demon’s eyes flashed black. “Hmm. Someone’s been reading up on their demonology,” Malphas said.
“What can I say? I think it’s good to know your enemies.” Your bravado was fading rather quickly, though, especially when you saw Agares wheeling a small metal table with sharp instruments into the room.
“I swear, if you hurt her again…” Sam began threateningly. You were a little surprised to see his attitude had changed so much from before.
“What, you’ll glare us to death?” Agares said as he stopped the table next to you.
Sam practically snarled, but didn’t have a comeback. You gave him what you could of a sympathetic smile.
“Get her down,” Malphas said. You shouldn’t have, but you had a small thrill of hope that they were letting you go. Agares did as he said and you fell to the floor in a heap, your legs unable to support you.
“Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay?” Dean asked, panicked. You lifted your head slowly, nodding. It was short lived, however, as Malphas pulled you up by your hair, your scalp and legs screaming in protest as you brought yourself up to stand.
“Shut them up!” Malphas yelled. Agares obliged, covering both men’s mouths with duct tape. Their muffled protests rang out, and you were sure they were saying a slew of profanities even if you couldn’t make them out.
“You really wanna go through with this, honey?” Malphas asked, his rancid breath hitting your nostrils as he came in close. “One word, and I know these boys will tell me what I want to know.”
You lifted your chin in defiance. “Never.”
“Have it your way.” He reached up, grabbing a fistful of your shirt and ripping it away from your body. The fabric tore down the middle, leaving you with scraps of shirt hanging from your arms. You tried to fight back and he slapped you hard across the face. Stunned, you stumbled back until you lost your footing and fell to the floor, smacking your head on the cold concrete. Before you could regain your senses, he was straddling you, his knees on either side of your body. You went to push him away but your arms were forced roughly back against the floor, the other demon pinning you down.
Sam and Dean continued to shout and struggle, but you knew it was useless. You pleaded in your head with them to close their eyes, to keep themselves from witnessing what was about to happen.
You kept fighting against the demons, but were unable to move much against their strength. You could feel the cuts on your body opening again, the dried blood giving way to warm, fresh blood trickling down.
The demons ripped at every piece of clothing on your body until you were bare on the floor, your whole body shivering from the cold and downright fear you were feeling.
“Stop, please,” you begged.
“You know what you have to do for that, honey,” Malphas responded. You squeezed your eyes shut. You couldn’t give in. The world depended on it.
You felt your face jerk with a hand squeezing your jaw. “Open your fucking eyes!”
You did as told even though everything in you said not to. With Agares holding your upper half down, Malphas was free to paw at your breasts painfully, bringing his mouth down to bite hard everywhere, including your nipples. You screamed out in pain, unable to keep yourself quiet any longer. This only seemed to spur him on, his hands raking down your body until he shoved three fingers into your unprepared opening.
You shouted again, and nothing could prepare you for the feeling of Malphas shoving himself inside you. He raked in and out of you for several minutes until he was spent, and you laid on the floor limply. The tears cascaded down your face and you watched helplessly as the demon pulled his pants up while the other chained your wrist to a nearby pipe. They said something to the brothers as they left, but you couldn’t hear them. You were lost in your own head, trying not to feel the reality of what just happened to you.
Your tears stopped, and you stared blankly at the wall opposite you. The demons must have removed the tape from Sam and Dean’s mouths. You could hear them speaking to you but tuned it out just like everything else.
Summary: You weren’t supposed to be in this mess. Hunting wasn’t your thing; you much preferred the safety of research sitting behind a computer screen.
Now as you looked across the space at your best friends, it was everything you could do not to give up.
You had to hold on, though. For them.
For him.
Triggers: torture, swearing, possible sexual abuse
Your arms felt like they were slowly being ripped from their sockets. Your shoulders burned, and your head throbbed from where you were knocked unconscious.
You did your best not to let the pain show, though. You knew every whimper and every teardrop would bring the boys closer to giving up the information the demons wanted, and you couldn’t let them. Not for you.
You did your best to use your toes to take some of the pressure off your arms, but they were barely touching the floor, and it was awkward when your body was moving with the swaying of the hook.
Sam and Dean had hardly stopped watching you. You weren’t sure how long it had been since the demons left, but it had to have been at least an hour. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take Dean staring at you with his jaw ticking, his eyes furious.
At least that was better than Sam. Sam alternated between fury, pity, and that puppy dog look that was pleading with you to let him give in.
You cast your eyes down. You couldn’t look at him. You knew it was only going to get worse, too.
You heard the door open at the other end of the warehouse and kept your eyes down as the demons approached. You pleaded with the boys in your head to wipe the expressions from their faces. The demons couldn’t know that what they did to you had any effect on them.
“Well, boys, we ready to have a little fun?”
Two hours later the demons had left after the one in the suit got a call on his cell. You were clinging to consciousness as you hung from the meat hook.
Your skin had been slashed in more places than you could count.
The first cut seared white-hot, but you had kept your face stoic as the skinny demon watched the crimson blood run down your leg.
Forty more cuts and your jaw was aching from how much you were gritting your teeth.
After you’d lost count, you couldn’t keep quiet. The pain was unbelievable. Despite that, though, you’d at least managed to keep your moans low and guttural, hoping that it sounded more intimidating than high-pitched screams.
The boys had fought against their restraints until their wrists and ankles were raw, you were sure. The ropes must have been spelled, because there was no way normal ones would be able to hold back the Winchesters’ rage.
Blood loss and sheer exhaustion hit you the second the demons were out the door. You hung there limply, your head resting on your chest.
“Y/N? Sweetheart?” you heard. Dean’s voice caused you to squeeze your eyelids tight before opening them, your mind fighting to stay awake.
You lifted your eyes to your best friend, unable to do much else.
“There you are,” he said encouragingly. “Keep those eyes open for me, okay?” You blinked, a little taken aback at the sweet tone the rugged hunter had taken with you. You shouldn’t have been surprised, though. You knew Dean was a teddy bear under his rough exterior.
Your eyes shifted to Sam, who had a blank look on his face, his eyes staring past you. Your heart ached a little.
He doesn’t think I’m strong enough.
You probably weren’t, you knew. But you had hoped that Sam would have had more faith in you. His eyes met yours briefly before you felt yourself slip into the black.
Sam
Fuck!
Sam watched as your eyes closed as soon as his met them, and he knew you’d passed out. He couldn’t stand seeing you like this. It was tearing him apart.
