#and that's assuming dean wouldn't be asleep at the time

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Phantom Traveler | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, namecalling, typical Dean and reader

Word Count: 8289

A/N: Hi guys. I've been overwhelmed with love these past few weeks. Just wanted to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading. You guys are fucking awesome; I'm so grateful. I hope y'all enjoy this week's episode! Asks/requests/taglists are open!!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You were sound asleep, curled up into yourself when a knock on the door brought you out of your slumber. 

“(Y/N)?”

‘Sam.’

“I got coffee, thought you could use some,” he called through the door.

You pushed yourself up out of the bed as you yawned, and walked over to the door of your motel room to open it for Sam. 

“Dude, you realize it’s six in the morning, right?” You scratched your head as you let Sam into the room.

“You sound like my brother.”

You playfully glared at him. “Don’t compare me to him.”

“Here.” He handed you a coffee and a bag of what you assumed was a pastry.

“Thanks,” you replied, sitting on your bed with your stuff in hand. 

Sam sat on the chair across from you. “Still haven’t warmed up to Dean, huh?” 

“Well, he hasn’t exactly warmed up to me,” you reminded him, thinking of the fight you got into yesterday over his reckless driving.

“Guess that’s true,” he conceded. “It’s weird, though, you guys are so much more alike than you let on.”

“Tell that to him. He started it.” You took a big bite of your pastry.

“Seriously?” Sam laughed, “ ‘He started it’?”

You shrugged, smirking. 

He seemed to remember his original intention behind disturbing your slumber. “Hey, he found a case, though.” 

“Oh, yeah? What’s up?” You licked the pastry cream off your thumb.

“We don’t know. The guy on the phone didn’t say.” Sam raised his coffee cup to his lips.

“Guy on the phone?” You took a sip of your coffee as you let Sam answer.

“Yeah. Some guy my dad and Dean worked a case for a while back’s got another one for us. He called Dean.”

“Ah—” you nodded, “—gotcha. So, where’s he live?”

“Pennsylvania,” Sam responded. 

“Okay, not too far,” you noted. “I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

***

“Thanks for making the trip so quick,” a short older man named Jerry told you and the boys. “I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out.”

You were walking beside Sam as you followed behind the man who was having you do this job. You were being led through a warehouse past planes as well as their parts and people hard at work.

“Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?” Sam asked the older man.

Someone walking in front of your group was eavesdropping on you. “Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie.”

“Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking,” Jerry stated authoritatively to the man. He turned his attention back to the conversation. “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart.” He addressed Dean. “Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?” He’d turned to Sam.

“Yeah, I was. I'm— taking some time off,” Sam explained.

“Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.”

“He did?” Knowing what you knew about Sam’s relationship with his dad, you found this surprising, too.

“Yeah, you bet he did,” Jerry nodded. “Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?”

“He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now,” Dean lied. 

“Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam and— what’s your name again?” he asked you.

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N). Even trade, huh?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that,” you laughed.

“Say, (Y/N), how’d you get wrapped up with these two?” Jerry asked.

“Oh, uh—” you began, searching for an abridged version of the truth, “—I met them on a hunt in California. They decided to drag me along with them.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. The guys are gonna need backup with this one,” Jerry said. 

“Why?” 

He did not give a direct answer to your question. “I got something I want you guys to hear.”

He led you to his office where you and Sam took the two chairs and Dean stood behind his brother.

”I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley,” Jerry stated, putting a CD into a drive. “Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

A frantic voice immediately rang out from the speaker as soon as the recording started. “Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britannia 2485—” the recording cut out with a static sound, “—immediate instruction help! United Britannia 2485, I copy your message—” and cut out again, “—May be experiencing some mechanical failure—” and then cut out one last time. The man’s voice was completely drowned out by static, whooshing, and growling sounds.

“Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south,” Jerry continued. “Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh… well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.”

“You don't think it was?” Sam questioned him.

“No, I don't.”

“Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors,” Sam listed.

“Alright,” the man replied.

“And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?” Dean inquired.

“The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage… guys— and gal— the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance.” Jerry shook his head.

You frowned.

“No problem,” Dean declared.

You gave him a questioning look to which he shrugged off.

***

“How fucking long does it take to make a fake ID?” you groaned, falling back across the backseat of the Impala. You and Sam had found a way to isolate the EVP on Sam’s computer, having gotten a copy of the tape from Jerry.

“I don’t know,” Sam responded. “But I’m gonna lose it if it’s much longer.”

“Same here.” At that moment, Dean walked out of the Copy Jack the Impala was sitting in front of as a pretty woman walked into the store. They greeted each other before Dean walked over to you and his brother.

“Dude,” you started, “You’ve been in there forever.”

“Wah-wah,” he whined, mocking you. “You can’t rush perfection.” He held up three IDs.

“Homeland Security?” Sam questioned as he took one of the IDs. “That's pretty illegal, even for us.”

“Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times,” Dean pointed out as he got into the car.

“Alright, so, what do you got?” Dean asked his brother as he flicked your ID back at you. It hit you square in the side of the head. 

“Dude, really?” you hissed, aggravation clear in your tone.

“Shh,” the older Winchester hushed you as he waited for Sam to answer.

“Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder,” Sam explained.

“Yeah?”

“Listen.”

The isolated voice of what you were dealing with came through the recording scratchy and backed by demonic growling sounds. “No survivors!”

“ ’No survivors’?” Dean asked. “What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.”

You shrugged.

Dean let out a sigh. “So, what are we thinking? A haunted flight?” 

“There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers,” Sam began.

Dean hummed in affirmation. “Or remember flight 401?”

“Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights.”

“I don’t know, guys,” you stated skeptically. “Ghost just doesn’t feel right.”

“Well, thanks for your optimism, sunshine,” Dean quipped.

“It’s not about optimism, you asshole, it’s about being right and dealing with whatever we’re up against properly,” you pushed back.

“Know-it-all,” the older Winchester replied. 

“Fuck off, Winchester.”

He let out a breath and turned his attention back to the case.“Alright, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?”

"Third on the list: Max Jaffey,” you said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, but why him?”

You glared at Dean. “Because if anybody saw something weird, he did. I talked to his mom while you were spending forever in the store. She said some pretty weird shit and told me where to find him. He was so screwed up, he checked himself into the hospital.”

***

You and the Winchesters walked beside Max Jaffey, who hobbled on a cane, through the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital’s garden. 

“I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security,” Max told your trio.

“Right. Some new information has come up,” Dean lied. “So if you could just answer a couple questions...”

“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything… unusual?” Sam questioned.

Max looked confused. “Like what?”

“Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices,” Dean offered. 

“No, nothing.”

Seeing as no one was getting anywhere with this investigation, you tried your hand at it. “Mr. Jaffey, you checked yourself in here, right?”

He nodded at you.

“Why?”

“Uh, I was a little stressed,” he said sarcastically. “I survived a plane crash.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded. “And that’s what scared you? That’s what screwed you up so badly?”

You could tell you were close to the answers you were after as he swallowed uncomfortably. “I— I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“I know, but I also know you saw something up there,” you continued. “We need to know what.”

“No.” Max shook his head. “No, I was… delusional. Seeing things.”

“He was seeing things,” Dean half-mocked him.

You shot a warning glance at Dean, hoping to get him to shut up. 

“It's okay,” you coaxed. “Just tell us what you thought you saw, please.”

“There was… this—man. And, uh, he had these… eyes—these, uh, black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him...” he trailed off, stopping as he recounted the events.

“What?” Dean asked.

“He opened the emergency exit,” Max explained. “But that's— that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door.”

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, clearly confused. 

“This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?” Sam asked.

Max quirked his head at the younger Winchester. “What are you, nuts? He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”

***

“I think we can rule out phantom traveler,” you noted as you got out of the car in front of the Phelps’s house. You were going to visit the wife of George Phelps, the man who opened the emergency exit. 

“Why?” Dean asked.

“You heard Jaffey. He said the dude had black eyes. Opened a fucking emergency exit on his own. ‘Black eyes’ points me to demon.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Demons?”

“I mean, it makes sense,” Sam shrugged. “He could be a demon. He might be some kind of a creature, too, in human form.”

“Does that look like a creature's lair to you?” Dean questioned as he gestured toward the house that was representative of the essence of suburban houses. From its beautiful garden to the cobblestone steps to the beige paint coating the outside of the two-story building.

Sam shrugged and began leading your trio up the steps of the house. 

Once inside, you three sat across from Mrs. Phelps on the couch while she sat in an armchair. 

Sam picked a picture of Mrs. Phelps and an older man up off of the side table. “This is your late husband?” he asked.

“Yes, that was my George.”

“And you said he was a dentist?” Dean questioned. 

She hummed in affirmation. “He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that...”

Sam asked another question. “How long were you married?”

“Thirteen years.”

You could tell Sam was contemplating how to ask his next question. “In all that time, did you ever notice anything… strange about him; anything out of the ordinary?”

She paused for a moment. “Well, uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean.”

You nodded, clicking your tongue. “I think that’s all we have for you, Mrs. Phelps. Thank you for your time.”

She showed all of you out, and you piped up as you walked down the stairs outside of the house. 

“Demon’s sounding more and more correct all the time,” you smiled, trying to joke around.

“Jesus, you’re annoying,” Dean groaned.

“And you’re a misogynistic dick that can’t handle women with brains,” you responded. 

“What, are we gonna duke this out now?” Dean stopped by the door of the car, facing you. 

You stood by the backseat’s door. “You started it,” you taunted childishly, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared back at him. 

“Really?” he leered. “You’re gonna pull that card? Mature.”

“You act like you’re any better.”

“Guys—” Sam tried to cut in, but Dean continued to fight with you. 

“You’re such a bitch.”

“Wow, haven’t heard that one before,” you drawled.

“Guys! You can fight later. Wrong place, wrong time to sort this out,” Sam chastised you and Dean like you were children.

You got in the car and slammed the door behind you.

“Don’t hurt my baby ‘cause you’re pissed,” Dean scolded you as he started to pull the car away. 

“Just drive, asshole,” you grumbled in frustration as you slumped down in your seat. The rest of the car ride to the local outlet mall was silent.

***

You had never felt more confident. Despite the fact that you could have worn the one dress you already had to pose as homeland security, you decided to treat yourself to a new outfit to distract from your aggravation with Dean. 

The boys had gone to a suit shop called “Mort’s for Style,” and you went into a dress shop called “Betsy’s.” It was a cute little shop with a lot of great dress and pantsuit options.

You had picked out a navy blue pantsuit. You wore a white button-up underneath the blazer with the top two buttons undone to accentuate your breasts. The blazer was unbuttoned, and the high-waisted, straight-legged pants you wore matched the black color of your blazer. With the white button-up tucked into your pants and the small amount of makeup you threw on to draw attention to your eyes and lips, you felt good. 

Once you had paid for your clothing, you walked out of the shop and back to the Impala. Surprisingly, the boys were not there waiting for you. 

You leaned your back against the car, picking out the grit from under your nails.

You looked up when you heard Dean’s voice. “Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers.” 

Both of the boys were dressed in sharp, black suits. You almost lost your breath at the sight of Dean, but fought yourself to keep your composure. You would not give him the satisfaction of knowing you found him attractive. 

“No, you don't,” Sam told him. “You look more like a seventh-grader at his first dance.”

You laughed at the younger brother’s jeer. “What took you girls so long?” you asked once you got in the Impala. “I thought you two would’ve beat me out the store by a long shot.”

“Dean wouldn’t leave the dressing room,” Sam said dryly.

“Seriously?” you droned.

You and Sam both looked to Dean, who did not answer immediately. When he finally spoke, he complained, “I hate this thing.”

“Hey,” Sam stared. “You want into that warehouse or not?”

Dean rolled his eyes as he continued to drive along.

You steeled your nerves as your black, pointed-toe pumps clicked across the warehouse floor. Your trio was headed to the security guard that would allow you in to see the wreckage.

You held the clipboard you had stowed in your bag close to your chest, acting as some sort of a recorder for the boys. The three of you flashed your badges at the security guard, who nodded and allowed you into the hangar where the wreckage was being kept.

There was a large map of what the plane should look like painted onto the floor, and the parts that corresponded to the different portions of the map were laid in their proper spots. There were wires hung on fences and broken interior parts of the plane laid on tables. The most heartbreaking things for you to look at were the torn passengers’ seats because most of the people who had been in them were now dead.

You looked over at Dean, who had earbuds in and was moving a small box over the tops of the wreckage.

“What’s that?” you asked him.

“It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies.”

You got closer to him, noticing what the object appeared to be. “I know what an EMF meter is; I’m not stupid. But why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?”

“ 'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade,” he grinned.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you quipped. 

His grin disappeared. “Bitch.”

“Dick.”

You once again fought the pain in your chest when he called you a bitch. In all honesty, you thought his homemade EMF meter was cute. However, you were too far gone in your war with him to surrender now.

Dean ran the Walkman over a piece of the wreckage with black spores and yellow dust on it. You could hear the faint sound of a spike on the meter through Dean’s headphones.

“Check out the emergency door handle,” Dean called to Sam. 

Sam came over to where you and Dean stood as the older brother scratched at the dust to get some on his hand.

“What is this stuff?” Dean asked.

One way to find out.” You saw the younger of the two brothers start scraping some of the dust into a small bag.

“We need to go,” you told the boys. You weren’t sure what told you that, but you just suddenly felt unsettled. The hairs on the back of your neck stood at attention, and every muscle in your body tensed. You started off toward the exit in the back of the warehouse. 

“Wait, (Y/N), what if we’re missin’ something?” Dean questioned, clearly aggravated you were ready to ditch already.

“Too bad, we gotta go.” You kept walking toward the exit, making it out of the door and around the backside of the building. 

At that moment, an alarm started blaring through the area surrounding the warehouse.

You turned around to look at the boys as you gloated, “I’m not gonna say, ‘I told you so’!“ Not bothering to rip your shoes off of your feet, you took off running to the gated exit. 

Sam and Dean were quick to follow you and soon passed you up. The older brother took off his suit jacket and threw it over the barbed wire at the top of the fence. You did the same with your blazer. After quickly taking off your pumps to avoid hurting yourself when you jumped from the top of the gate, you threw yourself over the fence. The other two did the same.

Sam grabbed your blazer that you were too small to reach from the top of the fence as Dean found it within himself to remark, “Well, these monkey suits do come in handy.”

You ran after the two boys, heels and blazer in hand as the jagged rocks in the cement cut into your feet. As soon as you shut the door to the car, Dean slammed on the gas pedal.

He tore out of the warehouse’s parking lot, speeding down the road to head toward Jerry’s workplace. 

"(Y/N),” Sam started, turning in his seat to face you with a curious expression on his face, “how did you know that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. My intuition’s just always been pretty sharp.” You were being honest; there had been a few times on hunts previously when you’d known it was time to get the hell out of dodge.

“Hm.” You could tell Dean still didn’t trust you.

“Dude, I don’t know what else to tell you. That’s the truth,” you countered. “I’ve been helping you guys with your dad for almost two months now, and you still don’t trust me. I don’t know what more to do for you.”

“Maybe because I don’t know you,” he responded, never taking his eyes off the road. 

“Maybe if you tried to know me, you’d find it a little easier to trust me,” you answered.

“Not interested,” came Dean’s grumbled response.

You tried your best to ignore the pang that went through your chest once more. “Of course not.”

***

You refused to speak to or even look at Dean; your frustration with the fact that he had no desire to know you and his general existence boiling to the surface. You could feel his stare burning into the side of your head as you focused on Jerry, who sat in front of you. He was looking through a microscope on his desk at the yellow dust Sam had collected.

“Huh,” Jerry remarked. “This stuff is covered in sulfur.”

“You're sure?” Sam asked.

“Take a look for yourself,” Jerry offered, getting up from behind the desk so Sam could take his place. 

Banging sounds along with a string of curse words caught your ear as Jerry sighed. 

“If you guys will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire,” he dryly stated, walking out of the office.

You got up from the chair you were sitting in next to Dean. “See?” you started excitedly, gesturing toward the sulfur, “Demons.”

“That would explain how one guy had the strength to open up the emergency exit,” Sam added.

“This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?” Dean put his hands on his hips as he stood. “You ever heard of something like this before?” 

Sam looked over at his brother, who responded, “Never.”

“Well, I have,” you said simply.

They both looked to you to continue.

“In NYC a couple years back. Some cabbies had gotten possessed and were takin’ girls left and right.”

“Those were demons?” Sam asked, standing up from behind Jerry’s desk. “That was a huge deal on the news while I was at Stanford. Police thought it was a serial killer. You took ‘em on all by yourself?”

“I’m a big girl, Sam,” you chuckled. “I can handle a few demons. But, yeah, that was me. That was probably the toughest case I’ve ever been on. Finding where those demons had taken those girls after they drugged them in the cabs... where they were raped and murdered...” You shook your head, your cheery expression gone. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Sam told you gently. 

Your eyes were glued to the floor, hands on your hips with not a bit of life in your voice as you muttered, “All in a day’s work.”

Sam had asked you to tell him and Dean everything you knew about demons once you got back to the Winchesters’ motel room. Sam sat at the table close to the window while Dean sat on the bed closest to his brother. You stood in front of the two as you spoke.

“Demons exist in every religion in every world culture. With the ones that I was dealing with up in New York, they were most similar to Incubi from early Christian religion. Incubi raped sleeping girls. These demons drugged the girls to put them to sleep, then they raped them, and then they murdered them. What I’m thinking for these demons is that they’re most similar to certain Japanese demons. I had to look into these when I was trying to figure out how to kill the NYC demons. The Japanese believe demons cause certain disasters, whether it be natural or man-made. Some cause earthquakes, others cause disease—”

“And this one causes plane crashes?” Dean deadpanned, cutting you off.

You ignored him. “Demons are having to find new ways to ratchet up the body count. Like with me in New York, Incubi can’t go about their old methods anymore. This demon probably evolved with the times like the Incubi did, and so it figured plane crashes were the best way to get its job done.”

Dean snorted, getting up from. the bed and turning away from you and his brother.

“What?” Sam asked.

He turned around, scratching the back of his neck. “I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death, and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here.”

“Yeah. Me too,” the younger Winchester admitted.

Dean’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Hello?... Oh, hey, Jerry… Wha— Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?... Where'd this happen?... I'll try to ignore the irony in that… Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon.”

He hung up the phone. 

“Another crash?” Sam questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. Let's go.”

“Where?”

“Nazareth.” 

‘Ah, there’s the irony.’

***

After leaving the horrendous scene of Chuck’s plane crash, you and the boys went back to Jerry’s office. Once again, Jerry confirmed that the dust you had taken from the steering wheel of Chuck’s plane was, in fact, sulfur. 

“Well, that's great,” Dean sassed. “Alright, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.”

“If that's the case, that would be the good news,” you chimed in. You looked up to the sky, addressing the pilot. “No offense, Chuck.”

“What's the bad news?” Jerry asked you.

“Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into the flight, just like 2485,” you informed the older man.

“Forty minutes?” Chuck inquired. “What does that mean?”

“It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death,” Dean said.

“I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in,” Sam explained.

"Any survivors?” the older Winchester questioned his brother.

“No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason.” Sam turned to you after thinking for a moment. “On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?”

“ ‘No survivors,’ “ you realized. “It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job.”

Dean drove the Impala down an empty highway. 

Sam was on the phone with one of the survivors from the plane crash, the conversation almost over. “Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “All right. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon.”

“That leaves the flight attendant, Amanda Walker,” you commented.

“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight P.M. It's her first night back on the job,” Sam told you and his brother. 

“That sounds like just our luck,” Dean grumbled.

“Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel,” Sam said worriedly.

“Call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass,” Dean tried.

“I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off.”

“God, we're never gonna make it,” you shook your head, leaning back in the seat as you scrubbed a hand through your hair.

“We'll make it,” the older brother countered, slamming his foot on the gas. 

Somehow, someway, Dean had managed to get to the airport at ten minutes to seven. 

You jumped up out of the car, taking your gun out of your pants and stashing it under the backseat.

“What are you doing?” 

You still did not feel like talking to Dean but answered him shortly nonetheless. “We’re going into an airport.”

Dean finally caught onto what you meant and took all of his weapons off of him, too. “I feel naked.”

You fought the smile threatening to creep up your face.

You rushed into the airport just behind the boys, squeezing your way through the crowd of people to get to the departure board.

