#dean winchester x OC

[welldonebeca]

The Triplets (9)

WC: 4.3k words Warnings: Smut. Foursome. Dirty talking. Fluff. Voyeurism. Brotherly competition. A bit of exhibitionism. Praising kink. Threesome. Multiple orgasms. Sloppy seconds/thirds. Some ass slapping. Anal play. Degrading kink. Sex pictures. Video taping. Daddy kink. Uncle kink. Rough sex. Aftercare. Cuddling. Unsafe sex. 

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Masterlist

The moment they stepped inside, Ben was already pulling Lizzie to him, big hands possessive as they grabbed her waist, and she gasped in surprise before Beau scooped her up in his arms and threw her over his shoulder.

"Hey!" his brother protested.

"Talking, Ben," he walked to the couch. "That's what we are doing."

She couldn't even protest as he carried her away, leaving him huffing.

"I got blue balls now, you know?" he asked. "It's very serious."

"Good thing both your hands function," Dean quipped. "And you can use them."

Beau carried Lizzie to the living room, and brought her down to the same stupid couch where everything happened, placing her on his lap.

"Shouldn't I get dressed?" she asked, fidgeting in the big hoodie and little shorts she'd managed to put on.

But he placed his hand around her waist and kissed her shoulder.

"It's fine," he assured her. "We just want to talk, okay?"

The other two sat down, and she could see Ben pouting as they fell into silence, and she couldn't quite pick who she was even looking at.

"Well..." Dean spoke slowly. "Hm."

Beau rubbed her thigh gently.

"You should know," he spoke gently. "That if you don't want anything with us. That if you ever feel like this isn't a relationship you want to get into, you don't have to do so."

"We don't expect sex as rent, that's what he means," Ben crossed his arms. "Those are different things."

She nodded. Lizzie knew that already! They were good people, good men!

They would never, ever, force her into anything. She was the problem!

"I know," she assured them. "I just... I need you to know you guys don't need to do anything! You don't need to pretend for me!"

Beau squeezed her.

"Pretend?" he asked.

She looked back at him.

"You're brothers," Lizzie reminded them. "And I don't want to stand between you, I don't want you to think you have to pretend you are alright with anything I do, because I'm a guest in your house and one of your brothers might like me!"

She turned to face Ben and Dean.

"The way I feel..." she took in a deep breath. "I wish I could say one of you makes me feel this way, but it is not true. All of you do, and I know it is so wrong and-"

"Bullshit," Ben interrupted her.

Lizzie deflated and Beau stiffened behind her, his grip turning protective.

"I know, it's hard to understand," she told him. "But my feelings..."

"Not your feelings," he stopped. "Your feelings make sense. Them being wrong? That's bullshit."

He leaned closer to her, green eyes hard and so certain it made her shiver.

"I want to be with you, Dean wants to be with you, Beau wants to be with you," he listed. "You want to be with us. Everyone is an adult, everyone is sober, everyone is mentally... not too bad."

Dean chuckled by his side.

"What is stopping us?" Ben asked.

Lizzie looked an answer, but gasped when he stood, grabbed her face and kissed her.

She got wet right there and then.

Well, it wasn't like she wasn't already from being fucking in the kitchen, but being kissed by him while on Beau's lap and with Dean watching?

Yes, it was something extra.

"I thought we were here to talk," Dean spoke very loudly.

"We are," Beau growled behind her. "Do you think of anything but sex?"

But someone tugged on her shirt, pulling it up, and she gasped when Ben moved up to her tits, caressing her nipples with rough thumbs.

"Can you, when she looks so pretty when she is turned on?" he pulled back, speaking against her hips.

Beau moved under her, as if to move her away, and she stood up, pressing her chest to Ben's hands.

"Lizzie," he called behind her.

Ben pinched her nipple, tugging on it, and she moaned.

"Please," she whined.

She hadn't even cum!

"You wanna be all high and mighty, then check for yourself," Ben commanded. "Pull those little shorts, check if she's enjoying it."

But she pulled away from him, and Ben and Beau followed her with their eyes and she stood before them, and Lizzie tried her best to look sexy as she moved her hands to her shirts and pushed them down, stripping for them.

Could she make a little show with two pieces? She could try.

The three watched her silently, and she took in a deep breath before pulling off the big sweatshirt, and Dean inhaled when she revealed her ass.

Oh, he was still behind her, wasn't he?

Lizzie pulled it up and up, until her tits were out too, and tried to look elegant as she threw it from over her head.

She looked back at Dean, finding him licking his lips, and Ben chuckled.

"This is better than any strip show," he joked. "If only I had some ones..."

"Shut up, she's not a stripper," Beau gruffed.

She looked back at them, and they were all seated, watching.

Waiting for who would take the first step, maybe?

She was about to pick for them when she felt Dean's hand behind her, squeezing her ass and pulling her.

"Let me have my own share," he whispered into her ear.

Lizzie giggled, touching his face and turning around, kissing his lips and touching his chest.

"If you are going to hoard her, at least let us see," Ben complained.

Dean, though, pulled her to his lap, making her straddle him, and pulled Lizzie up to kiss her neck.

"You can watch her bubble ass as she bounces on my cock," he grabbed her hips.

She gasped when he moved his lips to her sensitive nipple, biting sweetly and sucking on it.

"Dean," she gasped.

His hand spread her legs, and she tried to arch her ass to the other boys.

She could hear the moment they saw her pussy, the way they inhaled in deep.

Lizzie's attention was taken back when Dean pushed his fingers into her cunt, and almost didn't hear as someone walked away.

Was everything alr-

"Fuck, you're still a little loose from Ben fucking you," he hissed. "Taking cock so well, baby... you didn't even wait for us to join you."

She whined, feeling her face hot.

Not like she knew they wanted to join.

"Did he make you feel good, baby?" he licked her other breast. "Did my dumb brother make you cum?"

She squirmed.

"Well..." Lizzie mumbled.

Dean stopped.

"What is it?" Beau asked, and she could hear him moving.

Dean pushed his fingers into her hair, making her fall with her head on his chest, and fucked her slowly with his fingers.

"He didn't make her cum!" he exclaimed, outraged.

Beau pinched her nipples.

"That won't do," he decided. "Not even getting fucked made her cream?"

She squirmed, basking in the mix of being paid such attention to, but being spoken over as if she wasn't even there.

Beau pulled her, making her stand up, and Lizzie gasped when Dean turned her around quickly.

"I guess we do need to do all the work here, hm?" Beau hummed, kissing her lips.

Lizzie melted into his arms and his sweet, sweet kiss, already, and just let him manhandle her back into Dean's lap, this time facing away from him.

She barely processed when the head of Dean's cock poked her entrance, and mewled when she felt the tip entering her.

"We're going to make you cum, pretty girl," he pulled out, rubbing his head on her clit before moving back and then pushing into her again.

Beau pulled his hand, and she whimpered when he rested his forehead on hers and reached between her legs, caressing her clit with his fingers.

Lizzie moaned loudly as his brother pushed in, filling her up quickly.

"Such a good girl," he praised, finger circling her clit a little tighter. "She swallows up cock so good."

She moaned, throwing her head back, and didn't have time to whine when Beau pulled away from her.

He knelt between her legs and when she looked down at him, the image was the most erotic thing she could have seen.

"Uncle Beau?" she asked softly.

His eyes connected with hers, and he leaned in close to her, sticking out his tongue and licking her clit like a little kitten.

"Just relax, baby girl," Dean put his hand on her waist, sitting her all the way down his thick cock. "Let us make you feel good."

He moved his hips under her, thrusts slow and deep, but Uncle Beau had his own pace.

His lips and his tongue were hungry on her clit, never leaving it, never stopping sucking and licking and playing with her, fast and hungry.

As if she could move at all between them as they did that.

Lizzie was so overstimulated, so overpleasured, she could only fucking take it.

"Fucking hell," Ben growled.

She looked opened her eyes, and he was standing a few steps away from them, watching them.

Dean held her down by her middle, and Beau squeezed her thighs.

Lizzie could only cry.

It was too fucking much.

"You couldn't make her cum," he spoke behind her. "We took over."

Ben huffed.

"I could!" he argued. "But you guys had to barge in before I even tried!"

Beau sucked on her clit harder, and her eyes nearly crossed.

Almost right after, Dean's cock brushed against her sweetest spot, and Lizzie cried out loud.

"Show him how pretty you can cum, sweetheart," he kissed her cheek.

"Fuck!"

Lizzie arched her hips, and gasped when he wrapped his hand around her neck, holding her in place.

She moaned in pleasure, that exact move making her cum.

When she opened her eyes, Ben had his phone up.

"Smile for the came, sweet girl," he walked closer to them.

Dean grabbed her thighs, fucking her deeper as Beau fucking devoured her.

God, she almost came again just like that.

"Please," she whined.

Dean squeezed her neck a little more.

"Cum again, pretty girl," he commanded. "Cum on my cock before I fill you up."

She did, shaking on top of him, and Beau only pulled away from between her legs when she was done.

He kissed her lips with deep hunger, holding her by her hair as Dean fucked her fast and hard on the chair, using her.

Dean moaned under her, and she could feel the moment he filled her up.

It was so warm and tick, so filling.

She couldn't even enjoy the feeling, though, as Beau quickly pulled her up.

He pulled her, taking her right to the couch, and Lizzie gasped when he tossed her with her belly down, pulling her hips up and nudging her entrance with his cock.

"You want me to fuck you now, pretty girl?" he purred.

"Oh, come on!" Ben walked to you, his phone not in his hand anymore. "You've already fucked her!"

Beau moved his cock, rubbing her sensitive clit, and she gasped as he did.

"So what?"

She was so fucking sensitive.

"Beau," she whined.

"I won't fuck a loose pussy after you are done," Ben protested. "You two have fucked her already and when it was my turn you two just stopped it."

Beau dipped the tip into her, as if he didn't even care, and she whined.

Suddenly, he was taken away, and she opened her eyes to find Ben stumbling back from pushing Beau away, until his brother put him in a headlock.

Fuck, she shouldn't find that hot.

And yet her pussy fluttered, empty.

Needy.

Dean chuckled, and she looked at him, finding him watching them, very amused.

He was very used to that, wasn't he?

"Whoever fucks me last can fuck me longer," she blurted out.

Lizzie only processed her words when they were already out, and Beau smirked when their eyes connected, releasing Ben.

"Well," he stood straighter. "Go on, Benny. Have your turn. I don't mind having some sloppy thirds."

She was flustered at his words, but Ben didn't care.

"Make sure to try and make her cum this time, will you?" Dean teased him.

He scoffed, moving to her, and Lizzie looked back at him as he caressed the middle of her back.

"Where were you?" she whined.

Why had he left?

He pulled two things from his pocket, and her eyes widened, showing them off to her.

A butt plug.

And lube.

"I had a little plan for you," he hummed. "But I think we'll have to wait, hm?"

She gasped when he felt his cock nudging her.

"I guess tonight you're going to be our little cum dump."

"Ben," Dean called.

Ben scoffed behind her, rubbing her up and down.

"She might be small, but she is a big girl, Dean," he purred. "She's gonna lose her ass virginity at some point. Why not let her Uncle Ben be it?"

She moaned, feeling completely pathetic as he teased her pussy, up and down, up and down, up-

"Please," she whined. "Uncle Ben. Stop teasing me!"

He chuckled, and she jumped when he moved his fingers to caress her ass.

"Ben!" Dean argued.

She whined.

"It's alright," she moaned. "Dean!"

Ben poured something warm against her ass, and she gasped in surprise.

"Wrong name, baby girl," he corrected her, giving her ass a slap.

Lizzie whined.

"You two are so fucking easy on her," he grunted. "She's a needy slut who loves being teased."

She squirmed, closing her eyes when he circled her with his finger, cock brushing against her entrance.

"Ben," she whined.

"Lizzie," he cooed back, mocking her.

Beau scoffed, sitting on the couch, close enough that he could touch her face if he wanted to.

"Just hurry up already," he grunted.

Ben moved behind her, and he tossed something onto him.

"Make yourself useful," he commanded. "Take a picture."

She looked at Beau, and he was rolling his eyes, but took the phone on his lap anyway.

"Wanna be filmed, Lizzie?" he caressed her hair.

Her cheeks burned hot.

"Yes, uncle Beau."

He smirked, and angled the phone to get her face just as Ben teased her asshole, pushing his cock into her cunt very slowly.

"Do you think Ben can fuck your little brains out?" he cooed.

Lizzie nodded, and he took a hand to her face, pushing his fingers into her lips.

"Pretty, pretty girl," he hummed, fucking her mouth.

Ben pushed his cock inside her more, filling her again as his finger pushed a finger into her ass.

"Look at you," Beau fucked her with his fingers. "Eyes so glazy... must be feeling so good, little princess."

Fuck, she could hear how wet her pussy was.

"You are so slicky and squishy..." Beau purred. "Must be so, so easy to just slide in there."

"I can just slide in," Ben hummed.

And he did, pushing all the way into her and making her cry out, and Beau pulled his fingers from her mouth, petting her hair a bit.

They were so fucking big, all of them.

Lizzie's brain dripped from her ears at the thought of being fucked like that every day, filled and used.

"Fuck, suck a good cunt," Ben fucked her with his finger. "Want to have you seated on my cock while I work... gonna make you warm me up."

She whined.

"Please," she begged.

But Dean chuckled.

"What work?" he scoffed.

Ben bent down, pressing his lips to her ear.

"I'll fuck you during my shows," he whispered into her ear. "I've been thinking about getting a pussy to fuck, and now I got one for free."

She moaned in pleasure.

Wait, did he work with livestreams?

"We'll see how many times they'll allow me to make you cum," he bit her earlobe. "That might teach you, hm?"

Lizzie gasped, and he pulled back, taking his cock almost all the way out and then pushing into her again.

"Ben!"

He chuckled.

"Teach me what?" she moaned.

He pulled his finger back, and when it came back, there were two of them.

"To be patient," he grunted. "And take what we give you. Maybe they'll drive the message better than me."

She moaned.

The thought of that made her feel so gooey.

Dozens... maybe hundreds of people watching her get fucked and used. Making her cum and cum until she was stupid.

His cock brushed against her sweet spot and Ben took a hand down, pinching her clit.

"Won't you love that?"

"Yes," she begged. "Please, Ben!"

He pulled his fingers out, and she gasped when he pushed the plug into her all the way in.

Before she could even react to it, he moved behind her, fucking her hard.

The way she moaned was embarrassing.

Beau put the camera on her face, missing the way his brother was using her, focused on her face.

She probably looked like the sluttiest of whores.

"Needy slut," he rubbed her clit.

Lizzie came right there, overstimulated already.

"Needy slut," he rubbed her clit.

Lizzie came right there, overstimulated already.

"Daddy," she cried.

"Fuck," Beau growled.

Ben buried his cock into her cunt, moaning darkly and cumming deep in her, filling her up.

So much cum in her pussy, God...

Beau laughed at his brother.

"Couldn't hold back, Ben?" he teased, tossing his phone at him. "Move over. I'll show you two."

