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S6 E 18 Frontierland
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These predictions are too real sometimes
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It’s like my old life is, is coming after me or something. Like it doesn’t want me to be happy. Course I know what you’d say. Well, not the you that played softball but… “So go hunt the Djinn. He put you here, it can put you back. Your happiness for all those people’s lives, no contest. Right?” But why? Why is it my job to save these people?
Supernatural 2x20 What Is and What Should Never Be
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Summary: What if only one person could actually use Ruby's demon killing knife, and that person was you? Dean Winchester x reader
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
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December 26 and 27, 2021 - [redacted]
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In the past couple of weeks, Tumblr has observed a decrease in the times Supernatural has trended. In an attempt to bring back the balance on the Supernatural Website, they have decided to ban unneccesary content to bring attention to what's really important.
Following the ban of a number of tags (including "queue," "reblog," "girl," etc.) for the iOS app users [x] [x] [x] [x] [x], the Tumblr community began to make various spn memes and it soon caused the tag to trend.
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What's more, Tumblr have outed themselves as anti-spn finale, as one of the banned tags is CW [x]. It's not a good day for the CW sniper.
For the record - this post is mostly jokes. Supernatural is trending because of the memes following the ban but the rest is my attempt at humor. For factual info, please see the linked sources.
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Summary: What if there was only one person who could use Ruby's demon killing knife and that person was you? Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Masterlist
I added made-up enemies into this chapter
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Dean was furious when he saw you in the hotel lobby, a duffel bag slung over your shoulder and the knife proudly displayed on your hip. 
"What are you thinking!" Dean questioned angrily from across the room as he strode toward you with heavy steps. You kept your head high, a smirk on your lips as you stared him down. You knew you had the upper hand in the conversation. "You have every murderous God knows what after you and you decide to just, take a stroll?" 
"I have an idea on who the killer is." The smug grin was still plastered on your lips, Dean felt something churn in him at the sight. 
"Then you tell us and let us handle it." Dean rebuttled. 
"Oh, so you'd listen to me?" You questioned, "No, wait you wouldn't. Cause I called and you ignored me! You even hung up on me!" Dean ground his teeth and clenched his fists at his side in response to your remark. You were right, but he would not admit it. 
"If I am part of this team you have to respect me like a god damn member!" The statement seemed to envoke something in Dean, who suddenly changed his demeanor and switched into work mode. He began giving orders again. 
"You want to be a member? Here." Dean aggressively tossed a shotgun towards you without another word. It hit you square in the chest, but you managed to hold onto it. 
"Sammy!" Dean called down the hall, and his brother quickly appeared. Dean then turned to you. "What are we looking for?"
"A wreath made of human hair. It's in a picture frame in one of the halls." 
"Go burn it." He tossed Sam a lighter, which he easily caught. Sam then nodded in confirmation, before letting out a small "right" and ran down the nearest hall. Once Sam left, cold spots began to form once again. 
You stared down at the swirling glowing mess of poltergeist below you and felt sadness grip inside you. You could not help but wonder how you let your life get here. To the point that you were risking your life to save a home from a horde of spirits. 
You vaulted over the balcony railing and fell directly into the fray. Immediately, you created a salt circle around yourself, but it was pointless as the spirit-generated wind kept sweeping it away. You would have no cover for this fight. 
You fired upon the first ghost that flew towards you. Its arms were outstretched, fingers poised to cling to you. Then, thanks to your rock salt slug, it dissipated into a flicker of light and energy. It would rebuild soon. 
You continued this routine, firing slugs after slug and dodging attacks while you reloaded. You both seemed to be gaining the upper hand until the ground began quaking. The sudden move of the earth below your feet caused you to stumble. All the spirits began moving in a circular motion in front of you and gained speed until they were a blinding light. 
"What the hell are they doing now?" Dean questioned. 
"You know more than me." 
There were dozens of them darting around the room, whizzing by you like flies. All their energy and movement built up in such strength, they were generating wind and bits of electricity. It howled around the room like a storm and small colorful sparks jolted around the charged air. They pooled their energy together and created a new entity.
It was made of pale bones and rotting flesh. Its arms were practically non-existent and the dry bone that was left was whittled to sharp points. Its white hair reached to its hip bone giving it a corpse-like aura.
"It's a ghast. I never encountered one of these before." Dean stated, seeming uncertain for the very first time.
"Can we kill it?"
"Yes."
"Then we'll be fine." You loaded your shotgun for emphasis and moved across from Dean so you were both on each side of the monster. Then you stepped to the side so, if either of you shot and it dodged, you would not get hit. 