“Right there,” Sam pointed out. “They're boarding in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. We still have some cards to play,” Dean paused, thinking for a moment.  “We need to find a phone.” 

He found a courtesy phonw on the wall, picking it up. “Hi. Gate thirteen… I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um… flight 4-2-4.”

He waited impatiently for Amanda to pick up the phone. When she finally did, he began speaking again.

“Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here… Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so—” His face fell, his eyes widening a touch. “You what?... Uh, well… there must be some mistake—”

Sam went around his brother to try to get a closer listen. 

After a longer pause, Dean let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “...Guilty as charged… He's really sorry… Yeah, but… he really needs to see you tonight, so—... Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic… Oh, yeah… No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda!” Dean slammed the phone back onto the receiver. “Damn it! So close.”

"Alright, time for plan B. We're getting on that plane,” you stated firmly.

“Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second.” For the first time since you met him, Dean looked scared.

“Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash,” Sam argued.

“I know.” He looked conflicted.

“Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You and (Y/N) get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

Dean looked at Sam blankly, evidently a little anxious.

“Are you okay?” the younger Winchester asked.

Dean hesitated. “No, not really.”

“What? What's wrong?”

“Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh...”

“Flying?” you cut in.

“It's never really been an issue until now,” he told you.

“You're joking, right?” Sam huffed.

“Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?” he spat.

For the first time since you met him, you didn’t feel like mocking him about his fear of planes.

“Okay, then (Y/N) and I’ll go,” Sam proposed.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

“We’ll handle this one.”

“What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash.”

“Dean, we can do it together, or I can do this one with (Y/N). I'm not seeing a third option, here.”

Dean scratched his head. “Come on! Really? Man...”

Dean walked much faster than you did toward the car to get supplies, clearly trying to leave you in his dust.

“Would you slow down a bit, please?” you asked.

“Why should I?”

“Because even if you get to the car before me, you’re not gonna have a fucking clue what to use to deal with a demon,” you reminded him, your words a bit more venomous than need-be.

He stopped, turning to face you. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“No,” you told him. You truly weren’t.

“Definitely sounds like you are.”

You walked past him to the trunk of the Impala. “I wasn’t, I’m simply pointing out the fact that I’m the one who knows how to deal with demons, and you don’t.”

“There you go again. Acting like you know so much better than I do.” His attitude was truly exhausting.

Your voice rose as you defended yourself. “Because I do! In this case, at least!”

“But it’s not just this one time that you acted like you’re better than me,” he argued. “Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with your smart ass?”

“Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with yours?” you threw back. You sighed, putting aside your anger for now. “Look, we don’t have time to talk about this.” You shoved holy water, a rosary, and the EMF Walkman into Dean’s hands. “Now, let’s go.” 

You shoved past Dean and headed back to the airport.

***

You sat between Sam and Dean, completely at ease. Dean, however, was losing his mind.

"Just try to relax,” Sam whispered from the window seat 

Dean’s voice came back harder and slightly louder. “Just try to shut up.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” you scolded playfully.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Dean clapped back using the same tone with you that he had with Sam. He took in a sharp breath when the plane began moving a second later.

You gathered your courage and grabbed his hand. He jerked away from you and looked at you in surprise. When the plane took off, though, his hand rejoined yours, squeezing tightly. You giggled to yourself.

“I’m so glad this is funny to you,” Dean hissed.

“It’s not,” you answered simply.

“Then why are you laughing?” His grip tightened once again.

“It’s just,” you considered your next words carefully. “It’s kind of cute, that’s all.”

Dean was caught off-guard by your response. He eyed you quizzically, unsure of what to say. You just shrugged, settling the back of your head against your seat with your hand still in Dean’s. It was much larger than yours, and you fought the urge to run your fingers along the calloused ridges. 

Moments passed in a bit of an uncomfortable silence before Dean spoke again, not a trace of bite in his tone. “Why are you doing this?”

You rolled your head toward him. “Everybody’s scared of something,” you quietly replied. “It helps me to know I’m helping you. Even if you do hate my guts.”

“I don’t hate your guts.” He spoke so softly you almost couldn’t hear him.

“Pfft, could’ve fooled me,” you answered. 

“You just…” he started, “...get on my nerves. ‘S all.”

You giggled. 

A few minutes later when the plane had fully gotten up in the air, you heard the familiar sound of a song you had heard many times before in the Impala coming from the man next to you. 

“You're humming Metallica?” Sam asked Dean monotonously.

“Calms me down,” the older brother replied. 

“ ‘Some Kind of Monster’? Really?“ You raised a brow at him.

Dean did not respond to you.

“Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused,” the younger Winchester reminded his brother.

“Yup,” you chimed in. “We only have thirty-two minutes to track the bitch down and full-on exorcise it.” 

“Yeah, on a crowded plane,” Dean commented. “That's gonna be easy.”

“Just take it one step at a time, alright?” Sam said calmly. “Now, who is it possessing?” 

“It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress,” Dean stated.

“Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up,” Sam told Dean, who hummed in response.

Dean sat up stiffly, his body still tense as he turned to the blonde flight attendant walking past.

“Excuse me. Are you Amanda?” he asked her.

“No, I'm not,” she answered with a smile.

"Oh, my mistake.”

The flight attendant hummed in agreement.

He peered into the back of the plane, finding the other blonde flight attendant. “All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state.”

“What if she's already possessed, genius?” Sam asked.

“There's ways to test that,” Dean responded, pulling the holy water out of his jacket. “I brought holy water.”

“Correction, I brought holy water—” you leaned forward, gently taking the bottle, “—And that’s for when we try to exorcise the demon. She’ll flinch at the name of god if she’s possessed.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean replied, getting up from his chair. You could tell he had not. You already missed the feeling of his hand in yours.

He turned to go, but you stopped him.

“Dean!” you whispered.

“What?” The annoyance in Dean’s voice was back. 

“Say it in Latin.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then what is it?” you smirked, quirking a brow.

“ ‘Christo!’ I’m not an idiot!” he hissed back. Dean turned away from you and headed to the back of the plane. 

You slumped down in your seat, closing your eyes as the copilot began speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your first officer speaking...” you tuned out the rest of his message.

A few minutes went by before the older brother returned.

“Alright, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet,” he sighed as he flopped back into his seat.

“You said ‘Christo’?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her.” 

“So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere,” Sam explained.

The plane shook, causing Dean to tense up. He grabbed your hand once more. “Come on!” he whined. “That can't be normal!”

“Hey, hey, it's just turbulence,” you coaxed.

“Sweetheart, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm fucking four.” He went to drop your hand, but you tightened your grip.

“Okay,” you started, changing tactics. Your tone became harsh. “You need to calm down.”

“Well, I'm sorry, I can't,” Dean sassed.

“You didn’t want to be treated like you’re four, so stop acting like it,” you commanded. “Be a man, Winchester. If you’re a basketcase, you’re wide open to possession. Get your shit together. Right now.”

Dean took a deep breath.

You smiled. “Great. Onto the Rituale Romanum.”

“The what?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

“The exorcism ritual,” you elaborated. “It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful.”

“More powerful?” Dean questioned, his voice strained and eyes wide.

“Yup.”

“How?” He was starting to get panicky again.

“It’d just be able to wreak havoc on its own without a vessel,” you informed.

“Oh. And why is that a good thing?”

“ 'Cause the second part of that sends the bitch back to hell once and for all.”

“First things first, we got to find it.”

“There ya go,” you chuckled.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, getting up from his chair with the EMF Walkman.

You and Sam let him walk down the aisle by himself for a few minutes before the two of you got up to go talk to him.

You tapped his shoulder.

“Ah!” Dean jumped back, wheeling around to face you. “Don’t do that!”

“Anything?” Sam asked.

The older brother shook his head. “No, nothing. How much time we got?” 

“Fifteen minutes,” Sam told you and his brother. “Maybe we missed somebody.” 

“Maybe the thing's just not on the plane,” Dean shrugged.

“No way. Dean, it’s gonna be here,” you protested. Just as you spoke, the EMF meter spiked. 

You looked up to see the copilot coming out of the bathroom.

“What?” Sam asked. “What is it?”

You stared at the copilot. “Christo.”

The man’s head slowly turned toward you and the boys, his eyes black.

You wheeled around to face Sam. “We gotta talk to Amanda.”

“She's not gonna believe this,” Sam contested.

“You’re probably right, but we only got twelve minutes,” you reminded the younger brother. You walked ahead of the boys into the concessions area where Amanda busied herself.

“Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope,” she smiled politely, clearly caught off-guard by your presence.

“Actually—” Dean began, “—that's kind of what we need to talk to you about.”

Sam closed the curtains behind you as Amanda answered Dean. “Um, okay. What can I do for you?”

“Alright, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole ‘the truth is out there’ speech right now,” Dean rushed out.

She looked confused but kept her smile painted on her face.

“Alright, look, we know you were on flight 2485,” Sam continued for Dean.

Her grin disappeared. “Who are you guys?”

Sam ignored her question. “Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure.”

“We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now,” the older brother told her.

“I'm sorry—” she started, attempting to move past you, “I— I'm very busy. I have to go back—”

“Chuck Lambert’s dead, Amanda,” you cut in, effectively stopping her from leaving. “The pilot from 2485.”

“Wait. What?” She turned to face you, her eyebrows furrowed. “Chuck is dead?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “He died in a plane crash. That’s the second plane crash in two months. Doesn’t that strike you as weird?”

She shook her head in complete disbelief.

“Look, there was something wrong with 2485,” Sam added. “Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too.”

Dean made a last attempt to drive the point home. “Amanda, you have to believe us.”

The blonde looked to the ground. “On… on 2485, there was this man. He… had these eyes.”

“Black eyes?” you asked.

She nodded.

“That’s exactly what we’re talking about,” Sam clarified.

“I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?”

Dean answered before you got the chance to. “Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here.”

Amanda looked between the three of you, confused. “Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

“Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay?”

“How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot—” You could practically see her mind running a mile a minute. 

Even Sam was getting impatient. “Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit.”

“Do you know that I could lose my job if you—”

“Babe, you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't go get him right now,” you remarked.

She looked at you and nodded, turning to leave for the cockpit.

As soon as Amanda made it out of the curtains, you fished the holy water out of your hoodie’s pocket, moving to press your back against the wall next to the closed blue curtains.

A few moments later, you heard the copilot say to Amanda, “Yeah, what's the problem?” Just outside the curtains. As soon as the demon ducked into the small room, Dean punched him in the face. He then shoved the demon to the ground and slapped duct tape over his mouth. 

“Wait,” Amanda protested as you got down on the ground beside Dean, “What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him.”

“We are gonna talk to him,” Dean replied simply as you splashed the copilot with holy water.

The demon groaned under the duct tape, his skin sizzling and burning holes through his shirt.

“Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?” Amanda cried.

“Look,” Sam started calmly, “We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain.”

Amanda’s breath quickened. “Well, I don't underst— I don't know—”

“Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?”

She gave herself a pep talk before heading outside of the curtains.

“Hurry up, Sam,” Dean groaned. “I don't know how much longer I can hold him.”

The demon went to kick the older Winchester in the back, but you dove to grab his legs.

Sam began reciting the Latin ritual written in his father’s journal. “Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—”

The demon kneed you in the forehead, causing you to fall back and got a few good swings at the boys in as well. You clambered on top of the copilot, sitting on his stomach with his arms pinned by his sides under your legs.

Sam continued with the ritual before the demon threw you off of him. He ripped the tape off of his mouth and turned to Sam. “I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!”

You attempted to recover from getting slammed into the wall while Dean focused on attacking the demon.

Sam sat there in shock, so you grabbed the journal and tried to finish the ritual.

The demon hit Dean again, effectively getting the young man off of him and knocking Dean into you. The book fell from your hand, and the demon kicked it out into the passenger’s cabin.

A cloud of black smoke flew out from the copilot’s body and into a vent while Sam went out into the aisle to find the journal. 

Suddenly, the plane shook violently and took a nosedive. The lights in the plane flickered and you and Dean were thrown to the back wall of the concession’s area. 

You and Dean screamed as the plane went down. Dean held onto the emergency exit door for dear life as you pressed yourself into the corner opposite from the older Winchester.

Your yelps were cut off when the plane leveled out following a surge of electricity coursing through the aircraft. You assumed Sam was able to finish the ritual and the pilot was able to regain control of the plane. 

You shakily stood up from the ground and dusted yourself off, tugging on the sleeves of your large hoodie.

You stepped out into the passenger’s cabin, heading to Sam as people began asking their neighbors if they were okay.

You wrapped Sam in a short, tight hug as you thanked him for keeping his head level enough to finish the ritual and trying to comfort him after what the demon had said. When you had made your way back to your seats, a slight rumble went through the aircraft. Dean grabbed your hand once again, and kept it there for the rest of the flight. A small smile tugged at your lips. 

After landing back at your original airport, you stood beside Sam and Dean as you watched the swarms of EMTs, FBI agents, and FAA agents go from person to person. They questioned or looked over each one, and your focus bounced between them.

You found Amanda in the crowd talking to an FBI agent, and she turned to the side to mouth “thank you” to you and the Winchesters.

“Let's get out of here,” Dean said firmly.

You began to head to the exit when Dean asked Sam, “You okay?”

You turned back to Sam, who reminded you and his brother, “Dean, it knew about Jessica.”

“Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. Alright? That's all it was.” The older brother attempted to brush Sam’s concerns off.

“Yeah.” The brunet didn’t sound convinced.

“Come on.”

***

The next day, you and the Winchesters visited Jerry at his workplace to give him the final mission report. Jerry showed you and the boys out and escorted you to the Impala parked outside of the warehouse. 

“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed,” he acknowledged. He shook your hand before turning to the boys. “Your dad's gonna be real proud.”

Sam gave him an awkward, tight-lipped smile. “We'll see you around, Jerry.”

You turned to the car, as did Dean before he turned back to the older man. 

“You know, Jerry—" he began.

“Yeah.”

“I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway?” the young man continued. “I've only had it for like six months.”

“Your dad gave it to me,” Jerry explained simply.

“What?” Sam exclaimed in shock.

“When did you talk to him?” Dean questioned.

“I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call.” He took a pause. “Thanks again, guys— and gal,” he grinned.

“Bye, Jerry!” you called after him as he headed off.

“This doesn't make any sense, man. I've called Dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service,” Sam told his brother.

Dean dials what you assumed was his father’s number. However, instead of the out-of-service message Sam had described, a voicemail began to play.

The two boys leaned into the phone so they could hear it better.

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, the voice hard to hear, but you were still able to make out the words. “This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.”

Sam fumed, shaking his head in frustration as he got in the car. He slammed the door behind him. You looked over to Dean, who did not meet your gaze. He got in the car following his brother. You took one last look at the setting sun as a plane flew over your head. 

“I fuckin’ hate flying,” you muttered.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

[apocalypseornaw]

Meant to Be (Pt 3/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Taking a breather at Bobby's house calms your nerves but makes Dean start to consider how his own feelings for you are beginning to change

@lacilou s idea I ran with

Bobby is alive in this and there's a lot of cursing

You knew your way around Bobby's kitchen probably better than he did. The counter was lined with different herbs for the arache antidote you were making for Xavier along with the dreamwalking serum for Alyson and you were cooking some breakfast in the meantime and had coffee brewing.

You'd gotten up before the rest of the occupants of the house, summoned by the fed line ringing damn near off the wall and hadn't been able to fall back asleep after that. Back to back calls had come in so you were doing the brewing while Bobby did some research. You'd sent Sam and Dean to town after some breakfast ingredients.

You were listening to the Playlist you had blasting while you poured the now cooled antidote into vials. You probably wouldn't have heard Sam come into the kitchen behind you had it not been for the loose board he always seemed to forget about. "I haven't seen you in this good of a mood in weeks" he spoke and you spun around with a grin "Samuel! Did you get my vanilla?" He held up the bag "Of course"

You took the bag and went to work finishing the croissants Bobby had asked for before slapping them in the oven. You nodded to yourself "Dreamwalking serum will be done in ten, croissants should be done around that time too and I need to put on another pot of coffee" you could feel Sam's presence behind you and part of you didn't want to acknowledge it but the other part knew he wasn't going to go away "I'm fine Sam, really"

Hs stepped up closer to you and touched your shoulder gently "Are you sure?" Before you had to respond "You shook me all night long" came on so you turned towards him with a wide grin "Oh no" he muttered and tried to escape but you grabbed him before he could "Oh yes"

---------------

Dean heard your laughter as soon as he stepped in the house. He cut his eyes at Bobby who was sitting at his desk reading over a large book "She's cooking and has music. Next to killing monsters, that's her favorite place"

He laughed as he headed towards the kitchen. When he got closer he could hear Sam's voice and when he made it to the doorway of the kitchen he hadn't expected to find you and Sam dancing to AC/DC.

He leaned against the doorway silently for a moment. He'd never seen you dance too much, you always shied away when anyone asked you at a bar. The way you and Sam moved with each other looked almost choreographed, if he didn't know better he would've pinned you two as having been lovers at some point in time.

Friends didn't know each other as well as you and Sam did and they damn sure couldn't move in step together like that. He felt a small flicker of what he had to admit was jealousy, he'd never gotten to see you like this. You were relaxed around him yeah. Hell you'd known each other for plenty long enough but there was still pieces of you he'd only get to see slivers of from watching your interactions with Sam.

He had been finding himself craving move of those slivers and disappointed when the only thing he got in turn was you pulling away from him even more. He hadn't done anything wrong, had he? He couldn't think further because Sam went to spin you and both of you caught sight of him. The squeal that had fallen from your lips was nothing short of adorable, you turned to bury your face in Sam's chest "I didn't realize there was an audience!"

---------------

You could feel the fact that your entire face was warm. Why hadn't you paid better attention? Dammit now Dean knew the truth when you'd turned him down or any other man citing you couldn't dance.

The truth was Jess had roped you and Sam into classes that she always conveniently scheduled for when she knew you'd be in town. You had always deep down assumed it was her preparing for hers and Sam's wedding. It had seemed a given at the time that they'd marry and have lots of little gorgeous, smart babies.

"Didn't realize there was an audience" you muttered hiding in Sam's chest, trying to smoothe your hair down some and suddenly feeling self conscious over your old jeans and t-shirt. "Don't mind me sweetheart. I was just admiring the fact that I've been cheated out of quite a few dances by believing the lie that you couldn't dance"

You were saved by the timer going off on the oven. You stepped away from Sam and grabbed the oven mitt to retrieve the pan out. You glanced back at Dean "Tell Bobby the croissants are ready please? I've got to bottle the serum"

Dean motioned to Sam "Sammy go let Bobby know they're out how about it? I'll help Y/N with the serum" Sam cut his eyes at you so you gave the barest of nods. If you made a deal out of Dean helping you he'd want to know why and you didn't want to have to deal with those questions.

---------------

You heard Sam walk out so you glanced back at Dean "Wanna grab the corks out of the drawer next to the sink?" He nodded and moved to grab them while you started placing bottles across the table. You felt him move before the heat from his body being close hit your back "Here sweetheart"

You turned to grab them but ran into his chest "Shit" you muttered and he half grinned "Sorry Y/N" you blinked a few times trying to make sure you thought before speaking considering he'd grabbed your hips to steady you and was still holding onto them "I need the funnel out of the sink" he nodded slowly "I'll grab it"

He stepped away from you and you turned back to the bottles, trying to convince your hands to stop shaking from such an innocent touch. You needed to get a grip on your feelings for Dean, he didn't feel the same about you and never would. You took a deep breath at the same time he tapped your shoulder "Funnel" you took it and nodded towards the stove "Hand me that red pot"

He handed it to you and the two of you worked in silence for the next few minutes, you filling the bottles and him coming behind him to cork them. About the time the last cork went into the last bottle Bobby walked in with Sam in tow "You've been busy ain't ya Y/N" you nodded "I like using my hands" Sam raised an eyebrow at you and you felt your cheeks warm. "Bite me Sam" you threw at him and he started laughing.

Bobby's house was a safe haven from hunting, from seeing Dean with women hanging off of him but as with every safe haven it had to come to an end. You probably would've stayed with Bobby had it not been for the fact that the Banes twins needed backup. You were close with both Alicia and Max.