As much as he tried to steel himself and shut off his emotions, he couldn’t. You were there, suffering for the Winchesters. For him.
He reminded himself that you were also doing it for the sake of the world.
“Sam, c’mon, you have to help keep her awake!” Dean said angrily. Sam didn’t blame him. It probably looked like he didn’t care about you.
“I…I can’t, man. I can’t look at her like this,” Sam replied, shifting his eyes to the floor.
“You think this is a party for me?” Dean yelled. “She is doing this so that the world doesn’t end, again. She deserves to live to see it. So get your head out of your ass and start thinking of a way out of here!”
Dean was right, of course. Sam knew you needed him. He just felt so helpless. Not only that, he felt like he’d failed you.
But that didn’t matter. What mattered was keeping you awake as much as possible–keeping you alive.
Because if you died…he shuddered. He couldn’t even imagine living without you.
“I’m sorry. I’ll do what I can.” He did his best to keep his voice from shaking, but he knew he wasn’t successful.
Sam could feel his brother’s eyes on him. He could almost hear the wheels turning in Dean’s head.
Dean was realizing the same thing as Sam in that moment.
“She…she’s gonna be okay, Sammy. She will. Y/N is a fighter,” he said, his voice soft. Sam finally looked at his brother and saw pity and understanding in his eyes. Dean got what Sam had known deep down for a long time.
He couldn’t imagine a world without you because you werehis world.
Summary: You weren’t supposed to be in this mess. Hunting wasn’t your thing; you much preferred the safety of research sitting behind a computer screen.
Now as you looked across the space at your best friends, it was everything you could do not to give up.
You had to hold on, though. For them.
For him.
Triggers: torture, swearing, possible sexual abuse
Sam woke to the sound of his brother’s voice accompanied by two he didn’t recognize. He kept his eyes closed and his head lolling to the side, trying to decipher where he was before he alerted anyone to the fact he was awake.
He could feel throbbing at the back of his head, likely where someone had hit him to knock him unconscious. He didn’t think he had a concussion. He was pretty familiar with how those felt, and it definitely wasn’t that bad.
He noticed next the light burning of his arms as they stretched around the chair he was in, and his hands were tied behind him with what felt like thick rope.
He could hear his brother babbling on, no doubt trying to buy some time until Sam became conscious again. It was a last ditch effort, but they’d gotten out of worse with less.
“So, what, you think you’re gonna be the demons to finally kill the big, bad, Winchesters?” Dean asked. Sam opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the harsh light. He saw the look of relief in his brother’s eyes before he looked back at the demon for its answer. They were in the warehouse Sam and Dean had driven to. It looked like some kind of old meat warehouse. There large metal hooks hanging all around, like the kind you’d hang a slab of meat from after butchering an animal.
“Oh, we clocked you the second that fucking Impala rolled into town,” the shorter of the two said. He had dark hair that was cut short and spiked up in the front. He was wearing a full suit that looked pretty expensive. The poor sap he was riding must’ve been an executive of some kind.
“Well, who wouldn’t notice my baby?” Dean asked cockily.
“Worked out well for you,” the other demon said with a sneer. He was rail-thin with yellow teeth and a general look of filth. The meat suit could have been a drug addict or something.
Didn’t mean he deserved to be ridden by an evil motherfucker.
“Why don’t you just do whatever it is you brought us here to do,” Sam spoke up finally. The demons’ eyes snapped to him, the pupils and whites instantly turning black.
“Eager to die, are we Sam?” the suited one asked.
“Yeah, like some low-level pencil-pushers are gonna be the ones to gank us,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. That earned him a backhand from the stick-man, Dean’s head turning to the side as he spit out some blood.
Anger flared in Sam and he struggled uselessly against the ropes.
“Oh, calm down, Sammy,” stick-man said. Sam’s lip curled at the demon’s use of his nickname. “You boys have something we need. And until we get it, things are going to be…unpleasant.”
“God, you’d think demons would get more creative. It’s always the same story, isn’t it, Sammy?” Dean said. Sam could tell the demon was going to hit Dean again, so he spoke up.
“What? What do you want?” he asked, exasperated.
“See, we’ve been having a hell of a lot of trouble with hunters lately,” suit said. “We know your network is extensive. Hand the other hunters’ info over, and you’re free to go.”
“Yeah, not gonna happen,” Sam said defiantly. Stick-man nodded, pursing his lips.
“I thought you might say something like that,” he said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled something out, holding it in his fist. Sam saw a glint of metal around one of the demon’s fingers, almost like he was wearing a ring.
“Pulled this off you after we jumped you,” he said, opening his hand. The red plastic tag jingled next to a silver key, both of them hanging from the key ring around his middle finger.
Sam felt his heart drop into his stomach. He recognized the red plastic immediately.
It was the key to the motel room. The motel room where he and Dean had left you to do research.
His body jolted into action immediately, struggling against his restraints with no results. He could hear his brother doing the same next to him.
“I swear to God if you fuckingtouch her,” he began. He was cut off by a punch to his gut, the wind effectively knocked out of him. While he struggled to regain his breath, he heard a door somewhere behind him squeal open.
“Too late, Sammy,” the demon replied, the black draining from his eyes as they focused on something behind Sam’s back.
Sam heard the sound of something dragging on the floor. The sound grew louder until he saw what it was in his peripheral vision. Dean let out a slew of obscenities while Sam grit his teeth, unable to speak through the anger and fear he was feeling.
A third demon held you under the arms, dragging your unconscious body across the floor. Your hands were chained in front of you, and a trickle of blood ran down your forehead.
Suit grabbed one of the hooks, watching as the new demon lifted your arms up, slipping the hook under your chains so you hung by your arms. The hook was just long enough that your toes grazed the floor. Sam watched helplessly as your head lolled to the side, your body swinging lightly in its new position.
“Let her go,” he snarled.
The demons laughed. “Give us the info,” Suit said.
Sam could already feel his resolve slipping. He didn’t want to see you hurt. He wanted you as far from here as possible.
“They won’t,” he heard come softly from behind the demons. His heart raced as his eyes snapped up to see you lifting your head.
“You so sure, missy?” Stick-man asked, turning and squeezing your cheeks with one hand, causing you to try to rip your head from his grasp.
“Yes,” you said resolutely when your mouth was free.
“We’ll see,” he chuckled. Sam didn’t like what he was implying and felt a pit growing in his stomach. The demons turned and left, apparently wanting to let the hunters stew for a while.
Once the door squeaked shut, your eyes found Sam’s.