He panted behind her, still, patting the plug, and she whined.

"Shut up, Beau," he grunted. "Been hard for a fucking hour."

"Yeah, yeah," his brother scoffed. "Don't let the cum out."

But Ben didn't move, kissing her back at first.

"Take care of it for me, will you, pretty girl?" he twisted the toy inside her, making her whine. "I'll start training that ass tomorrow."

Ben pulled back from inside her, but she had no time to get used to being empty, and Beau pushed his cock inside her right away.

"Uncle Beau!"

"There's my pussy, missed it all day," he grunted. "So messy, dripping out all that seed."

She moaned, closing her eyes.

"Do you think that'll be enough to breed you?" he picked her up, sitting her on his lap facing his brothers.

Lizzie moaned, her head falling back onto his shoulders.

"But we can't!" she whined.

He took his hand to her pussy, rubbing her clit.

"Oh, I've seen where that goes," Ben chuckled, phone pointed to her. "Sweet girl can't be bred by loved it so, so much."

Lizzie whined, squirming on top of him.

"But Ben!" she whined.

He clicked his tongue.

"No, sweetheart," he corrected her. "I'm daddy."

She pouted, squirming as Beau rubbed her clit.

"All that cum inside you," he purred. "I can feel how much you like it, I can feel your stupid cunt squeezing my cock."

Dean stood, walking to stand by her side, and pinched her nipples.

"Her tits are so small," he noted. "Imagine how big they'll get when we put our baby in her."

She could only moan, mind in a goo.

That couldn't feel hot. It shouldn't make her horny, it-

"Go on, baby," uncle Beau kissed her ear. "Cum for us while we breed you."

She came, crying and shaking on top of him, completely soft already, nearly light-headed.

"You're gonna let us use you just like that, won't you?" he made her bounce, Dean's fingers replacing his as Beau grabbed her hips, fucking her. "Gonna let us fill you up, fuck you deep."

"No need to find a job," Ben told her. "Just stay home, be our little stay-at-home girlfriend."

"Our girl," Beau grunted. "Now and forever."

He slammed into her hard, making her feel like her brain was just banging against the walls of her skull.

Again, she came, feeling like it would never even stop.

"I can't," she begged. "Can't cum anymore, please."

Dean pulled his fingers away, and Beau hugged her close as he used her, cumming inside her quickly as she floated in the pleasure of being thoroughly theirs.

She didn't miss the feeling of him cumming in her, and fell onto his shoulder as she kissed sweetly all over her face, shoulder and neck.

She felt someone between her legs, and Lizzie gasped when Beau pulled inside her and hands held her legs spread.

"Fuck, yes," Ben grunted from between her legs. "Look at all that cum, baby girl."

"Careful," Beau panted. "It's going to stain the couch."

"I'll deal with that," he assured him. "I've never stained it, not gonna be a first now."

She heard the sound of Dean gagging for a moment before Ben kissed her thigh and pulled back, and opened her eyes to look at them.

"Poor baby girl," Dean cooed, picking her up, and she wrapped her legs around him weakly. "Let's take you to the bathroom to clean you."

Dean was very gentle with her, never lingering in a weird way, giving her a moment to pee - because UTIs aren't nice - and fixed her hair before carrying her to a very large and very comfy bed.

Lizzie scrunched her nose at being alone, but embraced the body that first lied by her side.

"You know, your room is surprisingly clean."

She looked up, picking up on Beau's voice, and Ben squeezed her.

"What's up with all the cameras?" Dean mumbled.

She looked around, surprised to see how many cameras he had set around, capturing his bed in many positions, all with their lenses covered.

"They are off, don't worry," he gruffed, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm not gonna waste my time putting them away for you."

Dean scoffed, and she felt the bed dip, and relaxed when she felt him embracing her closely, only in his underwear.

"Hey," Beau called. "Where do I go?"

She opened her eyes and the boys squeezed her.

He was standing by the bed with an annoyed face.

"I'm not moving," Ben hid his face in her neck.

Beau huffed.

"Ben!" he half whined.

Dean sighed by her side, and Lizzie gasped when he lifted her and put her on top of him.

"We be the bed," he decided.

Lizzie couldn't quite complain.

Beau lied down with them, at last, and she rested on Dean's chest, feeling Beau's fingers when he started to pet her hair.

“When was the last time we all shared a bed together?” he hummed.

"Not since our balls dropped," Ben spoke into her neck.

But Dean had a different answer.

“No, it was definitely after our birthday, two years ago," he corrected him. "You were such a baby and wouldn’t get your fat ass off of my bed, and Beau was worried you’d choke on your vomit in your sleep.”

Ben scoffed.

“Hey, I’m in a strict diet, you definitely weigh more than me, fatso.”

She felt Dean moving to answer him, but Lizzie was quick to diffuse the situation, kissing Dean, then Ben, then Beau.

"Be nice to one another," she scolded them. "You're brothers."

The boys all laughed.

"We are mean to each other because we are brothers," Dean pointed out.

Lizzie huffed and they all kissed her, both her cheeks and forehead.

"We'll be nice," Beau promised. "For you."

Dean hummed in agreement.

"Right, Ben?" he raised his head.

Ben scoffed.

"Right, right."

She smiled, cheeky.

"Good, or you are never touching this pussy again," Lizzie affirmed.

Well...

"For a month," she added.

"Yes, ma'am," they agreed.

. . .

"The Triplets" was posted on Patreon on January 2023. To read the sequels "The Livestream (Ben x Lizzie)", "patience is a virtue (Dean x Lizzie)" and "the pictures (Beau x Lizzie)", subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and it helps a lot.

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#Welldonebeca's the triplets #dean winchester fic #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x oc smut #soldier boy #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x oc #soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x reader smut #beau arlen #beau arlen smut #beau arlen fanfiction #beau arlen fanfic #beau arlen fic #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x oc #beau arlen x reader smut #beau arlen x reader fanfiction #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x you fanfiction #beau arlen x you smut #beau arlen x oc fanfiction #beau arlen x oc smut

[raised-u-fr0m-perdition]

SPN MASTERLIST

Not taking reqs for Supernatural currently cause I’m writing a series for y’all to enjoy!

we could be more | dean winchester (COMPLETED)

“And promise me… that you won’t blame yourself.”

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | FINALE

IVY’S FLAWS | 1

𝖕𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖑𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖕 | 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗

Summary: “She’s like you’ve been pistolwhipped.” He bit his lip angrily. “Hits you right in the head and makes it spin. I used to hate it. But now? I’ve turned out like every other guy; had one hit of her and… I’m addicted. So yeah, pretty much.”

PLAYLIST | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | FINALE | Epilogue

𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁𝙾𝚄𝚂 | 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁

Summary: Ivonne Rainer hadn’t met Dean Winchester in 2006 after he was hit by a car. No, this time, this universe, they met in 2010, when the whole Apocalypse deal started and Dean was made leader of one of the only remaining survival camps in America. Little did he know, one random raid would change everything.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

#spn masterlist #spn #supernatural #supernatural oc #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction

[thsillystringbeanscribbler]

Bunny Slippers

Summary: While on the hunt for their dad the Winchester brothers are encouraged by Bobby to reach out to an old hunting buddy of John and Bobby. The trip leads to meeting not only a rugged hunter which is a missing puzzle piece to their dad's disappearance but also got to make the acquaintance of his lovely daughter.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader [ OC ]

Warnings: mostly fluff with a sprinkle of possible violence or angst, maybe slow burn (i'm not too sure)

Word Count: 4,685 words

Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfiction. I dont really know how to write y/n so oc is all you're getting. I recently discovered the world of Supernatural and I am in love. This story takes place during Season 1, it doesn't really follow the story line and there might be some lore in accuracies. Please be kind, and I hope you enjoy my little story.

image from Pinterest

With Bobby's wise counsel and the elusive hints scattered in John's journal, he implored the brothers to seek out Rob Blackburn, who could potentially steer them toward John. Rob, as Bobby explained, wasn't just an ally; he was a long-time comrade of both John Winchester and Bobby, often accompanying them on perilous hunts. Armed with this knowledge, Sam and Dean embarked on their journey to Boston in the trusty Impala. Dean took the wheel, immersing himself in the thumping beats of rock and roll, while Sam, map in hand, navigated the labyrinth of roads leading to Robert Blackburn's whereabouts. The pages of John's journal rustled in the background, revealing his own trek to Massachusetts, where he had joined forces with Rob to confront a formidable Wendigo.

In the early autumn morning, the Impala turned down the street of the Blackburn home, the epitome of historical charm found in Boston. The townhouse stands out with its red brick facade, large curved windows adorned with black shutters, and stately black entrance doors. Wrought iron railings line the stone steps leading up to the front doors, and mature trees along the sidewalk cast dappled shadows onto the cobblestone street. The vehicle comes to a halt in front of the winsome townhouse, with its elegance further accentuated by the cascading wisteria, lending a touch of natural beauty to the urban setting.

Dean cut the engine, his gaze shifting from the Blackburn residence to his brother. Sam, peering at Dean, broke the silence with his characteristic intensity. "So, think you're ready to face whatever's in there?" he asked, his voice tinged with both concern and determination.

Dean responded with his usual bravado, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ready? Sam, I was born ready. Let's do this." His tone was confident, almost playful, yet underscored by the seriousness of their mission.

Moving in unison, the brothers climbed the steps to the Blackburn residence. A silent exchange of resolve passed between them as Dean turned to face the ominous black door. He pressed the doorbell, and for a moment, there was only silence. Impatient, Dean began to knock forcefully, intent on getting an answer.

Before he could knock again, hurried footsteps approached from inside. The door swung open to reveal a petite, dishevelled woman. Her light auburn curls were hastily tied atop her head, and her sleepy green eyes, magnified by tortoise-rimmed circle glasses, blinked at the unexpected visitors. Dean's gaze travelled over her, taking in the oversized Van Halen band t-shirt, the long flannel Batman pyjama pants tucked into mismatched white tube socks, and the pink bunny slippers, all indicating she had indeed just rolled out of bed.

The woman, stifling a yawn and crossing her arms defensively, addressed them with a groggy, gravelly voice. "Hello? Can I help you with something?" Her sleepy demeanour contrasted sharply with the urgency of their visit. 

The faintest hint of a smile played across Dean's face, a touch of warmth amidst the crisp Boston morning. The dishevelled stranger before him, a haphazardly charming vision in her comic book pyjamas and mismatched socks, sparked a flicker of amusement in his hunter's gaze. She couldn't be much older than Sam, he mused, who was barely past the threshold of twenty-two himself.

Clearing his throat, Dean straightened up a little, his eyes locking onto hers with an earnest steadiness. "Morning," he started, his voice carrying the signature gravel of a man used to long nights and the roar of a V8 engine. "Sorry to wake you, but we're looking for Rob Blackburn. The thing is," he paused, the weight of their search momentarily tightening his features, "our dad was working a case with him, and now... Dad's gone off the grid. We were hoping Rob might have some answers."

He watched her closely, not just for her response, but for any sign, any tell that might unravel the mystery of their father's whereabouts.

The woman's head tilted slightly, causing a few untamed curls to escape her hastily made morning bun. She squinted at Dean, her eyebrows knitting together in a puzzled frown. As her gaze shifted between Dean and Sam, a hint of wariness crept into her expression. "Sorry," she murmured, her free hand sliding under her glasses to rub at a sleepy eye. "But who are you guys, exactly?" she asked, her lips pursed slightly, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Dean met her gaze squarely, his expression a blend of seriousness and charm. "Name's Dean and this towering figure here is my brother, Sam," he said with a hint of a smirk. "We're here looking for Rob. You might know him through our dad, John Winchester. They go way back, and it's kind of important we talk to him." His tone carried the urgency of their quest, yet remained respectful, acknowledging the oddity of their early morning visit.

Her eyebrows lifted from their puzzled frown as the name John Winchester sparked a flicker of recognition in her features. Hesitating for a moment, she leaned slightly forward, peering past Sam and Dean to scan the street. Her green eyes settled on the shiny black Chevy parked in front of the house. Dean, noticing her gaze, followed it to the Impala.

With his trademark flirtatious smile, Dean couldn't resist a playful comment. "Hey, if you're interested, I could show you what she's really capable of," he said, nodding towards the Impala. The woman's eyes snapped back to Dean, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Realizing how his words might have sounded, Dean quickly clarified with a cheeky grin, "The Impala, I mean. A ride in the car."

She nodded silently, her cheeks now a deeper shade of red. A bit flustered, she stuttered, "Uh–" but then, meeting Sam's hazel eyes, she paused, took a deep breath, and regained her composure. "I'll be right back," she said before gently closing the door.

Dean left staring at the black door, perked up his ears as he heard her voice escalate inside, calling out, "Dad! The Winchesters are here!" After a brief silence, her voice rose again, more insistent this time, "DAD!"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look of surprise at the volume of her shout. The response came in the form of a deep, muffled reply from within. The door creaked open again, and the woman offered an awkward smile. "He'll be down so–"

Before she could finish, a tall, muscular man in plaid flannel pyjama pants and a simple grey t-shirt descended the stairs. He stood imposingly behind her, his voice deep and gravelly. "Mornin'," he greeted, eyeing the brothers. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Definitely John's boys," he observed as he extended his hand.

Dean grasped his hand firmly. "Dean," he introduced himself with a nod.

Sam followed suit, shaking Rob's hand. "Sam. It's good to meet you."

Rob's genuine smile broadened. "Rob. Nice to finally meet you boys. John's told me a lot about you two."

In the midst of the heartfelt introductions, Rob's daughter slipped out under her father's arm, who was now holding the door open. He quickly turned his head to call after her, "Jay, boil the water. We're gonna need some coffee."

Rob then stepped aside, inviting them in. "C'mon in," he said, glancing once more at the street as the brothers entered. "Damn, is that John's Impala?" he asked, intrigued.

Dean turned back to Rob, a hint of pride in his voice. "Actually, she's mine now. Dad left her to me. She's got more history and miles on her than most cars on the road. Runs like a dream, though." His words were laced with respect and a touch of nostalgia for both the car and his father.

The boys followed the barefoot Rob Blackburn into his living room. The space was a testament to a life well-lived and richly layered, a striking balance between the modern and the memorabilia of yesteryear. They stepped through the wooden archway, and Dean's gaze swept the room—a harmony of contemporary and eclectic tastes.

The living room was bathed in morning sunlight from a large, bay window framing the greenery and wisteria blossoms outside, its grandeur contrasted by the cozy array of furniture. A plush, dark green sofa accented with earth-toned pillows invited comfort and long conversations. Across the room, a pair of vintage armchairs stood guard, their fabric hinting at a past era. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, a ladder poised as if in mid-ascent, suggesting a world of knowledge and stories just out of reach. In the center, a stately wooden coffee table bore the weight of books and vases, while a Persian rug beneath whispered tales of ancient craftsmanship.

Above the mantel, a flat-screen TV was mounted, an anachronism amid the classical vibe. The mantle itself was a gallery of personal history, with frames marching across its length like milestones. Dean's eyes traced the journey of the dishevelled girl named Jay through frozen moments: school plays, graduations, and candid laughter.