"We need iron for this guy." Dean  corrected. He tossed an iron machete towards you. You were thankful for its long handle, which allowed you to safely catch it. From the outstretched position you caught the machete in, you used your momentum to slash at the Ghats's back. It shrieks sharply, hurting your ears, and turned towards you.
It lunged forward, swiping the air in quick successions. It tries to stab and slice you with boney blades and surprisingly quick movements. It was dangerously agile and calculating. Dean threw his blade into the side of the Ghats's neck. It's buried deep with the sound of squelching flesh but did not go cleanly through as it should have. It dug in a quarter of the way, before getting stuck. Dean cursed under his breath. 
The spirit pulled away, taking the weapon with it. Dean stood ridged and glared at the creature. With a yell, you buried your machete on the other side of the neck, freeing the weapon as the head fell to the ground with a hard thump and rolled slightly. The triumph was short-lived as the creature continued to live despite being headless.
It surged towards you in anger and you were too late to duck out of the way due to being caught off guard. It lashed out at you, cutting your upper arm deeply. Blood quickly trickled out of the wound in a thin sheet. You applied pressure to the wound and staggered backward in shock. 
"(Y/N)!" Dean yelled your name and scooped up his weapon so he could plant himself between you and the Ghast. He blocked his attack towards you and leaned in with all his weight to keep it at bay. 
Then it ceased its attack, embers began floating off of it and it let out a ghastly wail that faded out of existence. Supernatural flames consumed the Ghast's body. Dean took a moment to catch his breath and you heard footsteps chase you from down the hall. It was Sam.
"Let's get that fixed,"  Sam said, looking over your arm. "How'd that kill all of them?" He questioned, trying to keep your mind off the pain from the wound on your arm as the he attempted to treat it. 
"You burned the hair wreath. Each lock of hair that was weaved into it was a family member that passed." You grimaced and saw the wound was continuing to bleed. 
"It was made of a human hair? Creepy."
"Was actually common in Victorian times. Made it so we could kill all of them in one go."
"Dean can you--" 
"On it." He replied, already having a roll of gauze in hand and began to tightly wrap it around your upper bicep. You looked down at the man and grimaced as he tied off the wrap. 
"Well thank you for that....and patching me up." You commented. The calm after the storm was short lived, as the group was immediately thrown into another fight. A bigger fight. 
"Well. Looks like your little hero is wounded." An unknown voice mocked. 
Immediately you went for your demon-killing knife that was strapped to your thigh, but an unseen force was used against you and it was strong. You were thrown off your feet along with your partners and into the back wall. All the air left your lungs, making you unable to speak or see as tears blurred your vision and pain filled your chest. Seeing it was your third time getting thrown around, you were surprised it still phased you. 
You propped yourself on all fours in an attempt to stand, only to lose your breath a second time as a hard kick was sent to your diaphragm. You fell to the floor again, looking at your assailant as he targets someone else, Sam who was knocked unconscious from the attack. 
Seeing your friend in danger roused you enough to be alert and make another attempt to fight back. You staggered to your feet as the nameless demon grabbed the brunette by his throat. With a yell, you ran forward, slashing your blade against the demon's side.
The demon yelled in pain and cursed at you as plunged your knife halfway into its side, as to not kill it. It thrashed, releasing your friend in the process. You then twisted the knife, earning another round of violent screams that roused the others from their unconscious state.
Sam and Dean acted quickly, and began making a familiar design on the hard wood floor. A star symbol that Sam would later inform you is called a Devil's trap. It was over half way done and seemed to be the task you interrupted with your arrival. Thankfully they hid it under a large rug and when they finished it, the demon was still standing on it. 
They then made a more secure holding place of him in the library, where there was only one door. An hour later, after you confirmed Sam and Dean were well and back on their feet, you went off to the library. It was now a room your team had made into an improv demon prison. The demon seemed barley conscious as he was chained in the same chair you left him in that was now seated over a protective seal he could not move from. Next to the door, Dean sat in a similar chair, guarding your new friend and keeping him awake as a part of borderline torture.
"Oh, hello there darling? Come to finish me off now?" He grinned at you with a wolfish smile. The comment brought Dean's attention to your presence. 
"We know there are more of you here." You bluffed. 
"Ahhhh. So you want information then. On him maybe? Or is it just about you?" He replied, gesturing towards Dean with his head since it was the only part of his body that was remotely free. 
"Stop changing the subject." You growled back, "How many of you are here?"
"Just me. But there's always one of us around to keep an eye on you."
"Why?"
"(Y/N). This is getting off-topic." Dean protested, resting his hand on your shoulder which you immediately and aggressively shrug off. 
"WHY?" You questioned with more aggression and pressed your blade against his throat.