--------------

You were sitting in the backseat of the impala, regretting leaving your car at Bobby's. "You good sweetheart?" Dean asked so you looked up at him in the rearview mirror "I miss my damn car" he grabbed his chest "Ouch sweetheart, I'm offended for baby"

You shrugged "You know I love the impala but it's easier on me and Sam to have a second car when we get ditched" he looked from you to Sam "Oh cmon I don't do that all the time" you and Sam shared a loaded look before Sam said "Yeah you do. Last town me and Y/N went to a double feature so we didn't have to listen to it"

Dean cut his eyes back up at you "listen to it?" You turned to look out the window refusing to meet his eyes even as Sam said "Yeah" "Look I'm sorry, both of you" "It's fine" you answered a little too quickly. Maybe you should stick with Alicia and Max for a while? Just to get this whatever this was out of your system.

As if he could read your mind Sam looked back at you and mouthed "No its not" "Please" You mouthed and he looked a mixture of pissed and defeated before nodding. Either Dean missed your interaction or chose to ignore it. If he was as clueless at hunting as he was at your feelings for him he would've been long dead. You finally let out a breath then said "I'm going to sleep. Wake me when we get to Washington"

-----------

Dean watched you lay down then glanced towards Sam who had his nose buried in his phone. The two of you seemed to be getting even closer than before. Were you sleeping with Sam?

The thought of that made his head hurt. Yeah he'd seen you go off with men from bars, you had a few exes that were hunters but since you started hanging with him and Sam you hadn't really went home with any guy or given any guy attention.

His fingers dug into the steering wheel harder than he'd meant for them too. He realized the idea of you with Sam or any other man didn't set right with him. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@suckitands33

@deans-baby-momma

@jackles010378

@someonewhoisdesperate

#spn fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #meant to be mini series

[sery-chan-13]

By Your Side

Ch. 7 of “My Sunshine” [TreechxReader]

Warnings: bombing, mentions of explosions and being hurt, nothing too graphic in my opinion, and cursing.

You hadn't even noticed that you fell asleep last night. It was still dark out when you woke up, but decided to shower and get ready for the day. You dressed in your school uniform and headed out.

You wanted to go to the zoo and talk with him but realized you'd see him first thing in the morning.

You walked into the classroom, shocked to see Coryo already there.

"You're here early," you mused, siting in your seat, one in between left for Sejanus.

"I could say the same for you," he retorted, still reading.

You shrugged, "Figured I wouldn't be able to go to sleep after so I just got ready...."

You lay your head on the desk, looking up at the blonde, who was reading something. You didn't care what it was about. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes, how hollow his cheeks looked, his perfect blonde curls lay on his head, the only bright thing about him besides his eyes. His eyes weren't just blue. They were ice blue. A single glance was enough to send ice through your veins and make you regret looking at him.

"Staring is quite rude you know," he mentioned, finally putting his book down.

You sighed and sat up, looking him in the eyes.

Holding eye contact was important to you. It showed people were listening, and that they cared.

"Have you heard from Clemensia?" You asked, suddenly remembering the girl.

He looked away.

"I... I last heard she just wasn't feeling well-"

"Don't lie. You can say nothin' or you can say the truth, but do not lie to me," you spat, your tone coming out more harsh than you meant it to.

The boy looked down. You apologized, truly not meaning to come off so rude.

"I'm sorry... I shouldn't have raised my voice like that," you whispered.

"...it's ok. You're tired and stressed dealing with all of this-"

"An apology doesn't begin with an accusation. Nor does it begin with deflecting your actions onto other things," you interrupted.

Most people in the Capitol were used to giving half assed apologies that put the blame on everyone but themselves. It was obvious that Coryo wasn't used to that.

It was weird, calling him that. You didn't know why he gave you the permission to do that.

You heard someone clear their throat behind you.

"Good morning (Y/N)... Mr. Snow. Quite the early risers aren't you?"

Dean Highbottom sighed, placing his bag onto his desk.

"Couldn't sleep. Decided I'd get here early.... Dr. Gaul never mentioned when I'd have to turn in my paper. I got it done, but I wasn't given a time to give it to her," you mumbled, remembering the brown folder in your bag. You pulled it out carefully.

"Well, before we head to the arena, she will be here. Give it to her then. I'm sure she will appreciate you getting it done in such a short time... with everything that's happened," Dean Highbottom said. "Your father wasn't too pleased with your stunt, I assume?"

You went back to last night where your father kept yelling through the door despite your sobs.

"Not pleased at all..."

He hummed and went back to putting papers in drawers and organizing.

"Your father is... much like Sejanus's father in a way. Wished everyone would forget he was district so he hates his people almost more than the Capitol," he mused.

You nodded. Coriolanus scoffed besides you.

"Is there something you would like to add to the conversation Mr. Snow? I'm sure your father would be rolling in his grave seeing you with your songbird," Highbottom said, his eyes staring directly into Coryo's.

A scowl slowly crossed his features, this icy blue eyes clouding over, blizzarding with hatred.

The air filled with tension and you let out a relieved sigh at Sejanus's entrance.

"Good morning to you all," he said, a little too happy for someone getting to the academy at 6:30.

"Mornin'," you responded as he sat next to you.

He gave you a dopey smile and you were honestly suspicious.

"What's got you lookin' like that sweetheart?" You giggled, poking his shoulder.

"Oh? Just that... I know something that makes me happy. Nothing you should worry about," he said with a smile.

You looked suspiciously between both boys who seemed to be acting strangely. Dean Highbottom stepped out of the room and you looked at both of them.

"You kissed each other didn't you?"

"Ew-"

"(N/N) why would you say that?!"

"I would never ever even think of kissing a Pli-"

"I would never even even think of kissing him-"

"Neither of you are denying it."

Their faces of mutual embarrassment and disgust made you laugh.

The boys shared a look and immediately looked away, blushing furiously .

"I was just joking... but you've both been actin' so strange..." you mumbled.

They let out a sigh of relief.

"Can't believe you thought I'd kiss him of all people," Coryo muttered.

"Not like you've kissed anyone anyway," you teased.

"Neither have you!"

The three of you stared at each other in silence until bursting out in laughter.

Once again, forgetting who and where you were. Sej and you weren't District to Capitol, Coryo was a Capitol Prick.

You were just kids. Like you'd always been.

——

The three of you walked together to the arena, behind everyone else.

"I ain't ever seen you smile that much let alone laugh," you giggled.

"Your face when Dr. Gauls hand was on your shoulder? Fucking priceless," Sejanus laughed.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes but smiled.

Maybe... the districts weren't that bad. Hanging out with the two district to Capitol kids made him understand Lucy Gray a bit better, and internally he wondered if he saw them as friends or as pawns to get closer to her.

"When I gave her my paper I thought she would shoot me down right there!" You whispered with a laugh.

The rest of your classmates were so ahead and lost in their own conversations, you knew they couldn't hear.

But the chatter and laughter died down as you reached the arena. You saw the tributes lined up by district, boy girl.

You silently slipped next to Treech and smiled. He looked at you and gave you a small smile back.

You could feel his fingers softly reach for yours and you slowly enveloped your hand with his.

"Missed you."

"Missed you more," he whispered back with a grin.

You heard someone clear their throat behind you.

"Mind getting your hands off of my girl?"

"Oh go fuck yourself, Creed. I am not yours not at all, I've never been and your entitlement to me disgusts mes I am not an object to own," you hissed at him, rolling your eyes.

The boy immediately cowered and ran off.

"Tail between his legs... he's such an army brat," you scoffed.

"So that's Festus Creed," Treech mumbled.

You turned to him, "You know who he is?"

The boys face turned bright red.

"Well it's just Sejanus mentioned him-"

"When did you talk to Sej?"

He wouldn't meet your eyes. He knew if he did he would spill everything. Every single thing he'd been thinking.

He was thankful that in that moment, you all began to enter in the arena. A red glow from some lights gave it an eerie feel.

"Thank you, enjoy the show."

You shuddered at that. How gross. Disgusting. Dehumanizing. They were being sent to their deaths and that was what they had to hear before it?

You saw Coriolanus and Lucy Gray holding hands and slowly letting go in front of the cameras. You looked up at Treech. His face was wiped of any emotion, yet you watched as his eyes filled with fear.

You kept his hand in yours, squeezing it for comfort.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," he mumbled to you, so quiet you almost didn't hear.

"Hey, hey... you're gonna be ok... I promise I'm getting you out of this alive. I can't... I can't loose you," you mumbled to him.

The mentors and tributes split up. Most mentors went to talk in their own groups, leaving the tributes to talk amongst themselves.

"Hey, lumberjack!"

You both turned around. You a bit upset at the audacity of someone calling him your nickname and also out of curiosity.

Who were you kidding you were upset about someone calling him your nickname for him.

It was Coral.

It could be beneficial for him to be in a group... but groups turn on each other.

"Lamina-" he called out, getting interrupted.

"No no. You. Just you."

You looked at him to see what he would do. His hand slowly left yours as he walked over to the group.

You were immediately saddened by this. But had no time to react as a hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you away.

"What gives!?" The voice whisper yelled.

Pup Harrington.

Lamina's mentor.

"I can't control what he does or who he goes with," you responded.

"I thought we would be allies at least-"

"You never discussed becoming my ally-"

"Thought it would be a given considering they are from the same district! How stupid could he be?! The group is going to-"

"Listen. I cannot control him. He picked the group. He is not stupid, he knows they will start killing each other. And I'm sure I'll figure out a plan. Lamina is strong willed, she's a strong climber... she will do well," you whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Pup wasn't as bad as the rest of the kids in class. Mostly kept to himself.

"Alright. I hope you know what you're talking about."

And with that you walked off in separate directions, only taking a step before a loud bang was heard.

Bombs.

The bombs were going off everywhere and you were thrown back from the shock wave.

Your ears rang as you looked up, double vision everywhere. There was dust everywhere and bombs were still going off. Fire.

You shakily stood up, trying to keep your balance. You coughed, covering your mouth with your sleeve.

Tributes were running, you heard some say the gate was open, and saw them running towards it.

The world spun around you and you took a shaky step, before noticing there was people standing n the ground. It struck a fear into you that you hadn't felt since the war.

All those bodies. Burned. Bleeding out.

Then your mind turned to how Treech would hold you close in the bombings, covering you from any dust.

Wait... Treech.

Where was he?

Your breathing became heavier as you panicked looking around for him and sign of him.

"Treech! Treech!" You screamed out, your voice ringing and echoing across the chaos filled hall. 

Peacekeepers shoved past you, shooting their guns. You screamed in fear, falling to your knees again, covering your head.

A scared child.

That's all you could think of. The bombings back home, the bodies, your mind raced with thoughts of his body being one of them and screamed with tears streaming down your face.

The center of the arena started to fall and you tried to back away, failing at doing so, but succeeding at getting cuts all over your palms

"(Y/N)!? (Y/N)!"

Strong arms picked you up and took you away from the middle, where beams of steel and concrete fell.

"You alright? Hey, hey? Stay with me alright... fuck you've got some nasty cuts." The voice muttered.

You looked up and saw the person you had been screaming for. Your arms wrapped around him and he cried out.

He was hurt.

You stood up carefully, both of you leaning into each other. He tried to drag you back to where you had come from, but you stopped him.

"No, some people ran away that way, don't want them to think you're runnin' away too. They'll shoot you dead, please," you begged, coughing. There was dust and smoke invading your mouth, throat and lungs.

He gave a shaky breath and nodded.

You two were trying to find help. Anyone that knew a way out.

You'd never been here, so you didn't know...

Coryo.

Coryo had mentioned coming here as a kid, his family used to have one of the private boxes to watch the games when he was little.

"Gotta... find Coryo, he'll know the way out-"

You felt his arms get ripped away from you, and heard him cry out in pain. You turned to see a peacekeeper, grabbing him and pulling him away. Another peacekeeper did the same to you.

Some of the glass stuck in your arm was pushed in by his hands and you screamed out in pain. Your body was finally aware of all the pain it was in, the adrenaline to survive fading out, making you pass out.

_____

It had been about three days in the hospital drifting in and out of a painkiller haze. You hated it. Nurses came in and out, but Sejanus was the one who came to visit more often than not. The games had been delayed once more due to kids being hurt and in the hospital. The mentors of course, not the tributes. The interviews would happen at the end of the week, the games the day after. If you could be there, you could be there. Your release day was set to be the day of. Meaning today.

You woke up in the hospital. You were drowsy from what had happened and the medicine they had given you. Sejanus was beside your bed, and smiled softly when he saw you had woken up.

"Please, tell me is he ok?" You asked, pleading with Sejanus, who had been released the day right after the bombing. His injuries were minor compared to a lot of the others.

"He's good as can be... had to get stitches for one cut on his back but the vet-"

"Vet?"

Silence filled the small area.

"You mean to tell me... that we survived a bombing... got rushed to the hospital... and they got thrown back into that zoo cage... and they have a VET attending to them?!" You shouted.

Your heart monitor started going up, beeping harshly.

"Hey, hey, hey... calm down. I know. I get it... I was pissed off when I found out too, but...  it's... better than nothing I guess..." he muttered.

You were getting released today. You would see him tonight.

The nurses came in, and finally signed the discharge paperwork.

Sejanus walked you home.

You had been lucky. Mostly shrapnel that had been imbedded in your skin. Some dust and smoke in your lungs, but nothing coughing it out didn't fix.

The worst part had been the necklace. You didn't lose it, but the nurses were not careful, breaking the chain.

"Hey... cheer up. In just... two hours you'll get to see your lover boy," he said with a smile.

You blushed and looked down.

"We're just friends-"

"(Y/N), please. You like him. I think you always have. It's obvious to everyone else. And I think you should tell him. Plus..." he said, pulling a small box out of his pocket, opening it for you. "Friends don't just keep a ring on a necklace or one letter you sent years ago."

It was the necklace, but it was fixed. Nothing had been changed, it was your necklace from Treech.

"I saw it on the bedside table broken and... god, I know how important this is to you. I took it to get fixed. All they did was fix the chain," he said with a smile, putting it on you.

"Friends don't look at each other the way you two look at each other."

Hehehehehehehe so uh... heyyyy

I'm keeping it a bit more accurate to the book than the movie. Treech will also be in the arena more book than movie. Yes, he's starting off with the pack, but after some time, he is going to do what his book self did. In case some of you who only watched the movie were wondering why tf my timeline is so off. It's not, I'm not making up the funerals or any of it, it happened in the book. How are you guys liking this story so far? Do I entertain you?

#×reader #treech tbosas #treech x reader #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #sejanus plinth #hehe they’re so cute #oh my poor darling reader what have you gotten yourself into! #casca highbottom #he loves you like the daughter he never had #Mwuah

[laurel-finch]

'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch13: Family

Summary: A brief calm before the storm... Referenced Episodes: mentioned S1 E16 "Shadow" CW: Mostly filler. Some fluff! Word Count: 5922 Recommended Song: Cecelia -- Simon & Garfunkel Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

I clocked out after about eight hours of driving and finally gave up on holding a conversation with the boys. The relief of surviving yet another hunt had finally washed away, leaving a bitter feeling hanging low over us.

The brothers were not happy, for similar and yet very different reasons. Both of them were pissed to hell that they had to say goodbye to their father not even an hour after reuniting. However, Sam was frustrated with the fact that it was his brother who sent John away – I could understand his pain. If I had rekindled relations with my father, wherever he might be, and then he suddenly left I would be upset too.

The brothers hadn't spoken much, only really conversing together when I was involved in the conversation. Eventually, I got fed up and did my best to fall asleep to the sounds of loud rock music. Despite Dean's claims about not liking Bon Jovi, he played it an awful lot.

I too was irritated in my own way. I couldn't help but replay the previous night's events over and over again until my head was reeling from exhaustion. Maybe if I had stayed put, John wouldn't have been led to the boys. Perhaps he wouldn't have gotten there in time and therefore not have gotten hurt- No, if we hadn't gotten there, the brothers might have been dead, or worse.

The more I thought about it, the fewer good options there appeared to be. No matter how I spun the story, I couldn't find a happy ending. Something would have gone wrong eventually.

I sighed and fluffed my coat - there was no way Dean was ever getting it back - and rested my head back onto it. It had already been two hours since I had given up on getting a conversation going and all I really wanted was to sleep. I hadn't gotten any at the hospital, and I certainly hadn't had anything more than a few hours while in Chicago. I shut my eyes and did my best to lull myself to sleep.

"Sammy, hand me one of my AC/DC tapes, would you?" Dean asked, extending his hand. Sam had just enough time to open the glove compartment before I spoke up.

"If you play that while I'm trying to sleep, I will skin you," I grumbled out, my words partially muffled by my coat.

Dean briefly glanced over his shoulder to catch my glare. "What's wrong with AC/DC?"

"Nothing, as long as it's not played at 10pm," I growled and nuzzled into the coat. Dean scoffed.

"It's just after 9:30," he muttered, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"Close enough," I spat. I heard Sam chuckle and close the compartment. "You have my permission to play something like Journey, though."

Sam practically howled with laughter at this. "No way does Dean have any Journey," he said with a chuckle. "You're lucky he's got any Bon Jovi."

"They're not my favorite," Dean tacked on, "but, they do have a few good albums. I just hate their love songs."

I sighed into my makeshift pillow and squeezed my eyes shut. "Yeah right, Dean. I heard you tapping your foot to 'Bed of Roses' earlier." I cracked one eye open to see Dean's ears tinge pink and again Sam laughed. I grinned and shut my eyes once more.

The car fell silent after a few grumbles from Dean and the cassette that was currently playing came to an end. I hummed and burrowed once more into the coat, letting sleep finally overtake me.

I felt oddly warm, despite being enveloped in darkness. Shouldn't the lack of anything suggest cold, rather than heat?

I blinked open my eyes, or I assume I opened them. The lack of any sort of presence made it hard to distinguish the inky blackness of my surroundings from the shadows of my closed eyelids.

I looked down, seeing my calloused hands, shadowed and blanketed by the heavy darkness. My eyes scanned over my form, recognizing all the clothes I was wearing. They were the same ones I had fallen asleep in, jeans with ripped knees and cuffed ankles to fit over my tightly done hiking boots, and a loose sage green button-down that fit well over my bandages.

I stretched, soaking the warmth into my tired muscles, and suddenly jumped, expecting pain from my torn shoulder and feeling none. I rolled my shoulder questioningly - where was the pain? There wasn't even a dull throb.

I reached towards my back and felt under my shirt, searching for shredded skin, bandages, anything, and felt none. My back felt smooth. Frantically, I unbuttoned the tops of my jeans and pulled them back as far as I could, peaking at where the top of my mangled wound should be. It was smooth. Unblemished.

I felt sick. My eyes flitted around the inky darkness and my throat closed up. I scrambled at my throat. I couldn't breathe. Why wouldn't I breathe?

A faint noise caught my attention and I swiveled the best I could in the murk. My eyes widened with horror as my ears strained to identify the sound.

It was a growl.

I whipped in the opposite direction, searching my shrouded darkness. A shape moved in front of me and I squinted my eyes at it. My hands dropped from my throat, the lack of oxygen forgotten. I struggled to make out a shape in the dark, peering and hoping to see whatever had growled.

My eyes widened as they fastened to two red ones.

I woke with a jolt, using my good arm to propel myself away from the window. I fell to the side, putting pressure on my bad leg and catching myself with my sore arm. I yelped and pushed backward, leaning against the door with wild eyes and heavy breaths.

The car skidded as I startled Dean and he quickly corrected our course. Sam whipped around to face me, worry in his hazel eyes. "Woah, woah, the hell is going on back there!?" Dean shouted, sounding panicked.

I nodded and threaded a hand through my hair the best I could. I took a deep breath in an attempt to regulate my heartbeat and then nodded again, feeling more sure of myself.

"Nightmare," I wheezed out and dropped my hands on my lap. Could it even really be considered a nightmare? If anything, it was more unsettling than terrifying. I brushed my hair out of my face as it clung to my sweaty face. "What time is it?"

"Just after eleven," Dean replied. "You've been asleep for about two and a half hours."

I nodded and swallowed dryly. "So are we close to home?"

Sam nodded and handed me a bottle of water from the glove compartment. "Another twenty minutes." I sighed in relief and relaxed, shifting so my back rested comfortably against my seat. I uncapped the water and downed a third of it.

"Wanna talk about it?" Sam inquired quietly. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.

"I was in complete darkness, just kind of... floating," I mumbled. "I wasn't in any pain either. My wounds were just... gone, and there were no scars. Like nothing had happened." I sighed out and rested my fingertips lightly on my throat. "I couldn't breathe. It was like there was no oxygen, and... I heard this growl. When I tried to see what growled at me, I saw eyes. Red. Like fire." I shrugged and leaned my head back. "And then I woke up."