One photograph, in particular, seized Dean's attention, squeezing his heart with the force of a long-forgotten song. There, captured in the stillness of time, was a young woman with auburn curls, her arm casually draped over a youthful Mary Winchester. Beside her, a younger Rob stood with an easy stance, and on the other side, John Winchester's smile reached out, as bright and as real as if he were standing in the room with them.

Dean found his voice, roughened by the swell of memory. "You've got quite the place here, Rob. Feels like a home that's seen a lot of good times," he said, his eyes not leaving the photograph.

Rob, following Dean's gaze, nodded with a touch of nostalgia. "Yeah, it's been through a lot. Every piece has a story, especially those photos," he said, his voice softening. "That one there," he pointed to the photograph that held Dean's gaze, "was from a summer BBQ we had right after John got back from a tour. Good times indeed, Dean.”

With a comforting pat on Dean's shoulder, Rob motioned towards the dark green sofa. "Please, take a seat," he said in a voice that carried the warmth of a seasoned host. Sam was already lounging there, looking every bit the part of a man ready to delve into matters of gravity and ghosts. Rob's towering presence moved towards one of the vintage armchairs, his movements measured and graceful. He sank into the chair with the ease of a man in his own sanctuary.

Dean observed Rob, taking in the rugged features that spoke of a life lived much like their father's—on the road, but always returning home. The man sitting across from him had a face that bore the marks of laughter and squinting against the sun, a generous beard that was well kept but suggested it could tell stories of its own. His hair, though tousled from sleep, had the hint of waves, and the light caught the flecks of gray that ran through it like silver threads in a tapestry. There was a certain comfort in his ruggedness, an unspoken kinship that Dean recognized well.

Rob caught Dean's gaze and chuckled, a sound that seemed to reverberate around the room. "My apologies, if I'd known Johnny's boys would be showing up on my doorstep, I'd have made myself presentable," he said, his fingers raking through his hair in a vain attempt to tame it.

Their conversation was paused as Jay quietly made her entrance, her arms full with an offering of steaming mugs. Dean's eyes followed her every step, noting the careful balance as she placed the coffee on the table with precision. The small, satisfied smile that danced across her lips made Dean's own lips twitch in response. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a look of comical frustration.

Jay stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes closed, speaking through gritted teeth. "I was so proud of not spilling coffee, I forgot people might want milk and sugar too."

Dean leaned forward, picked up one of the mugs, and met her frustrated gaze with a reassuring smile. "Don't sweat it, Jay. I take my coffee black as midnight on a moonless night," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "It's the best way to kick-start the day, especially when there's work to be done." He took a sip, letting the rich bitterness of the coffee linger, a stark contrast to the gentle chaos of the morning.

Jay—no, Julia—looked momentarily taken aback, an unspoken question flickering in her eyes about Dean's use of her nickname. Before she could voice it, Rob intervened with a throaty chuckle that broke the brief silence. "Dean, Sam, if it wasn't already apparent, this spirited individual is my daughter Julia."

Julia's expression folded into a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment at her father's words. "Introductions must've slipped my mind earlier," Rob added, his eyes twinkling with paternal amusement.

With a graceful motion that seemed to betray her earlier fluster, Julia tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Was a bit scattered, to be honest," she admitted as a soft hue painted her cheeks.

He offered her a warm, appreciative smile, and she, in turn, blushed a shade deeper, hastily picking up the one mug that held coffee lightened with milk. "Anyway, I'm—" she started, her voice trailing off as she backed away, thumbing in the direction of the staircase, "—going to get dressed."

With that, Julia turned, her retreat up the stairs as quick as it was quiet, leaving the conversation to hang in the warm, coffee-scented air of the living room.

The trio settled into an easy silence, the kind that speaks of understanding rather than discomfort. Eventually, Rob broke the stillness, setting his coffee cup down with a soft clink. "Not that I'm complaining about having John's boys over," he began, his voice even and curious, "but what brings you to my door?"

Sam, always the one to dive into the details, took the lead. "Well, Rob, from what we've pieced together with Bobby's input and clues from Dad's journal, it seems John was here in Boston not too long ago. He was helping you out with a wendigo situation," he explained. "You might have been one of the last people to see him. Now, Dean and I are crisscrossing the country, trying to track him down."

Dean, meanwhile, was only half-listening, his mind wandering as he sipped the robust black coffee. His thoughts were momentarily caught up with Julia—her surprising affinity for classic rock band shirts, her effortless command of the room, despite her earlier disarray. There was an allure there that Dean couldn't quite dismiss.

Realizing he needed to jump back into the conversation, he met Rob's gaze over the rim of his mug. "So, any chance Julia might know something that could help us out?" he asked, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of hope. It was a thinly veiled attempt to weave Julia back into their narrative—perhaps more for another encounter than actual investigative purposes.

Rob leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips as he cradled his mug. "Julia? She wasn't really involved with the hunting side of things with John. She's the brains, does all the research," he began, but the strains of Led Zeppelin suddenly filled the room, filtering through the walls of Julia’s bedroom, in a muffled but unmistakable riff.

He laughed, a low, rich sound, and shook his head affectionately. "Yeah, she's a history major. She’s got her nose usually buried in old books. But she did dig into the Wendigo lore while John was around. Spent a few hours picking his brain, so it might be worth a shot to ask her," Rob conceded, acknowledging the potential value in speaking with his daughter once more.

As the sun arced higher in the sky outside the arch window, time seemed to fold in on itself within the Blackburn residence. The conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, the brothers and Rob exchanging tales and theories about the elusive Wendigo. Engrossed in the retelling, they barely noticed the passage of time until the Led Zeppelin anthem that had been humming in the background abruptly ceased. A hush fell over the house, and Dean couldn't help but cast a puzzled look towards Rob, who appeared unfazed by the sudden silence, continuing his story with the ease of a man accustomed to the unpredictable soundtrack of a busy household.

Dean's attention was drawn towards the hallway as a flash of red caught his eye—a pair of Converse sneakers, the unmistakable hallmark of a casual yet deliberate style. As Julia came into view, his gaze instinctively followed the line of her high-waisted jeans up to her neatly tucked-in white shirt. Gone was the disarray of the morning; in its place stood Julia, transformed. Her light auburn curls, now tamed and flowing gracefully down her back, framed a face of calm composure.

She paused in the archway, and for a moment, there was a silent exchange as Dean's eyes met hers—no longer sleepy, but sharp and full of life.

Rob, seizing the opportunity, looked up at his daughter with a mix of pride and practicality. "Perfect timing, Jay. Do you recall any of the details from when John helped out with the Wendigo case? I'd take a stab at finding the research in the office, but I still can't make heads or tails of your organization system."

Julia's lips pursed lightly, a subtle indication she was preparing to delve into her mental archives, but before she could articulate her thoughts, Rob interjected with decisiveness. "Great, I'll go get changed, and you can show the boys what you've got."

Julia nodded, a silent agreement to take the lead, and Dean couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for the way she navigated her father's expectations with grace. There was more to Julia than met the eye, and Dean was keen to uncover the depths of her knowledge—not just for the sake of their quest, but perhaps, for the simple pleasure of her company.

As Rob ascended the stairs, Julia began gathering the empty coffee mugs with an efficiency that spoke of routine. She gave Sam and Dean a quick, playful grin. "I'll just drop these off in the kitchen, then we can dive into the research. Hope you're ready for a bit of a deep dive," she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of excitement about the task ahead. She turned on her heel, the cups clinking softly as she vanished down the hall.

Dean watched her go, an appreciative gleam in his eye. Sam, catching this all-too-familiar look, turned his entire body to face his brother, his expression a blend of warning and wisdom.

"Dean, I'm gonna say this once: tread carefully, man," Sam advised, leaning in slightly to emphasize his point.

Dean turned to his brother, feigning innocence. "What are you talking about, Sammy?"

Sam fixed Dean with a knowing look, the kind that only a lifetime of brotherhood could perfect. "Julia. I see that look in your eyes," he cautioned, his voice serious but not unkind.

A roguish smirk danced across Dean's face, his thoughts lingering on the spark he'd felt during their brief interactions. "Can't help it if there's a mutual spark. And come on, Sam—she's smart, she's into Zeppelin, and she's got that whole natural beauty thing going on. It's not just me," Dean defended with a casual shrug, trying to brush off the gravity of Sam's warning with his characteristic nonchalance.

Julia reemerged with a swift grace, pausing at the doorway, her demeanor alight with the thrill of sharing her world. The excitement seemed to emanate from her, an infectious energy that promised revelations and secrets held within her scholarly trove. As Sam and Dean stood, ready to be led into her realm of research, Sam's encouragement was both genuine and anticipatory.

"Rob mentioned you're quite the expert. Can't wait to see the treasures you've been working on," he said, his kind smile acknowledging her expertise.

Julia's response was tinged with humility and appreciation. "That's really nice of you to say," she replied, leading the way up the stairs with a lightness in her step that suggested she was as eager to share as they were to learn.

Reaching the second-floor landing, they were greeted by the impressive sight of a bookshelf that seemed to serve both as a doorway and a guardian of knowledge. Passing through the archway, both Winchesters couldn't help but pause, struck by the beauty of the room that unfolded before them.

They were surrounded by the warmth of aged wood and the silent stories of countless tomes. A built-in window seat nestled against a bay window offered a view of the soft purple wisteria blossoms framing the glass. The room was steeped in the warmth of vintage charm and the whispered stories of countless books. The walls are lined with towering shelves, crafted from dark, polished wood that gleams under the soft golden hue of strategically placed lamps. Each shelf is a testament to a bibliophile's passion, densely packed with books of varying sizes, their spines creating a colourful mosaic that speaks to years of collection and care.

In one corner, a plush armchair sits invitingly, upholstered in a rich, patterned fabric that echoes the bygone era of Victorian elegance. Next to it, a small table holds a crystal decanter of amber liquid and matching glasses, alongside a pile of well-thumbed novels, suggesting a perfect nook for sipping and reading. The heavy curtains pulled back from a large window allow the gentle light to filter in, casting a serene glow over the scene.

Despite the room's orderly foundations, there's a deliberate messiness to it that adds character. Stacks of books and papers teeter precariously on every available surface, including the floor, where a worn Persian rug lays as a testament to the many hours spent lost in literature. The desk is a landscape of creative chaos, with open books, notes scribbled on loose papers, and a vintage typewriter pushed to one side to make room for a modern laptop, showing the blend of old and new.

Unique artifacts are nestled among the books: a vintage globe, a brass telescope, and curious trinkets like skulls and antique scissors, each with its own untold backstory. The space is a sanctuary of knowledge, history, and personal quirks, inviting you to explore its depths, both literary and personal.

As Julia completed a graceful pirouette, her arms outstretched to present the room, her eyes met theirs with a spark of shared understanding. "This is where the magic happens," she declared, her smile as genuine as the passion that clearly fueled her pursuit of knowledge. The invitation was clear, and the Winchesters stepped into her world, ready to be enchanted by the magic of her making.

The effervescent joy Julia exuded was infectious, and Dean found himself basking in a reflected glow of happiness as he watched her navigate the room. He leaned against the doorway, observing her as she gathered an armful of papers and books, her movements a dance of efficiency amid the charming chaos. With a deft hand, she rehomed the collected clutter atop another table already brimming with the weight of research.

"Here," she sang out, her voice carrying the lightness of a melody, as she flitted from one end of the room to the other, her presence transforming the space into something ethereal. She was like a sprite in her own domain, orchestrating the energy of the room with every sweep of her arm.

Sam and Dean approached the cleared chairs with a hint of hesitation, not wanting to disturb the artful disorder of her workspace. They settled into the seats, and Julia paused in her bustling, resting a hand on the back of Dean's chair. For a moment, she stood still, lost in thought, and Dean found himself enveloped in the subtle scent that clung to her—pistachio, perhaps, and something sweetly salted, like caramel. It was warm and inviting, and his heart thrummed a little faster in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Julia's contemplative silence broke, and she turned her gaze to meet Sam's, her expression earnest. "I have a lot of material on the Wendigo—notes, theories, patterns. John had me assist him with something else, too," she confided, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "But before I share anything, you have to promise not to tell my dad. He tends to be... overly protective about certain things."

Her eyes lingered on Sam, seeking an assurance of confidentiality, an unspoken pact between them. Dean felt a tug of curiosity, an eagerness to delve into the knowledge she held, and he nodded in silent agreement, keenly aware of the trust she was placing in their hands.

Sam met Julia's earnest gaze, understanding the gravity of her request. He nodded, a silent promise etched into the gesture. "You have our word, Julia. Whatever you share with us stays between us," Sam assured her, his tone underscored with the seriousness of a sworn oath.

Dean, who had been momentarily caught in the sensory spell of Julia's presence, now anchored himself in the moment, the importance of her trust not lost on him. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with hers, reinforcing the vow. "We've kept secrets bigger than a bunker," he said, a soft, conspiratorial edge to his voice. "Your research is safe with us."

Julia, seemingly satisfied with their assurance, pulled a deep breath before she began, her eyes momentarily flitting to the ceiling as if gathering the threads of her thoughts. "Okay," she started, her voice now a hushed whisper, "John and I were looking into some lore—old, obscure stuff, not just your run-of-the-mill monster tales. It's about something much older, something he was tracking long before the Wendigo."

The room seemed to hold its breath as Julia spoke, the brothers leaning in, captivated by the prelude to secrets yet untold. The promise they had made bound them to this space, to the words that were about to unfold, weaving them into the fabric of Julia's clandestine work.

With the silence of one well-versed in the quietude of libraries, Julia drifted towards the bay window, her figure briefly silhouetted against the gentle light. She took a swift left into a nook, where a ceiling-high cupboard was nestled like a secret chamber within the room. Sam and Dean sat in anticipation, their ears tuned to the soft hum of her tune, punctuated by the rustle of papers as she rummaged within the cupboard's depths.

The cupboard doors clicked shut, and Julia returned to the table, her arms wrapped around a thick brown accordion folder that seemed to challenge her with its heft. With careful steps, she approached, placing the folder on the table before sliding into the last remaining chair—inevitably, the one next to Dean.

As she scooted her chair in, the proximity brought a subtle contact; her knee brushed against Dean's, a fleeting touch that sent a heightened awareness coursing through him. Julia opened the folder with a sense of ceremony, unleashing a cascade of notebooks and papers, each leaf carrying the weight of diligent inquiry.

Sam immediately delved into one of the notebooks, his eyes scanning the bubbly script and the stark sketches that accompanied the text. Dean, however, remained focused on Julia, his curiosity piqued not just by the research but by the researcher herself.

"So, what was it my dad had you digging into?" Dean inquired, his voice low and earnest, inviting confidence.

Julia's gaze lifted to meet his, a current of intensity passing between them. "A demon," she began, her voice barely above a murmur, as if the very word might invoke the creature's attention. Her eyes flicked to Sam's, ensuring she had both brothers' undivided attention, before she continued, "The Yellow-Eyed Demon."

To be continued . . .