"Oh no-no. You can't kill me now (y/n). You need me for answers."
"Pshh. I can get that from any of you impersonators."
"Well I'll tell you everything thing in exchange for a....a chance let's call it. Let me just leave. Out of your hair and out of this body." He offered. 
"Where will you go?"
"Away from here. You get your little job done."
"Deal." You lied, "Now, what's so special about me? Why do I meet the standard to use the blade?"
"(y/n)." Dean interrupted again, but this time persistently and with more force in his tone.  You backed away from the demon but still kept him alive. You pressed your lips together and headed for the door, thinking over what to do.
You looked over the room, seeing what you could use to your advantage as Dean reached the room's threshold. He reached the hall, and you slammed the door behind him and locked it with a quick turn of the knob. The flimsy lock only bought you time as you needed real weight behind the door to prevent him from breaking through. Already he was yelling and throwing his shoulder into the door. 
You and Dean could see each other through the decorative glass piece that was placed on the top of the door. The pane slightly distorted the look of his face due to the curving of the glass, but you could still see how angry he was. You could hear how angry he was. 
"What are you doing (y/n)? You don't want to do this! He is just trying to trick you!" You turned from him, missing the flash of panic in his eye and only hearing him hit the wooden door with more force. "Dammit (y/n) c'mon! You're smarter than this!"
"I'd say she's plenty smart for tricking you, Winchester." The demon mocked. 
"Shut up." You replied, twisting the knife so he did not get too comfortable, "What do you have to say about me? Why are you following me?" 
"Cause you're powerful."
"Quit the games. Tell me who else can use this weapon."
"You just happened to be chosen by fate. Nothing special, just bad luck." You took a step away in shock, trying to process what you had just heard. There’s no way to get out of this. No way to pass on your connection to the blade. The door behind you flung open in a splintering mess.
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Summary: What if there was only one person who could use Ruby's demon killing knife and that person was you? Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Masterlist
Dean Winchester x reader
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The job you were called on was in an old Victorian mansion that now served as a place for people to spend the night. According to the owner, there have been multiple reports of cold spots, flickering lights and even moving objects. Knowing what these signs meant, the owner contacted the Winchester Brothers to deal with the scenario before it became too dark. You were allowed to tag along as long as you stayed within one of the brothers' sights at all times. You were also told that the main goal of the night was to "find something personal to burn".  
You kept on Dean's heels as you both searched the top floors together. Sam stayed in one of the hotel rooms, doing research on the history of the building. Apparently, since it was just one ghost it was quicker and easier to split up and find the artifact to burn. Problem was, no one had any idea what the object would be. Everything here looked old and it was hard to tell what was really antique and what was fake. 
Dean went on and headed into his room that was placed a floor above Sam's. He dropped a dufflebag on the bed and rummaged through it. 
 "Here, take this." Dean handed you an iron pipe, something each of you was armed with. "It will make them disappear Just like with that demon." 
"Thanks," you mumbled and took the weapon off his hand. You held it in a lax grip, not taking anything too seriously as he was as vigilant as ever. He held onto a shotgun, which confused you heavily and he seemed to catch on as you stared. 
"It's full of rock salt."
"Salt because..."
"It's a pure substance that hurts ghosts." You nodded to him in response with a puzzled expression. You were quickly learning to not question the logic in this line of work. Nothing makes real sense, you just have to trust it will work. 
"When can I get one?" You questioned, standing in front of him in the hall to get his attention. He had to address you if you blocked his way.
"You're not getting one."
"Why no--" He cut you off with an aggressive motion and as a cold shiver shot down your spine and your breath became visible.
"Cold spot," Dean mumbled with venom in his voice. He stood rigid and alert, every muscle in his body was tensed. You tightened your grip on your pipe in response, not quite knowing what was to come. A figure flickered into existence at the end of the hall. They were almost see-through and wore old-fashioned Victorian clothing. 
Dean's arm wrapped around you and forcefully pulled you behind him, so you no longer stood in front. You remained speechless and watched the event unfold. Visible puffs of air escaped past your lips at a faster rate as you anticipated what would happen next. Dean also anticipated what would happen and adjusted his grip on his shotgun, ready for a fight. He aimed the shotgun, and the figure disappeared. It seemed like the fight was over until more appeared, three more to be exact. They wore gruesome smiles as they stared you both down, seeming to take joy in hurting you. 
Dean did his best to reload quickly, but he was not fast enough. One of the figures flung their hand out toward you and both of you were thrown down the hall like rag dolls. 
The air was pushed out of your chest by an invisible force, leaving you groaning on the floor. You slowly got on all fours and saw Dean was already bracing himself against the wall to a standing position. His jaw was clenched and he aggressively walked towards the violent spirit, never looking away from it. Once he got close enough, he let out a yell and shot at it. The spirit flickered away, more appeared. 