My eyes flashed to Dean as he chuckled darkly. "That's it?" he asked. "You afraid of the dark or something, Scoob?"

"-Dean!" Sam chastised his older brother for his apathy."Of course not," I scoffed. "I just- it was just unsettling. There was something... not natural about it."

"We specialize in 'not natural,' sweetheart," Dean continued. "You think it had anything to do with these voices you keep hearing?"

"I don't know," I mumbled, pressing a palm to my temple. My head was throbbing, like a dull headache. "Oh! I forgot to mention it earlier but- I heard the whisper again. Right before your dad attacked me, it told me to duck."

"It told you to duck?" Sam asked, obviously confused. "Why?"

I shrugged. "Probably because your dear old dad would have hit me in the back of the head if I hadn't."

"I dunno, maybe you deserved that for following us," Dean chimed. I glared at his stern features in the rearview mirror.

"And maybe you deserved that pretty cut across your face for being an ass," I snapped back. My harsh words only drew a rumbling chuckle from him. I resettled myself in my seat and shut my eyes once more as the interior of the car fell silent.

I jolted upon feeling the car take a familiar turn off the highway, one that would lead to my front door. I cracked a grin and straightened in my seat, leaning between Dean and Sam to stare out the front window.

Nerves hit me like a truck - was now really the best time to go back? My grin slipped from my face and instead I frowned, pondering. The boys had only just found their father, who supposedly had a huge lead on killing the demon that killed their mom. Killing a demon! What if they needed me?

My heart pounded. Calliope. Had she even made it to the pack? I should have called to check- I should have called to let them know I was coming home! God, that was stupid of me. They were my family, I needed to tell them these things.

Being a part of a family again was a lot harder than I thought.

I bolted upright again when I saw the lights of my house come into view. There was no way this wasn't my favorite place on earth. I beamed, remembering all the memories I had here. Repainting the house with Dennis had been one of the best - it had been an ugly beige color, but I somehow convinced him to go with an almost pastel blue. He had been so against it at first until we started doing it. He fell in love with the color after that.

I reached for my crutches and waited for the Impala to roll to a steady stop. Before Dean had even parked, my door was thrown open and I launched myself from it, struggling to walk and get my crutches under me at the same time. The pack bond was blazing, pulling me towards the painted house as I stretched the crutches as far ahead of me as I could to propel myself forward.

The front door was tossed open and from the opening popped Andrew's red hair, a wide, relieved grin on his features. He ran out the door and toward me, Sasha close behind with a dishrag in hand.

My crutches fell to the ground as Andrew threw himself at me, enveloping me in a warm hug. Sasha soon followed him, embracing me a bit more timidly after surely having noticed my injuries. I hugged back tightly, relieved that I was finally home.

I jumped and broke the embrace, hearing a squeal from the doorway. My eyes fell on Calliope, long hair tied into a loose braid and an apron draped across her front. In just a few bounds she had crossed the lawn and tackled me, practically knocking me over.

"You're back!" she exclaimed, pulling away and inspecting me with sheer joy.

"You're here!" I squealed back. "I was worried you hadn't made it!"

"Of course I made it! Why wouldn't I?" Calliope was practically shaking with excitement, her eyes raking over my form as if she hadn't seen me in years. Finally, her eyes settled with some confusion on my leg with a tight brace on it to restrict movement to keep me from further injuring my muscles. Her eyes widened with panic as they befell my crutches and her grip tightened on my upper arms. "What happened?"

A gentle hand rested on my good shoulder and I turned my head to meet Dean's green eyes, my backpack slung over one of his shoulders. "Just a couple thousand-year-old shadow demon," he said, smirking playfully. He extended his hand to Calliope. "Hi. Dean Winchester."

Calliope looked nervously between the two of us. "Your human friend?" she asked me. I nodded. She smiled softly and shook Dean's hand. "Calliope Jones. I’m a new friend." Her chest swelled with pride.

Andrew leaned forward to pick up my crutches and handed them to me. "What do you mean 'shadow demons'?"

"Ever heard of a Daeva?" I asked. He shook his head and I chuckled. "I wouldn't expect you to. I hadn't heard of them either. Basically, they're these shadow demon things that are really hard to summon and are vicious." The younger boy blinked in confusion, drinking it all in. I rolled my eyes playfully. "I'll fill you guys in later. Where's everyone else?"

"Booth turned in a few hours ago," Sasha chirped, her sweet voice music to my ears. I missed her- all of them. She was going to be pissed when she saw the state of my clothes. "Marcus and Caeden went hunting a couple of hours ago."

I nodded and turned to the Winchesters who were both rearranging luggage in the car. "Don't tell me you boys are leaving already?"

Sam glanced up at me, a woeful expression on his face. "We have to go," he started, straightening and brushing a long lock from his face. "We've got to find dad."

I scoffed and crossed my arms in irritation, much to my shoulder's displeasure. "John can wait a few hours. You boys are getting some sleep." I glared at Dean as he bolted upright to protest, silencing him. "I'll have you boys dragged in by your napes. You can head out tomorrow, but you're sleeping here tonight." I turned to Sasha, hobbling a bit as I spun. "Can you set up the pull out couch in the living room? I doubt they'll want to share the guest room bed," I teased with a glance over my shoulder at the brothers.

The six of us padded into the house and I breathed a sigh of relief as I sat on the living room couch. It had been too long since I was home, and the familiar scents and warm lights gave me an innate sense of comfort that I was sure nothing else ever would. This was my home. And of course, it could be argued that my pack was my home as well, but everyone needed roots. It kept us grounded.

I needed to be grounded.

I wasn't particularly worried about my self-control – as long as I remained around people I trusted and cared about, I had little concern. Truthfully, I was worried about my inability to change forms. How long would it last? And what the hell did I have to do to make it stop?

I must have dozed off at some point. The boys had gotten settled and wished everyone a pleasant night. After that, I remember staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours.

—

I bolted upright having been awoken by the sounds of a door opening, squeaking on its hinges. My eyes slowly adjusted to the room as I blinked furiously, peering through the darkness. My tired eyes latched onto a shadowed form on the front porch, just visible through the small window near the top of the door.

I rubbed a hand down my face, working the sleep out of my eyes. It was still dark out and couldn't have been any later than four in the morning, perhaps even earlier. I felt like I hadn't slept at all. With a deep inhale that rocked my lungs, I stood and reached for my crutches, making my way slowly towards the front door.

The door creaked as I pushed it open, but elicited no reaction from the figure on my porch. I sighed, recognizing who it was, and padded softly toward him.

"You're supposed to be sleeping, you know. That's the whole reason I told you to stay," I mumbled sleepily to Dean, rubbing a closed fist over my eye. He didn't respond, instead staring into the tree line with a tired expression.

"Did I wake you?" he finally asked, eyes unfocused and clearly deep in thought.

I yawned and placed a hand over my mouth. "Yeah, but I probably would have woken up soon anyway. What time is it?"

"’Bout three in the morning, I think," he mumbled back. I nodded and propped my elbow on the railing, resting my chin in my open palm.

"Then I would have been up in a couple hours anyway. Pretty much as soon as the sun started coming up," I reassured with a soft chuckle, almost unnoticeable.

Dean ran his fingers through his hair which was subtly less spiked. Clearly, he had at least laid down for a little while. He always slept on his stomach, it only made sense that his hair would be mssed because of it. "I thought skinwalkers liked to sleep during the day?" he teased.

I laughed a bit louder than I had intended, placing a hand over my mouth to muffle my laughter. "Yeah, some do. My sleep schedule has been all kinds of messed up in the last few months though," I yawned again. "I used to sleep the day away then come out at night. Everything just seems so peaceful and crisp at night, you know?" I sighed and smiled softly. "Even the air is better."

Dean nodded slowly and turned his head towards mine, green eyes swimming with unspoken thoughts. "I guess we messed up a lot more than your sleep schedule, huh?"

I frowned and locked yes with him, confused by his statement. "What makes you think that?"

Dean huffed and turned to face the tree line again, a resigned look resting on his tired features. "Ever since Sammy and I waltzed into your life, nothing's been the same. I mean, you're a hunter now, you've got a pack-" he chuckled darkly, "Hell, you've almost gotten killed a couple of times."

I hummed quietly, mulling it over. True, everything had changed, but I wouldn't say my life was messed up now. "I was bored out of my mind before you boys showed up." I inhaled deeply and spun around, back to the railing and elbows propped on it. "I had been on a few cases long before meeting you boys, but it had been a long time. Months before my uncle died." I paused and thought for a few moments. "Honestly, I think hunting was what I was missing. I love it, despite how crazy that sounds. I was raised on stories of hunting, and when I got a taste of it... I didn't want to let go."

I turned my head to meet Dean's eyes, his looking rather unsure. I mustered the sweetest smile I could and grinned at him. "I'm glad you boys dragged me back in. I didn't realize how much I missed it."

Dean scoffed playfully. "Why would you miss hunting? This life sucks."

“I think I like the… saving people part. I’ve done enough bad in my life, it feels nice to do some good.” I raised an eyebrow at him and nudged him in the arm. "Don't act like you wouldn't miss it."

He exhaled deeply, picking at his nails nervously. "If I could get out and have a life, then I would. White picket fence, kids, two dogs-"

"- Two dogs? I thought you didn't like dogs?"

"Yeah, two dogs – and I do like dogs, s'long as they don't shed. The apple pie life, you know?" He propped his chin in his hands and stared wistfully into the woods. "A house like this, too. Small, but warm, cozy, and out of the way of everything else."

"Would you get a normal job?" I inquired. He looked so peaceful, daydreaming about the perfect life. I wanted to see more of it.

"Yeah, I would," he said with a small smile. "Probably a mechanic, like my dad. I'd teach my kids all about cars, just like he taught me. We'd have pie on Sunday nights for dessert and have Sam visit from time to time..." his smile suddenly fell, replaced with a grim expression. He frowned, the skin between his brows wrinkling and dragging his eyebrows down with it in a sour expression.

"I want that for Sam," he continued, sounding almost lost. "And I want that for you."

Now it was my turn to frown as my own eyes perused his crestfallen features. "But not for yourself?"

"Of course, I want that for myself," Dean grumbled. "But it's just... not something I'll ever have. Kids, a wife, that whole life – maybe in another world that could be mine." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair once more, tugging at it gently in frustration. "Sam got out of this life once. He can do it again. I want you to get out too, away from the hunting, the demons, all the conflict."

I scoffed. "I hate to break it to you, Dean, but it's not in the cards for me either." His green eyes whipped to mine, a deep-set scowl on his handsome features. "Maybe if I was human, or even if I didn't have a pack to look out for... but not now. Hell, I don't know if I'll even find a partner."

"Do you want kids?" Dean asked. The question startled me and I glanced at him with wide eyes. The last time I had even thought about the prospect of kids was my first case with the boys, with Missouri...

"Honestly, I've never really thought about it," I mumbled and scratched the back of my neck. Why was I so embarrassed? "Never really been the motherly sort, you know?"

Dean laughed and cracked a grin, one that brought a smile to my own cheeks. "You seem plenty motherly with your pack."

My grin grew into a smirk. "Yeah, but they can feed themselves and don't need their diapers changed." Dean chuckled again at this and leaned further forward over the railing.

"So I take it that's a no?" he asked. I hummed questioningly. "About having kids? I guess that means no?"

I froze. Did that mean no?

I shook my head. "Whatever happens, happens. I'll just roll with the punches. If I have a kid, or two, or three, then yeah, I'll be ecstatic. And if I don't-" I frowned. What if I didn't? Missouri said I would, and in the near future, but what if she was wrong? "- If I don't, I've still got a family." My voice cracked as I spoke, betraying how I felt.

I hoped Missouri was right. Maybe I would have some pups of my own and have that apple pie life. Get away from hunting, maybe appoint Booth as the new alpha... my stomach lurched at the sudden thought. Give it all up? Maybe that didn’t sound so bad…

"I still want all that for you," Dean mumbled, once more tearing nervously at his nails. He had a habit of chewing them when he was deep in thought and picking at them when nervous. "For you to have a happy life away from all of this, both you and Sam-"

"Sam and I are never going to be happy with a life outside of this unless you're part of it," I stated, sounding a bit harsher than I intended. "And you and I both know that if either of us had a life outside of this, you'd stay as far away from us, so you don't ruin it."

Dean glowered and glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "I do have a habit of doing that," he grumbled as his eyes lazily scanned over my injured leg and finally befell the crutches leaning against the railing by my side.

I scoffed loudly and turned my face away from his, a dismissive glare on my features. "You don't ruin things, Dean."

He hummed in response, as though he didn't believe me. "Yeah, sure I don't..." he huffed disapprovingly and turned his green eyes away from me. "I didn't exactly act the way I should have when I saw you again in Wyoming... that made things worse."

"No, it didn't," I stated firmly. "You were pissed, and you had every right to be, but the fact that we can have this conversation now tells me that nothing is ruined." He inhaled deeply, ignoring my gaze and glaring down at the ground.

"What'd you and my dad talk about?" he asked, confusing me with his question. Why'd he change the subject so quickly? "On the way back to the hotel in Chicago? You guys took a long time getting back."

I placed a hand on my aching shoulder, rubbing it a bit. I'd need to change the bandages soon. "Nothing much. He didn't believe who I was at first."

"How much did you tell him?"

"I didn't tell him I'm a skinwalker if that's what you're asking," I hissed out. "I'm not that stupid. I mostly told him the truth. Told him my mom died just a little after I was born, and lived with my dad until he left. Told him my uncle took me in and taught me how to hunt. Nothing too crazy or far from the truth."

Dean nodded, looking relieved. "Good," he muttered quietly. "He had your uncle’s number, didn't he? That's what you were trying to show me at the bar?"

I nodded. "Yeah, apparently they worked a couple cases together, though it had been years since they'd seen each other. Didn't even know he died." Dean nodded again, eyes scanning the horizon as the first blue-tinged rays of light dotted the sky. It was only four in the morning, but the sky was already brightening. I sighed and fluffed my hair, trailing my fingers through it in the hopes of undoing a few knots. "I'm sorry, Dean."

He perked up at this, casting me a rather confused glance. "What for?"

"For everything," I mumbled back. "Mostly for leaving. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He chuckled softly and reached to put an affectionate hand on my good shoulder. "You didn't hurt me. I get it, you had to go. Just... next time, let me know before you disappear without a word?"

I laughed softly and fixed my eyes on him, a smirk rising on my lips. "As long as you don't ask me to stay."

"No promises," he teased and spun, his back to the railing. "Thank you."

I straightened and looked at him quizzically. "What for?"

"For everything," he teased, mimicking my previous statement and earning a soft laugh from me. "Mostly for putting up with me. Not many people can."

"What are you talking about, Dean, you're a joy to be around," I said sarcastically.

"I try," he replied jokingly. He yawned, coaxing a yawn from my own lips. "I should probably try to get a couple more hours," he stated softly. "Got a long day of driving ahead of us."

"Where are you and Sam going to go?" I asked. John hadn't given any mention of where he was going.

Dean shrugged. "Sam found a case in North Carolina. Nothing too major, I think, probably just a vengeful spirit," I wrinkled my nose in distaste. I didn't like ghosts. "From there I guess we'll just... follow dad's trail. Try to track him down."

I nodded solemnly and fixed my gaze on Dean's once more. "If I asked you to stay, would you?" I asked quietly. Dean's eyes widened an almost imperceptible amount, his jaw becoming lax from surprise. His eyes surveyed mine with a certain wariness, as though he wasn't sure what to say.

"Yeah..." he finally whispered, trailing off as though he didn't believe it. "I think I probably would."

"Then you should go," I whispered back, standing and hoisting my crutches up next to me, my face only inches from his. "Before I ask you to."

He continued to scan my face with a certain bashfulness and confusion that I had never seen on him. "Do you want me to stay?" he asked timidly, leaning forward ever so slightly.

I gulped, my cheeks dusted with pink. Did I want him to stay? After another few long moments, I turned my face away from his. "You should go to bed, Dean. You've got a long day tomorrow," I said softly, leaning back against the banister again. Dean blinked, ridding himself of the confusion and sleeplessness plaguing his features.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, I probably should." He stood to his full height and turned away, his back towards me. With one last brief glance over his shoulder, he mumbled, "I'll see you around." And just as quickly as our conversation had begun, it ended, and once more I was left alone in the dark.

I covered my face with my hands when I heard the guest room door shut. My cheeks reddened from embarrassment. "God that was stupid," I muttered to myself. My cheeks flushed darker. I'd never seen Dean act like that before – I'd never seen myself act like that before.

What was wrong with me?

—

I woke mid-afternoon to the sound of Simon and Garfunkel, their wailing tones mixing with someone else's rough vocals. I blinked hard, adjusting to the bright golden lights filtering through my large windows, casting a soft glow onto my bed. When did I make it to my bed?

I stretched and reached for the crutches that leaned against the side of my bed and hobbled down the spiral staircase that led up to my loft. My leg was feeling a lot better than it had yesterday, but I doubted my tendons were even close to being fully healed.

The kitchen was just as bright, with the huge west-facing windows casting a massive amount of light into the room. I squinted and blinked, my eyes fighting to become accustomed to the light. Finally, my eyes landed on Marcus who was sashaying around the kitchen with various pots and pans and belting out the lyrics to 'Cecilia,' the sunlight bouncing off his blonde hair.

"Well look who finally decided to wake up!" he chirped, placing a soapy pan in the sink and pausing his music. "I thought you were going to sleep the day away, honestly."

I groaned and rubbed my eyes which were sore from an excessive amount of sleep. "I feel like I did sleep the day away," I said with a yawn as I sat at one of the bar stools on the edge of the kitchen. "Heard you and Caeden went hunting. When'd you get back?"

"About the time you and your hunter friend had your 3am rendezvous," he teased, scrubbing a pot that looked to have chili residue in it. "So what was that all about?"

My face flushed. "I heard him open the front door and decided to see what was up. We just... talked for a while."

"Mhm," Marcus teased with a smirk. "Yeah, I'm sure you two did a lot of talking." I didn't think my face could get any redder, but I was quickly proven wrong. Marcus sighed playfully and rinsed the pot, placing it on the drying wrack. "By the way, your boyfriend and his brother left a few hours ago."

"They left already?" I asked, a bit surprised by their sudden exit. Marcus nodded.

"Yep," he said, popping the 'p'. "And Dean said to give him a call when you woke up."

I frowned and contemplated a bit. They left without a word - though I suppose I deserved that, after how I left last time I saw them. "Did they say anything else?"

"Just that if you're up for a hunt when your leg heals, then they'd be willing to team up again," he replied, aggressively scrubbing some tongs. "By the way, Sasha changed your bandages for you after we brought you upstairs." I jolted at this, wondering how to hell they managed to do that without waking me – hell, I was in a pair of sleeping shorts now, the new wrappings clearly exposed. Somehow, despite all that, I slept through it. Marcus shrugged, seemingly knowing what I was thinking. "She's pretty gentle, and you were really out of it. Clearly, you needed the sleep."

"Yeah," I mumbled in agreement. "Yeah, I guess I did."

My mind was racing at nine hundred miles an hour, chasing any and all random thoughts that popped into my head. Did they really have to leave so soon? They could have at least waited until I woke up so I could say goodbye.

Maybe they got a lead they wanted to follow up on. Whatever their reason for leaving without any notice to me, I'm sure it was with good intention. I glanced towards the corner of the counter where my phone was plugged in next to the outlet. I contemplated calling Dean now, despite my throat being raw and dry from sleep.

Marcus dried his hands slowly, watching my eyes flicker around the counter in thought. Finally, he put the cloth down and rested his palms on the counter, leaning toward me.

"You care about him, don't you?" he asked, a serious expression on his face. This wasn't the usual teasing- this was sincere. I jolted when I met his green eyes, the sincerity in them shocking me back to reality.

"I care about both of them," I retorted, clasping my hands in my lap. "They're family."

Marcus' eyes regarded mine with scrutiny before he stood abruptly and tossed the dishrag over his shoulder. He reached to press play on his music, but I stopped him with a chuckle.

"Simon and Garfunkel, huh?" I teased, propping my chin on my open palm and elbow on the counter.

"Damn right," he exclaimed with a grin. "Best damn musicians, past, present, and future. I don't care what anyone says. The way they sang 'Bridge Over Troubled Water'?" he blew a kiss into the air. "Absolutely delectable! Nothing better."