Chapter Two

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam and dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #spn #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #sam winchester #supernatural fic #supernatural season 1 #dean winchester imagine

[spnexploration]

Escort

Synopsis: Dean needs an escort to help him with his cover on a case (more of a case fic with flirting, no smut)

Pairing: I see it as Dean Winchester x reader but could be read as Dean Winchester x OC (no physical descriptions are given and she goes by what is clearly a fake name the whole time)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Words: 3k

This fulfils the Escort square of my 2023 SPN AU Bingo @spnaubingo

A/N: It's nice to write a really competent, confident female character!

Supernatural writing masterlist

“Dean,” Sam implored, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Sammy, I swear to God, you keep whining about the plans and I’m gonna stop telling you the plans.”

“She’s a distraction at best, and a liability at worst!”

Dean rounded on him, “Is your complaint because she sells her services?”

“What? No.”

“Really? Because you’ve sure made a lot of jokes over the years about women in her line of business.”

“Dean, stop it. I’m worried about her getting hurt, or getting you hurt.”

“It will be fine. For all she knows, I just needed a girl to make me look good to the other suits. She won’t even know I’m casing the joint while we mingle. Nothing will happen, you and I will go back later without the girl. Girl will just earn some easy cash looking pretty.”

Sam sighed. Dean took that as a win. He gave his brother one last look before grabbing his keys off the motel room table. “I’ll go find a girl.”

---

Dean rolled down the window as he pulled up to a girl standing on the street corner. He was already in a tux. “Hey sweetheart,” he said as he rolled down the window. “You wanna have a Pretty Woman moment tonight?”

She looked like she was struggling to control the urge to roll her eyes. He liked her already.

“Hey handsome,” she said, leaning through the open car window. “What did you have in mind?”

“I need an escort for a big fancy party my work is throwing.”

“And you didn’t want to call a real escort service?”

“The others probably know all of them.” She laughed. “So I thought I’d branch out.” In reality, he didn’t want the arrangement written down anywhere.

“And let me guess, you want some services that aren’t available on their menu, too?”

“Nah, strictly escort tonight. Possibly the easiest money you’ll make, except for the need to smile your way through painful small talk about the best way to fold napkins.”

“And what would you have me wear?” she asked in a sultry voice.

“I got ya a dress. It’s in the back, we’ll go to the service station and you can get changed in the bathroom.”

“How long’s the party?”

“Few hours.”

“I charge $120/hr.”

“Fine.”

She opened the car door and slid inside. “Nice car,” she remarked as she ran her hands over the seat.

“My Baby’s the best,” Dean replied with a smirk, before speeding off.

---

Dean pulled up to the line of cars waiting to go into the party. He turned to the woman beside him, now resplendent in a beautiful dress he’d gotten at the op shop earlier that afternoon.

“Uh, I uh, I forgot to ask. What should I call you?” he said, suddenly awkward.

She laughed. “You can call me… Hazel.”

“Alright, Hazel it is. Where’d we meet?”

“The street corner.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I had a flat and you helped me with it.”

“Ok. Recently?” He enjoyed letting her lead.

“Just the other day.”

“Sounds good.”

“So, what do I call you, handsome?”

“Drake,” Dean said, his hand on the car door handle as a valet came up to greet them. He headed around the car and opened her door, holding his hand out to help her out. He reached his arm around her waist and held her to him. “I’m new at the company,” he whispered, “So not many people know me.”

She shot him a quick, concerned glance before schooling her features back into a smile. Dean led her up the steps and into the party, flashing two tickets on his way past.

---

The party was going well. No one seemed to mind that they’d never seen him before in their lives, and Hazel fit in better than he could have imagined. He hadn’t expected that the girl he’d gotten off a street corner would be able to pull off the escort idea, but he’d been hoping she would take the attention away from him. That wasn’t happening now that she was actually good at it, but instead they seemed to be blending in. He’d take it.

He put his hand on the small of her back and leaned down to her ear, “I gotta go to the bathroom, I’ll be back.” She smiled at him and he walked off. He glanced around the room, but he couldn’t see the artefact he was looking for.

He headed into another room, still surreptitiously checking out the walls and display cases. He headed for an empty corridor and pulled his phone out, quickly dialling Sam. “Yo, you got any idea where this thing might be? It’s not in the main hall.”

“Dean, you are the one who said that was exactly where it would be and we didn’t need any further investigation!”

“Yeah, well, I might be wrong. Zero amulets.”

“I dunno, keep scoping out the place. What’d you do with the girl?”

“Told her I was going to the bathroom, so I can’t take too long.”

“Yet another reason it was a bad idea to take her.”

“Shut it, bitch.” Dean hung up the phone, Sam was no use.

He quickly scoped out the room closest to him before deciding he needed to head back to his date.

---

She smiled as he approached. “You took a while,” she said.

“Couldn’t find it, and then there was a line of women. They take forever.”

“You try peeing in one of these dresses.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said with a grin. She really was perfect, he’d like to have taken her out for real some time.

He glanced around, seeing the drinks table. “You want another-” he started to ask, before fading out. He saw it, the amulet. It was around the neck of the bloody hostess of the party. Not. Good.

“Yes?” Hazel asked, drawing his attention back to her.

“I- uh- sorry.”

“You see something you like?” she said with a smirk, following his line of sight to the beautiful woman with the amulet.

“Oh, no, just, you know, lost my train of thought.”

“Uh huh,” she replied, deadpan.

He looked back at her properly, “Tonight’s all about you, sweetheart.” He flashed her a smile, that usually worked.

“Let’s go talk to her, if you’re so enamoured,” she said, starting to walk towards the lady.

“No! No, wait!” he said, reaching for her hand to prevent her getting near the woman. He had a sneaking suspicion that being near the amulet would’ve been very bad for the hostess, given the descriptions he’d read about its powers. It hadn’t been entirely clear, but he had a feeling she might be being possessed by a powerful being. He didn’t want Hazel anywhere near her.

Hazel rolled her eyes and tugged her hand of his grip, heading towards the woman. “No, Hazel!” Dean said, which brought the attention of the hostess on him.

“HUNTERS!” she yelled, suddenly holding a fireball in her hand. Fuck, a witch. Hazel had paused in shock, so Dean grabbed her waist and pulled her behind him. Others were screaming and running. The witch threw the fireball, Dean dived out of the way and pulled Hazel along with him. He raced to hide behind the bar as she threw another one. The room was rapidly emptying of party-goers, running for their lives.

He reached into his pants and pulled out his gun. “Stay down,” he hissed at Hazel, who had just peeked over the bar. To his dismay, he saw her reach up under her dress and similarly pull out a gun. He groaned.

“NYPD, we can discuss your activities later,” she whispered to him.

“Of all the women on all the street corners, I got the secret cop.” She started looking like she was going to peek over the bar again and he pulled sharply on her arm to keep her down. “If those aren’t witch-killing bullets, you’ve got no chance.”

“Of all the thieves on all the street corners, I had to get the deranged one who thinks witches are real.”

“You see that fireball she threw at us? That ain’t normal, sweetheart.”

Speaking of fireballs, one took that moment to crash into the glass mirror above them, raining small pieces of glass all over them. Dean sheltered Hazel’s body with his own, then pulled out his phone.

“She’s a freaking witch, Sam!” he hissed into the phone after Sam had picked up. “We’re under attack.”

“Who is?”

“The woman who owns the amulet, she’s wearing it!”

There was a loud crack as the bar they were hiding behind took a frontal hit. It wasn’t going to last much longer.

“I’m on my way,” Sam said in the phone.

“That might be too late,” Dean replied, looking for an exit strategy. He couldn’t see one.

“There!” Hazel hissed, pointing at a door in the panelling of the back wall of the bar area. She crawled over to it, wrenching it open. “It’s a dumbwaiter.”

“Get in it,” Dean replied, “I’ll send you down.”

“No, we can both get in it. You’re not going to survive by yourself here.” To emphasise her point, more of the mirror exploded above her head. He was pretty sure the witch was just playing with them now.

He stood up, trying to get a good shot at the witch. She was surrounded by henchmen and impossible to fire at, but she threw another fireball at him.

“Ok,” he said, crossing quickly to her.

“You get in first,” Hazel ordered.

“No.”

“We’ll only fit if I’m on top of you, get in.”

He saw the determination on her face and surrendered. He awkwardly climbed in to the cramped space, then held out his hands to take her. She squished herself in on top of him, hitting a button on the side before closing the door. The cart began to drop.

Dean held his gun up, pointed at the door, as Hazel unlatched it. They were in the wine cellar, with no one around. The staff had probably run off at the sound of the gun fight upstairs. It was even harder to get out then it had been to get in, but they managed it.

Dean took a look around, looking for a door that might lead to the outside. “There,” Hazel whispered, pointing at a door to the left of them. He nodded and followed her, pulling his phone back out of his pocket.

“Sam?”

“Thank God,” Sam replied. He could hear the sound of a car, Sam must’ve jacked one. “What’s going on?”

“We’re in the cellar.”

“Ok, you’re going to need to get out and meet me so we can go back in and gank the witch.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work, Sam. They’re going to be looking for us.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I go back in, gank the witch. Sam, you get Hazel out.”

“Uh huh,” Hazel said, spinning back to him, “And how exactly are you going to do that alone?”

“Sweetheart, this ain’t my first rodeo.”

“As I might have mentioned earlier, mine either.”

“Can someone explain what is going on?” Sam yelled from the phone.

“Hazel’s a cop,” Dean replied, moving very close to her. “But no witch-killing bullets and this ain’t your normal perp, so you’re not coming with me.”

“You try to stop me going in there and it’s a crime,” she glared at him. “Obstruction of justice.”

“The justice you were looking for tonight was men who want to pick up sex workers, not witches who want to kill.”

“I’m multi-tasking.”

“The hell you are.”

“OI!” Sam yelled again. “Can you two stop squaring off for one minute to come up with a plan so you don’t both die?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Right,” Sam continued. “How many witch-killing bullets you got left, Dean?”

“4.”

“Give me 2,” Hazel replied.

“That will halve our chances, sweetheart.”

“You keep being that arrogant and I’ll cuff you to the dumbwaiter.”

“Jesus Christ, can you both stop it?!” Sam complained.

“Ok. I give you two bullets, and then what?”

“I go in as bait,” Hazel responded, “and you hide. If the moment presents itself, you shoot.”

“You are not going in there as bait. I did not drag an innocent into this to get killed. I’ll be bait, you hide.”

She glared at him, but eventually nodded.

“And you’re taking 3 of the bullets.”

“That’s suicide.”

“It increases our chances of you ganking the witch.”

“I’m not a bad shot.”

“Me either.”

“Ok, I’m nearly there,” Sam said from the phone, seemingly forgotten in the standoff between Dean and Hazel. “I’ll try and get in and bring extra munition. I’m tall and I have long hair, please don’t shoot me.”

“Alright, see you soon Sammy.” Dean hung up the phone. He opened his gun and started to take out bullets, handing them to her.

“So,” Hazel said with a smirk, “Dean, is it? That’s what the guy on the phone called you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure Hazel isn’t your real name either. I’ll give you 5 minutes to get in a good position before I start the distraction.”

She nodded and started to jog away to the right. He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

---

Dean took a deep breath. He’d pulled out his other gun, filled with silver bullets that were going to be useless against a witch. But they might be good on henchmen, any bullet’s a good bullet if you’re human. And they’d make a distraction.

He put the normal gun in his left hand, saving his one shot with the witch-killing bullet for his dominant hand. He didn’t think he’d get a good shot, but he’d make it count if he did.

He estimated it had been about 5 minutes since Hazel had gone. Show time.

He crept up the stairs at the opposite end to where she’d gone. He could see henchmen scouring the other rooms, probably looking for him and Hazel. He took a moment to steel himself, then headed around the corner, back into the main room.

He started firing with his left-hand gun as soon as he entered the room, taking down random henchmen. Fairly quickly he was having to dive to the side, another fireball headed his way. He didn’t know where Hazel was, which he realised was a bit of a flaw in his plan. He didn’t know where to lead the witch.

Not that he was really in control of the situation. He was barely surviving as it was. He fired over his shoulder and ran for cover.

He was diving for new cover when he spotted Sam out the corner of his eye. He diverted the other direction, hoping he was still creating enough of a diversion.

Suddenly, the room exploded behind him. He span around, ducking his head under his arms to shield himself from debris.

“Witch is dead,” he head Sam yell, “Let’s go.”

“Gotta find the girl,” Dean yelled back, searching around. He could see Sam doing the same thing on the other side of the room, intermingled with the two of them firing at the few henchmen who hadn’t fled or died already. The explosion had been dramatic, Dean had no idea how Sam had caused it.

Dean finally found Hazel, trying to extricate herself from under some debris. He lifted the remnants of a table off her, holding his hand out to her to pull her up. She limped out so he wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her move faster. They quickly made it to Sam and got out of the building.

---

“I don’t know what the hell I just witnessed tonight but I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to my supervisors,” Hazel said when they were back at the Impala.

“If I were you, I’d leave out the witch throwing fireballs. Doesn’t go down well,” Dean replied.

“I suppose you want me to leave out that the serial killers Sam and Dean Winchester were here too.”

Dean shot her a glare. “We’re not serial killers, we hunt the supernatural.”

“And sometimes the supernatural like to impersonate us and give us a bad name,” Sam added. “We didn’t shoot those people in that footage from the bank vault, monsters with our faces did.”

“Any other day and I wouldn’t have believed you, but tonight I’m a little more inclined. One question though – you always pick up random women to bring into harm's way?”

“Uh, not normally, no,” Dean said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I genuinely thought we were just going to be looking for the amulet tonight, and I just wanted someone to try and take some of the attention off me. Sorry.”

She laughed, “Wow, you don’t seem like a man who apologises easily.”

Sam, behind Dean, was laughing and shaking his head.

“So, what are you going to do?” Dean asked her.

“I have to call this in.”

Dean nodded, grimacing slightly.

“But that doesn’t mean I have to mention you,” she continued.

Dean smiled. Sam said, “Thank you.”

“When did you know?” Dean asked. “Who we were, I mean.”

“You looked a little familiar to me when I got in the car, but I thought you’d just been in the photo list of known sex worker users I’d looked at. Wasn’t until I learnt your names were Sam and Dean and you were handing me special bullets that I remembered.”

Dean nodded.

“Alright, you two better hit the road before anyone gets here. They probably already noticed the explosion.”

“Do I get to know your real name?” Dean said with one of his charming smiles. She gave a smirk and pulled a folded business card from out of a hidden compartment in her gun. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

She reached over and kissed his cheek, “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Anytime,” Dean replied, opening the driver’s door and jumping in. Sam jumped in the other side and they sped off, into the night.

“So how’d you make an explosion? Or did she just explode when you shot her?” Dean asked Sam.

“Witch-killing grenade, been working on it as a prototype. Same idea as the bullets.”

“Niiiiiiice.”

Dean twirled the business card in his fingers. Would've liked to get to know that girl some more.

.

.

.