Dean hastily pulled you to your feet and stared at the open doorway as he spoke. "There's more than we thought" You followed his lead and ran for the stairwell and you both raced down the stairs. You tumbled into the first-level hall ungracefully.  You took deep breaths between words, in an attempt to gain your breath, as you spoke, "If we can't kill them, why'd we go after them in the first place."
"Defense. You can keep one off but not the whole family." By the time you reached Sam's room, he was already in the hall, running to meet the two of you. 
"Please tell me that you figured out what to burn!" You begged. 
"Kind of. I know the original family that owned this place, and why they are here. Just not, something to burn." Sam answered. 
The room suddenly dropped several degrees and everyone was on edge. "Sam go help (y/n) get all the supplies. Now." Dean's voice was firm and commanding as he got everyone back on track again. Sam guided you to his room, where most of the items were stored. 
With the sweep of your arms, you pushed everything you could off the bed and into the two duffle bags, the group brought in earlier. Luckily no personal effects were bought to the room yet, just supplies, so you were ready in seconds. 
"We got everything let's go," Sam announced as he jogged past Dean. Everyone barreled down the hall, Dean lead the front, and Sam was holding up the back. You stayed secure in the middle as you all outran the ghosts. Dean jumped into the driver's seat without hesitation and started the car. Sam took shotgun and the car was ready to go before you even fell into your seat. 
You looked over to Dean. His gaze was focused on the road ahead, but you could see a million thoughts race through his mind as he drove. His thoughts were weighing him down once again, dragging him down a path he did not belong on. He was taking on unnecessary weight, something that constantly followed him. Considering all that just happened, you knew you got off easy and it scared you, but not them. How often do they come close to dying on each trip?
You carefully placed your hand on Dean's shoulder and felt it relax slightly. "We're all ok you know. Seems to me like this job is in the bag too. All we have to do is come back an--"
"There is no we here. Not yet. You're staying at the safe house like we planned." You sat back in your seat, feeling blindsided by his response. 
"But this mission is not over yet." You reminded him. "The deal was for one case."
"Well plans change." He responded coldly. 
"Isn't this a test hunt for me too? How will I know what I can fight if you won't let me fight?"
"We need to find the right case for you first. Something easy." Dean reasoned, which you ignored. Again they left you at a random motel, while they stayed on the case. The next morning you woke at seven am to be greeted by an empty motel and a handwritten note Sam was kind enough to leave behind. 
We returned to the hotel with extra precautions. We will be out for a week. Dean left a list of things for you to do while we are gone. Sorry for the short notice, but Dean was afraid you would start arguing again if you knew about our plans.
Please remember to stay in the motel, it's the only place that's safe.
--Sam
You placed the note on your bedside table, next to the list of chores Dean left you with. For being so tough, he has surprisingly neat penmanship.
To Do:
Stock up on rock salt rounds
Study the Journal
STAY INSIDE!!!
You rolled your eyes and clenched the paper in your hand. You crumpled up the paper and threw it away as a small act of defiance. Instead of doing anything Dean outlined for you, you continued the case research from where you knew Sam left off.
You found the name of the family that lived in the old mansion and looked up the building's past. Before it was a hotel it was a museum and you found its old abandoned website from years ago. On the website, there was a list of items that use to be on display. The search for the item the ghosts were tethered to seemed hopeless as there were dozens of possible artifacts. You scrolled and scrolled until one item, in particular, caught your eye. It was an old victorian era hair wreath that was encased in glass and now hung in one of the hotel's halls. The wreath was made of the hair of different family members over many generations. That was why multiple ghosts were appearing. If you burned it, you could get rid of all of them in one go. Excitement washed over you as you felt proud to have solved your first case, you were sure you were right. An object does not get any more personal as hair after all. Right?
You immediately called tried to call your friends to inform them of your findings, but none of them answered. You were not surprised when Dean purposely sent you through to voice mail, but not being able to talk to Sam left you feeling empty. At least he was usually pretty open to you. In the end you left a voicemail on Dean's phone, telling him to call you back since you solved the case. There was no way you were going to tell him what to burn without you being there. It was the only thing you had to get back on the case. 
Once you were done updating your group you felt horribly stir crazy and knowing you were barley starting the day did not help calm your jittery nerves. You pushed yourself away from the computer and you needed to do something to get your energy out, but sadly leaving was not an option. You could not fight against demons if they came for you.  The thought brought you down until you remembered, you were in possession of the knife. 