I laughed, a wide grin spreading across my cheeks. "And what does Caeden think about that?"

Marcus huffed and crossed his arms over his chest indignantly. "Caeden has terrible taste in music. He likes Johnny Cash," he spat with a groan. "Wouldn't know good music if it bit him in the ass."

I giggled and brought a hand to cover my mouth, suppressing the loud laughter. Suddenly, an outstretched hand was thrust towards my face. My confused eyes traced the length of the arm back to Marcus, who wore a cocky grin on his face.

"Care to dance, alpha?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at me. I laughed once more and took his hand. He dragged me out of my seat and held me tight, tilting me slightly to the side to keep too much weight off my injured leg. He reached towards the counter and pressed play on his music, the opening notes of  'Mrs. Robinson' filling the room.

I giggled as Marcus and I swayed around the kitchen, the both of us belting out lyrics like there was no one else around.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #fluff #angst #slow burn #cross posted on ao3 #cross posted on wattpad #monster reader #Monster #original characters #original monster characters #x reader #female reader

[singersalvaged]

@shaepschift is getting an angsty plotted starter

The hour bled late when Sam got back. Dean was asleep but Allie had purposely remained open-eyed and somewhat furious. 2 am. Nearly the witching hour, how fitting for their turbulent lives. "You're past your curfew, maybe I should ground you," Allie teased sarcastically, catching him at the door before he could enter the motel room. It wasn't like her usual teasing. It was angry and spiteful. 

"Where were you, Sam?" But she already knew. The pain of the truth drove her anger forward. Ruby. Over time their connection had swayed more and more, and now the fray had grown unavoidable. In her soul, she knew he had been intimate with her. That hurt the worst. Because he was different. All for a demon. All for... well, she assumed he would tell her. Some sort of defence would occur. Yet she already knew it wouldn't be enough. How could it be enough?

#t: allie smith #PAIN #love it though bby i'm excited #shaepschift

[loyaltyfallen]

The first time Castiel laid siege to Hell, it was on the orders of Heaven, the Garrison at their side. Lilith sought to break the 66 seals and set Lucifer free. They needed to retrieve the soul of the Righteous Man. For years they fought their way through the putrid depths of Hell, through the burning hellfire and frozen wastes, hordes of demons and hellhounds harrying them every step of the way.

The wailing of the damned echoed around them, countless souls suffering on the torture racks of hell. At the heart stood the soul of the Righteous Man, damaged and dimmed, yet still one of the most beautif. There was a blade in his hand, a soul before him on the rack. They'd been too late. It was only later they learned that Heaven had never intended for them to reach him in time.

Their brothers kept the rotten form of Alastair away while Castiel approached the soul. The Righteous Man looked up at them with the rage and darkness of Hell, yet beneath it, there was some part of him pleading for them to stop him. They reached out, letting their grace soothe the soul as they claimed it for Heaven. Holding it close, they ascended from the Pit. As they restored the Righteous Man to his mortal vessel, they reported to the Host.

"Dean Winchester is saved."

The second time Castiel set foot in Hell, he was alone, acting on no orders but his own. No garrison at his side, just a single light descending to the deepest parts of the Pit where even demons feared to tread. The Cage. Sam Winchester had sacrificed himself to save the world. If there was one thing Castiel knew about the Winchesters, it was that they'd always been stronger together. Dean needed his brother. More than that though, Sam Winchester was good man, despite the overwhelming forces which had been working against him since infancy. While his bond with the younger Winchester wasn't as strong, Castiel had come to view the hunter as a friend. Sam Winchester did not deserve to suffer in Hell.

No armies stood in his way this time. With Lilith gone and Lucifer back in the Cage, the legions of Hell were in disarray, demon fighting demon trying to claim the vacant throne. Most lesser demons fled in terror as he approached. The few who tried to halt the angel's advance were swiftly dealt with, their smoky forms vaporized in the brilliance of his light. The demons had been the easy part. The Cage was a different matter, facing the unrelenting rage of his older brothers as he breached their prison just long enough to pull Sam from Lucifer's grasp. He couldn't reach Adam, and could only pray that Michael would keep the boy safe as he broke back out of the Cage, holding Sam close. He should have known then that he'd failed. It had been far too easy. Lucifer had not let go, not truly.

He'd emerged at Stull Cemetery where the final battle had taken place, Sam Winchester in his arms, unconscious but alive. He wouldn't be able to keep Sam safe while he recovered from the ordeal, not with Raphael's forces hounding him, but he knew someone who could. With a flap of his ravaged wings, the angel had arrived at the salvage yard in Sioux Falls, leaving the younger Winchester in the care of Bobby Singer. The older hunter had been asleep when he arrived, and Castiel had seen no need to wake him.

Some part of him could tell that something wasn't right with Sam. He'd assumed it was effects of his time with Lucifer, no doubt filled with torture. He should have looked closer, deeper. As it were, Castiel had cast one more look at the hunter before taking flight, taking refuge in one of his safehouses to recover from the journey, whispering to himself as he closed his eyes,

"Sam Winchester is saved."

How wrong he'd been.

#drabble #headcanon #closed #loosely inspired by some fics

[anna-coded]

“i never thought the child-killing shtriga would kill MY child” says hunter who left his children unattended in a town where a child-killing shtriga was killing children. 

#sorry i'm watching something wicked and this gets me SO heated #even if we DO ignore the whole 'left his 10 year old to look after his 6 year old for multiple days' #he is soooooo stupid #say dean didn't 'screw up' and leave sam unattended #john is counting on dean being a good enough shot to kill the near-invincible monster attacking sam #and not accidentally shoot sam? #and that's assuming dean wouldn't be asleep at the time? #dean could have done everything perfectly and one of them STILL could have died #because john not only left his kids alone for multiple days #but left them alone in a situation he KNEW was dangerous because he was hunting the thing making it dangerous #edit someone reminded me about the bait possibility GOD. #anti john winchester #john

[michael-aftons-nonbinary-lover]

Hello, My Old Heart

-(Michael Afton x reader, Adoptive Son!Gregory)-

-(Summary: Michael brings Gregory home)-

-(CW: small injury mention)-

-(Before you start, this takes place before the last one does, just so there's no confusion about them! Also, I'm sorry this has taken so long, school started recently, so that's kicking my butt🥲 I have more stuff coming soon, I promise<3/p)-

You sat on the couch watching T.V., waiting for your husband to get home. He was taking longer than usual. He usually told you if he was going to be home late. You were a bit worried, but you would just scold him when he got home. No need to call him and upset the both of you.

But what if he had gotten hurt? What if no one knew? Surely a hospital would call you if he had gotten hurt, right? You or Henry. The two of you were his emergency contacts, they would call either of you immediately if something happened to him, and if they had called Henry, he would have called you.

The opening of the garage door made you jump and you heard whispered voices coming from inside the garage.

"You're squishing me!"

"Pipe down! They're going to hear us, and I really don't want to explain that right now. Explaining why I'm home so late will be bad enough! We'd better hope they're asleep."

Well, at least he wasn't hurt. But who was he talking to? It couldn't be Henry. Henry would have scolded Mike and made him walk in the front door apologizing to you. Maybe it was one of Michael's friends? But again, why would they need to come in the garage door? And why would Michael want to explain it later rather than now?

The door separating your kitchen and your garage opened quietly. Mike poked his head out and audibly gulped when he saw you sitting on the couch.

"Hello, love, how was your day?"

"Mike, where the hell have you been? I've been so worried about you! Do you know how late it is?"

"I'm sorry, darling, I just-I lost track of time again. I didn't mean to upset you."

You sighed and rubbed your temples. You really just wanted to go to bed.

"It's alright. Come on, let's head to bed."

"Oh, uh, yeah, let me just hang up my coat really quickly."

Mike walked passed you briskly and started heading upstairs.

Something was definitely off. Your coat rack was next to the front door. That and the fact that he had come in through the garage door? He was hiding something.

You followed him up the stairs quietly, trying to figure out what it was.

There was a large, wriggling lump in Michael's coat. Just what the hell had he brought home?

"Mike! What is that?"

He turned around quickly, eyes wide.

"Uhm, what do you mean?" he tried to cover his tracks, nervously.

The lump stopped moving, peaking out of it's coat shelter.

"Are you Mike's partner?"

"YOU BROUGHT HOME A KID?"

Mike grimaced. The kid struggled to get down, successful in doing so, with Mike's help.

"Babe, darling, love, light if my life and being, listen."

You looked at the kid. He was covered in scratches and had a few bruises, a band-aid covering one that you assumed must have been worse than the others.

"Michael Dean Afton, you'd better have a fucking good explanation for this one" you hissed out, already ready to call Henry to put up with Mike's bullshit.

"Found him in a box outside the Pizzaplex, love, I couldn't leave him there!"

You stared at Michael, glanced at the kid, who was looking nervously between you and Michael, and then back to Mike.

"What about his parents?"

"We couldn't find any records of him. I thought the safest options was to bring him here."

You sighed. Michael had a good heart, and a pretty good brain. Sometimes, they landed him into trouble.

"I guess we can keep him here for tonight, and talk to someone else in the morning. What's your name, kiddo?"

"Gregory."

"Ok, Gregory, why don't we get you some pj's and settle into bed? Sound good?"

Gregory nodded, a small smile etching itself onto his face.

You wouldn't mind taking this kid in.

"Ok, Champ, I've got some if my brother's old jammies in his room, why don't we go pick some out and let them get changed too? Then we can all cuddle up and get some good sleep."

"Race you!"

"Hey! You had a headstart! Get back here, tiny asshole!"

Oh god, what had you gotten yourself into?

(PT. 2 to the first one, I'm sorry this is so short, but I hope you guys like it)

#michael afton #mike schmidt #fnaf fanfiction #gregory fnaf #fnaf security breach #security breach #michael afton x reader

[dumbmusclehypnojockboy]

Jersey Bros by writer-ofstuff

"So, how did these two do?"

"What do you think? Failures. Just like the others have been."

"I don't know. I wouldn't say they were total failures." The lead scientist mused.

"Sir? What do you mean? The super soldier serum didn't work." His assistant said.

"Yes, while that is true, it does tells us we are on the right track to perfecting it." The scientist said. He types on the computer and brings up their two subject's readings to show his assistants what he means.

"Look at their readings. Their DNA is already changing due to the serum. Which means we are closer to our breakthrough. We just need to do some more adjustments to the formula to get it exactly what we want it to do." He explains.

His assistants nod their heads in understanding and then busy themselves with work that the lead scientist instructs them to begin.

"Sir, what should we do with these two?" One of the asked, gesturing towards the two men who lay asleep on the metal table in the next room.

"Toss them out on the beach. They are no longer of any use to me now." He says dismissively.

The assistant nods his head and calls up a few soldiers who stood guard outside to help take Dean Winchester and Derek Hale's sleeping forms out of the lab and into a truck. Driving them down to an isolated part of the beach just as the morning sign rises and leaves the two sleeping men on the sandy beach.

------

Derek awakes with start, sitting up and looking out at the ocean while the gentle waves wash up and down the sand shore. He rubs his hand through his hair, not caring he is getting small pieces of sand in it.

He feels like he is forgetting something, like the last few hours there is just a hole in his memory. Derek turns his attention to the man sleeping close by him. The werewolf rolls his eyes when he hears Dean starting to snore rather loudly. He has a hard to believing this guy his a feared and bad ass hunter when he is passed out with his ass up in the air and a little drool coming out of his mouth.

Derek doesn't quite remember why he and this hunter teamed up, that being part of the missing pieces in Derek's memories. Yet he still for some reason remembers meeting Dean.

Derek gets to his feet and walks the short distance between himself and the sleeping hunter and lightly kicks him with his foot. The action jars Dean away who quickly rolls over and hits up, sand falling off his face from where he had laid asleep.

"Wake up."

"Wha? I am up." Dean says in a sleepy voice. Rubbing his face clean of the drool and the sand that was still on his face.

"Derek? Why are we on a beach?" Dean asked.

The hunter had sounded just as confused as Derek felt. So Derek doubts asking Dean if he knew what was going on here would be of any help.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Derek says.

He offers his hand out for Dean to take to help the other man up. As soon as their hands make contact a strange feeling jolts through both men's hands. The two men are so startled they let go of their hands and Dean falls on his ass.

"Oops, sorry bro." Derek says.

He frowns when he thinks about why he just referred to Dean as bro. That wasn't a word that Derek would use yet it just slipped out when he spoke. Derek thought nothing of it, besides Stiles said bro all the time so it must have just slipped into his speech.

Thinking about Stiles, Derek started to wonder where the younger man was. He had an odd feeling that he had been looking for him and grew tense at the thought.

'Was Stiles endanger and he didn't remember it?' He thought for a moment. But then his mind felt a little dizzy and then he thought about how the younger man is just at home relaxing.

Derek glances at Dean who looks lost in thought as well. Derek wants to ask him what he is thinking about, but he refrains from it. Dean was a hunter so Derek didn't want to bother to get to know the other man.

Now that he thinks about it, why was he even with Dean? He asks the human and sees Dean's confused frown deepened as he pauses walking.

"Huh, I don't know either." Dean said.

This honestly should alarm both men, yet Derek felt himself feeling relaxed instead. He assumes Dean feels the same way since the other man doesn't make a move to get away from Derek by walking in the other direction.

As they continue to walk side by side down the sandy empty beach Derek's mind wonders. Thinking about how the pair ended up on the beach anyway. Surely there was a reason wasn't there? At the moment he couldn't think what the reason was. When he asked Dean the other man shrugged his shoulders and didn't say a word.

When Derek stole a glance at him he frowned when he noticed that Dean's hair looked lighter than before.

'Wasn't his hair brown?' He thought to himself while he looked at Dean's now bleach blond hair. The hair style even looked different. Looking a little longer and styled differently with hair products to give Dean a fluffy faux hawk style hair do.

The hairstyle even made Dean look younger to Derek. The older man now looks like he is around Derek's age instead of a man pushing into his late thirties.

This was really starting to confuse Derek, but the more he pondered what was going on here the more those thoughts left his mind and he got distracted by something else.

"Did you change your hair?"

Dean hears Derek ask and he turns his attention to the werewolf.

"Sorry, what?" Dean asked. He wasn't really paying attention to what Derek said. Busy in his thoughts about why he was on a beach with a werewolf.

"Your hair. It looks different." Derek said.

Dean touched his hair, feeling how it was a little stiff from the hair product he put in this morning after his shower. It felt like his usual style, telling Derek as such.

When Dean looks over at Derek it's his turn to be confused since Derek's facial hair looked different. He could have sworn Derek had a thick amount of stubble along his jaw and around his mouth. Yet now Derek's face was all clean shaven except for some scruff that covered his chin.

Dean had intended to ask Derek about it, but he then thinks against it. After all it would sound rather odd to ask Derek that. Since obviously Derek just had the chin scruff prior, Dean must have just been mistaken is all.

He started to second guess himself, wondering what if something was going on here with himself and Derek. Especially since he couldn't quite explain why the two were even together in the first place.

The two men reach the boardwalk and continue to walk side by side in silence. The pair were both lost in their own minds trying to make sense of what they were doing when Dean noticed a gym to their right.

He pauses and stands outside it, looking inside through the glass windows. When Derek notices he isn't by his side the werewolf pauses and turns around.

"You alright bro?" Derek asked.

His voice sounded off to him and he clears his throat and asks again.

Dean didn't answer him so Derek walked up to stand beside him. He peers through the window of the gym like Dean is doing.. For a moment nothing happened but then Derek starts to get flashes of memories in his head. He sees himself inside the gym, working out with Dean. The two chat like they are best friends while they spot one other while they work out.

The memories he recalls aren't really, he knows this, but at the same time they feel like they are real to Derek and he hates that.

"Come on bro, let's get goin yeah?" Derek asks. Again his voice sounds off to him, but he can't quite place why.

"In a bit dude, I need to see somethin." Dean replies.

Derek opens his mouth to say something, but before he could Dean confused walking into the gym without another word.

"Fuckin hell." Derek grunted.

He paced a little outside, debating on what he should do. Running his hand through his hair, as soon as his hand falls back to his side his hair shifts. The sides shaving down to a buzz style while the mid section of his hair style back as it lengthens.

He thinks about just leaving Dean. Clearly something strange is going on here and that is the reason they feel holes in their memories while also having these fragments of new memories.

"Fuck it." Derek grunts and follows Dean into the gym.

------

Dean can't explain the urge he felt to go into the gym. Like Derek he gained those similar memories of himself and the other man coming here. In those false memories it seemed like they were close friends despite the two men hardly knowing one another.

He told himself this was to get to the bottom of things. Instead though Dean just wanders through the main area of the gym. He only sees men in the gym, some guys alone working out while others are grouped up and chatting while jogging on the treadmill.

What makes it strange is how some of them address him by his name, as if they know Dean. Rather than question how they know him Dean just rolls with it, greeting them back. While he does and continues deeper into the gym. His body alters, muscles becoming more toned and defined. Gained from years of working put and maintaining this kind of physique rather than Dean having earned it through training.

The tattoo on his left pec that wards of possession starts to break apart. The ink traverses along Dean's chest under his shirt. Wisps of ink branch off to spread along Dean's arms while the rest form into different styles of tattoos.

More false memories bombard Dean's mind and the hunter clenches his head as he attempts to push those new thoughts out of his mind. He looks ahead of him Dean sees he is standing a few steps away from a large wall mirror. He can see his green eyes darken and for a brief moment he fears he is being possessed by a demon.

"Demon? Demon's don't exist," he then thinks.

His green eyes turn brown, his lips get a little fuller, nose wider and the bridge of it becomes slimmer. Dean grunts, watching his face change before his eyes and unable to do anything but throw his arms up and start to pose. Smirking at his biceps and admiring how large they are. Giving into the admiration of his own appearance finally pushes Dean over. His mind purging his own self from it finally as his new dimwitted and vain self takes over.

He lifts his shirt up to admire his hard earned abs and pecs next once he has had enough flexing. Only stopping to look around and wonder where his best bro is at.

📷

----------

Navigating through the gym was making Derek feel uneasy. What connection he had left to his werewolf abilities was telling him something wasn't right about this place. The men he walked by all seemed like the same type. Self absorbed meat heads who cared only about themselves and showing off.

Derek despised shallow men like this. So whenever any of them tried to stop and talk to him he would give them a glare and ignore them to continue his search for Dean.

The further Derek ventured into the gym the harder it was to recall past memories of his. Thoughts he would have would shift to random things.

'I'm totally bigger than that dude.'

'Jason's here? May need to see if he wants to fuck in the locker room again.'

'Mike's here too. Should talk to him about getting another tat.'

'Where the hell is Dean at? My bro needs to spot me.'

Derek tried to shove those thoughts away but it felt like the more he tried to, the more adamant they were to linger in his head.

He needed to find Dean and get out of here. When he reaches the back area of the gym he finds a tattooed dude posing in front of the mirror.

Derek thought of what a self absorbed guido the guy was. The type of guy you would hate on a trash reality show. He releases only to realize a moment later that this man was somehow Dean.

Astonished, Derek quickly approaches Dean, opening his mouth to ask what happened to him.

"Looking good bro." He says instead. Taken aback by his own words.

Dean turns to look at him and grins.

"You see yourself bro? You hitting the iron hard ya?" Dean replies.

Derek wants to deny it, but he can feel his body surging with muscle. He tries to repel the ongoing changes, but it proves to be useless. His pecs inflate to large and firm pectorals. While his biceps gained quite a bit of bulk to them. The rest of him gained a significant amount of solid muscle while Derek also felt himself growing a little taller.

His pale skin darkened with a tan gained from walking around shirtless and hitting the tanning bed when he could.

Derek tries even harder to repel these alterations happening to him. Not wanting to end up like some self absorbed dick like Dean had become. He assumes being a werewolf has given him an edge that made whatever caused this work slower on him.

He can feel himself being overweight by whatever this is, wincing when two diamond studs appear in his earlobes and his mind shatters a few moments later. Derek stood there in a daze while his old thoughts were overrun by a new persona.

Derek then blinks himself awake, a slow grin spreading on his face as he flexes for Dean.

"Fuck yeah bro. You know I gotta keep this bod in shape for the studs." Derek said with a heavy Jersey accent.

He stands beside Dean and the best bros make faces and pose for a picture. Uploading it to social media before the pair get back to their workout routine. Neither of them remembering anything of their past selves.