“Don’t tell them anything,” you said. Your eyes bore into his as you spoke.
“Sweetheart, we aren’t going to just let them hurt you,” Dean said. Your eyes snapped to Dean’s.
“You’ll let them do whatever they’re going to do. It’s too important, Dean. I don’t know what they are planning, but I know it’s big. Apocalypse two-point-oh-big. I heard them talking when I was in and out of consciousness in their car. If they take out all the hunters…it’ll all be over.”
“But Y/N, sweetheart, they’re going to hurt you! Maybe even kill you!” Sam yelled, barely containing his anger.
“It’s me or the whole world, Sam,” you said, shaking your head. “I know which one I choose. I hope you’ll respect that.”
The brothers shared a look. They knew you were right, but neither of them wanted to lose you. An understanding passed between them that said they would do whatever they could to keep you alive until they could figure a way out of this. They couldn’t give the demons what they wanted, sure. But they also couldn’t lose their best friend.
And Sam knew he damn sure wouldn’t let that happen.
Summary: You weren’t supposed to be in this mess. Hunting wasn’t your thing; you much preferred the safety of research sitting behind a computer screen.
Now as you looked across the space at your best friends, it was everything you could do not to give up.
You had to hold on, though. For them.
For him.
Triggers: torture, swearing, possible sexual abuse
You brought your hands to your eyes, rubbing at your tired eyelids. You’d been doing research on a demon case for the last five hours, and your eyes were starting to burn from staring at the screen. Your coffee had gone cold, and you felt like you were running on fumes.
“You’re still at it?” said a voice behind you. You dropped your hands and turned to see Sam standing behind you holding his own cup of coffee.
“Yeah,” you sighed. “I just want to figure out where these bastards are taking their victims,” you said, turning back to the screen. You heard Sam move toward you, leaning over your shoulder to look with you at the map pulled up on your screen.
“You’ve checked all the vacant buildings I’m guessing?” he asked, his breath warm as it blew past your cheek. You inhaled the scent of pine, books, and coffee and tried not to get lost in the feeling it gave you.
Sam and Dean were your best friends. The three of you had created a little unconventional family–with the addition of Cas–and you loved every second of it.
There was only one problem:
You had feelings for Sam that weren’t just ones you’d have for a family member.
Blinking against the haze his scent had put you in, you refocused to respond to Sam’s question.
“Yeah, I did. No one has seen anyone going in and out of any of them. And with the sheer volume of people that have gone missing, I’m thinking someone would have to see them,” you said, sighing.
“You’re exactly right,” you heard from behind you again. This time, though, the voice belonged to Dean. Sam stood up and turned toward him, and you missed the warmth that emanated from his body immediately.
“Just got a call from the Des Moines PD. They got a tip about a warehouse on Smith St. that has CCTV footage of hooded men coming in and out in the middle of the night, always carrying large bags.”
“Like, bodies-in-them-large?” you asked.
“Bingo,” he said, throwing his phone down on the table and taking a seat. “We should probably load up, Sammy. Get on the road.”
You nodded, closing your laptop. “Have fun, guys,” you said sarcastically. Demon hunts never seemed to be very fun.
“Y/N, why don’t you come with us?” Sam asked, surprising you. “You’ve been cooped up in this bunker for way too long. You need to get out.”
You stood up, nudging your shoulder into his. Well, into his ribs, really; he was a giant.
“You callin’ me a hermit?” you joked.
He held up his hands defensively. “Just sayin’, you deserve to go on a road trip. We’ll even stop somewhere fun on the way back, promise.”
You thought about it for a second. It really had been a long time since you’d gone anywhere. You were definitely starting to get sick of the cold bunker and looking at computer screens.
You’d been with the brothers for a few years doing research for their cases. They’d met you on a vampire hunt that you’d unfortunately needed to be rescued from. Once you knew about the supernatural, you’d left what few ties you had to your hometown and traveled with the brothers, using your computer and hacking skills to help them along the way.
You usually kept to the bunker, using its vast resources to help with your research. You had thought about learning to hunt, but hadn’t made the decision yet. Something about all the blood and guts really freaked you out.
“Okay, okay, I’ll come,” you said, nodding.
Dean clapped his hands together once. “I’ll get the road trip snacks,” he said, walking quickly out of the library and toward his Dean Cave. You shook your head at your best friend, laughing at how excited he was for his special snacks.
“Meet you in the car in ten, Y/N,” Sam said, giving your shoulder a squeeze as he walked past you. Your heart fluttered a little, which you ignored, walking toward your own room after a moment to pack a small bag.
“Any requests, Sweetheart?” Dean asked from the driver’s seat.
“Anything besides Metallica, please,” you said, exasperated. Dean listened to his favorite Metallica tape over and over and you didn’t think you could hear it one more time.
“Psh, you just don’t appreciate good music,” he said.
Sam scoffed from the front passenger seat.
“What?” Dean asked, annoyed.
“Y/N/N has great taste in music,” he said, sorting through Dean’s box of cassette tapes. “You just don’t like any music that isn’t yours.”
You smiled a little, glad that Sam was defending you. The banter continued between the three of you for the rest of the drive, and before you knew it you had reached Des Moines.
The boys set you up in a motel room, where they could call you if they needed you to research something on your laptop. It was only early evening, and you knew the boys wanted to get an interview or two in before they went on the stakeout of the warehouse.
“You sure you don’t need anything else?” Sam asked for the thousandth time on his way out.
“I. Am. Fine.,” you replied, lightly shoving him out the door after his brother. “Call me if you need anything.”
He dug his heels in, which stopped your shoving. He turned and looked at you, a small smile on his face.
“Thanks, Y/N/N,” he said.
You felt a light blush rise to your cheeks. You loved when he called you by your nickname.
“Anytime, Stretch,” you said with a wink.
A couple hours later, you walked to the vending machine looking for something to snack on. You had just reached into your pocket for change when everything went black.
Summary:You weren’t supposed to be in this mess. Hunting wasn’t your thing; you much preferred the safety of research sitting behind a computer screen.
Now as you looked across the space at your best friends, it was everything you could do not to give up.
You had to hold on, though. For them.
For him.
Triggers: torture, swearing, possible sexual abuse
A/N: I do not own any pics or gifs. This was a request from anon, and I am so excited to share it with you soon!
Summary: You’re broken. You know this. And as many times as you’ve told yourself that it made you unlovable, dysfunctional, and flawed—you still found yourself feeling hopeful when you met Dean Winchester.