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Summary: What if there was only one person who could use Ruby's demon killing knife and that person was you? Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Masterlist
Dean Winchester x reader
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It was your second day being away from home and under the protection of the Winchester brothers. They upgraded you to a private room that connects to theirs by one lockable door. You were staring at the door, contemplating about taking your chances and running away once again when it began to open. Since the person behind the door was being careful and respectful about your privacy, you knew it was the younger brother. 
"You're sure your brother is ok with you being in here?" You snapped as Sam approached you. You heard it creak loudly, as it scuffed the floor as it was dragged open. He inched into the room, not wanting to alarm you.
"He'll get over it." He joked then paused, trying to gauge how angry you were, before talking on an understanding tone. They did lie to you and lock you up in a motel room after all. You had every right to be angry; you even had the right to lash out physically, but you did not and he was thankful for that. 
"I came down to apologize for Dean's actions...for mine...Dean's just...well--" 
"Scared?" You cut him off, still not turning to look at him. You heard him freeze up in surprise. He knew Dean for all his life and could not always figure out what was on his mind, but somehow you understood him instantly. Sam's statement made you sympathetic towards Dean. He was never rude to you after all, except for the whole gun situation, and if he was rude it was necessary. It was also the natural roughness of his voice that automatically made anything he said seem brash and intimidating, especially when he made it even slightly aggressive. No matter what macho façade he put up to test you, you promised yourself you would look past it, so you could eventually see his kinder side. 
"Yeah. He's also protective of our group. Of course that does not give us the right to keep you here." He chuckled nervously. 
"So demons, ghosts. They're all real?"
"Yeah." He answered seriously.
You whipped around to face him and built up a stern expression. Normally it was ok to have sympathy and grace for people, but it often muddled you focus in times like this. You needed to be stern to get your answers and secure your safety first and for most.
"If I am just another person you saved why am I here? You need to erase my memory like the men in black or something?" He chuckled dully at your joke and shook his head. He motioned for you to sit down and you obliged.
"I know it's hard to accept, but Dean was telling the full truth. You can kill demons, and with us is the only place you can be safe from their attacks. I am sorry." 
"Wait wait wait. I can kill demons?"
"He hasn't told you?" Sam questioned, seeming surprised that his brother failed to fill you in on anything. 
"No, no one's told me anything yet! You just locked me in this motel room and left!"
"Well there's this ancient knife we got from a demon named Ruby. It kills demons but has to be used by the right person for it to actually work. It seems that you're that person."
"So only I can use it to kill demons?" 
"It seems so. And since we have a lot of them on our back lately, it would be a big help to have you around." 
"I mean I am staying. Not like I have much of a choice if lives depend on me."
He looked at you with such sorrow in his eyes as he understood what you were giving up. You decided to accept your fate and stay instead of fighting against it. 
"Look, we've all had to give up our chance for normal lives for this or brought our families into it." He paused and a pained expression ran across his face. He was speaking from experience. "Come on. I think that is enough talking for now. Dean is waiting in the next room to explain the fun stuff." He opened the door and egged you on to follow him to the next room. You edged into the room suspiciously and prepared yourself for what you may confront. 
 You remained rigid and stood in the doorway as you waited for Dean to acknowledge your presence. He had a different mood from the one you saw last night. He seemed much more relaxed and confident. You assumed it was because he knew he could trust you which allowed him to not be on guard. Or, more likely, his brother helped him calm down. Either way, you liked him much better like this. It was the real him. Though he still had an attractive edge to him, everything else about him changed. He seemed much kinder, happier, joking and open even. Sadly, his whole demeanor changed back when he noticed you trying to enter the room. You supposed he was still skeptical of you.
Sam clasped his hands and spoke up first, with a purposely overly happy attitude to be sarcastic. "How about a 'Good morning (y/n). How do you feel?'"
Dean rolled his eyes and let out a huff before un-enthusiastically repeating his brother's words in a mumbled tone. You scoffed at him with a dull laugh, because his delivery was dull and the statement felt ironic. With the day you had and how you were treated, you did not know where to start. Dean gave you a threatening warning glare and you quickly returned it. 
"As if he would really care." It was true, all this time Dean never showed any care towards you. 
"At least you're catching on." He replied coldly. Once again Sam was left with the task of releasing the tension in the room. 
"Today we'll teach you the basics about monsters and their weaknesses. Or at least common ones, you'll learn as you go."
"Listen up. This is the only accurate journal we found so far.  It was made by our father." Dean announced and unceremoniously dropped the book on the motel coffee table. 
You placed your hand on the journal and slid it over to yourself. You slowly opened it to the index and started reading to find what the topic of this journal would be. It was an overview of everything the hunters had ever learned on his job. Then Dean brought out an impressive looking blade with odd symbols carved into the side of the blade. It looked like an ancient language. 