📷

[impala1967dwinchester]

Sam Winchester: Thoughts

*Credit to the gif owner* 

Pairing: Sam W. x reader 

Pov: Sam 

Warnings: Fluff, Sam can hear the readers thoughts, Sam falling in love with the reader, Dean is here to help the plot

Summary: Sam gets cursed after the Dean, Y/n, and Sam hunt a witch. The next morning when he wakes up all he can hear is Y/n thoughts, and he’s slowly start to fall in love with her. 

A/N: Using @firefly-graphics Sam Winchester divider for this fic. This fic is sorta based on "What women want" with Mel Gibson. A good ol' Romantic Comedy.

Word Count: 2.3k

Main Masterlist Sams Masterlist 

Taglist: @sweetdetectivequeen​

A witch hunt couldn't possibly go wrong, right? Especially with the Winchester boys.

"Look lady, sit down before I shoot," Dean shouted, causing Y/n to flinch. Just enough of a flinch that I would be having a conversation with Dean later about no yelling so much.

The witch sat down, but what nobody noticed she was casting a spell under her breath. Dean, Y/n, and I had huddled together trying to figure out what we were going to ask this damn witch.

My back facing the witch. Dean looking over my shoulder looking angrily at the lady. Y/n had her game face on. She sometimes followed us around like lost puppies, but damn was she a fucking awesome hunter.

Sometimes better than Dean and I put together.

When I say that she followed us around like lost puppies I mean she never said what she thought. Dean or I would come up with a plan and she never put input in. Just kinda did what she was told. Reminds me of a younger version of Dean and myself.

Working our asses off for John, all for it to be for nothing. A good little soldier and that was all we were to him.

In the end, Dean just ended up letting the witch go since she hadn't any information. We all pilled back into the impala for the drive back to the bunker.

Y/n fell asleep in the back seat curled into a ball and looking rather peaceful. "Y'know I was thinking lover boy that maybe she could stay permanently with us," Dean said referring to Y/n in the backseat.

I just rolled my eyes before turning to look out the window. The drive was shortened by the fact that at one point my eyes were open and scanning the passing environment.

And the next minute I was dreaming a nice dream. I had a family a beautiful wife standing on our front patio, and watching our daughter and I play with our puppy.

It was nice, it was peaceful. But when I was looking around my dream, I noticed that every face was blank. Well, there goes the normal dream.

The shaking of my body woke me up. "Yo, wake up. Get your shit and go the bed." Dean said, pushing me closer to the passenger side door.

Stumbling out, I walked groggily to the back of the impala and grabbed my bags. Slinging them over my shoulder, I saw Dean try to pull Y/n from the back.

"Sweetheart, we made it home." Dean whispering. His hands falling underneath her knees, carefully picking her up out of the impala. "Open the door would Ya, instead of just standing and staring," Dean said still whispering.

I ran over to the door opening it. "Dude get some sleep, I'll get Y/n settled in, kay," Dean said passing me. Shrugging my shoulders and yawning as I walked to my room.

Stripping down to my boxers I collapsed into bed, loving the coolness of my sheets. Within minutes of my head hitting the pillow, I was out like a light.

Dreaming wasn't something that always happened for me, not since I first started hunting with Dean. But those weren't dreams those were more like nightmares, of people that I couldn't save.

I fell back into the same dream as before, still no faces. But the woman I assumed was my wife as a familiar voice, our daughter was what seemed like she was tops five or six.

Cute little thing, long brown hair like my own, wearing a cute sundress that was blue with green flowers printed on it. ' Dear, are you guys ready for dinner?' the woman asked me. I tried to not stare at the fact that she had no face, so I just hummed. Picking up our daughter.

'Tank you for playing with me daddy!' my daughter said to me bringing her small hands and arms and hugging me around my neck. Besides having no faces everything else seemed normal, my wife's voice seemed all too familiar and it was honestly getting at me. Before I was able to ask her something I was pulled from my dreams.

Waking up was a bitch. My neck was sore, and so were my shoulders. Deciding that today I wouldn't take that mile run, I opted for staying in bed just a bit longer this morning.

Finally getting up when I smelled coffee being made in the kitchen. Grabbing a pair of sweats that were laying around, I slipped my slippers on and went to go get some coffee.

The first thing I saw when I walked in was Dean dancing along to his horrible 70s and 80s rock. Flipping pancakes and sizzling bacon. 'God, why'd he choose no shirt this morning' "Huh? Did you say something Y/n?" I asked her, looking at her for the first time since last night.

She had her hair up in a messy bun, wearing a flannel of Dean, and a baggy pair of shorts. "No, I didn't say anything, Sam," Y/n said pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, continuing reading her book.

Okay Sam you have to admit that was odd and kinda creepy. Not that I mind being complimented, but still weird. "You gonna get your cup of coffee or just stand there looking like an idiot!" I heard Dean crack.

"No," I answered back grabbing a coffee cup that was next to the machine. 'Jeez Dean way to be an asshole towards Sam.' There it was again Y/n voice.

Turning around rather quickly which only hurt my neck even more. "Did you just say that?" I asked panic starting to overtake my body and instincts. y/n looked over at Dean, causing Dean to look over at me.

"Dude what are you going on about?" He asked me... eyes big I just waved his question off, "Never mind I think I must have hit my head last night." I said just wanting my morning coffee more than anything.

The rest of the morning went by fine. No hearing Y/n voice, but then again, she wasn't around for the rest of the morning. "I'm heading out to the shops; I need a new pair of jeans. If either one of you wanna head out with me that's fine too. If not that's okay too guys." Y/n said mostly talking and looking at me.

'Please come out with me Sammy' I heard. Ignore it, rolling my eyes before speaking again. "No, it's okay. Dean?" I spoke. "Nah, I'm fine dear. But thanks." Dean said using his signature wink.

As Y/n walked away I heard her voice again, 'Jesus Dean, stop with the nicknames, and the winking. Obviously, it's not working.' That was the last I heard the sentence.

Dean wants to be with Y/n. I don't, I can't see that going very well, Dean sees Y/n more as a sister than anything else. What does that mean it's not working?

Hours later Y/n came into the bunker carrying a few bags. "I thought you only needed a pair of jeans, Y/n?" Dean snarked. "I did, but you guys were running out of some things, so I grabbed some other shit." Y/n countered.

Well, I can't deny that Dean and Y/n do have a certain chemistry, one that she and I just don't have. "what did you get?" I asked moving the conversation along. "I umm... I got you guys some t-shirts, some more socks, and just something fun for both of you." She said shyly.

"That's great, thank you. Did you have an okay time?" I asked, 'No, Sam I didn't that's why I wanted you to go with me. So many gross old men hit on me.' I heard Y/n's face was only scrunched up for a few seconds.

"Yeah, I had a perfectly fine time. Really did enjoy the alone time." Y/n said winking at us. Dean just rolled his eyes and jumped up to go through the bags, but Y/n swatted his hands away.

Digging into the bag she pulled out pie for Dean and he took off with it like he was a squirrel. Y/n looked back over to me and then started to look through the other bags. "Here Sam. I didn't know if you already had this book, but I thought why not." She said, shrugging her shoulder in a cute sort of way.

"Here for a gift return, a Winchester hug, yeah?" I said laughing a little bit. "I don't see why not, I heard that they're hard to come by," Y/n said back rounding the table in an effort to get on a very one-sided hug.

I hadn't realized until recently how much shorter Y/n was compared to me. I could fully rest my chin on her head. 'God I could use this more often' I squeezed her in my arms. 'God, he smells so great' I heard again, she nuzzled her face into my chest. 'He gives much better hugs than Dean.' I heard.

Y/n was the one to let go of the hug, not me. I was starting to realize that it was in fact Y/n I was hearing just not the words coming out of her mouth, it was her thoughts.

That night I convinced Dean that I could make dinner. For the time I was at college and dating Jessica I had learned some good enough cooking skills. "Fine whatever you do just don't ruin my pans and pots!" Dean screamed from his bedroom as I walked away.

That night I cooked a shrimp alfredo, and chicken alfredo with noodles. Something simple but it was mostly all the food that we had left in the bunker kitchen.

"Dinners ready you two!" I hollered from the library, Dean running from the garage, and on the other side of me was Y/n walking down the hallway. 'Look at him, damn chiefs' apron' I looked down and saw that the apron said "kiss the cook" Damn Dean.

'I'd definitely kiss that cook.' I heard as she walked past me. I just followed her with my gaze, mouth slightly open. Hoping that it wouldn't fall straight to the floor.

"Well dig in. It won't kill you, Dean." Y/n said. Dean just put his hands up in defense it's not like he had said anything but we all know he was thinking it instead.

Dinner went by quickly, few words from any of us, and not many thoughts passing through Y/n's mind. Besides 'Damn, he's got skills, 'So much better than Dean would ever do' I snorted when I heard that thought. Dean looked over at me, "What's so funny Samuel?" He spoke.

I rolled my eyes, "It's Sam, Samuel sounds like an old fashion name" I said. "Nothing is wrong Dean." I finished. 'If nobody thought you guys were brothers, they should spend at least a few hours with you.' I heard.

"Can we not fight at the dinner table, please Dean," I asked. I was trying to lean into what Y/n was saying, or more thinking. By the end of dinner Dean had eaten another serving and was now on his second piece of apple pie and a glass of hard crown apple whiskey the Y/n had bought earlier that day.

"Good night you two love birds. Tweet tweet. I'm heading to bed." Dean said kissing Y/n's temple, and patting my shoulder he walked out of the library.

"I'm sorry about him, Y/n. He doesn't have a sensor." I said apologizing for my older brother. Y/n got up waving him off and grabbed the leftover dishware.

I followed behind her grabbing what she couldn't. "He's fine. He should know better, but he's okay Sammy." Y/n said. Not many people called me Sammy besides Dean and Y/n, but it always seemed sweeter coming out of her mouth.

Y/n started to wash dishes. "Can I ask you a question Y/n?" She hummed, so I continued on. "Why do you never say anything while we are on a hunt. You don't always have to follow out stupid ideas...." I said noticing that Y/n had now turned around and was facing me.

"Look I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying that I'd like to know what you're thinking for a while. especially when we are on a hunt. Your opinions matter to me. I hope you know that." I said, crossing my arms across my chest.

'Shut up would Ya'. You don't know how much that means to me.' "I know that you can hear what I'm thinking." Well, that went south very quickly and my stupid facial expression doesn't help the situation. "How long have you known?" I asked.... We stood in silence beside the water in the sink running. "Since before dinner when I was thinking about kissing the amazing chef that made dinner. Because I would still kiss the chef." Y/n said. setting the plate down on the kitchen island.

'Do you want me to kiss you, Samuel?' She said in her thought. I hummed. Shaking my head, licking my lips in anticipation. 'Words Sammy Dear.' She thought. "Just come over here. If this is what happens when I can hear your thoughts, I may be okay with being cursed by a witch ever so often." I said before our lips crashed together.

Our kiss was short-lived when Y/n left mine. "What are you talking about the witch from last night's hunt?" I shook my head. "We need to go get that witch, kill her, get her to remove the curse. Whatever, because as much as it's cute somethings a girl wants to keep to herself." Y/n said, coming back up to my lips and pecking them.

"You're gonna be the death of me," I said, before following her over to the sink to help wash dishes. I think I might have fallen in love with you Y/n. I thought.

"Hey... I heard that." Y/n said. I rolled my eyes, "No you didn't." Confusion replaced Y/ns soft features. "Okay, what did I say then, Y/n?" I asked. "I think I might have fallen in love with you Y/n" Y/n answered.

"Damn it. We really gotta find that witch, Samuel." Y/n said.

Completed on: 04/11/2021

#sammy #Sam Winchester #samgirl #sam winchester x reader #sam #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #supernatualfluff #fluff #fallinginlove #sam winchester #fem reader #fem #dean winchester #supernatural one shot #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #witchhunt #hunting

[fitzdizzyspells]

Unrest

Hermione awoke at what she could only assume was midnight.

It was Harry's turn to keep watch outside the tent. Exhausted, Hermione had fallen asleep almost instantly, as she did every night. Then, just as predictably, she had woken up about two hours after her head hit the pillow.

The challenge now was to relax herself enough to allow her body to drift off again. And she knew how that usually went.

Even before she, Ron and Harry had gone on their Horcrux hunt, Hermione had been having difficulty sleeping. In the months they'd spent in the Forest of Dean, though, her insomnia had worsened.

Her right leg twitched suddenly, which didn't bode well for her chances at falling back asleep. Relaxed muscles were a thing of the past.

So many unknowns existed in their quest this year. Even the idea that Voldemort had created Horcruxes was only a hypothesis. What if the Dark magic in the diary and the ring was something else, something Voldemort had invented? And even if they were Horcruxes, what if Harry hadn't fully destroyed the Dark magic in the diary in their Second Year? What if a flicker of Voldemort remained and had since regrown in the diary, in the years that followed? Why hadn't Dumbledore kept the diary, to make sure?

But it didn't solve anything to worry about Horcruxes that had, hypothetically, already been crossed off the list. Hermione needed to look ahead, to solve the impossible riddle of where Voldemort's other Horcruxes were hidden.

Where could they go that they hadn't gone already? Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, Albania. Harry had discouraged them from digging in the foundations of the orphanage, but what if he'd been wrong? Then there was Hogwarts — certainly a smaller area to search than the entire country of Albania, but somehow just as daunting. The risks of Harry getting caught and brought to Voldemort seemed far too high. But they'd likely have to search the school eventually. How would such a search even begin, though? Perhaps Harry was so attuned to Voldemort that the Horcrux might... call to him? But, no. Harry hadn't been drawn to the locket at Grimmauld Place, before Mundungus had pawned it... Or had Dung gotten ahold of the locket before Harry had even arrived? But Harry also hadn't seemed to sense Ginny's connection to the diary back in their Second Year, otherwise they might've gotten to the bottom of Ginny's possession far earlier. But perhaps Harry was more attuned to Voldemort since his return?

And then there was the other, unknown Horcrux. Something of Ravenclaw's. Or Gryffindor's? According to Harry, Dumbledore had been skeptical that Voldemort had turned something of Gryffindor's into a Horcrux. However, he hadn't ruled it out entirely. Wouldn't Voldmort have wanted to complete the set? Four Hogwarts Horcruxes for the four Hogwarts houses? But perhaps as the Heir of Slytherin, Voldemort had nothing but distain for Gryffindors. Still...

Hermione rolled onto her side with a dry sob. She hadn't even really wanted to go over these questions again for the millionth time, but now here she was, wide awake yet exhausted. Hermione, who'd always based her worth on her mind, no longer seemed to be in control of her thoughts anymore. These questions were always cycling unceasingly through her head — when she ate; when she slept; when she stared out at the forest, terrified that a Death Eater would materialize and stun her before she even registered what she was seeing. Every night, she woke up every two hours, unable to distinguish between her restless dreams and her restless thoughts because they were one and the same. Her fear of failure (even more acute in adulthood than in childhood, when all she feared was poor marks from McGonagall) racked her body like pain. Solutions used to come to her this way, and Hermione didn't understand why the sudden epiphanies that had so often been the end result of her obsessive thinking had seemingly dried up.

Perhaps the stakes had always been lower before, but it seemed absurd to think this way. She, Ron and Harry had always taken way too much initiative to save the day — to protect the Philosopher's Stone, to discover the Heir of Slytherin, to free an innocent convict.

"You're taking on too much yourselves," Mrs. Weasley had told Hermione last summer, as she'd tried to persuade her to return to Hogwarts in the fall. "You're only children. You can't do this alone."

Hermione had stifled a sigh as she'd helped with the wedding decorations, assuming that Mrs. Weasley didn't understand that taking on too much was exactly what she always did. What all three of them always did.

But Hermione was willing now to admit that Mrs. Weasley had been right. This year, everything was truly up to the three of them. Only them. Future books about this war would inevitably have a chapter about where Harry Potter had been, what he had been trying to accomplish, as Voldemort slowly took control of the wizarding world. Whether she'd be named or not, Hermione had a direct role to play in that chapter. If the three of them succeeded, so too would the world that she loved. And if they failed, everything she cared about and everything she held dear would be gone. And it would be her fault.

#hp fanfic #insomnia #hermione #pressure #weight of the world #harry potter #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic

[riley-phoenix]

Pairing: Malia X Reader(Gender Not Specified) ... eventually

Canon: Supernatural: Season 8 / Teen Wolf: Season 1

Content: Fluff, Nudity, Murder(mentioned)

Author's Note: -

Chapter Summary: You've settled into Beacon Hills and are expecting to go to school, parties and do everything else people your age do, but your shot at a normal life is disturbed when your best friends, Scott and Stiles, want your help finding a body in the woods. Can you say no?, Well you can, but you know about the supernatural and they don't, so not helping them would put their lives at risk. After heading into the woods to find a gross corpse, you stumble upon something beautiful, to your surprise- a girl.

Chapter 2: A New Beginning

It's amazing what you can do with a fake credit card and a fresh start, especially if you decide to pull out all the stops. You pulled your dream car, a '69 Dodge Charger into the driveway of a small house, your house. Your new life in Beacon Hills had been relatively quiet, you weren't used to queit, you were used to 'Save. Hunt. Sleep. Repeat.' Luckily, The biggest challenge you had here was coming up with a believable cover story, people asked about your parents more often than you anticipated. Right now they're on a business trip overseas, and you're home alone. Next week they'll be visiting your sick granny in Kansas. You look at the time, realising it's as late as it is and you have school tomorrow, you decide to call it a night. (Afterall, you can't risk getting into trouble and having your parents called into school, you were not prepared for that situation)

You turn off the lights and allow your body to be eclipsed by a satisfying slumber, allowing your eyes to close fully before embracing the darkness around you, minutes later, you're asleep. "BZZZT"...."BZZT"... You wake up in shock at the sudden vibrations , ruthlessly ripping you out of a deep sleep. Still not entirely awake, or aware of your surroundings, you pick up your phone from the nightstand beside you. You normally wouldn't answer anyone in the middle of the night, but you look at the name, and see that it's one of the only two real friends you've made since your fresh start -- Mieczyslaw Stiliniski, or "Stiles" as he was more commonly referred to. You slide the green icon to the right and answer the phone stubbornly, "Stiles, I'm not showing up for band practice if it's in the middle of the night". "No, no, no, that's not what I'm phoning for, I want you to come with me into the woods". Stiles replies. "...WHAT THE HELL, STILES!?" You say in response to his request. "To look for a body". He says. "...I'm phoning your father", you say, almost in shock. "No, *Your Name*, you don't understand. I heard on the police radio that they found half a body, so Scott and I are heading into the woods". He says. "WHY!?", You exclaim, "What th-- TO FIND THE OTHER HALF" ,Stiles screams back. You sit up straight, and pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. You wanted a shot at normal, a new beginning, an escape from the life, yet here you are, looking for dead bodies again. Dean always said ,"you can outrun many things but your past ain't one of 'em". You think for a second. "OK Stiles, I'll meet ya' there". You say before ending the call. You lift yourself to the side of the bed to get ready for what you can only assume is going to be another hunt ,so you promise yourself, that your first hunt in your new town, will be your last one. You get dressed, throwing on your leather jacket and boots, and head outside to the car. You open the door, and get in slightly stubbornly before slamming it shut again. You sit back and look around, Running a hand along the dash, "OK Baby, one last body, one last hunt" you say before driving off into the night

When you reach the edge of the woods, Scott -your other close friend- and Stiles are already there, staking out in Stiles' Jeep. "We better Actually find this body, otherwise you dragged us out here in the freezing cold for no reason", you say, as a cold wind brushes by. "We'll find it", Scott says reassuringly, before handing out flashlights. You, Scott and Stiles trudge through the woods with determination. Suddenly, you hear the sound of dogs barking and men approaching from a distance. "Shit, its my dad". Stiles says". The three of you stop to plan your next move, "Hide!" Stiles excliams. Scott hides behind a wide tree while you take of running in the other direction, desperate to avoid a run in with the law, even a minor one. You look over your shoulder to check if you're being followed, before suddenly being brought down by an abrupt vertical drop in the ground. Violently, you roll down the hill in the woods until you crash, face first into the ground. "Son of a Bitch" you say in a grumpy voice as your senses come back to you. You slowly lift your throbbing head off the ground --and realise you're face to face with a wild animal.