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[imagines-all-day-everyday]

A Hunting Trip (Part 4)

pairing: dean winchester x reader x damon salvatore

synopsis: a crash course in self defence  - *yn* finally tells dean and sam what's been going on in mystic falls. dean takes it upon himself to make sure she can keep herself safe.

warnings: fluff, angst, swearing

notes: i love this chappy so much, am so happy to be back writing x

Series Masterlist

"Just this one here."

Dean followed *yn*'s index finger to guide the impala into the driveway.

*yn* still couldn't believe that John had given Dean his car.

"Oh great, here come the million and one questions." Dean grumbled.

The rumbling engine must have alerted Sam, because he was already hurrying down the porch steps towards them. The two hopped out of the impala just as Sam reached the car.

"Where the hell have you been?" He threw his hands up in the air before perching them on his hips. His gaze firm as he glanced between the two, much like a stern mother.

"Why don't you just calm down and hold your questions till we get inside detective." Dean responded. Definitely not the right thing to say.

"Calm down?" Sam looked at him in disbelief. "I thought something had happened, you weren't answering your cell and *yn* was being all cryptic on the phone."

"Well we're here now and in one piece." Dean gestured between him and *yn*. "Although slightly traumatised."

"I'm going to explain everything, come on." *yn* patted Sam's shoulder in apology before moving past the boys to scale the porch staircase.

Sam shot Dean one last unimpressed look which Dean pretended to not see as they followed after *yn*.

"So this is your place huh?" Dean asked her as she slid her key into the front door.

"Yep, home sweet home."

The house was unexpectedly sparse. A single couch and small television occupied the living room. There was no art or pictures on the walls. Dean could see a film of dust coating the small coffee table that stood at the entrance.

It was like no one lived here.

She poked her head out of the door, scanning the quiet suburban street once more. Dean turned to look at her at the sound of the soft click of the lock sliding into place.

"I really doubt that lock's going to do much good if one of your friends wants to get in."

"Vamps can't enter a home unless they're invited in by the owner." She shot back as she placed her keys on the entry table.

"Smart ass." She grumbled under her breath as she shrugged off her jacket.

"I don't need super vamp hearing to hear you, you know." Dean remarked as his eyes slid over every inch of the house.

"I'm sorry, did you just say vampires?"

"Oh you have so much to catch up on Sammy." Dean patted his shoulder as the brothers followed *yn* down the hallway and into the kitchen.

"Take a seat, you guys want something to drink?" *yn* gestured to the dining table.

"We're fine thanks."

Sam's brows had started to do that twitchy thing they did when he was anxious.

Dean turned to look at his brother incredulously. "Speak for yourself." He turned to *yn*. "I'll take anything that even slightly resembles alcohol."

She nodded knowingly, "that I can definitely do."

Dean's eyes fell on the open fridge door as *yn* disappeared behind it.

For the first time since they'd stepped foot in this place, there was evidence that someone lived here. Photos stuck under tacky mystic fall magnets were strewn haphazardly over the door's surface. He could make out photos of her and Elena in cheer uniforms and a few others with people that he had recognised around town. One of her and Damon laughing was front and centre.

None of her dad, or him and Sam, or anyone from her childhood for that matter.

"Will this do?"

Dean quickly averted his gaze as *yn* popped her head around, two bottles of beer on show.

"That'll do perfectly." A grin appeared on her face as she shut the door with her foot and came over to sit with the pair at the table.

Dean thanked her with a nod as she slid the bottle over to him. Sam looked like he was about to combust as he watched the pair take a sip from their drinks.

The silence stretched on. For the first time a look of uneasiness crossed *yn*'s features as she placed the bottle down onto the oak.

"I don't really know where to start."

The admission seemed to soften Sam's urgency. As she sat in front of them and fiddled with her fingers, it was like they were suddenly back in a hotel room, waiting for their dads to finish a hunt. Like they were trying to pretend that they were normal, even for a few hours.

"The beginning seems like a good place." His words were gentle as he studied the girl in front of him.

She bit her lip and glanced at the clock on the wall opposite her.

"Take your time, we want to know everything." Dean was the one who spoke this time, and even he had taken himself by surprise at how calm he sounded.

What was more surprising was that *yn* didn't shoot back with a sarcastic remark or roll her eyes. Instead, a grateful look flashed across her features as she nodded.

"Ok."

So, the beginning was where she started. She told them everything, from the day that her dad died to when they'd shown up. About how it was a regular job and he'd been taken by a nasty spirit and the next thing she knew, she was being moved from home to home.

She told them about vampires and werewolves and witches and dopplegangers. About humanity switches and sunlight and stakes. She told them about the Founder's Council, about the Salvatores. She told them about Katherine and the tomb vampires. She told them about Klaus, about his obsession with making an army of hybrids. She told them about the original family and the coffins, about Stefan's fixation on getting revenge on Klaus.

She did decide to leave some details out, mainly about Damon's less... morally ok decisions and the people that her friends had killed along the way. But she did tell them about her friends, about her new family, about Alaric and Sheriff Forbes, about the bonds that they had all created during this time. About the fact that she was going to a real high school now, with real teachers and real prospects of college.

The whole time their eyes did not leave her. They nodded, smiled, grimaced (a lot) and asked questions occasionally. But there was not one moment where they were not one hundred percent focussed on her. And as she talked, *yn* realised just how desperate she was to tell someone outside her mystic falls circle about what was happening. Someone from her past. Someone who could understand and sympathise with just how messed up her life had been.

As she talked, it was like she could visualise the bonds of their relationship slowly begin to repair after so many years of disuse.

"And, I think that pretty much brings it up to today."

She could feel the brothers' eyes on her as she brought the bottle to her lips and finished the remnants of the liquor in one foul gulp.

"I uh-" She watched as Sam cleared his throat, his eyes darting to look at Dean before turning to her.

"I think I'll take that beer now."

A soft smile presented itself on her lips. The chair scraped against the floor. The sound bounced off the bare walls.

"It's a lot to process."

Dean watched as *yn* disappeared behind the fridge door once more.

"If it hadn't happened to me I wouldn't have believed it." Dean's eyes never left the photos plastered in front of him as he spoke.

"So what, he literally just locked eyes with you and like... mind controlled you or some crap?"

"It's called compulsion, and yes that's what they do." *yn* corrected Sam as she made her way back to the table.

"Right sorry, he compelled you to just do whatever he wanted?"

"Pretty much yeah."

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Dean shrugged. "And if you ingest that herb you were taking about- varvin?" He continued.

"Vervain. And here." Sam raised a brow but still muttered a thank you as he took the beer and a bottle of water from her outstretched palm.

Upon closer inspection he noted the strange herb swirling around in the bottle, making the water slightly discoloured.

"It doesn't taste bad." *yn* commented when she noticed the sceptical look on his features.

"Bottoms up Sammy." Dean clapped him on the shoulder as Sam unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to his lips.

"And this really works?" He asked once he'd taken a large gulp of the liquid.

"You don't have to ingest it. You can wear it in something like a necklace and that will protect you too." She raised her wrist to reveal a bracelet dangling from her wrist.

"Me personally, I like to do both because if they yank it off you, you're screwed. Best to cover all your bases. You can incorporate into all sorts of weapons too, the stuff's a nightmare for them."

Her eyes darted between the brothers and raised a brow when she noted the looks on their features.

"What?"

"Nothing it's just uh-" Sam cleared his throat and glanced at Dean out of his peripheral. "I'm a bit confused as to why you're telling us all of this stuff. Given a lot of your friends are..."

"Vampires? You can say it." *yn* mused as she twisted the cap off her second beer. "And yes, they are my friends. But so are you. And unfortunately most vampires aren't as nice. I want you guys to be protected."

"You might want to consider getting better friends if that's what you consider friendly." Dean muttered under his breath.

"Given I'm in a generous mood, I'll choose to ignore that." Her answer made the side of Dean's lips twitch up into a smirk.

"Lucky me."

The pair locked eyes as *yn* brought the glass to her lips. He was taunting her, dangling his words in front of her like bait on a hook. Begging her to take a bite.

Her instincts were screaming at her, the words literally falling off the edge of her tongue. But the knowledge that she had to convince them to leave town was what prevented them from falling off the precipice.

"So you guys going to tell me why John's left you to fend for yourselves or what?"

"Oh come on." She continued when she saw them exchange looks. "Given I've just trauma dumped on you guys I think it's only fair you both tell me what you've been up to."

"We'd been hunting together for a few years and then he went on a trip." Dean spoke after a few moments. "And he didn't come back."

Trust Dean to include all the important details.

"That was when Dean came to get me from Stanford and-"

"Woah wait Stanford, as in Stanford University?" *yn* cut him off, her eyes growing wide.

"Uh yeah, I was studying law there."

"Sam that's amazing oh my god." *yn* breathed out, a grin spreading across her lips as she studied him.

"Thanks, I guess." Sam ducked his head down as a smile spread across his lips, unable to hide himself as her excited energy seeped into him.

"Don't be so fucking modest you dork." She laughed, "we always knew you were the nerd of the group."

She didn't miss the way Dean's small smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he studied his brother.

"John must have been really proud."

She instantly knew that she had hit a nerve when Sam's smile faltered, anger flashing across his features briefly before he regained his composure.

"Something like that."

Tension pulsated through the room as Dean pursed his lips at Sam's words. *yn* could almost see the wall go up between them.

Jesus what had she missed while she was gone?

"Anyway." Sam cleared his throat. "We went looking for him, to the town we knew he was working a job."

"No dad but there was a job. Spirit, nasty bitch too." Dean remarked, shaking his head and taking a deep drink of his beer at the memory.

"Dean dropped me back home and when I got there-" Sam looked down, a lump in his throat as he felt a rush of heat, like those flames were still licking at him, burning him from the inside.

"Jess, Sam's girlfriend, she was uh- well- she died just like our mum did."

A pregnant pause filled the room. *yn* blinked rapidly as she tried to process the information.

"Like, the exact way-"

The boys nodded solemnly.

"Fuck." She exhaled as she studied Sam. She fought the urge to reach over and take his hand.

"Jesus Sam, I'm so sorry."

"Thanks *yn*." A sad smile flitted across his features. He was unable to hide the anguish in his eyes. She knew he blamed himself for his girlfriends death. He was a Winchester, they were masters of self flagellation.

"Ever since then we've been trying to find dad."

"So what, he just took off without a word and you haven't heard from him since?" *yn* found it hard to believe that he would leave his sons without an explanation. Then again, it was John Winchester, he wasn't ever exactly going to win father of the year award.

"I've spoken to him, he gave me coordinates of another job." Dean answered her.

"That was it? No explanation of where he is?"

"That was it." No matter how good his poker face was, even Dean couldn't conceal the resentment on his face from her.

"We think he's got a lead on the thing that killed mum and that he doesn't want us involved." Sam explained.

"Right." *yn* nodded. "All the more reason for you to keep trying to find him then."

Dean's lips twitched, "trying to shake us already huh?"

"You are a pain in the ass..." She teased, "But it's not like that. I'd love for you to stay.. but you can't. It's not safe."

The mood visibly shifted. Dean's jaw tightened at her words, the veins in his hand protruding as he gripped the beer bottle. She could feel him shutting down already. So instead, she leant forward in her chair and locked eyes with Sam, praying that she could at least get through to him.

"Look, it won't take Klaus long to find out you're hunters. He probably already knows. And you two could be the best hunters in the entire fucking world, you still wouldn't have a chance against an original vampire."

She shifted her imploring gaze to Dean, swallowing the lump in her throat when he refused to meet her gaze.

"I've already lost my dad, I'm not losing you two." She twisted her fingers around each other as she tried to keep her voice steady and calm.

"You need to go and find your dad."

"Well that's ironic." Dean chuckled humourlessly.

*yn* frowned at his words. "What are you talking about?"

"He led us right to you."

"He's been leaving us clues - coordinates." Sam clarified when he saw her confusion.

"In his journal and stuff. There was a whole section on Mystic Falls, about all the mysterious animal attacks and missing persons."

"You think he knew?" Her question illicited a shrug.

"He knew something supernatural was going on. Hard to say if he suspected vampires."

She nodded, her mind was now racing even faster than it already had been. Not only did she have to worry about Klaus, but she also had to worry about word getting out in the hunter community about what was going on here.

"You have his journal?"

Sam nodded. "I'll go get it."

All she could do now was see what sort of information John had collected, what was available for hunters to find that would lead them to the town.

Dean wordlessly fished out his keys and handed them to Sam. His green eyes locked with hers as he did so, and *yn* swore he could read her mind in that moment.

She pushed the chair back, letting it scrape loudly on the wood. She could feel Dean's eyes still on her as she disappeared from view to pull open the storage cupboard under the staircase that led up to the second floor.

The shoe box was in plain sight. She reached up on her tippy toes and plucked it from the top shelf. Stepping out from underneath the stairs allowed her to examine it in the natural light.

It was tattered from age, the nike logo faded and discoloured. A layer of dust encased it. It was heavier than she remembered.

She placed it down gently onto the dining room table. Dean looked at her quizzically as she pulled off the lid. Particles of dust launched at her face, almost as if they were angry for being disturbed after so long.

"I saw you looking at my photos on the fridge." She spoke as she pushed the box towards Dean.

"You think I don't have photos of my dad, of you."

She watched as Dean brought the box closer to himself and peered inside.

"I didn't want to have to explain who any of you were to people who asked."

It also pained her to look at them.

He pulled out a stack of old photographs as she sat down once more. Her eyes never left his face, trying to gage his reaction as he sifted through the grainy faces.

A genuine smile spread across his lips as he chuckled. His mood did a 180. "Holy hell, I forgot how dorky you and Sammy were."

He flipped the photo around and sure enough there was a photo of a young Sam Winchester and *yn* Kitson.*yn* felt her cheeks flush as she snatched the photo from his hand for a closer examination.

Sure enough, there stood her and Sam, cheesy grins on their faces, dressed in matching Star Wars costumes. Sam as Luke Skywalker and *yn* as Han Solo. It was clear that the costumes had been made with whatever was available, her dad's belt nearly dwarfed her entire midsection and the pants were rolled up to her ankles so she wouldn't trip.

Despite her horror, she couldn't help but let out a giggle. "Christ, letting me go out like that has got to be considered some form of child abuse."

Dean chuckled as she placed the photo back down onto the table. "I remember you literally begging me to borrow my vest for that stupid costume."

"You should have said no, you would have been doing me a favour."

"And miss out on the opportunity to reminisce on your dorkiness years later? Hell no."

She shook her head, unable to wipe the smile off her face as Dean continued to sift through the photos.

"Oh my god."

"What?!" She was up and out of her chair, rounding the table to get a look at the photo that had made Dean's eyes bulge.

"Oh my god." She echoed as she slid into the chair beside him and peered over his shoulder.

"That is criminal." She gasped.

"What's criminal?"

The two twisted around in their seats to see Sam standing in the doorway. They glanced at each other before bursting into laughter.

"What? Show me!" Sam demanded as he stormed forward.

"Hey!" Dean protested as Sam reached over and plucked the photo from his hand. "I wasn't finishing admiring that."

*yn* covered her mouth, trying to suppress her laughter as she watched Sam study the picture.