"Only one person can use this baby for its intended purpose. Killing demons. And that person is you, for whatever reason." You inched closer to it, finger tips ghosting over the handle. You felt an odd pull towards it, a need to hold it. It was this pull that made you realize that you needed to stay. 
"Think of it like Thor's hammer. Only you're worthy." You smiled at Sam's lame reference. You were about to grab the knife, when Dean grabbed your hand and pulled the blade away. You froze at first in confusion, then quickly glared at the man for grabbing you so harshly. A teasing almost gloating smile ghosted over his lips, which bothered you more.
"Woah there." His smooth drawl rolled out from the pit of his stomach, before returning to its normal deep tone, "You have to learn to respect the weapon and our trade before you can use it. You can get hurt otherwise." Dean looked over to Sam, who gave him a confirming nod. 
"It's just a knife, not a gun. I won't accidentally stab myself. Besides I need some sort of self-defense."
"Respect the weapon," Dean repeated. 
"Stop bull shitting me! You just don't trust me!"
"You're dam right I don't trust you!" He yelled back, "At the rate you're behaving, you'll get us all killed."
"From what you're telling me, you'll die without me too! So pick your poison." You sassed back. 
Sam grabbed his cell phone and put it on speaker and played the saved recorded messages. It looked so automatic for him to do, you were sure it was part of the daily routine: dress, eat, listen to job offers.
A jumpy and distant voice came out of the receiver. "My name is Derek Foster, you guys helped a buddy of mine with a Wendigo back in Waco. Anyways I have a big problem here and was hoping you could solve. I think there's a spirit here. We have flickering lights, cold spots. I think that's what you guys look for right? Anyways, my address is 1563 West Grayden street The Victorian Hotel. Thank you....bye."
Dean let out a sigh before grabbing his coat from the back of a chair and saying, "Okay. Let's go." The two were automatically on the move.
"I am coming along. Right?" You planted yourself in the doorway before Dean could respond as an answer. Sam arrived in time to see your standoff. He rolled his eyes at the situation and grinned smugly as he waited for Dean to handle the problem. Sam could already tell you two were up for a fight. 
"Not this time sweetheart. You have to stay inside the motel until you're fully trained. We'll be back in eight hours." His statement immediately struck a nerve with you as you stayed planted in your seat. You were not going to be locked up and forgotten that easily. Your voice rose and words rushed out of your mouth so quickly, you did not have time to process what you were saying. You just voiced your thoughts.
"Wait! You're going to lock me up for days! In there?!" You pointed towards the house in disbelief and waited for an answer. "Cause there's no way a case takes just eight hours to solve. I know you're lying." Sam suddenly broke into the conversation and seemed to be equally appalled at Dean's suggestion. 
"You can't put her under house arrest Dean. Besides we're just looking over the place. It'll be safe."  Dean ventured outside, sat in the driver's seat of the Impala and started surfing the stations on the radio as he thought. It seemed to calm him down or help put his mind in order. 
"Fine, but she can't leave our sights. We'll talk about the rest later." You take up the offer, knowing it's the best one you'll get from him. Two hours passed until you reached your destination, and you could already feel Dean's hateful gaze burn into you. He was not going to allow you to roam unsupervised. You glared back at him in response. 
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Summary: What if there was only one person who could use Ruby's demon killing knife and that person was you? Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Masterlist
Dean Winchester x reader
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Dean slammed the door shut behind him when he entered the motel room for the last time. All the supplies from the car were now inside, there was no other reason for him to leave. Dean grumbled under his breath, sauntered over to the nearest chair and threw his duffel bag on it. Sam was the first person to bring up Dean's sour mood, knowing it would be swept under the rug if he did not address it.  He was always stubborn that way.         
"Dean, come on. We agreed on this before hand. No matter who they were, we need this person on our team.  Cass and I both think she can be a valuable member. What's wrong with this anyways?" Dean glanced over to you as you slept on top of the motel bed. Sam said you were asleep the last time he check on you. Dean guessed the surge of adrenaline you got from the fight really drained you. To him it was another reason not to let you in the team. Even if you were suitable for fighting monster, could you even handle the stress that comes with their line of work? The more he thought the more problems he saw for his team. They went before anyone, especially a stranger they just saved. He stepped outside of the room and Sam quickly followed. If they were going to fight they could at least not do it directly in front of you. 