“So, you get into hunting like the rest of us? Some monster kill someone you love?” Dean asked, crossing his ankles and leaning back while he sipped on his glass of whiskey. You had followed the ‘67 Impala you were admiring earlier to a bar on the outskirts of town. It was a little seedy, but that was something you were used to.
You quietly cleared your throat, picking at the label on your beer. “No, my uh…my family died at the hands of a drunk driver.”
“That sucks,” Dean replied. It didn’t sound insincere or flippant, though. You could tell he meant it. And when you met his gaze you found pity and understanding there.
“I bounced around from foster home to foster home from the age of seven to eighteen. Then I fell ass-backwards into hunting when a werewolf gave me this nice trophy,” you said, gesturing to your scar.
The brothers nodded in understanding. Sam had that same empathetic look on his face as before. Dean, however, was regarding the scar with his eyes as if it were some kind of trophy or a battle scar. You blushed involuntarily and looked away, continuing your quest to remove the beer label.
“Do you have any sight left in your eye?” Sam asked cautiously.
You gave him a small smile. People didn’t usually ask you about your scar or your eye. In fact, they usually pretended it wasn’t there because it made them uncomfortable.
“No,” you said, your eyes shifting down. “The werewolf’s claws tore too deep for my eye to be repaired.”
“Well I’ll tell you one thing,” Dean began, lifting his glass toward you, “you’re still one hell of shot.”
You lifted your bottle to meet his glass and and clinked them together. “It wasn’t always that way,” you said. “When all this happened I had never even held a gun. So along with learning how to use one, I had to learn to adjust to my lack of depth perception. With everything, actually.”
Dean’s mouth lifted in a half smile.
“What?” you asked him, your own mouth curving up a little.
“Nothin’…I guess I’m just picturing you reaching for things and missing and tripping over stuff you thought was further away. It’s kinda funny,” he replied.
You found yourself chuckling, the action a foreign feeling in your throat. “Yeah, it was sorta like a bad sitcom for a while. Lots of physical comedy.”
“You know what that reminds me of?” Sam said, a smile on his face, too. “That time we lost that lucky rabbit’s foot and we were fumbling around like idiots.”
The brothers chuckled and you looked at them with questioning eyes, a smile still on your face, too.
“Yeah,” Dean said, answering your silent question. “Turns out the thing was cursed…”
He went on to tell the rest of the story as well as a few others. It was great hearing about their funny experiences on the job. Hunting was generally a sad occupation that ended in death. Swapping funny stories with the boys made it seem a little better, though.
Before you knew it, it had grown late. Sam had left about an hour before to head back to the motel where you were all staying, and you and Dean had stayed at the bar, telling more stories and getting to know each other. The bartender made last call and the the two of you stumbled out into the cool air, opting to walk the few blocks to the motel.
You remembered walking to your door. You remembered laughing a lot. You remembered Dean’s smile. Other than that, though, the next morning you found your mind to be empty. What was not empty, however, was your bed.
No…that was filled by Dean Winchester.
Shit, shit, shit.
You got out of bed quietly so as not to wake Dean and went to the bathroom after grabbing your duffel bag.
Did I sleep with this guy on the first night I met him?
You looked at yourself in the mirror and realized that you had pajamas on.
Not naked. Good sign.
Waking up in bed with a guy was pretty damning evidence, though.
You got dressed and left the bathroom, grabbing everything of yours and stuffing it in your bag, your face flushing with embarrassment every time your eyes landed on the bed. Thankfully, Dean didn’t wake up. You slipped out, walked the few blocks to the bar where you left your car, and got in, wanting to forget what you couldn’t remember.
Once you were about an hour away, you stopped at a diner for some breakfast. You sat at your table, scrolling through the news to see if you could find a new case. After the waitress brought your coffee (which you were hoping would help with the raging hangover) you heard your phone chime. You picked it up and read the name.
Dean Winchester.
You sighed. Apparently we also exchanged numbers last night. Great, you thought.
D: i hope youre just out gettin us some coffee, sweetheart
You rubbed a hand down your face, feeling totally awkward.
Y: Listen, I gather that we had some fun last night but I’m not looking for anything serious, okay? You can relax.
You put your phone down, pleased with your response. This way, he would have an out if he was just looking for a one-night-stand.
Your phone buzzed a few seconds later.
D: we did have some fun last night but i don’t think it’s the kind you’re thinking of
You sucked in a breath. We didn’t have sex? You thought to yourself.
D: not that I’d be opposed to that kind of fun ;)
You had to laugh at that in spite of your embarrassment.
Y: Wow, a girl gets blackout drunk and you don’t take advantage. Must be a real gentleman.
D: i try. now where are you
Y: Well I was colossally embarrassed when I thought I slept with you right after I met you, so I’m an hour outside of town.
D: will you come back and have breakfast with me?
Y: Well I’m colossally embarrassed that I thought we had sex and we didn’t and that I fled because I thought we did so I think…no.
D: please sweetheart. just wanna get to know you more. i can fill in the gaps from last night
You paused to think about if you really wanted to see him again or if you just wanted to let this go. It wasn’t like you had a lot of friends—none, to be exact. And knowing hunters could be helpful down the line.
D: i’ll even bring Sammy if it makes you feel better. no funny business
You felt your resolve slip. He just wanted to be friends, and you could appreciate that. You told him where you were and he agreed to meet you there with Sam. Thankfully you hadn’t ordered yet, so you just sipped on coffee until they arrived.
You didn’t miss the looks of the staff and other patrons when the boys sat down with you. You knew the looks well. It was a little different this time, though. Usually, the looks said, “wow, look at the freak’s face.” This time, they said, “wow, I can’t believe those incredibly handsome men are here with the scar-face.”
You leaned forward a little, letting your hair shade your right side of your face. After the boys got settled in there was an awkwardly silent moment where Dean’s eyes scanned your face. Sam got up to go to the counter to “get the coffee orders in.” You knew he just wanted to give the two of you a second, though.
“Dean, I’m sor—“
“No need to apologize,” he said, interrupting you with a half-smile on his face. “Honestly, Y/N, all we did last night was talk. Then we fell asleep on your bed. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
You felt your heart squeeze a little bit. He was being so nice and he didn’t need to be–what with you running out first thing this morning with little to no information.
Stop it, you heard in your head.
You shook your head a little to clear it. “Thanks, Dean.” He gave you a killer smile and you couldn’t help but smile back before you could remind yourself not to get too close to him.