"Oh my god." His face grimaced in disgust. "Burn this please."

"No, you look cute!" She protested.

"Cute is not the word I would use." Sam grumbled as he came to sit opposite them.

"Yeah sorry *yn*, gotta agree with Sammy on this one." Dean grinned as he reached over and grabbed it back from Sam.

"Dorky, loser, nerd, comes to mind though."

*yn* couldn't stifle her laughter any further as she looked at the photo once more.

It was a probably 10 year old Sam Winchester, his fringe even thicker and curlier then it was now, his two front teeth missing as he grinned wildly. He was holding some sort of science project in his small hands.

"Not much has changed in the dorky department."

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean. "What like you wouldn't have some embarrassing pictures in here?"

"Me? Pfft please, I never went through an awkward phase."

This time it was *yn*'s turn to roll her eyes.

"Yeah right."

"I was too busy with all the cheerleaders to go through one."

Spurred on by his words, she leant forward and flicked through the photos. A very young Dean Winchester, hair plastered up into an obnoxious quiff and gleaming with hair gel, wearing a leather jacket far too big for him, was beaming back at her. Her lips curled into a devilish grin as she plucked the photo from obscurity.

"You may not have gone through a dorky phase Winchester, but you definitely went through one just as embarrassing." She held it up triumphantly, dodging Dean's grasp as she held it out for Sam to take.

Sam let out a bark of triumphant laughter as he studied the photo, clutching his chest as he threw his head back in a dramatic fashion.

"Oh c'mon, I'm sure it's not even bad."

"Hm, I'd call using what looks like a whole tub of hair gel to style your hair pretty bad."

*yn* snickered at Sam's words.

"Give me that." Dean grumbled, snatching the photo from Sam's hand.

"Dude this is not even that bad." He protested, although *yn* didn't miss the way the apples of his cheeks turned a slight pink.

"Wasn't this his James Dean phase?" *yn* queried. Sam let out a howl of laughter.

"Oh my god how could I forget about the James Dean phase." Sam could barely get his words out as he laughed. "He'd pretend that lollypop sticks were cigarettes."

Dean's cheeks turned pinker. She almost felt sorry for him.

Almost being the key word.

"And remember that little walk he'd do."

"Hey, the man's a legend alright." Dean protested as they both burst into a fit of giggles.

"He's the definition of cool. Style. Class."

*yn*'s brows raised at Dean's words, biting her lip to stop the giggles escaping as he glared at her.

"I still think it's embarrassing." Sam remarked.

The brothers continued to bicker as *yn* resumed flicking through the photos. Her fingers stilled when her dad's smiling face suddenly stared back at her.

She was wrapped in his burly arms, her pudgy fingers clasping his neck. Pink bow in her wispy hair. A toothless smile and bright eyes aimed at him. She would have been no more than 2.

Grief hit her like an unexpected tidal wave.

She blinked as she felt hot tears prick at the corners of her eyes. The pad of her pointer finger brushed over his sun worn features. The werewolf inflicted scar on his left temple.

Dean's eyes involuntarily darted to her. He went to turn his attention back to Sam when he noted the tightness of her features. The veins in her hand were revealed from her grip on the photo. He recognised the emotion on her face instantly. One that he was all too familiar with.

"So where's your aunt?"

Her eyes met his, widened from the surprise of being snapped out of their focus. They softened almost instantly, and for a moment there was a look of gratefulness on her face. Like she understood what he had done. In a blink her face morphed into one of unreadability. It happened so quickly Dean almost doubted he'd even seen it at all.

"My aunt?"

Dean frowned at her question. "The one you said you lived with? Is she at work or something?"

"Oh. Right."

Her eyes darted between the two brothers. She may be good at hiding her emotions, but Dean was better at seeing through it.

"*yn*."

"She uh, she's... well, she's dead."

"Dead?" Dean balked. "What do you mean dead?"

"Like... the tomb vampires got out and she died of an 'animal attack' sort of dead." Guilt was written all over her features as she spoke.

Two bewildered expressions stared back at her.

"It's ok.. really! It wasn't that sad, it was a while ago and to be honest she was kind of the worst so-"

"I'm not worried about you being sad, I'm worried about who the hell has been looking after you all this time."

Annoyance flashed across her features, "I don't need anyone to look after me."

"Who lives here?"

"Me."

"I mean, who else lives here?"

"No one."

"No one? So you live here all by yourself?"

"Yes, that's what I meant when I said I live here."

Dean and Sam exchanged bewildered glances.

"I'm at Elena's most of the time, I pretty much live with her."

Now it all made sense. The dust. The lack of furniture. Why it felt like no one really lived here. Because no one did.

"So you don't have a guardian? Any sort of parental figure?"

*yn* bristled at his questions. She was starting to become quite irritated.

"Ric is my guardian technically, Elena and Jeremy's too."

"Ric? As in the former vampire hunter we saw drinking with your vampire boyfriend last night? Yeah, sounds like a great role model."

"Dean." Sam warned.

"What? I'm merely stating the facts."

"I thought we were passed the whole judging, making assumptions, just being an asshole in general thing."

She held his gaze. Her eyes glowering with annoyance. She radiated stubbornness. It made Dean falter.

"I'm only asking because I care about you."

Her resolve wavered, a crack in her mask appeared that allowed Dean a glimpse. He saw a flicker of sadness.

"You have a funny way of showing it."

The shrill voice of Taylor Swift rung out through the room, preventing Dean from a response. She really had to change that ringtone.

*yn* avoided Dean's intense gaze as she fished her phone out of her pocket and glanced down at the caller ID.

"Excuse me." Was all she muttered before pushing out of her chair.

She didn't answer until she was upstairs with the door shut. "What do you want?"

"Well hello to you too." She could hear Damon's amused smirk through the phone.

"This better be good, you're interrupting precious bonding time." She grumbled as she flopped onto her bed.

"Things going that well with dumb and dumber huh?"

She huffed at his question. "All I'm going to say is I hope it went better for you with Ric's doctor friend than it is for me right now."

"Yeah funny you mention that, I'm just leaving his flat now."

She frowned, "Why?"

"To check if there was a bunny on the stove." As he spoke she picked up her childhood toy and sat it onto her chest. Buffy the plush pink horse stared back at her unblinkingly.

"That bad huh?"

"She vervained me when I accused her of killing her ex boyfriend, then the little psycho blood jacked me."

"She what?" *yn* sat upright. Buffy tumbled down the side of the bed. "Are you ok?"

"Fine, just a little miffed. Although, somewhat pleased I got to say 'I told you so' to Ric. Just as I predicted. Diagnosed psycho case."

"Great, just what we need."

"Yep, add it to our list of never ending problems." Damon drawled, "I was actually calling to see how it was going on your end with your second favourite set of brothers."

In that moment a memory surfaced. She snatched it before it could disappear once more. As he spoke she swapped the phone to her other ear and hastily leant over to pull open her bedside table draw.

"I think I'm making progress." She rifled through the stacks of paper and trinkets. She froze as her fingers found its target.

"Well that's something."

She pulled it out, hidden deep in the drawers depths. She plucked it out like a prize. A treasure amongst trash.

"Keep me updated, yeah?" She could faintly hear Damon's question on the end of the line.

"Will do." *yn* heard herself mumble as she twisted back onto her back and stared up at the photo.

"I gotta go. Talk to you later." And with that she snapped her phone shut and tossed it onto the bed beside her.

She held the paper up in her hand, stretching it above her head so the ceiling framed it. A photograph. A special one, kept apart from the others in the box in the room below her.

Luke Kitson, *yn* Kitson, Sam, Dean and John Winchester all beam back at her. The only photo of the five of them together. A perfectly dysfunctional family.

She smiled softly, letting the pads of her fingers glide over the young faces. Frozen permanently in time. None of them held a clue as to their fates. Where they would be in 8 years time. She wished she could somehow transport herself into that photograph and stay there forever.

Her anger towards Dean fizzled. Like it always did. She traced his grainy features with her fingernail.

She knew then that she had to do whatever it took to keep them safe. Even if it meant biting her tongue and quelling her anger. If it meant stretching the truth so they felt safe enough to leave her here and go on their way.

She let out a shaky breath as she pressed the photo into her chest, clutching it like she still did with Buffy when she couldn't sleep.

"I promise I'll keep them safe dad."

Sam turned to look at Dean once they heard a door shut above them.

"Oh don't give me that look Sammy."

"What look?"

"The little disappointed puppy look you've managed to master."

"You could have been a bit nicer."

"Oh come on!" Dean threw his hands up in the air. "The girl's living in a house all by herself in a town full of vamps, you expect me to be happy about this crap?"

"No, and I'm not happy about it either, but acting like this isn't exactly going to help things."

Dean muttered under his breath, leaning forward to press his elbows into his thighs so he could run his hands over his stubble.

"What the hell are we supposed to do?"

There was a static pause as Sam studied him before answering. "I think we should do what she says."

"You want us to leave?" Dean blinked dumbfounded.

"Look, if what she says is true, we stand no chance defeating these.. original vampires or whatever they're called. It'd be a suicide mission." Sam answered him, lowering his voice as he spoke.

"If we find dad we can get his help to come back and stop this."

Dean shook his head. "So what, we're supposed to just leave her here? With these-" He cut himself off, his eyes darting to the stairs before looking back at Sam. "These monsters?"

"I don't think we have a choice Dean."

"She could come with us."

"And what? Sit in a hotel room while we go work jobs? C'mon. You know that would never happen. It's pretty clear she wants to stay."

Dean frowned, rubbing his stubble stressfully as he racked his brain for another solution. There was a part of him that wanted to grab her and throw her in the back of the impala and drive away with her. But he knew he could never do that. He could never take away her freedom, her choice. Besides, she'd probably scratch his eyes out if he even tried.

"The longer we stay here the harder it's going to be to find dad."

Dean's eyes narrowed as he looked up at Sam through his long lashes. "Is this about finding dad to help *yn*, or to get to him before he kills whatever killed mum and Jess?"

Sam flinched at Jess' name. His lips thinned into a firm line.

"We have a chance to kill the son of a bitch Dean. I'm not losing that. Not for anyone."

There was his answer. Dean sat up in his chair and leant back, his forehead creased as he studied his brother.

This wasn't the Sammy that he knew. The doe eyed, puppy like Sam Winchester who wanted to help everyone and anyone. No, this was a Sam Winchester who had a hard shell casing beginning to form around him. One that was driven by revenge and bitterness. One that was much too like John and Dean Winchester.

But despite all that, Dean knew his brother was right. They had no choice. If they stayed, they might all end up dead. At least this gave them time to reconvene and plan.

"Fine." Dean relented. "We go find dad, kill the son of a bitch, but then we are getting our asses back here and getting *yn* out."

"Deal." Sam nodded.

"But we ain't leaving until I give her at least some basic training. Who knows when she even last held a damn shotgun."

The staircase creaked before Sam could reply. The two sat up, trying to look as natural as possible as *yn* wondered back into the kitchen.

"Sorry about that, it was Elena." She spoke, waving her phone in the air before sliding it into her pocket. She seemed to return to the room in a much better mood than when she had left it.

"Everything ok?" Sam asked her, a smile on his features.

*yn* glanced at him before looking over at Dean. A strangely friendly smile was also on his lips.

"Yeah, just friend drama." She answered as she slid into her chair.

Each party seemed to be in a much friendlier mood, but the other could not quite work out why.

Her eyes landed on a photo amongst the pile, a genuine grin spread across her lips as she pulled it towards her.

Bobby Singer stared back at her, a rare smile on his face. A five year old *yn* Kitson sat beaming on his lap.

"Do you guys still see Bobby?"

Fondness washed over her at the memory of the grumpy older man. He'd always had a soft spot for her, and her for him.

"Yeah of course." Dean nodded.

"Hey, when this business is done with our dad why don't we swing through here and pick you up and we can all take a road trip to see him?"

*yn* looked up from the photo in surprise. Her eyes flickered to Sam who was nodding encouragingly.

"That sounds like a great idea." He agreed.

She glanced between them, trying to decipher what they were trying to say. "Does this mean you're leaving?"

"Yeah, well we talked about it and we think you're right. It's probably safer for everyone if we go." Sam was the one to answer her.

Her lips parted in surprise. Dean could tell that she had not thought it would be that easy. She turned to look at him and he could tell that she was reading him, trying to find the hidden motive behind their unexpected decision.

He did his best to keep smiling. If she could read him, she did not let on, a smile instead spreading across her lips. One that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"There is just one condition though." Dean finally spoke up.

"What's that?"

"Self defence training." *yn*'s brows shot up to her hairline.

"Self defence training?" She echoed. An amused smirk spread across her lips when he nodded.

"What? Don't think I can handle myself Winchester?"

"Just want to make sure you haven't gotten rusty that's all." He shrugged. There was a glimmer in his eye as they studied each other.

"Well we wouldn't want that, would we?"

A twig snapped underneath Dean's boot. A raven cawed in the distance.

"You sure no one's around?"

The two brothers stepped into the clearing that *yn* had directed them towards.

"Yeah, Ric, Elena and I come here all the time to train." *yn* answered from behind them. A loud thump made them swivel around.

"What the hell is that?"

The two brothers looked down at the duffle bag *yn* dumped down at their feet.

"Things I defend myself with."

They watched as she bent down. The teeth of the zipper parting echoed through the woods, bouncing off the old trees.

"What are we looking at right now?" Dean queried, his brows raised as he watched her pull out a shot gun.

"Well this one is loaded with wooden bullets, excruciating and a pain in the ass to dig out." She chucked it onto the grass.

"This one shoots mini daggers." Another thud.

"This is a vervain grenade."

Thud.

"Oh and this crossbow is pretty handy too."

Thud.

"And I think that's all I've got at the moment, Ric has some more back home."

She glanced up expectantly when she got no response. Their jaws were slack as they stared at the weapons laid out in front of them.

"You made these?" It was Sam who finally broke the silence.

"Yeah, I mean Ric thought of most of 'em but I helped... fine tune the final products I guess you could say." She picked up the shotgun, popping it open with ease and glanced down into the chamber.

Sam raised a brow and looked over at Dean. He didn't need to verbalise his thoughts. It was written all over his face. "What was that about her not being able to hold a shotgun?"

Dean shot him a glare before clearing his throat, "well that's all very impressive but sometimes we don't get the opportunity to grab weapons."

*yn* eyed him sceptically as he took a few steps back to move into the centre of the clearing.

"What about your hand to hand?"

She tried to hide her smirk as she placed the shot gun on the ground. She rose to her feet and dusted her hands off on her jean shorts.

He didn't need to know that Ric had been training her and Elena for months. Or that she never stopped training, even after her dad died.

He shrugged off his leather jacket and dumped it onto the ground, leaving him in a grey t-shirt. It was loose, except for around his biceps that bulged as he tensed. Her eyes darted to his hands, watching them curl into fists. His rings gleamed back at her.

She swallowed and forced herself to move her eyes back to his face. The last thing Dean Winchester needed to see was her checking him out.

She stepped forward so she was only a few metres from him.