"She has a life!" Dean yelled as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He threw his arm out for emphasis. "And are we really ignoring the fact that she ran towards the enemy?" He immediately continued with his speech, not pausing for someone to reply. "Or how about the fact that she didn't know anything about us? Heh....some chosen one!" He scoffed lightly at your given title and stopped his frustrated pacing across the small walkway. He looked back up at Sam, knowing nothing he could say could had swayed his faith.  
"All we are doing is saving someone. We're helping this girl and that's something you never argued against before." Dean stopped for a second and let his younger brother's statement sink in, before picking apart the statement to find another problem.
"You're right she is just a girl with no training. What if she get's herself killed huh? That's on us." Dean, tapped his chest for emphasis and tensed up more every time he though of a new threat. His brother and Cass were his family and to risk losing them in any way scared him. It made him panic. 
"We can train her."
"What if we push her too soon. What if she gets in trouble?"
"She won't." Sam stated with such confidence it could not be denied. Dean calmed down and felt more at ease once he noticed he thought this out. Just like he always does. He was not just rushing in and taking you under their wing on a whim, he was aware of the dangers.
"We'll figure this out Dean." Sam reassured, clasping his hand on his brother's shoulder. Dean untensed and accepted his statement with a nod. Then, with a flick of his hand Dean waved Sam on to continue his work as he turned to walk away. He still respected his brother's wishes and accepted the plan even though he was still upset about it. His voice was rough again as he spoke to his brother for the last time that night.
"Fine, go ahead keep her, but I am not going easy on her. Last thing I am doing is helping another person get stuck in this life." 
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Summary: What if only one person could actually use Ruby's demon killing knife and that person was you? Part 1 Part 2 
Masterlist
Dean Winchester x reader
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There was a firm and methodical knocking on your apartment door. You turned the TV off and left to open it and there stood a handsome man in an impressive looking suit. He had a young face, too young to be looking so official, he seemed to be your age after all. There was a confident look in his bright green eyes that made up for any inexperience he might have for his young age. You met his confidence with equal stubbornness and crossed your arms at him. 
"Hello ma'am. I am agent John Bonham of the FBI." His deep voice sent a chill down your spine. He pulled out an authentic looking federal badge to verify his position. You eyed him cautiously as you mulled over his name. You knew it was the name of a Led Zeppelin's drummer. He was giving you a fake name and a fake ID. Last time you checked only top ranking criminals were cocky enough to pull something like that off. You stopped yourself from making such a harsh accusation and decided to just monitor his actions. 
"Are you (y/n) (l/n)?" He questioned in a firm tone. As he put his badge away you noticed his left coat pocked hung lower than the other; an obvious tell for someone caring a small hand gun. If he was an agent, maybe that was a good thing, but still you felt your stomach become unsettled at the thought of him pulling that out on you. FBI agent or not, you could not trust him with such a deadly weapon on his side. You had to play along and call the cops once he left.
"Yes. I am (y/n). What's wrong agent Bonham?" Your words burned your tongue as you forced them out as naturally as possible. 
"You'll have to come with us. You're in danger." He stepped aside and motioned for you to step into the hall. You stood firm and challenged him openly. 
"If you want me to follow you, I deserve an explanation." 
"At least walk with me as I explain." He said, trying to meet you halfway. You decided to give him one last chance. If he gave you a convincing answer, you would willingly go with him. He set a fast pace as you moved down the halls, clearly in a rush to retrieve you. Despite his long legs, you were able to keep up with him by increasing the speed of your steps. You could tell he was thinking out every turn and move he made as he navigated the hall. He was tense and did not start explaining himself until you reached the lobby.
"You're special and because of that we believe someone is after you."
"How am I special?" He slowed down long enough to open the front door for you and continued at a slower and less suspicious pace. 
"There is a...dangerous group out, attacking innocent people around America." He cut himself off before he talked again on another tangent. "My partner parked the car a couple blocks down to avoid being recognized." 
"You know your explanation is getting pretty cryptic." You pressed him, needing more information. You follow him down hidden side streets and waited patiently until you entered an alley way. "Agent Bonham!" You demanded his attention and tugged on his jacked to get it. He looked down to you with slight surprise on his face.
He was use to people being flustered and tongue tied around him; scared beyond belief due to the dangerous nature of the situations he was usually in. You, on the other hand, were not phased. At the moment he was not sure why he was so impressed by your reaction, but now looking back, he knows everything about you impressed him.
"Look sweetheart. You're special because you can kill demons and we need someone on our team like that. Problem is the demons are now trying to kill you first--" You missed the rest of his explanation as alarm bells rang out in your head. He was the definition of psychotic or maybe a sociopath.  
You put all the weight and power you could muster behind your fist as it landed right on his jaw. He stumbled back in shock and you heard him curse under his breath as he rubbed it. His cursing only got louder when you ran off. Based off his delayed reactions and mumbled curses, you would have guessed running off was only a mild inconvenience to him. You were nothing to really worry about, just an easy catch.