The three of you ate breakfast and just chatted after that. You were surprised at how comfortable you were with them. It was rare for you to let your guard down enough to joke with people and even more rare for you to enjoy it.
“So, Y/N, what’s next for you?” Sam asked when you were all too stuffed to eat any more pancakes.
“I’m not sure,” you said with a shrug, finishing off your coffee. “Just start looking for another case, I guess.”
Dean looked at his brother and the two had a silent exchange that you couldn’t quite interpret.
“Well, uh, if you want, we are actually heading to another case today,” Dean said, running his hand through his hair. “It’s actually right by our home base, so if you wanted to help, you’d have a place to stay for free.”
“That’s nice, Dean, but I wouldn’t want to be a bother. If you need help with the case I can always just get another motel,” you responded. You feared he was only offering out of some kind of pity he felt for you.
“No, no, you would have to stay with us. Trust me, you wanna see where we live,” Dean said with a devilish smirk. You weren’t sure what that meant but when Sam rolled his eyes behind Dean’s back you decided to just go with it.
“Okay, you’re on.”
As you all got up to leave you couldn’t help but be shocked at how much your path had changed in the last twenty-four hours. Hanging out with other hunters was not something you had done before. In fact, you hadn’t really hung out with anyone in your adult life. It was scary, but something about it also felt exhilarating.
“See if you can keep up,” Dean said with a nudge as he walked by you. You knew it would be tough keeping up with the Impala, but you decided you were up for all kinds of new challenges.
Summary: You’re broken. You know this. And as many times as you’ve told yourself that it made you unlovable, dysfunctional, and flawed—you still found yourself feeling hopeful when you met Dean Winchester.
If there was an award for the unluckiest person in the world, you’d probably win.
Scratch that, you wouldn’t. Because ironically enough, you have to have luck to win things.
You hopped out of the lemon of a sedan you had stolen only two days before and kicked the door shut hard with your foot. The silver paint was rusting off and the windshield was cracked—some signs you should have noticed when choosing your target, apparently.
Inconspicuously stealing cars was hard enough. Did you also have to always pick the ones that are on the verge of total engine failure?
You huffed a sigh and slung your canvas backpack onto your shoulder, dragging your feet and kicking up dust on the road as you walked toward the nearest hint of civilization. You could see signs for fast food up ahead, the once-brightly-colored plastic—now faded from the sun—hovering above several boring brick buildings.
You breathed in the scent of fresh air mixed with french fries as you walked, your stomach grumbling at the thought of food.
You pulled out your phone, opening the map app and checking how far you were from the hunt you had planned to arrive at tonight.
Well, that’s not happening without wheels.
After walking for about five minutes you reached the small strip of restaurants and shady-looking convenience stores. You decided to forgo greasy burgers, instead ducking into a small diner that promised the “fluffiest flapjacks around.”
You seated yourself as the small sign at the register suggested. You chose a booth by the window and sat so your right side was facing outside. You folded your legs under you and pulled out your laptop to continue researching the case.
“What can I get ya, hon?” Without looking up from your computer you answered the waitress quickly.
“Coffee, pancakes, fries. Please and thank you.”
You heard the waitress huff out a small chuckle but ignored it.
Time went by quickly when you were absorbed in werewolf lore and before you knew it your food was placed in front of you.
“Thank you,” you said, looking at the waitress out of the corner of your eye. You saw in your periphery that she was an older woman, probably in her late fifties. She gave you a smile, the wrinkles around her eyes becoming prominent as she muttered something about “kids and their technology” while walking away.
You rolled your eyes to yourself. I’m not a kid.
In fact you were in your late twenties, but you were sure you hadn’t been a kid since you were about seven anyway.
You ate slowly, still scrolling through your computer. You let your long Y/H/C hair fall over the right side of your face as was your habit.
You got the sudden feeling that someone was watching you. You peered up through your eyelashes to see a man sitting one booth away. He was facing you, the other side of his booth unoccupied as well. He smiled, and you felt a small blush rise to your cheeks.
He was cute, and you found yourself smiling back at him, which was not something you would normally do. He had jet black hair and eyes that were almost dark enough to match. He had dimples in his cheeks, and before you could even react, he was getting up to come talk to you.
He sat across from you and smiled again, reaching out his hand.
“I’m Jake,” he said in a friendly tone. You were so thrown off by his approach that you forgot yourself for a moment, reaching up and tucking your hair behind your ear before shaking his hand.
“Y/N,” you said. You barely got your name out before you saw it. It was the same reaction everyone had: shock followed by an attempt to mask their feelings of disgust.
“Uh, nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said. You didn’t believe him for a second. “I, uh, actually forgot that I have somewhere to be and I’m late.”
He exited the booth without another word. The whole interaction lasted less than thirty seconds. You threw money on the table, packed up your bag and headed to the bathroom. You leaned over the sink, throwing water on your face to cool it down. You looked in the mirror after drying it with a paper towel.
Emotionless eyes—one Y/E/C, one cloudy blue—stared back at you. You used your finger to lightly trace the line down the right side of your face—the one that split your eyebrow down the middle. The one that stretched all the way down to your chin. The one whose creation had also taken the sight in your right eye.
The one that caused “cute-guy-Jake” to flee immediately when he saw it.
The next day you finally made it to the small town in Missouri where you were sure there was a werewolf hunt. Life may not have been kind to you, but you were pretty good when it came to your instincts as a monster hunter.
Especially with werewolves.
You clenched your teeth silently and parked your most recent theft on the side of the road. You went for something newer this time, a silver 2008 Toyota Corolla. You figured it would most likely run okay. The only problem with newer cars was the alarms. You had stalked the owner for a bit, watching to see if an alarm set with the tell-tale two beeps when they locked it.
Luckily, it didn’t.
You liked this car. It was nicer to drive than you were used to. There was something to be said for the classics, though. They always just felt so lived in—so loved.
Speaking of classics—there was a classic ‘67 Impala parked a little way up the street from you. It was beautiful and well taken care of. You slid your hand across the shiny black paint as you walked by it, the surface silky smooth and obviously recently waxed.
You snapped yourself out of your classic-car-daze and headed quickly toward the old farm house on silent feet. As you got closer you heard swearing and snarling. Never a good sign.
You slowly cracked open the front door, trying to get a peek inside without making the door—that looked to be a hundred years old—creak too loudly.
You were surprised to see not only three repulsive werewolves standing in front of an old, dusty fireplace, but also two human men. Well, the men weren’t standing so much as being held captive.