"You know vampires have super speed and strength right? I don't think this sort of training is going to be much use."

"Just humour me." He answered her, a small smirk twisting up onto his lips. There was that gleam in his eye again. Challenging her. Provoking her.

"I wanna see what you're made of Kit."

Kit.

It felt like eons since someone had called her that.

"Hurry up Kit!"

"Put your back into it Kit."

"That's my little Kit."

"I love you Kit."

The nickname unlocked so many memories from her past. It didn't even feel like the nickname belonged to her. Like it was someone she'd known in her past life.

It felt so foreign to her ears that her brain took a moment to process it.

"C'mon Kit, what are you waiting for?"

Dean's voice brought her back down to earth. This time, the nickname nestled into her ear and made itself home again. It sparked something in her. A determined look settled onto her features.

Dean's eyes sparked when he saw her face morph. He held back his grin as the pair began to circle each other. They danced around each other, both of them holding their breath to see who would make the first move.

The snap of a twig was all it took. *yn*'s eyes must have shifted for no more than a few seconds. But it was all the time Dean needed to lunge forward and take her by surprise.

She stepped back and moved to curl her knuckles into a fist but he was already on her. Calloused hands gripped her forearms and twisted her around. She grunted as a knee pressed into the backs of her legs causing them to involuntarily buckle.

He used his bodyweight to push her down onto her stomach, twisting her arms and pinning them to her back in one fluid movement. She squirmed under his firm grip but she knew it was pointless. She was trapped, like a fish in a net. A fly in a spiders web.

She let out a grunt of frustration as she tried once more to writhe out of his strong grip. She could almost feel the rumble in his chest as he chuckled. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as a rush of warm air puffed onto the shell of her ear.

"Just as I thought, rusty." His voice was deep and amused. She gritted her teeth as he released her from his grip, chuckling to himself as he watched her get up onto her feet. Her breath was slightly ragged as she locked eyes with him, her jaw clenched.

Her ringtone blared through the woods. She tore her eyes from Dean and hurried to her bag. Damon's name illuminated the Caller ID. Her finger hovered over the accept button. She stole a glance at Dean who was already studying her intently. She flipped her phone shut.

"You don't need to get that?"

"Not important." She answered as she flicked it to silent and shoved it into the depths of her bag.

She rose to her full height and marched back into the centre of the clearing.

"Again."

After an hour, her body was aching and bruised. It was screaming at her to give up. And she might have done, if Dean hadn't just lunged at her for what must have been the 12th time and finally left his stomach exposed.

She stepped forward and punched him square between his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. She jumped on the opportunity instantly, kicking his feet out from underneath him. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, she pushed him to the ground and straddled his torso. A wild grin spread across her lips as she pinned his arms above his head.

Victory was hers. Finally. There was a triumphant look in her eye as his body stilled underneath hers, admitting defeat.

A smirk appeared on his lips as his hands settled on her thighs. His chuckle sounded like gravel. He winced as she intentionally pushed down onto the area of his stomach where a bruise was already starting to form.

"Well played Kit."

The praise affected her more than it should have.

She felt her cheeks flush as the pair locked eyes. The pad of Dean's thumb brushed against her skin. It left goosebumps in its wake.

"I'm spent." Sam groaned from behind them.

She finally broke eye contact, ducking her head down as Dean's hands flew from her thighs.

"Can we have a break now?" She asked as she rolled off him and glanced over at Sam.

"Please." Sam agreed as he collapsed against a tree. He seemed oblivious to the interaction that had just occurred.

"Great." *yn* rose to her feet and began to stretch her aching limbs. She could hear Dean getting onto his feet behind her.

"These weapons really work?" Dean spoke after a few moments of silence stretched through the clearing.

He had her crossbow in his hand. "Yeah, they've been useful before."

"And this one shoots stakes?" He brought it up to rest on his shoulder.

"Yeah, that ones a personal favourite of Ric's." *yn* answered as he watched him settle on a tree as a target. One eye closed as his finger rested on the trigger. Then he pulled.

There was a whoosh as a blurry figure snaked past her. The stake never found its target. It was stopped by a hand. A gaudy ring waved back at her. As did a smirking Damon.

"Uh oh, vampire not staked."

She blinked and he was gone. Firm hands gripped her shoulders before the stake had even hit the ground. A hard body pressed against her.

The band of the gaudy ring that was staring back at her only seconds ago was now pressing into her throat. Her face was guided to the side, exposing her skin. Fangs lightly scraped the side of her neck.

"Pretty girl gets killed instead." He murmured, his lips only millimetres from her skin. His fangs brushed her as he spoke.

Her face flushed and her heart pounded against her ribcage. This was so not the reaction she should be having to this encounter. She was certain Damon could hear the way her pulse was pounding. All she could do was hope that he assumed it was out of fear.

"You guys gotta work on your hunting skills."

*yn* knew how it looked, how Damon intended for it to look in front of Dean and Sam. But what they didn't see was how gently he had shifted her neck. How he had just brushed his thumb along the curve of her skull, almost in a way to communicate that he wasn't going to hurt her.

Dean's face had hardened as he aimed the crossbow at Damon.

"Alright ease up cowboy." Damon raised his hands in mock surrender but didn't make an attempt to move from behind *yn*. His makeshift shield.

"I'm just trying to make this training exercise as realistic as possible."

"Dean it's ok." *yn* reassured him. "This is just Damon's sick idea of a joke." She sneered.

Dean's eyes darted between Damon and *yn* for a few moments before he reluctantly lowered the crossbow. She could see Damon's smirk widen.

"You think my humour is sick? Why thank you."

She rolled her eyes and shoved him off her.

"You're an idiot."

He grinned at her as his fangs slid back into his gums and the veins under his eyes shrunk.

"What are you doing here?" She asked him before he could open his mouth again to spew out another taunt.

"You weren't answering your cell."

It was an accusation, not an explanation.

"I turned it off." His eyes narrowed at her answer.

"I need to talk to you." He glanced over at Dean and Sam, "in private." She rolled her eyes once more but nodded.

"And remember boys, special vamp hearing if you wanted to have a little gossip session about me while I'm gone." He turned and shot them an obnoxious wink.

She didn't wait for a response from Sam or Dean before she grabbed Damon's arm and dragged him off into the woods.

"Oh come on *yn*, why so grumpy." He teased. She gritted her teeth and finally came to a stop once they were out of ear shot of the boys.

"You rocking up with your fangs out isn't exactly going to help me convince them that they should leave me here, is it?"

This time it was Damon's turn to roll his eyes. "Alright I'm sorry, I was just having a little fun."

She sighed and folded her arms in front of her chest. "How's it going with them anyway?"

"Good actually, they've agreed to leave town."

"Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Huh." Damon nodded, his lips pursed, "probably good timing actually."

"And why's that?"

"Well... I sort of had a run in with Klaus."

"What? What happened?" All annoyance directed towards Damon flew out the window.

"He got the coffins back."

"Shit." She cursed under her breath. "So we're all screwed then?"

"Well... I did manage to hide one before he got there."

She blinked in disbelief. "The locked one?"

"Yep." He popped the 'p' as he nodded. "Let's just say he wasn't too pleased with me."

"So we still have leverage." She breathed out, "that's good. Although he's probably going to be twice as murderous now."

"Oh, I think he's going to have bigger things to worry about for a while."

Her eyes narrowed at his words, "and why's that?"

A smirk twisted up onto Damon's lips as he leant into his jacket pocket. She took a step back, her eyes widening at the object.

A white ash dagger stared back at her.

"Is that...?"

"You bet it is."

"Damon what the hell did you do?"

He shrugged. "I thought it was time for a brotherly reunion."

"So you're telling me we've now got two original vampires running around Mystic Falls?"

"Elijah hates Klaus. Wants him dead."

"We thought that the last time and look what happened."

Damon huffed. "This is different, Klaus broke his promise and stuffed him into a wooden box. The dudes pissed. And if Elijah's pissed, it means we have a chance to get him to work with us to finally put a stop to Klaus's little tirade."

*yn* sighed and folded her arms in front of her chest. "You better be right about this."

"When am I ever wrong."

She shook her head, a ghost of a smile spreading across her lips as she looked away. Her eyes involuntarily dragged back into the direction of Sam and Dean.

"You want to get back to your training Kit?"

The nickname falling from his lips made her jerk her head back at him.

"That is what they call you, isn't it?"

"Were you spying on me?" She hissed.

"I had to find you from the sound of your voices. I didn't have a choice but to listen in." He shrugged innocently. If looks could kill, he'd be very much dead right now.

"I did arrive in time to see you tackle hero hair 2.0 to the ground."

"Are you done?"

"It was kind of hot."

She felt her cheeks begin to burn.

"Alright now I'm done." He grinned. "I'll leave you to it, gotta go tell the baby brother my genius plan."

She watched him take a few steps before he suddenly turned back around to face her. All traces of humour had left his face. She jutted her chin up to look at him as he marched towards her.

"Don't put your phone on silent again." A breath caught in her throat as he raised a hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. His gaze had softened as he studied every inch of her face.

"I hate worrying that something's happened to you."

In a blink he was gone.

"Fuck." She murmured under her breath.

*yn* spent the time it took reaching the clearing to collect herself and push thoughts of Damon to the back of her mind. By the time she reached the boys, she was the perfect picture of calm and normalcy.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah." She nodded, "friend drama."

Dean nodded. She knew that he didn't believe her.

"So-" She cleared her throat. "Do you guys want to keep training?"

"It's getting kind of late actually, we should probably get going soon." Sam answered her.

She felt her heart plummet to the ground. She knew that they had to go, but she wasn't ready for it. They'd just got here. They were just starting to reconnect, to mend those bonds that had eroded over the years.

Even though she was practically limping from their training session, it had been some of the most fun she'd had in a long time. Giggling as Sam and Dean bickered, or trying to contain her laughter when she'd accidentally kneed Sam in the groin. It felt so natural. So familial. Almost like her dad was about to pop out and call them in for dinner like he used to all those years ago.

Surely it wouldn't hurt if they stayed just a little while longer. Like Damon had said, Klaus was distracted.

"Why don't you guys stay the night?" She suggested, glancing between them hopefully.

"We could grab some dinner and then you can head out in the morning."

The boys exchanged dubious glances.

"C'mon you can sleep at mine, I'm sure you must be sick of motel beds."

That seemed to be what tipped them over the edge.

"Alright that sounds good, thank you." Dean spoke, shooting her a tight lipped smile.

A grin spread across her lips, "great! Let's get something from the grill. I think it's burger deal night." She spoke enthusiastically as she picked up her duffel bag.

"Ooh! I call shotgun!" And with that she hurried off towards the impala, leaving the boys trailing after her.

"We're not playing any Taylor Swift." Dean called out to her as she neared the car.

She rolled her eyes, "I know you don't actually hate her."

"Oh really? And how do you know that?"

The car lock clicked.

"Because no one actually hates Taylor Swift. It's impossible."

Dean muttered something under his breath as the three of them piled into the impala. Sam's knees were practically up to his face as he forced himself into the back. Dean slid the key into the ignition.

"Do you still have that ACDC tape your dad used to play all the time?"

Dean's fingers froze in place. He turned to look at her.

"You still listen to ACDC?"

"Yeah. Of course I do. Why do you think I chose the name Young?"

Dean thought he might pass out as realisation hit him. "Like as in Angus Young...."

"Yeah..." She looked at him puzzled. "Do you guys still not use those sort of fake names?" She glanced over her shoulder at Sam.

"Yeah we do it's just..." Dean trailed off, bringing her attention back to him.

"Anyway-" He cleared his throat, "I have it, it's already in."

His answer made her smile grow wider. "Well what are you waiting for Winchester?"

He shook his head in disbelief before twisting the key in the ignition, letting the impala rumble to life. He pressed a button and the beginning of Back in Black started to blare through the speakers.

Sam internally groaned.

"Now that's what I'm talking about." She leant back in her seat and kicked her feet up onto the dash as Dean pulled out onto the road.

Sam's brow raised when Dean didn't say a word. If that had been him, he'd have been told to get out and walk.

Dean grinned and began to tap his fingers along the leather of the wheel, his head bobbing in time.

"Back in black, I hit the sack - come on Winchester!" She exclaimed when she didn't hear Dean's voice, hitting his chest playfully.

Sam blinked in disbelief as Dean began to join in, the pair of them shouting at the top of their lungs. Dean cranked the music louder.

"Oh my god." Sam mumbled to himself.

"There's two of them."

I really love this part - don't worry though there's gonna be soooo much drama coming up hehehe <333 As always, feedback would be super super appreciated and you can give it back HERE!

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#a hunting trip #dean winchester #damon salvatore #supernatural #tvd #the vampire diaries #supernatural dean #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester oneshot #dean x reader #reader x dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x you #spn #spn fanfiction #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural oneshot #damon salvatore imagine #damon salvatore oneshot #damon salvatore fanfiction #damon x reader #damon salvatore x reader #the vampire diaries damon #damon salvatore smut #dean winchester smut

[aylacavebear]

She Thought She was Normal

So, this isn't my first fanfic, but it's one I've been working on for over four months now. It is the first one I'm sharing with more than just my family though, something I've never done before. It does have 28 chapters so far, and it isn't finished yet. I'm always up for suggestions and constructive feedback, either in comments or DMs.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will eventually be 18+!

Story Summary: Maria really thought she was normal, for most of her life. It was normal for people to have natural talent, she would tell herself the older she got. Many things came easy for her, and that was probably how their rivalry began when she was five and he was seven and she met the Winchesters. Little did either of them know that it wouldn't stay like that forever, both having a far larger destiny than they could imagine.

Word Count: 4054

Warnings: Trauma - Family Death, First meetings, childhood rivalry

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

Chapter 1 - In The Beginning

She woke up screaming in the passenger seat of her dad's truck, it was dark, and her father was driving them to her Uncle's. The nightmare was still clinging to her vision. 

“You okay, munchkin?” her father asked.

“Yeah, Daddy, just a nightmare,” she answered, trying to catch her breath. 

Her mother had just been killed by a yellow-eyed demon in their home and now, they were just trying to get somewhere safe to deal with the grief. 

Maria was five, her parents were hunters, and her mother was dead due to the demon that had been after Maria. She had deep, dark blue eyes and jet-black hair that went down to the middle of her back, the birth signifiers of the Winter lineage. Her father was a Men of Letters, she was a Legacy, even if she didn't fully understand what that meant yet. She was also something else. She'd heard her father on the phone once, talking to Bobby, and the word Nephilim had been said, although she was too young to know what that meant.

There was silence for a while on the drive, as she didn't want to have nightmares again, “Do you think mamma went to heaven?” she asked her father quietly, curiously. 

He sighed, “I hope so munchkin.”

His words didn't help her feel better, but even with being five, she understood that there was no guarantee where her mother had ended up. She stayed awake for another hour before sleep retook her; this time, there were no nightmares.

Bobby had been up for hours, setting up the guest room the best he could for her after William had called him explaining what happened. He was on his fifth drink when he heard Williams's truck pull up in front, it now being three in the morning. William carried her inside as Bobby held the door open.