You know not to freak out, you know how to deal with dangerous situations. Slowly, you're able to get yourself to your feet. Heart pounding, you take a step back, triggering the animal, it growls in your direction, snarling with its long dagger-like teeth. "OK coyote, nice coyote",you say nervously. The coyote begins circling you, like a hunter stalks it's prey. As you realise the magnitude of the situation, an uneasy feeling begins to settle in your stomach. You promised yourself you'd leave this part of yourself in Kansas, that you were done with this, because out of all the things you wanted, what you wanted the most was to be normal, but you saw no other way out of this. You stare the coyote down ,not allowing it to pull away from your gaze. Confidently, you pull air into your chest, allowing your animal counterpart to take over, the lion-like features begin to settle in as your body turns. Your eyes change colour as they stare daggers at the coyote, and relentlessly, you roar. You let out a roar so loud, the trees begin to shake, and you change the course of the wind.

In the aftermath of the roar, the coyote looks weakened, almost damaged, and is still staring at you, dead on, almost like your roar had taken control of it, triggered something within it or commanded it. And then, slowly the coyote begins to turn. You ready yourself, your lion features are gone, but you're prepared for any possible danger, but as you ready yourself to fight, the unexpected happens, the coyote turns into something seemingly harmless -a teenage girl. You examine the girl from a few feet away, realising she's no threat, you begin to approach her. The girl's consciousness returns to her, looking up and seeing you, she hastily crawls backwards. "Woah, woah woah, hey, I'm no danger to you OK? I wanna help you." You say in a reassuring voice. The girl seems confused at first but seems to have understood. Trying to think of the right thing to say, you take off your jacket. "It's freezing cold and you're naked, let me help you". You say, still trying to prove to the girl that you mean her no harm. The girl wakes up slowly, losing her balance at first but regaining it immediately. She reaches out for the jacket. She takes it from your hand and you try to step behind to help her, she doesn't refuse. You help her into the sleeves and step infront of her again. "I'm *your name*, and you are...?". She looks at you for a few seconds, before realising she can trust you, she straightens herself and clears her throat before replying: "Malia".

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Fandom List

Taglist

#malia tate #malia x reader #teen wolf #spn #supernatural #spnfandom

[thewolfswriting]

The Dangers Of A Demon Chapter 4

Pairings: Demon Alpha!Dean x Katarina Morgan (Omega OC)

Word count: 2,136

Chapter Warnings: Profanity, Knotting, Oral, Dub-Con 18+ content just don’t read if you’re a minor

Taglist: @charmed-asylum​

Divider By: @firefly-graphics

"Y-you claimed me! Why? Why would you do that?!" She screamed at the demon with tears and in horror.

The cramps and pain that came with her heat were gone. That she was grateful for but she didn't expect to be claimed by anybody, and that included a demon Alpha.

"Yeah, you see, that's what happens after an Alpha knots an Omega. We both know you already knew that." There wasn't an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

She touched the fresh bite on her neck and winced "I didn't want to be claimed." She sobbed "You claimed me on purpose."

He shrugged "If that's what you wanna think and  just because I claimed you don't mean I still won't kill you."

That didn't make the situation any better. However, only part of her wished he would kill her but only for the fact that she's been claimed by an Alpha that's a demon. But if he knew that he would just draw it out even longer.

---

"S-sheriff Morgan, sir? There's a guy here. He's here to see you."

Sheriff Morgan cocked an eyebrow "About?"

"He says he's here about the three Omega cases and his brother. He didn't tell me his name but he insisted on seeing you."

While confused, sheriff Morgan strutted towards his office to see someone sitting in front of his desk he hadn't seen in a long time "Sam Winchester. Haven't seen you in a long time. What can I do for you?"

"It's not about what you can do for me. It's about what I can do for you. I know your daughter is missing and I'm assuming Dean is here somewhere."

"Yes, he's here. He is also responsible for the three Omega's that are now dead. Sam, he has my daughter."

"I know."

"How so?"

"I know my brother better than anybody. Once he found out Katarina's your daughter, it became a game to him. It makes the kill more interesting." Even though Sam's tone showed sympathy, he also stated facts.

"Do you have an idea where he might've taken her?"

"Somewhere nobody can find her. We find her, we find Dean. I already interviewed someone, a guy named Tony."

"Yeah, Tony owns the diner outside of town."

Sam opened his notepad "He said there a scent he smelled. The kind of smell when an Omega goes into heat. He smelled it a few miles from the diner two night before"

Of course sheriff Morgan felt the fear he was dreading. The fear of his daughter going into heat with the man that kidnapped her and is going to kill her.

The words Dean said to him instantly replayed in his head "I can wait until she goes into heat, take what I want and then kill her"

He was beginning to lose the hope he had held onto since Katarina went missing. But now that Sam came into town, that hope instantly came back "Looks like we have our first lead."

"Looks like it."

---

Dean's claim mark on Katarina's neck still throbbed with pain even though it was half-healed. Once completely healed it would scar and she knew that. She tried not to make any sound of pain but no matter how hard she tried, he would hear it anyway.

The thought of trying to escape again crossed her mind. The stabbing with the knife, she could try that again, instead of stabbing him once she could stab him twice or three more times. But he heals quickly. So there goes that idea.

She remembered the window in the bathroom, so the idea of climbing out racked her brain. Only if she tried, surely he would hear her and catch her like last time.

Until he kills her, she's trapped.

---

The sound of the ax splitting the wood is what helped Dean somewhat get rid of his anger. For two days he's had to listen to her whimpering and sobbing of pain. All because of the claim mark that's currently half-healed on her neck.

For the most part he ignored it. But then eventually he got pissed at her and would yell at her. Even told her he would "rip out her vocal cords, then she wouldn't be able to make any noise"

"Omega's really can't handle pain." He said to himself

In some ways, Dean thought it was stupid of him to claim her. But most of it was out of Alpha instinct. He was able to control it with the other three Omega's and the others before them. With her, he couldn't help himself.

He should've just killed her after he knotted her. At least he wouldn't have any more visits from Crowley.

---

"Good evening, Dean."

"Damn it, Crowley! What do you want now?!"

"The Omega, she still alive I presume?"

"Like I've said I'm-"

"Dragging it out yes, I know" Crowley interrupted "It's been nearly a week, Dean. Never have you once dragged a kill out this long."

"What's your point?"

"Tell me, did you knot her like you did all the other Omega's before you killed them? Did you claim her too?" He took a step toward the demon.

"So what if I did? Just because I claimed her doesn't mean I still won't kill her."

"Alphas don't kill their mates. But like you just said, just because you claimed her doesn't mean you won't kill her. Now, get the job done."

---

When Dean came back inside the cabin Katarina was already asleep. He sat on the little stool in front of the fireplace and stacked the logs to build a fire. At least the smell of the burning wood would help mask her intoxicating scent that still clung in the air of the cabin.

Before crawling in next to her he removed every bit of clothing. He laid down next to her for what seemed like hours. Mostly, he watched her sleep. Sleep was the last thing on his mind. He could still smell her scent. The blanket, the bed, the whole cabin smelled like her. The only other scent he could smell mixed with her's was his own.

The longer he laid there and took in her sleeping form the more her scent got to him. While scooting closer to her he ghosted his lips along the side of her neck and over the mark, taking a moment for his tongue to lick over the wound. As she rolled over on her back she whimpered and a low growl rumbled from his chest.

Gently he pulled her shirt over her head and began pressing kisses down her naked chest and down her stomach. Unbuttoning her jeans he ever so slowly dragged them down her legs with her panties. She moaned in her sleep as the Alpha spread her thighs and pressed open-mouthed kisses on her skin along the inside of her thighs. He wanted to bite her, give her another claim mark that wasn't on her neck. But he held back, he didn't want to wake her up that way.

Just as he suspected, she was already slick from basically doing nothing to her. He took his index finger and dragged it along her wet slit and up towards her clit, her hips jerking at the contact.

"Dean?" The Omega's eyes fluttered open even though she was still half asleep. She looked down just in time to see Dean's eyes on her as his tongue pushed between her folds "What-"

She tried to pull away from him, but his arms tightening around her thighs halted her protest "Shh it's okay 'mega. Alpha just wants to make you feel good."

Finally, his tongue sought out her sensitive, pulsating clit. Still, he kept his eyes on her, watching her expression as he gave her a solid lick against her bud before closing his lips around the oversensitive spot.

It was different when she wasn't in heat. Well, to her it was anyway. When she was in heat she couldn't control the waves of pleasure he gave her, or the intoxicating scent of her arousal her body radiated. But it seemed like it didn't matter whether she was in heat or not, her inner Omega couldn't deny the physical pleasure he was now giving her. But still, the shame was there.

Dean growled against her as he continued to work on her cunt, his tongue sliding down to her opening and collected some of her slick. Her wet walls clenched around nothing as he pulled back "Taste just as good as the first time."

A smirk spread across the Alpha's face when her hips bucked against him. He knew exactly what she needed. Without warning two fingers entered her now swollen, soaked cunt, instantly finding that sweet, sensitive spot deep inside her. Her breaths became raspy as he lazily twisted and turned the two fingers that currently occupied her inner walls. He turns his attention back to her clit, moving his head from side to side and his fingers quickened their pace against the spot inside her.

"That's it, cum for me 'mega" He says as her breathing grew raspy.

Soon she's screaming from the sheer force of her orgasm that crawled through her veins. Like last time he continued to finger and lick her until her body shudders against him. Only this time, she didn't have to beg him to stop.

"Need you on my cock, "mega!" He sits back, hauling her onto his lap, and arranged her legs on either side of his hips.

The swollen head of his cock pressed at her slit. She was still sore from when he gave her his knot two nights ago and because of that, she panicked. With her hands on his shoulders, she attempted to push herself off of him, but the vice-like grip on her hips by his hands tightened to keep her still.

"Dean, wait! I'm so-" Her words were cut off by a hand shooting up and wrapping around her throat.

"Remember what happens if you don't?" He snarled at her.

With his hand still around her throat, she managed to nod her head rapidly.

The panic only ignited in her more when he lifted his hips to push the first inch inside her. Just like last time, he was met with resistance, only this time, it was more of a struggle due to her walls being so swollen. She yelped as Dean slipped the thick head of his cock past her folds. The Demon grunted as he pushed in another three, her tight, aching ring of muscles clenched around him.

He placed a hand between them to rub her still sensitive bud in circles "C'mon 'mega. Open that pretty little pussy up for me."

Between the contact of his thumb on her clit and his words laced with lust, she opened up for him. Once he was finally able to slide the rest of the way in she clamped around him so hard it almost hurt. Her insides felt like they were on fire.

"Hold onto my shoulders." He said while giving her time to adjust.

Without hesitation, she leaned forward, holding onto his shoulders with her face buried in the front of his shoulder.

He pulls out, only the head of his cock is inside her until he thrusts back in. She whimpered in response. Slowly he thrusts up into her. His patience didn't run thin like last time and that surprises him. But she also didn't have the chance to protest against him either. Either time, that wasn't an option.

Now he was plunging into her at a much faster pace. Each time he fucked up into her, she released muffled whimpers against his shoulder. He paused his thrusts only to lift her up an inch, leaving open-mouthed kisses at the skin on the opposite side of her neck. Closing her eyes she expected him to bite her again, but to her surprise, he didn't.

Tears bloomed in her eyes, she could feel his knot beginning to swell and that was something she wasn't prepared for the second time.

With one hard, brutal thrust, he forced his popping knot up inside her. As his release coated her walls, his eyes diverted to the knife on the nightstand. Reaching over he picked up the knife by the handle, his eyes tinted black from the memory from Crowley repeating Dean's own words back to him "just because you claimed her doesn't mean you won't kill her".

With the knife still his in hand he pointed the sharp end towards her back. This was it, he's going to kill her.

But then something struck him. A conscious perhaps? No, Demons didn't have a conscious. But Alphas do.

"I-I can't!" The Alpha roared before plunging the knife into the headboard of the bed.

#alpha!dean winchester #alpha/omega #alpha dean winchester #demon!dean winchester #demon!dean #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanficiton #dean winchester #supernatural #Supernatural smut

[fandom-hoarder]

listen I have so many questions about Stanford Sam, like this kid who was raised in the wild, barely aware of acceptable social conduct arrives with his 2 ectoplasm stained t-shirts at his dorm and like ????? is he very aware of it at first? or does he think he's hiding it well? and like moving in with Jessica?????? he doesn't know how to water plants and that you have to pay electricity bills ??? Like obviously he's not stupid, we know that!! But there are certain things about ordinary everyday life that are just impossible to pick up when you're raised like that. And this is just surface-level stuff, like I feel overwhelmed just thinking about how many tiny things I do in a day, just normal life stuff that I've always done, that Sam would be like ???? so weirded out by, or maybe creepily fascinated ??? Would he try and copy everyone around him maybe??? and then all the odd things that he'd probably do !!! like just basic marine survival nonsense he's dad probably taught him applied in mundane life situations that would make him stand out and he wouldn't even notice !!! And he thinks he's doing fine, people seem to accept him, but then suddenly someone mentions like... TRL or something and he's like ??? and then Dean picks him up and it all falls to pieces, because it's so EASY and ingrained and he doesn't have to pretend and it puts it into perspective how not okay he was doing at Stanford even when it felt like he was ?? god I'm just rambling, like I barely even have headcanons, I'm just so overwhelmed by all the possibilities of how this would play out !!!!

Holy crap, first I wanna apologize if this has been sitting here awhile. The Ask notification location in settings instead of notifications on the app is so weird and I get them so rarely I don’t think to check. (and the website shows that I have 4 but this one is the only one it’ll show? How does tumblr work? Oh yeah, it doesn’t lol.)

Anyway, I have so many thoughts on this! But they’re not necessarily cohesive?! Like first we all know Sam is super smart. He’s curious. He’s inquisitive. But he’s also sheltered in weird ways. There are things he’s known about the world that most people would never know about, let alone kids his age at any given time; yet the existence of those things--and the understanding that therefore potentially anything could be real--also lends itself to keeping him childlike--he had an “imaginary friend” at age nine and believed in the Easter bunny through age eleven, which is much later than the average probably???

By middle school, he definitely would’ve been feeling the strains of his otherness around his classmates, even if they weren’t constantly moving around, but of course the nomadic lifestyle just makes it even harder.

I think Sam is a very observant person, though. He figured out something was up with their dad and The Truth at age 8! So people watching is Sam’s saving grace for getting along in the mundane world. He definitely learns to mask his otherness by mimicking mundane people.

And I get sidetracked here because then I start thinking about exactly how their childhood went. We know John used Pastor Jim and Bobby as childcare/parenting support to some degree. I don’t think we really know anything about Caleb, maybe I’m forgetting something, but my headcanon is that Caleb functioned as a “fun younger uncle” type to Sam and Dean: cool, responsible in a pinch, but mostly not given childcare responsibilities because of his wilding tendencies. (they learn swears accidentally from Bobby and John, but Caleb TEACHES them.) Sam and Dean didn’t even know about Missouri until s1, so she’s off the caretaker list. They had that babysitter they met up with in uhh... Swap Meat! But largely we assume that Dean had a lot of the caretaking responsibilities; maybe with temporary babysitters in other places the same as Swap Meat.

And lbh you just can’t expect well-rounded, informed child-rearing from a kid only four years older. There’s a reason I associate a lot of weechester flashbacks with Sammy watching TV like in Something Wicked, because literally little siblings are A LOT and sometimes you just want them to sit still and quiet and leave you alone for a bit omg.(wait, give me a minute, I’m imagining little 6 year old Dean on the phone with Bobby because John ran out for food supplies and isn’t back yet and Sammy is still asleep but Dean’s creeped out in the longterm room they’re staying in because he KNOWS about the supernatural already. but then bobby gets on John’s case about it--and instead of never leaving Dean alone with baby Sam again, Dean learns from John’s belt not to call anyone when he’s left alone unless it’s an ACTUAL EMERGENCY. Or maybe, because marine, John doesn’t use his belt; maybe he uses PT instead and every time Dean thinks about calling Bobby for that reason again, his abs ache from the memory of punishment situps, or his arms get suddenly shaky thinking about doing pushups til he just couldn’t anymore.)

I haven’t read all of John’s Journal, and I know it’s not actually canon, but IIRC the bits that I’ve read from the wiki show John and the boys staying with a family friend in Lawrence for a few weeks, MAYBE a few months before John visits Missouri and everything STARTS. I think if he hadn’t picked up and left with them then, the family friends would’ve been contacting CPS because they’re starting to think John’s grief is making him unhinged. (I really want to read the journal tbh--there are bits I’ve seen that make me fantasize even more about boyking!sam storylines... but I’m getting even more off track.)

So we’ve got this weird/interesting dichotomy of kids that are groomed with these hyperspecialiizations, too weird to really fit in with other kids but sheltered from the actual hunter life also--like the fact that there ARE other hunters, like as a THING, not just their dad’s rando friends that, as kids, they may just assume know about the supernatural because their dad told them! (jfc they’re SO PRIMED to be each other’s entire world omg I’m gonna die)

So like, by being quiet and observant (an imaginative kid, by nature and by nurture as John starts to take Dean out more and leave Sam alone with his own thoughts), Sam would pick up a lot of things. But they’re never anywhere long enough for him to fully grasp everything and he would definitely suffer a bit from the Dunning-Kruger effect--not having enough knowledge about a thing, but having just enough that you don’t realize you don’t.

Let’s say Sam observes and picks up some things about normal residential life by being around a few mundane babysitters. The nature of John’s “work” would mean that, even if they were in a more in-home-daycare-like situation, they’d be likely to be the “after hours” kinds of kids that are still there when everyone else is picked up and the babysitter would normally be doing their normal life stuff: changing clothes, cleaning up from the daycare kids, making dinner, etc (sam and dean would definitely help, either out of kindness or duty or because it’s agreed that if they help out John will get a discount on their care costs--don’t mind me, just projecting my childhood onto the winchesters hahh. I’m NOT going to go off on a tangent about Dean already having so much experience caring for babies cuz of Sam. He definitely doesn’t have all the under-4s following him around begging for attention while he burps one of the three babies their babysitter cares for after a bottle. it DEFINITELY didn’t make Sam (age 4, 5, 6 maybe) jealous enough to repress the memory so that over a decade later he would claim that Dean doesn’t even LIKE kids.)

Uhh... what was I talking about? Oh yeah, Sam. Observing normal life. Anyway so maybe after things settle for the day, sometimes a babysitter will sit at the dining table with the weekly bills and their checkbook and do the bills. And Sam kind of loves things like this: it feels like something important; it feels like playing school before he was old enough to go (quick aside here: John totally enrolled Sam in school early, both because that’s the only way his age works with canon timeline and because it would make life easier if Sam was in school just like Dean--more cost-and-time efficient.) And maybe Sam goes and sits at the table and just. Watches.

And then he asks questions. When he’s curious, he doesn’t keep his questions to himself as a child (unless the subject is expressly forbidden: see Dean’s reaction when Sam brings up Mary). But his age would inevitably limit the scope and understanding of those questions. Adults are generally disinclined to fully explain the adult world to children, especially when it comes to finances, and in the 80s and early 90s?? With most of the adults of that time that I knew, those kinds of questions were considered rude and nosey. He might understand that adults have to pay bills; he may even understand something about utilities; but he wouldn’t necessarily understand all the requirements and frequency.

Though their nomadic lifestyle wasn’t stable by any “normal” definition, one thing to be said about mostly living out of motels is that your power is never cut off, or your water, or your heat. There’s always television, usually with cable. And the only form of payment you see going on is dad handing over cash or plastic at the front desk--one and done. My headcanon usually disallows the idea that they would’ve squatted in empty houses when Sam and Dean were kids (John makes plenty of bad decisions but I just don’t see him staying in a place without power or water with CHILDREN. Teenagers? SURE.) They would learn how to clean house and make proper beds even when it wasn’t always necessary with housekeeping available--both because of John’s military parenting style and because John would be most likely to opt out of daily housekeeping to lower the risk of having people ask questions.

So yeah, there are so many little intricacies of the mundane world that Sam wouldn’t be conditioned to even think about. Even the realization that he doesn’t know enough about regular life, as he grows up and longs more and more for that very thing because he’s never had more than a glimpse of it, wouldn’t necessarily be enough.

Would his natural curiosity lead him to ask those questions? He can’t ask John because he already asked Dean and got a dismissive answer because ‘what does any of that matter, Sam? we’ll never have to worry about that shit.’ and if Dean seems borderline offended by the sheer audacity of the questions in the first place, he knows John will be worse.