One man who you could tell was very tall was laying on the floor unconscious. The other had his back against the mantle of the fireplace, his hands raised in surrender. Though he was clearly outmatched and outnumbered, he still had a cocky air about him—as if he knew he would get out of this jam.
The man’s gun had been kicked away from him and it lay about three feet in front of the door you were peeking through. You knew that the men were hunters. Who else would be stupid enough to come after a monster that had three times their strength.
You chuckled inwardly. Me, I guess.
A plan formed in your mind and you set it in motion immediately, knowing this man didn’t have much time left. You threw open the door, causing all four conscious heads to turn your way. In one swift motion you swept your arm down, picking up the other hunter’s gun and pointing yours at one wolf’s heart, pulling the trigger before it had time to react.
Shooting a werewolf right in the heart with a silver bullet was probably the thing you were best at when it came to hunting. It had been just about the only thing you had practiced in your down time in the last ten years.
While the wolves were distracted the hunter attacked the two you hadn’t shot from behind, causing them to fall to the floor. You chucked the gun to him and he caught it expertly, immediately aiming and pulling the trigger, sending a bullet into the second wolf’s heart.
The final one scrambled to his feet, ready to attack. You saw in his eyes that he knew he was done for, though, and you pulled the trigger before he had a chance to run.
With all three wolves dead, the man ran to his partner, attempting to shake him from unconsciousness. You slid your gun in the back of your pants and walked toward them. The man was able to rouse his partner, and he helped him up as the taller man took in the situation.
Both men looked at you at the same time. You prepared yourself for their reaction when they took a good look at your face. You were surprised, though, when you watched them both react in ways that you’d never experienced before.
The taller man looked at you, his hazel eyes narrowing just the slightest bit. Not in a mean way, though. He looked as though he was trying to understand what had happened to you. His eyes changed, then, as he pushed some of his long chestnut hair behind his ear. There was pity in them, but not the kind you were used to. You realized slowly that it wasn’t pity. It was empathy.
You looked to the other man now, taking him in as he did the same to you. He had short hair that was styled in a way that looked effortless but amazing. He had dazzling green eyes, the kind that look like they couldn’t possibly be real. You knew, though, that hunters didn’t have time for things like colored contacts.
You watched as his eyes followed the scar on your face, sliding down your forehead and stopping on your blind eye before ending to the right of your mouth. He didn’t react like his partner, though. In fact, he barely reacted at all. It was as if he had noticed that you had freckles or dimples—not a hideous scar.
“You really saved our asses,” he said, his deep voice booming.
“It’s no biggie,” you said, hating how high and nervous your voice sounded. The men didn’t seem to notice, though.
“I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean,” the taller man said. His eyes were kind, and you found yourself making contact with them which was unusual for you.
“I’m Y/N,” you said, letting your hair fall like a curtain over the right side of your face. It was a habit you had, and the fact that it covered your scar was the only reason you kept your hair long.
“Well, Y/N,” Dean said, clapping his hands together, “what do you say we buy you a drink as a thank you?”
You were hesitant. You usually tried to stay away from other hunters—and people in general. Something told you that you could trust these men, though. You were going to be careful, anyway.
Warnings: language, talk of drinking/alcohol, talk of nightmares and hell, PTSD symptoms, unintended violence
Word count: 2579
A/N: Okay, here’s chapter three. I hope y’all enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing this one. It just seemed to come easily while writing :) Once again, thank you @avanatural (my amazing beta!) for reading this over!
As much as you’d hoped things would start to return to normal now that the ‘team’ had been reunited, it quickly became apparent that normal wasn’t a word you’d be able to use anymore. You had noticed almost right away that Sam was different, although you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. It was just something in him that you felt was off, completely unlike the man you’d known him to be only months prior. The Sam you knew was buried somewhere deep inside and the facade of what he thought was ‘normal’ was tenuous at best.
Dean had changed too, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. You hadn’t thought much of it at first; the fixation on finding the thing that pulled him out seemed rational. After all, that thing, that angel, had altered the course of his life. But it was so much more than that too. A toxic mix of self-hatred, guilt and shame churned just below the surface and Dean hid it the only way he knew how - with alcohol, effortless lies, and sarcastic wit.
“Dean, are you okay?” You question softly, your hand resting gently on his arm. His viridescent eyes bore into yours, emotion crackling in their depths.
“Of course Y/N. Why wouldn’t I be?” He asks, a humorous lit to his voice as if he had no clue why you’d be asking him that. He gives you that coy smile, the one that always manages to make you forget how to speak, leaving your mind blank.
You stumble over your words as you try to gather your thoughts. “Dean…you’ve been through a lot and I just want to-”
He interrupts you. “I told you. I don’t remember anything.” His words leave no room for further discussion as he speeds up his gait, leaving you struggling to keep up. He quickly crosses the small, dark motel parking lot, water splashing up from the pavement as he moves.
He roughly pushes open the door, slamming it back against the wall of the small, dingy motel room. Sam lifts his head up from where he’d been bent over his laptop, narrowly missing getting hit by the car keys Dean throws onto the table.
“What’s up with you?” Sam asks, his eyebrow quirked up in confusion at his brother’s behavior. Dean doesn’t reply, opting instead for grabbing the half-full bottle of whiskey next to the TV and taking it to the other twin bed. He takes a heavy swig from it as he settles against the cheap headboard. You let out a small sigh, taking a seat next to Sam at the table.
“Piss off Sam.” Dean snarls, taking another long pull from the bottle, grabbing the remote from the nightstand and turning on a random ball game. Sam gives you a look over the top of his laptop before he closes it and stands.
“I’m going to head out and grab some dinner. Anything you guys want?” Sam addresses both of you but his kaleidoscopic eyes are on you. You give him as much of a smile as you can muster, along with a soft shake of your head.
“Whatever man,” Dean says apathetically, his eyes not leaving the TV as he finishes off the bottle of alcohol. Sam gives him a long look before grabbing his jacket off the back of the cheap, wood panel chair and the keys to the Impala.
“I’ll be back in a bit.” Sam says soft enough so only you can hear him. “Try to talk to him. He always did open up better for you.”
You give him a subtle nod, your eyes already going back to settle on Dean. He isn’t looking at you, his eyes focused on the TV, and you can’t quite tell if he is ignoring you or is really interested in the baseball game.
“Never pegged you for a sports junkie.” You call out, catching Dean’s attention.