You ran out of the alley and took a hard left to get away from the man and your home. Your home did not feel safe anymore, it felt tainted and you could not return to it with a clean conscience. Not long after your escaped you ran into another man of impressive stature and build. 
"Sir! Can you please call the police? There is a crazy man chasing me." The warm comfort of security was quickly stolen from you the moment you locked eyes with the man. His eyes went black and were filled with malice intent. Heavy waves of hatred flowed off the man and hit you like an overwhelming force. A teasing smile appeared on his lips as he looked down at you with pity.
"And here I thought you would be smarter than this, running away from the only person who could save you." He pulled out a black spear head knife that was over nine inches long and looked it over with a smile, before he focused on you. "Thanks to you and your brilliant decisions, it looks like your only options are to die by my hand or come with me. Need a second to choose?" 
All you could do was take small steps back as the rest of your body locked up. You would have liked to blame your reactions on the demon, but deep down you knew you were freezing up because you were afraid. The situation, the information and the threat all being real was too much for you to take on at once. You slowed your breathing and mustered the most confident voice you could, though you were sure it was shaky just like your stance. 
"I'd rather die than help someone evil like you." You stared him down and looked straight into his burning eyes.
Another sharp blood covered blade brought the demon to his knees as it forced its way though his chest. A deep yell was ripped from his throat as he gripped the blade and slowly started to pull it through his own chest. Behind him stood the man who tried to warn you about this whole situation. 
"Hurry! It only stuns him." His command ripped your focus off the wounded demon. The fear fell right off of you as you ran just behind him, towards a black Impala. Behind the wheel was an impatient looking man with short brown hair and brown puppy dog eyes. 
You crashed into the back seat since you jumped into the vehicle aimlessly. The pain from the impact traveled right up your spine. You struggled to sit up right as the car sped off and easily threw you to the other side of the vehicle. Agent Bonham already sat upright and was buckled in while you scrambled for the seat-belt. You needed something, anything to make you feel safe. 
The moment you were upright and settled in your seat, you looked back at the demon you could barley recognize in the distance. You watched the man open his mouth and a dark cloud fled out of the body in a dark torrent. The body and knife that was plunged into him fell to the ground uselessly. You stared at the knife and guilt and fear came over you as you realized all you had done. 
"Sorry about your knife...and punching you in the face." The driver let out a sudden choke, from being caught off guard, then laughed in response to the humorous statement. Agent Bonham just grumbled at him to "shut up". You tugged at the end of your shirt sleeves in response to your sudden feeling of embarrassment and kept your eyes on the ground. 
"Don't worry about the knife, we can pick it back up and as far as Dean goes, I am sure he deserved it. Probably came off too strong or aggressive." The young man reassured you with a smile.  "I am Sam by the way and this is my brother, Dean Winchester."
"(y/n), but you already knew that." You replied in a joking fashion. Sam kindly smiled at your bad joke, while Dean ignored you completely. Noticing the discomfort, Sam stepped in to start a happy conversation.
The moment the car stopped the peaceful tone Sam had instilled in you dissipated. The comfort and trust had vanished the moment the audible click of a hammer on a gun sounded. Dean held the gun, a small but intimidating hand gun, and aimed the barrel at you. He kept it at his eye level for a moment to make a point, before lowering it to hip level. You immediately stiffened and glared at him, completely forgetting about the gun. 
"I thought you were here to help me." A harsh accusation of deceit underlined your statement in an attempt to make him feel guilty. Sam opened the passenger side door for you, so you could leave. 
"We are. We need to know we can trust you first." You scoffed at his statement and found it to be very ironic.
"Trust is usually a two way street, wouldn't you say?" Dean seemed to already be done with your words as he rolled his eyes and had a bored look on his face. His voice took on an intimidating husky tone as he spoke. 
"Yeah, but I have a feeling you'll get over this, so come on Sweetheart. Just makes it easier on us." He sounded so sure of himself. At the time you did not realize he was speaking from experience since he had went through this routine many times with other people and always had the same result; forgiveness and trust. Despite his confidence, you highly doubted you could brush off such an encounter. 
He motioned with his gun for you to get up and you obeyed. You followed Sam, who opened any doors that impeded you from getting to your destination, and Dean stood behind you to coax you to move with his gun. 
They shut you up in a small box of a motel room. It was obviously a cheap one, with thin walls, outdated appliances and the smell of cigarette smoke embedded in the room. You sat in the only chair in the room and waited for them to explain to you what the hell was going on. Instead, they left you to run "errands". 
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