In the 90s, life skills were still kind of a thing in most U.S. schools. But in a really inconsistent way. Sometimes it was in health class curriculum; sometimes your math class would actually do a short focus on balancing a checkbook and banking if there was a chapter, but a lot of times those parts get skipped. You never use the whole textbook. Sometimes life skills was only in Home Ec, but H.E. was completely elective in my area when I was in middle school (the same exact years Sam would’ve been in middle school) and I’m assuming the same for most of the U.S. Sam may have taken it, or he may have taken something else instead (wood shop or computer class were the alternatives in my area). Maybe the nature of school hopping meant that he HAD to enroll in Home Ec, because resources for the other electives were finite, but somehow always managed to miss the bills and budgeting portion. Maybe he couldn’t even take Home Ec due to class size or resources and they just put him in a study hall for that period. (Maybe they put him in the computer class, where he mostly does book work until he gets a turn on the PC he has to share with his classmate.)

As an observant person, Sam totally would’ve known about TRL, I think. There’s no way at least one group of kids in the halls or lunchroom wasn’t talking about it every day in high school, especially with the advent of Britney Spears and Eminem and Jesse freakin Camp. Maybe he goes to someone’s house to try to hang out or to study and they turn it on and Sam watches raptly because it’s such a strange phenomenon and he hardly ever gets to hear new music, much less watch the videos. But he can’t actually get into it because the fangirls are annoying and his analytical mind won’t let him suspend his disbelief about how the voting works. (Maybe he tries giving it another shot in their motel room sometimes, but Dean vetoes that bubblegum pop shit IMMEDIATELY--no Sam, look, that shit isn’t REAL music; most of them don’t even play instruments. And it’s really not fair because Dean TOTALLY watched MTV’s The Grind in the early 90s for his fix of suggestively gyrating bodies before he figured out how to access porn without getting caught.)

Sam and Dean actually make a LOT of pop culture references, which always fascinates me. I imagine they did a lot of TV watching and VCR/movie renting in the times they weren’t working on a case with/for their dad (projecting again; my dad’s house was a very boring place on his weekends). The nature of Dean’s idolization of John and disinclination to let Sam have his own separate likes means they have a mix of age-appropriate pop culture knowledge and a lot of Boomer-era TV and movie knowledge--Dean more than Sam, maybe when it comes to things like cowboy movies and TV lol.

Anyway, as the realization that he doesn’t really know how anything works crept in, maybe Sam would try to lowkey create situations where he could ask his friends/his friends’ parents those normal life kind of questions. But maybe after his first few tries, he’s become so uncomfortably aware of how weird he is to even need to ask that he stops asking. Maybe he starts to tap into his specialized skills and starts snooping/creeping around their houses to try to glean knowledge. Maybe he scours the library for books on ‘what you need to know for life’--I have the urge now to do a google search on actual titles of books on this subject that may have existed at the time, but I’ve already spent a lot of time on this without going into research spirals. lol Maybe he can’t find exactly the things that are pertinent--still doesn’t fully realize that, though--and in the meantime his cache of esoteric knowledge continues to build.

So he gets to Stanford and he mostly understands how the financing works; enough to get by with enrollment and stuff. He understands that he’ll need to get a job of some sort to make ends meet because he’s there to be normal and normal people don’t pay for everything with scammed credit cards and billiards money; he knows that much. But he doesn’t really know about wages, minimum wage, freaking payroll taxes, etc. (I feel like Dean would’ve had odd jobs as a teen, some legit some under the table, but that the nature of John (and Dean) wanting to keep Sam home and safe would’ve made the subject of Sam working through high school a banned topic. And anyway, much as I’m not a fan of the characterization in Drag Me Away (From You), what Dean said to Sam about the impossibility of getting into college with the way his academic career would look is accurate. So Sam would’ve probably spent most of his free time on academics so he could get the fuck out, rather than trying to get a job.

Maybe having to buy his textbooks would be a surprise? John probably always qualified for Sam and Dean to be on free lunch/free book programs in public school, not to mention the likelihood of the records being at least partially counterfeit. But at the same time, John was probably very hands off with their school enrollment crap once the boys were old enough to handle it themselves, so Sam would at least have an inkling.

Sam would be a weird mix of no-boundaries and too-secretive, and his first attempts at acting normal would be a bit too put-on. He’s got experience acting per 1x16 (oh, maybe he did drama instead of home ec somewhere lol), but acting on stage is so much different to acting in a more personal setting. On stage you have to exaggerate your movements to project all the way to the back. Early-Stanford Sam, I guess, is a bit like Soulless Sam. He knows there’s something off about him compared to the people around him, and he just does his best to pretend he’s the same as them without calling attention to his differences, which ends up coming off robotic. A little Stepford. A little uncanny valley. He learns to bite his tongue every time he’s about to let something normal only to his family roll off it; learns to be even more vague than he used to be, because now he’s around strangers ALL THE TIME.

At some point, Sam has a little-but-big breakdown about a payment he missed or the fact that he had to steal shampoo because he didn’t even have toiletries in his budget and couldn’t even afford a bottle of White Rain or Suave, so since he was stealing anyway he got the special brand he really likes and then feels too awful to even use it and doesn’t wash his hair for a week. Brady takes pity on the cute but hapless puppy-boy who is a physical and academic behemoth but has obviously been living off-grid on some kind of militia commune for the past forever--at first the rumor was that he was Amish on rumspringa but the amount of times Sam has busted out some supremely random survival knowledge in casual conversation changes that rumor quickly--and has no understanding of the world. And by the time he moves off-campus with Jess, Sam has this masking thing down pretty well; he can almost forget he’s not normal sometimes and Jess only knows about his previous helplessness in a cute, anecdotal kind of way.

And then Dean comes and gets him and Sam’s all “you and Dad still doing credit card scams?” and Dean’s like “well hunting doesn’t pay the bills.”

AND SAM’S LIKE, NEITHER DO YOU DEAN! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT BILLS ARE?! BECAUSE I DIDN’T AND IT WOULD’VE BEEN NICE TO KNOW!

#ask #@princessconsuelapark #stanford era #sam winchester #pre-stanford era #sam n dean #john winchester's a+ parenting #long post

[alw4ysf0rev3r]

the witch and the boy || dean winchester

you and dean have know each other for half a year now. you always knew there was something there. he did too. but you guys just hid that love for each other as best friends.

you're a hunter just like sam and dean. but you're also a witch. dean's hatred towards all witches was prominent, but he made an exception for you. he didn't freak out or try to kill you, but yeah, he was a little weary after that. but it was sam. sam adored you for how much you cared about bobby, cas, dean, and him. he just couldn't believe how dean just let the fact you were a witch go over his head. and that's what started everything that night.

"dean! she's a witch. she could kill us all or get us involved in some witch-on-witch stuff!" "samuel fucking winchester i swear to god if you start this again." neither of them knew you could hear the conversation. this happened once or twice before but you could sense this fight was gonna be worse. last time you got involved you told dean you could fight you're own battles.

"trust me, i know. you proved that when we first met. but you don't have to. and sam... he's never like this, he's usually the one to sympathize with the-" he trailed off, "monsters dean. monsters." he freaked out then of all times. "no, no, no. y/n you're not a monster. why would you-" you started laughing. "baby boy trust me i know i'm not a monster. save that speech for sammy."

dean finally spoke after taking one of the plates from the table to the sink, but really quiet to the point you could barely hear him. "sammy, why do you care so much. i'm the one with the grudge not you. she's a good person. you know that. y/n saved us before she knew us."

when you guys first met, it wasn't at a diner or some macho god vs winchesters fight, one night, the boys and cas were fighting a large group of demons. nothing new. but they were outnumbered and even cas was having a difficult time taking them on. dean was about to be stabbed when he heard the demons drop one by one. he didn't see who, so he immediately thought it was cas. he saw a few knives fly towards the one to the right of him, the one pinning cas had his legs swept beneath him, then the one holding dean turned to you after you took a knife to his back. this demon was a pain in the ass. punches were thrown, a few kicks to the side of his head, and yours. finally it gave up and you exercised it. you moved the hair from your eyes and all the boys stood looking at you like you were the best hunter they'd seen (which you are) but at the same time, they had horror in their eyes. you took down a full room of demons with ease. and you weren't even using your powers. they didn't need to know that yet.

sam did that grunty-thingy he always does and whiped his face, mumbling something you couldn't hear. "she's a monster. she'll kill us all. you know how powerful she is." dean rolled his eyes from hearing this over and over and over again. "i don't care sam. y/n has done nothing but keep all of us in line and alive. you should be happy she's with us not arguing the same god damn argument!" he yelled. you slumped your back against the wall along the stairs, holding back tears.

"you really wanna risk us for her?" sam asked. "you know what sam? maybe i do. she's been there for me more that any of you have my whole life. she understands me without the judgement. i wouldn't wanna have anyone else by my side if something went wrong or hell, if something went right. if you have a problem with her you can leave. cuz i'm not leaving her. i made her that promise." he rolled his head around and started mumbling swears under his breath, then went to the coat rack and grabbed his lea ther jacket and keys, slamming the door behind him.

that's when you went to your room. sam smashed a few plates and then went to bed. see, that gut feeling was right. dean definitely cared but who knew that much? you cried for a while, and obviously knew you weren't gonna get sleep.

dean didn't get back until 3:46 a.m. he went to a bar and got drunk you assumed and when he got back you walked downstairs. "you good?" you saw him slouching and caught him as he missed the first step on the way up the stairs. "great." he responded with a smile and clear smell of whiskey on his breath. "here c'mon." you half-guided, half-carried him up the wooden staircase to his room which you migrated to around 1 earlier. "were you planning on stayin' in here sweetheart?" he asked, noting your spare blanket and charger you kept in his room. you gave him a slight chuckle. "i was." after you took off his shoes and placed his trash can next to his bed you started to leave. "hey. hey. you." you stopped in your tracks and looked back. "yeah dean?" he kinda stumbled on his words at first. "c-can you stay with me 'till i fall asleep?" after reaching the other side of the bed, you released a slight puff of air after hitting the matress. at first you wondered why he stumbled asking that question because he doesn't usually talk like that when he's drunk. so yay he's sobering up. but it's not like it's the first time you've spent the night in the other's room. it was normal for you two. that's when it hit you. a different way.

he turned around to look at you, which you were half on the wall and half on the bed. you raised your eyebrows at him and he knew that meant 'what?' "i'm sorry. for sam. i get it if you don't want to stay, i'm gonna leave if he keeps doing that." "dean, don't. i don't want the hardy boys spliting cuz of nancy drew. and i should be thanking you. you keep sticking up for me." "oh so you were listening?" he sassed. dean smiled. "that's my girl." you two looked at each other for a few seconds and that's what happened. he kissed you. or did you kiss him? you both kissed each other? doesn't matter.

you stopped him. "dean you're drunk. if you're gonna kiss me at least be sober enough to remember it." he rested his head against yours. "alright. g'night y/n." you looked into his apple green eyes before you kissed his forehead. "night dean." you shifted so your head met one of the two pillows dean kept, his met the other.

dean woke up before you. he showered (thank god) and picked up coffee and donuts. when you went downstairs you saw dean and walked towards the donuts, almost ignoring him. not because of the night before, you just didn't like mornings. he laughed and looked at you, taking a large gulp of his coffee. "so, we gonna talk about earlier?" you almost choked on your donut and said "what?" as your voice cracked. "just becuase i forget my abc's from time to time doesn't mean i didn't forget what we talked about and that we kissed y/n." you set down your food on a plate and walked over to him. "if you remember what's there to talk about dean?" you slightly squinted at him. he grabbed you by you're hips and swayed you two side to side. "well... i could ask you on a date. i mean we already have the chemistry and live together so,” “please you can't even spell chemistry." you smiled at him. he took his hands away and said, "wow. wow. ok. y'know y/n, i'm hurt. really." you walked back over to your food. "8 o'clock, movie and dinner. nothing fancy though. deal?" he looked at you with hope and love in his eyes. "deal. i'm just happy you didn't ask me with that cheesy knock knock joke." you fake gasped. "it's a great joke dean, get over it."

that’s when you knew he had your heart, and you had his.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #supernatural #supernatural imagine #jensen ackles

[castielscarma]

Johnson

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29176002

Dean took Cas' hand and grinned before kissing his knuckles. “It's Sunday. You know what that means?”

Cas smiled at Dean's cheerful display. “Usually it means a nice dinner and our weekly hike with Sam and Jack.”

Grumbling, Dean lowered Cas' hand. “It means funday.”

“Dinner and walking, isn't that fun?” Cas arched an eyebrow at Dean. “I was under the impression you enjoyed the time with Sam and Jack. Nature is one of the things Chuck did right– “

“We don't think about that asshole anymore.”

“Right. So what did you have in mind?”

Dean pointed a finger at Cas. “I was waiting for you to ask that question, Cas.” He grabbed a pamphlet from his back pocket. “Check this out. The museum has an angel exhibition.”

Cas licked his lip. “Oh, you were talking about that kind of funday.”

Wiggling his eyebrows, Dean pulled Cas into a hug. “Yeah, that kind of fun. So, is that a yes?”

“I don't know what to say... we have been frequenting that museum fairly often. While I do understand the allure of openly – “

Dean kissed Cas, a soft, innocent kiss. “Let's get a deeper understanding of the allure, Cas. Besides, it's an angel exhibition.” Dean stilled. “Oh, sorry, Cas. Man, it never crossed my mind. We can do this another time, another exhibition.”

Cas grabbed Dean's hand and kissed him back. “Dean, this has nothing to do with it being an angel exhibition. I made my choice freely and it's not a decision that haunts me.”

Dean nodded. “OK, I just wanted to – you know, I don't want to upset you.”

“You're not.”

Dean smiled. “No?”

“No.”

“Alright, then take me to the art museum and make out with me.”

Cas smiled his gummy smile. “Let's go.”

Dean groaned as he pulled into the parking lot. “An all-nighter. I can't believe you suggested that and that Sammy said yes. Why?”

Cas shrugged. “I think it was fair. Sunday is usually our hike day.”

“Yeah but all night? You know what that means?”

“Campfire and marshmallows. Maybe the moon will be out and we'll see the stars.”

“No, it'll mean mosquitoes and us trying to fall asleep while Sam snores like a bear knocked out with tranquilizers. And he'll insist on bringing weird camp food like dates and zucchini.”

Cas stepped out of the Impala. “I think you're exaggerating.”

Dean closed the door with a bang. “I'm not.”

“It'll be fun. And you and Jack can go fishing.”

Dean patted his pockets. “Fuck, I forgot my wallet. And it's cheating that you're trying to bribe me with fishing.”

Cas pointed at his pocket. “It's here. And is it a bribe? I'd consider it more of a promise.”

Dean laughed. “Let's go check out some angels.”

“Let's.”

~~~

Harry Johnson, the security guard at the Esbon museum was sitting in peace, eating a Milkyway when he almost choked on a piece. He blinked, looking at the couple, and sure enough, it was them, Trench coat and Bowlegs. He was not getting enough paid to deal with shit like this.

Sure, he shouldn't assume that they would do it again, but Harry was a practical man. He'd seen them twice before and both times they'd acted like idiots before fucking. One time in the west wing, and on time in the Nature room in what had then been turned into a bee exhibition. And no, it hadn't been explicit fucking, more hands he figured, but what he did remember was the damn jokes.

Who were these middle-aged men anyway, skulking around in museums making out? Didn't they have a Ford Fiesta they could desecrate?

Swallowing the last of his Milkyway, Harry grabbed his flashlight and went after Disaster Duo on Legs.

 ~~~

Dean stared at the angel statue in marble. It was kind of bizarre seeing the angel statue with no head or arms but he couldn't deny the craftsmanship. The tunic she was wearing cling to her body but it was the wings that caught Dean's attention. They arched behind her seemingly in triumph.

“She's beautiful, isn't she?” Cas said.

“Yeah.”

“Can't believe this is stone. Look at the feathers, Cas – “ Dean stopped. “This isn't weird, is it?”

Cas chuckled slightly. “No, I'm fine, Dean. And my wings were more... impressive than this.”

Dean smiled warmly. “Not everyone can be the size of the Chrysler building.”

“No, they can't. But I do appreciate the artistry. Humans always depicted angels as beautiful, even in their wrath, and imagined them in their image. I do find that hopeful. Maybe mankind saw themselves as divine and then never questioned that angels wouldn't look like them. They never once thought that angels would be something less than them. We're – they – were hardly as noble and just as humans hoped them to be."

“Maybe not them, but you weren't so bad, Cas.” Dean elbowed him slightly.

Cas nodded, a small smile on his lips. “You don't know this, but I was known as the hottest angel in my garrison.”

Dean laughed. “I bet you were. You're hot as a human too.” He licked his lips. “So, you gonna make out with me?”

Cas tilted his head, amusement making his eyes shine. “I don't know if I'm allowed.”

Dean furrowed his brows. “Why the hell wouldn't you be allowed to kiss me?”

“You're not allowed to touch the masterpieces.”

Shaking his head, Dean splayed his hand on Cas' chest and pushed gently, forcing him to take several steps back. “You're the masterpiece, Cas.”

“Is that so?”

Dean nodded and pushed him again so Cas' back was against the wall. “Yeah, and someone's gotta nail the artwork to the wall.”

Cas grinned. “Are you that someone?”

Dean kissed Cas' jaw. “I do have a hammer.” He wrapped one arm around Cas' waist and pressed his groin against Cas as he grabbed Cas' hair and whispered, “This pounding requires a steady hand.” He moved his hand and squeezed against Cas' groin.

The sight of Cas closing his eyes, and how he breathed out slowly as not to alert anyone else of what they were up to was hot as hell.

Just then, Cas opened his eyes and bit his lower lip. He flashed Dean a smile as he looked at him through his lashes. A rush of arousal washed over Dean. “C–Cas I think we should maybe – Cas knew very well what he was doing to Dean and damn him but it worked.

“Go? But we just came here. Don't you want to... come before we go?”

Holy hell. They should go to museums more often, Dean thought.

 ~~~

There they were, plastered to each other like clay and straw behind the angel statue. Harry shook his head. At least he managed to get to them prehumping. The darker man, Trench coat dude was thankfully against the wall and not against the statue or any artwork but he did not like how Bowlegs was moving; soon they would be against that painting of the angel trying to teach the old guy to read and that painting was not only borrowed but expensive as hell.

“Hey!”

Trench coat at least had the decency to look sightly ashamed but Bowlegs turned to look at him with murder in his eyes before apparently recognizing Harry as the security guard. He groaned. Fuck his life, both of them could basically be his dad. “This is a museum.”

“We're aware.” Bowlegs said with a gruff voice but if Harry wasn't mistaken there was some humor underneath.

“Is there a problem?” Trench coat said as he took a step to the side.

Harry blinked at Trench coat's appearance. His hair was disheveled and his lips were puffy from kissing. “Uh, the museum is for looking at art, Sirs.”

Bowlegs' gaze flashed to Trench coat before nodding. “Oh, I know.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Yes, so please. Refrain from touching the art,” Harry swallowed – what had his job become – “and, uh – each other.”

Trench coat adjusted his clothing and nodded. “Will do.”

Harry ignored the slight chuckle from Bowlegs.

Bowlegs came up to him, a disarming smile on his face.“Didn't mean to cause any trouble, officer,” he glanced at Harry's name tag and winked, “Johnson. We'll be on our way.”

As Bowlegs and Trench Coat left the room, he could hear them laugh like a couple of teenagers. Harry wiped a hand across his face. Adults these days.

 ~~~~

“I can't believe you called him that,” Cas exclaimed as they went to another part of the museum.

“What? It was his name, Cas.”

“It was how you said it. I'm just glad we didn't get kicked out. Can you get banned from a museum?”

Dean took Cas' hand in his. “I dunno. Probably. Wanna try?” Dean winked.

Cas smiled. “I feel rather hungry.”

“Yeah.” Dean motioned with his thumb to the exit. “Wanna get out of here? I spotted a nice restaurant just a few blocks away.”

Cas shook his head. “I'm not hungry, Dean.”

“Oh? But you just said – ”

Cas gaze went down Dean's body.”I'm hungry.”

“Oh.” Dean pulled Cas towards the exit. “You don't have to ask me twice, cowboy. Let's go.”

#castielscarma #my writing #destiel does the museum #established relationship #destiel ficlet #rating teen