He gives you an overly exaggerated eye-roll as he reaches for a warm, unopened beer on the nightstand, cracking it open before returning his attention to the TV.
You let out a soft sigh as you stand from your spot at the table, slowly making your way to the unoccupied side of the bed Dean was lying on. You settle in against the headboard, your eyes on Dean, instead of the TV. You don’t miss the tension sitting in his shoulders or the bags under his eyes. The longer you look at him, the more you realize those months away had aged him. He no longer looked like the young, carefree hunter he once had been. This Dean looked like, well, like he had barely survived everything hell had to throw at him.
As much as you wanted to get Dean to talk about it, to help him find something that served as an outlet for those feelings he denied existed, you knew that sometimes, all you could give him was the quiet assurance of your presence.
You had had a naïve notion that finding the being that pulled Dean from hell would help relieve some of the tension hanging over the three of you, but it hadn’t. In fact, discovering the existence of angels had created more questions than it had answered.
“How can you just buy the crap he’s saying?” Dean raises his voice as his gaze shifts from Bobby, to Sam, to you. “C’mon, angels aren’t real.”
“Don’t you want to believe that all this, the years of hunting, of no recognition, of barely scraping by were for some bigger reason?” You question, your eyes searching his as you look for even a glimmer of understanding. The barely restrained anger continues to blaze behind his eyes, yet you continue. “Dean, for the first time in years, I feel that it’s not all meaningless. I have hope.” You pause, needing to take a deep breath to calm that rush of emotions rising in your chest. “Why don’t you?”
“Because hope doesn’t exist. It’s all a lie.” He gruffs out, his pessimistic and unbelieving tone fracturing your already fragile heart. “The only one you can ever trust is yourself.”
You reach out a hand to brush back the lock of hair that had fallen down over his forehead. “You know that isn’t true Dean. Somewhere in you lies that hope. All you have to do is trust a little.” You whisper, giving him a small smile before taking a step back. There was that part of you that knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Dean believed.
And the longer it took for Dean to return to ‘normal’, the more frustrated Sam became. You could see it in the words that Sam could barely restrain himself from saying. It was in the skeptical set of his brow, every time he watched Dean down half a bottle of whiskey in a short amount of time. It was in that question that he’d been asking Dean on repeat since Dean had returned; “Are you okay?” And every time, Dean managed to talk his way out of Sam’s concern, brushing it off with a loud laugh or a sarcastic reply.
And one day, on the drive back to Bobby’s after a long hunt, it happened. Sam had had enough; he so clearly wanted his brother back and he was done waiting for Dean to return to who he’d been before hell.
“Dude, you look like shit,” Sam says, watching as Dean climbs behind the wheel of the Impala. Dean doesn’t respond; instead, he fires up the engine, revving it loudly a few times before easing it out of the parking spot in front of the motel. Dean doesn’t crank up the radio like he usually does once the blacktop is rolling smoothly underneath the rubber of the tires, a sign in itself that worries you.
“Must’ve been the nightmares. You were pretty loud last night.” Sam presses, turning his body towards Dean. You can see the tension set in Dean’s shoulders and you bite your lip, hoping that Sam doesn’t push it.
Dean doesn’t respond, instead he reaches forward and cranks on the radio, Foreigner blasting from the speakers loud enough to drown out any attempts at conversation. Sam is quiet for a beat or two before he leans forward and shuts it off.
“Dude, ignoring it isn’t going to help.” Sam says abruptly, his tone a bit more gruff than it had been a moment before.
Dean gives Sam a wordless look, his brow set in bored exasperation as his attention returns to the road. “I told you, I don’t remember anything.” He says firmly, although you don’t believe a word.
Sam doesn’t either apparently, as he continues. “Dean, that’s bullshit and you know it. Something happened down there, something you remember and don’t want to talk about.” He exclaims loudly, slamming a hand against the dash.
“Sam, that’s enough.” You say stiffly, noticing the way Dean was currently clenching his jaw, his hands tight around the steering wheel and his shoulders tight with tension. You want to reach forward and run a hand across his shoulders in an attempt to erase that rigidity. More than that, you want to be able to take him into your arms and erase the memories that have haunted him since returning.
Sam turns to look at you, eyes steely in a way you hadn’t seen before. “I’m not just going to leave it Y/N. He’s obviously hiding something and I’m not going to gullibly take it like you do.” He hisses at you, frustration leaking through his voice. You are taken back by his words, unsure of how to respond.
“Enough.” Dean snaps, causing both of you to look at him. “Both of you, shut up. I’ve had it. No more talking.” His words are harsh, but you know better than to push it right now. So you lean back against the leather seat and close your eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. You aren’t that upset that he snapped at you, but rather his rejection of your attempt to help him, to protect him (even if it was from his own brother) hurt. It hurt, knowing that Dean was hurting and you couldn’t help him, that he wouldn’t let you help him. You tuck your legs up underneath you as you let out a small sigh, your gaze wandering to the window to look at the stars shining in the dark sky. The miles pass slowly as you desperately try to come up with some answer to the whole situation.
Dean pulls into Bobby’s yard an hour or so later, the headlights briefly illuminating the path to the house before the entire yard goes dark. The three of you remain quiet as bags are grabbed from the trunk and you wearily make your way to your rooms. You hesitate at the door of the room you and Dean share, unsure if he wants you in the room with him after what happened in the car.
“What are you waiting for sweetheart? Open the door.” Dean’s gruff, tired voice pulls you out of your indecision as you step forward, pushing the door of the darkened room open. You shuffle forward, stopping only long enough to drop your duffel on the floor before shedding your dirt-stained jeans and wrinkled top, exchanging them for the large T-shirt and flannel lying near your side of the bed.
You crawl into bed after that, too tired to care about finishing the rest of your nightly routine, opting instead for the warmth of the bed. The bedspread is pulled over you and tucked into your side, causing you to sleepily open your eyes.
“G’night sweetheart,” Dean says, his mesmerizing hazel eyes gentle, a sharp contrast to the empty, hard eyes that had stared back at you from the rearview mirror only hours before.
“G’night Dean.” You mumble, your body already half asleep as the exhaustion of the day wears down on you. You feel his hand come to gently cup your face, a thumb running slowly over your cheekbone as you fade away.
Movement in the bed next to you wakes you up in the dark, early hours of the morning. You blink a few times, trying to orient yourself when you feel Dean turn over roughly beside you, muttering a few incoherent words as he does. “Dean…Dean.” You call, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly, in an attempt to wake him up.
Before you can even register what’s happening, Dean is on top of you, his solid weight pressing you deep into the mattress, an arm heavy against your throat, cutting off the air to your lungs. You try to push him off, try to tell him to stop, but all you can do is flail your arms about helplessly; the lack of air causing your vision to become fuzzy. You see, through the growing haze coming over vision, as the heavy fog of his nightmare lifts, the realization of what he’s doing reaches his eyes before he scrambles off of you.
You pull yourself up into a sitting position, coughing occasionally as you regain your breath. When you can breathe normally again, you scan the room looking for Dean. You find him standing stock-still near the door, about as far away from the bed as he could be while still being in the room.
You climb out of bed, wrapping Dean’s flannel, the one you’d been sleeping in since he ‘died’, tighter around yourself as you slowly walk up to him. “Dean?” You ask, tentatively reaching out a hand towards his arm. He jerks backward before you can touch him.
“Don’t.” His voice is thick, almost gravelly as his gaze meets yours. His emerald eyes are swirling with a wild combination of emotions, of which the easiest to identify is guilt. A heavy ache settles in your chest as you realize that Dean was already blaming himself for what happened.
“Dean, this wasn’t your fault.” You say, your tone low, but firm in an attempt to make him understand. “You were having a nightmare. I shouldn’t have tried to-”
He cuts you off almost immediately. “Stop. I almost choked you to death and you’re blaming yourself? I almost killed you, one of the only truly good things in my life.” His voice is dark in a way you thought he reserved solely for talking of the repulsive creatures you hunted. You realize with a start that he didn’t think himself any better than those monsters.
“I need some air.” He spits out as he turns and practically flees from the bedroom, leaving you standing by yourself in the dark. You hear the loud purr of an engine down in the yard a few moments later, an engine you know could only belong to Baby and you reluctantly climb into bed, intent on waiting up for him until he returns.
You lay alone for hours, straining to hear the warm chug of a downshifting engine, marking his return to the shabby farmhouse. It never comes. Instead, you spend the rest of the night in bed, surrounded by his smell, but unable to feel him. It serves as a cruel reminder to only a few short weeks ago when you’d thought that the last physical thing you’d have to remind you of Dean was the scent that lingered on his pillow.
Request: Hii I was wondering if you could do imagine where y/n is huntress from europe (slovakia maybe) and she come help Sam and Dean, but in the end, after some months or year, when she and dean fell in love, she gotta leave cause she wanna protect them, and she say I love you to Dean in her mother language, but he has no idea what she said and after some days he asks Sam what that means and he when he say the meaning, Dean’s gonna cry? I hope you understand and thank you – @stxrmkatie
Pairings: Dean x Reader
Warnings: a smidge of hurt and angst
Word Count: 705
A/N: This is pretty short but I hope you like it, if you’d like a second part just send em in! Feedback is loved!
“So get this,” Sam started, capturing Dean’s attention with a slightly annoyed sigh due to the overused phrase. “This monster isn’t native here.” He continued. “So, meaning?” Dean reiterated. “Meaning, we don’t have the things to kill it—“ “It’s called a vodyanoi, I suppose you two are American hunters?” An accented voice asked from behind the boys. Dean first turned, brows furrowed and Sam’s eyebrows looked shocked. “Not so subtle in your talking…” She murmured and Dean immediately drew back his expression. “I’m (y/n), from Slovakia, where the vodyanoi originated, someone tried to take it in the States.” She explained.
“Would you mind helping us out?” Sam asked, eyeing the way Dean had just been struck. “I definitely do not, after all, I travelled very far to kill it.” She beamed and Dean subtly pulled his lower lip between his teeth as he bit it, unfocused. “Dude!” Sam nudged his brother seeing her smirk, turning around and Dean just staring at her. “Wh—what?” Dean shook from a trance that is this Slovak girl. Sam rolled his eyes. “Let’s go!” He pushed, laughing, glancing at (y/n) as Dean was still frozen in his spot.
“Thank you so much for your help, (y/n).” Sam sighed, handing you back the weapon. She smiled. “No, I think the thanks goes to you two.” She gratefully said. “Sweetheart, you were great out there.” Dean muttered, still in a state of trance. “You are more than welcome to stay with us—if you want to.” Dean was quick to his offer and Sam smirked. He knew his brother had a pretty devastating string of love life that he was happy that (y/n) seems to like him as well. “I—Yeah, that’ll be great.” She smiled.
The next few days were hunt free and Dean took that time to get to know her, to show her how different America is to Slovakia. She enjoyed everyday, most especially with Dean. “I like you, very much, (y/n).” Dean whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She bit her lip and leaned in, Dean going in for the last inch, kissing her deeply. A few months of hunts and relaxation and time with the Winchester brothers, a call with a tone that (y/n) wished she didn’t hear. She pulled away softly, pecking his lips. “I have to answer this.” She said and he nodded.
She moved a few feet away and answer the phone. “(Y/n), musíte sa vrátiť. Chápem vašu príťažlivosť, ale nemôžeme riskovať veci.” The voice said, talking about (y/n) having to come back and not risk anything. She clenched her jaw. “Rozumiem. Budem tam o týždeň.” She replied saying she’ll be back in a week. Tears threatened to spill and Dean knew what she was about to say. “When do you have to go?” He asked, his green eyes shining with pain. “In a week.” She answered. “Do you have to?” He asked, cupping her cheek. “I need to protect you guys.” She whispered. “And I have to. They need me.”
A week quickly passed and the two spent every passing minute together until the faithful day that Dean brought her to the airport. “That was the best year I’ve ever had, (y/n).” Dean smiled, kissing her forehead. “Same for me, Dean, I promise you, we will see each other soon.” She whispered. “I promise too.” Dean said and kissed her deeply. “Ľúbim ťa.” She whispered kissing him once more.
Dean didn’t know what she just said but he will remember it to his heart. “Ľúbim ťa…” He whispered to himself, eyebrows furrowing together. He and Sam were researching when Dean had the urge to just ask Sam. “Sammy, what does this mean,” Dean paused remembering just how she said it. “Ľúbim ťa.” He pronounced. Sam’s eyebrows shot up and gave his brother a sad smile. “Ľúbim ťa means I love you in Slovak.” Sam explained. Dean’s heart shattered. He knew she knew that he loved her through his actions but now he knew she loved him back.
Tears slowly slipped down his cheek and Sam patted his brother, walking by to grab some beer.