“Guest room is all set up,” Bobby sighed as he closed the door.

William nodded as he carried her there, tucking her in under the covers, and then kissed her on the forehead. He then closed the door behind him and joined Bobby in the living room, sitting on the couch. 

Bobby handed him a drink, “You're going after it, aren't you?”

William sighed, “Wouldn't you?”

“You should talk to John, he's after the same demon, might have some information that could help,” Bobby offered.

William sighed before downing his drink, “I haven't talked to him in a couple years now.”

“You're hunting the same thing, Will,” he replied, glancing towards the hallway to where Maria was sleeping, “How's she doing?”

“About how you'd expect,” William replied, “Can you keep up her training and education for while I'm gone? It'll be at least a couple weeks.”

“Yeah,” Bobby sighed.

William only stayed for another ten minutes before he headed out. Bobby felt bad for both of them and he hid his grief for the loss of Alarra, Maria's mother, and William's wife. Hell, Bobby had introduced Will to his sister, Alarra, so many years ago. He didn't go back to sleep that morning after Will had left. Instead, he read over the journal that Will had left for him. It contained Maria's training and education, as well as an outline of what Will and Alarra had wanted to teach her and when. Bobby sighed as he read through it, especially when he noticed the entry from a week before where her powers had begun to manifest. There were only a select few who knew what Maria was, Bobby, John, and Ellen being the main three since Ellen and Alarra had been like sisters. 

Maria woke up a few hours later, still in her clothes from the night before, finding Bobby sitting at his desk reading a book.

“Hi…” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“Mornin kid, how you doing?” he asked, looking up from his book.

She sat down on the couch, staring at the floor, and shrugged her shoulders, “Mom's gone…. It's weird, knowing that…” she replied, feeling disconnected from everything at the moment. 

“You want some breakfast?” he asked, not wanting to push her if she didn't want to talk about it.

“Did Dad leave my bag?” she asked, ignoring his question. 

Bobby sighed, even at five she seemed stubborn, but also needing routine, “Yeah. It's on the kitchen table.”

“Thank you,” she replied before getting up.

Her parents had gotten her into a routine and she was well-behaved for being five. She grabbed the bag off the table and went back to her room, closing the door behind her. She did her few morning stretches and exercises, as her parents had taught her, and even went over the movements with the silver knife her parents had given her. Maria pulled out a fresh pair of clothes and changed, putting her dirty clothes in a bag before stuffing that bag into her duffle. Then she proceeded to brush her hair, fighting with the memories of her mother teaching her how a year ago. She then slipped on the headband before cleaning her brush and putting it away. After a deep breath, she slipped her shoes back on before heading into the kitchen. Bobby was already there, making her some eggs and toast, with some bacon on the side. She sat down at the table and waited patiently, just watching him cook. She'd met her Uncle before and both her parents had spoken highly of him. She wished that this meeting was under better circumstances. 

“Thank you, Uncle Bobby,” she told him kindly.

“You're welcome, kid,” he replied, then sighed.

He wasn't sure if it was the fact that she was a girl, a Nephilim, or how Will and Alarra had raised her as to how well-behaved she was. He'd figured she'd be emotionally broken after losing her mother the day before, but for now, she seemed numb to everything, at least to him. He finished her breakfast and set it in front of her before heading back to his desk, needing to do some research for a friend who'd called him two days prior. She ate her breakfast in silence. The eggs were plain, as Bobby hadn't seasoned them with anything, and the toast was close to being burnt, but she didn't say a word about it, being grateful for a home-cooked meal and not something from a gas station. She thought about how she could talk to him about it since she had a feeling her father hadn't said anything. When she was done eating she scooted the chair over to the sink and washed her dishes, then cleaned up. Maria went and brushed her teeth before joining Bobby in the living room.

“Thank you for breakfast, Uncle Bobby. What was the lesson on Dad's list for today?” she asked him, not ready to give in to the grief she was still pushing away.

He sighed before he sat back in his chair, “Demonology and then practicing cursive.” 

“Will you be quizzing me after?” she asked.

“Well, I agreed to this, so yeah, I'll quiz you after,” he replied.

“Thank you again, Uncle Bobby,” she replied, getting up to retrieve the book from her bag, along with her cursive journal, which she had just begun a few days prior.

She seated herself at the kitchen table, setting her journal to her right with the Demonology book opened in front of her on the table. She read for two hours before she worked for thirty minutes on her cursive. Afterward, handing the book and journal to Bobby, and then sat down on the couch. He nodded his head while he looked over her cursive and almost couldn't believe she was only five, then had to remind himself that she was also a Nephilim or something close to that. He looked over what she had read and quizzed her on it. Even when he deliberately tried to trip her up, she was respectful when she corrected him and then gave him the right answer, which he couldn't help but smile proudly at her.

She took her books back to her room, putting them away before she practiced the moves her father had taught her, helping to increase her muscle memory. She also added to it a bit with the moves her father had recently shown her. Maria still didn't want to stop though, not wanting that pause to where her memories might begin to replay in her mind. She didn't want to see it, to hear the screams, feel the pain of her loss. She slipped out of her room and grabbed the closest book she could without her Uncle seeing her as he was focused on his own research. She sat on her bed and read, for what felt like hours before there was a knock on her door. She slipped the book under her pillow before he opened the door.

“Lunchtime kid,” Bobby told her as he opened her door, “There's a sandwich on the table. After lunch, we're gonna take a trip for some food for while you're here.”

“Okay Uncle Bobby, and thank you,” she replied, following him out of her room. 

Maria ate the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, not happy that it was strawberry, but ate it anyway. She cleaned her dishes before grabbing her jacket and following her Uncle out to his car. Halfway through the ride, she finally broke the silence. 

“So, do you have a list?” she asked, looking over at him.

“It's in my head,” he told her.

She wasn't quite sure what to say or how to ask about what he was getting without sounding rude or intrusive so she just looked out the windshield. Bobby wasn't entirely sure how to interact with her as he never had kids of his own. He parked near the front of the store and the two of them got out of the car. She walked over to him as he came around the tail end of the car, reaching out to hold his hand. It startled him, but he just smiled down at her. She let go of his hand when they reached the front of the store as he grabbed a cart. As they walked through the store, she watched him put things in the cart, making a mental note of the items. 

“Uncle Bobby, would it be okay to get some grape jam?” she asked, curiously. 

He thought for a moment and glanced at the items he'd already had, “Sure. Is there anything else specific you'd like?” he asked her.

He figured asking might help her be able to be more comfortable while she was staying with him. She smiled up at him and made sure to only ask for things she knew she was allowed to have, knowing her father would ask her about everything when he returned. When they made it to the checkout and loaded everything on the counter he glanced at the candy bars.

“Would you like something sweet? You did really good today,” he told her with a soft smile.

For a moment, his words surprised her, as she didn't realize there was another way to behave when in public, but looked over at the candy, “This one, I guess,” she replied, handing him a Reese's package that contained two of the chocolate and peanut butter cups.

Bobby smiled down at her as he put the candy with the other items but asked the cashier to leave it out, as he wanted her to be able to eat it in the car.

“Bobby? Bobby Singer? Is that you?” a female voice behind them asked, causing them both to turn around and look at her.

“Sheriff Mills. Good to see you, this is my niece, Maria,” he told her as the two shook hands.

Maria looked between the two of them for a moment before feeling comfortable enough to say anything, “Nice to meet you, ma'am.”

Her manners and respect surprised Jody, “Hi there. It's nice to meet you as well. How old are you?” she asked in a soft, kind tone.

“I'm five,” she replied.

“Well, you're a very sweet little girl for only being five,” she replied kindly to Maria.

Maria smiled a little but tuned out the rest of their conversation, not wanting to hear what might get brought up. She instead went over and helped put the groceries in the cart again once they were bagged, again, impressing Jody.

“Everything okay with Will and Alarra?” Jody asked Bobby.

He sighed, glanced at Maria, and then back at Jody, “Alarra was killed last night, in a bad accident. Will had to leave to deal with the legalities of everything,” he explained.

“That poor girl,” Jody whispered, watching her put another bag in the cart, “How long is she staying with you?”

“Should only be a couple weeks but you never know how long these things take,” Bobby answered. He had to keep the demon part out of the conversation. Jody didn’t know about any of that stuff, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“Well, I’m here, if you need any advice on anything,” she told him with a soft smile.

“Thanks, Sherrif. I might take you up on that,” he chuckled.

Bobby bid her goodbye, and the two went back to his house, eating the candy bar her Uncle had gotten her on the drive. When they got back, Maria helped bring in the groceries and put away what she could reach. He double-checked the schedule her father had left but she was already grabbing her books from her bag so she could work on the afternoon work.

The next two weeks were like this. She kept to her schedule, sneaking books from her Uncle's collection and making sure they got put back where she'd found them, her Uncle never the wiser. It was a Wednesday of the third week while she was sitting at the table, working on her cursive when she heard her father's truck pull up in the driveway, but she also heard another vehicle. She was supposed to sit there for another ten minutes but her curiosity and happiness got the better of her. She set down her pencil and headed outside, running over to her father who was halfway to the door, wrapping her arms around him.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed.

“Hey munchkin,” he said, smiling as he picked her up, spinning her around, making her laugh. 

He set her down, and she had to catch herself due to being a bit dizzy, but she was still laughing as an adult man, and two boys, one who looked older and one who looked younger than her, walked up. William took her hand and led her inside as she looked over her shoulder at the three of them for a moment, then turned around to watch where she was going. 

“Finish your cursive and we'll do introductions,” William told her before he went into the living room with Bobby, the three others following him. 

She did notice the two boys looking over at her as she sat back down at the table, picking up her pencil to do as her father had said. That ten minutes felt like forever to her. She hadn't felt like she didn't want to do her schooling before, not like she was now. When she did finish, she took a deep breath before grabbing her books and taking them to her Uncle, as he had been the one who'd been doing her schooling. He quizzed her on her reading as the others stayed silent, listening. He even tried tripping her up, to which she respectfully corrected him and gave him the right answers. He looked over her cursive and smiled at how she was progressing. She smiled happily and put her books away before returning to the living room.

“Maria, this is John Winchester and his boys, Dean and Sam,” William told her.

“It's nice to meet you, Sir,” she said to John, utterly respectful, “And you as well, Dean and Sam.”

John, as well as the boys, were impressed with her respect, “It's nice to meet you as well, Maria,” John told her with a proud smile, “Why don't the three of you go be kids outside for a bit, and keep an eye on Sam.”

She knew the adults wanted to talk about something that probably had to do with her mother, so she just nodded and headed outside, Dean and Sam following. Maria took note of how Dean took his younger brother's hand and walked at his pace, so she slowed down to walk at his pace. There was some awkward silence between Dean and Maria for a bit when she finally said something once they were further out in the scrap yard. 

“Are you learning how to hunt too?” she asked, nonchalantly. 

The question surprised Dean a bit, but he decided to act cool, “Yeah, what of it?”

“Just curious,” she replied, tilting her head slightly. 

Dean wasn't sure what to think for this girl. She wasn't like any other girl he'd met before, as she was the first hunter's daughter he'd met. Maria went over to Sam, who was three, and began playing with him, getting him to laugh, a lot, an infectious, playful laughter. All Dean could do was watch her and how she interacted with his younger brother, in a way he couldn't. He may have been seven, but something about this girl intrigued him. It was clear she was being trained to be a hunter; she was respectful, but she hadn't stopped finding ways to bring laughter to people, at least to his brother, even with what had happened to her mother only two and a half weeks prior. 

After a bit, Dean got an idea, “Hey, bet I could throw a rock further than you,” he said, a slightly competitive tone in his words. 

She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow from where she crouched in front of Sam, “Bet you I could not only throw further but also hit my target.”

Dean kept the confident expression, but he began second-guessing himself, seeing her confidence, “You're on.”

Dean picked a car that was around a hundred feet away and put an X on the side of the door. She smirked, “Your challenge, you go first,” she told him, turned to the side, gesturing to the car, still keeping her eye on Sam.

He swallowed, hard as he picked up a rock from the ground, testing its weight as he tossed it in the air a couple of times before he took aim and threw it at the car, hitting the far side of the X he'd drawn, which made him smirk. She just chuckled, then went and picked up the same rock he had used. When she got back to where he was standing, she noticed his puzzled look.

“Well, this way you can't blame it on the rock,” she told him with quite the sass and a smirk to match before she turned and chucked the rock, hitting the X dead center. She knew there were things she could say, but he father had taught her better than to gloat, “Maybe next time we see each other, we can do this again,” she smiled kindly.

Dean was practically speechless. There were too many things about this girl that surprised him, and being seven, all he could do was punch her in the shoulder, which only made her laugh a little before she went back to playing with Sam, leaving Dean to his thoughts. 

About an hour later, John came out and told them to come inside. Maria took Sam's hand and led him back into the house, Dean following behind them. John smiled seeing the sight, silently calling William and Bobby over to see it as well. The three men just smiled, watching the kids as they came back toward the house. Dean went over and held Sam's other hand and made Sam smile and giggle, causing both kids to smile down at him.

“Well, if anything happens to us, hopefully, they'll have each other,” William said.

“Those three are welcome here anytime,” Bobby said, having quite a soft spot for them after the time he'd gotten to spend with his niece.

John and his boys stayed for dinner, which Maria helped Bobby with. 

“At least they get along,” William told John, glancing at Dean who was sitting in a chair watching Bobby and Maria as they cooked.

“That’ll be a bonus,” John replied.

“Bobby suggested we team up since we’re both after the same thing,” William stated, sipping his beer.

“It’s not a bad idea,” he replied, “It would make things easier. Two heads are better than one.”

William chuckled, leaving out the monster joke, “Yeah. Plus it might give the kids some time to be kids,” he sighed.

“Did you have another lead, to head toward after here?” John asked, looking over at him.

“Yeah, two states over. We’ll get that demon, John. One way or another, we’ll track it down, for the kids’ sake at least,” William told him, sounding more confident than he felt.

“Dean,” John said, causing him to look over at him, “Will and I are gonna work together, so they’ll be coming with us. Behave yourself.”

Dean rolled his eyes and John gave him a look, which made him straighten up, “Yes sir,” he replied, quietly but quickly losing the attitude.

He wasn’t pleased about now having to share a motel room with a girl, especially her. Yeah, she was somewhat interesting but at the same time, she was still a girl and girls were annoying. Dean wanted to ask why she couldn’t just stay with Bobby. He wanted to complain but he knew better than to argue with his father once he’d decided something.

Bobby made burgers with Maria standing on a chair, learning, Dean watching her from the living room, which was not being done discreetly. Bobby let her flip the burgers when it was time, as well as put the cheese on them when they were ready. In another pan he had bacon going, explaining the different levels of crispness. She was completely fascinated and paying attention. 

“Dean, how do you like your bacon?” she asked, knowing he was watching her.

Dean got embarrassed, “Cooked?” 

The adults laughed at the interaction but Maria just shook her head a bit as she helped set the table when the food was done. William was proud of his daughter with her constant thirst for knowledge. The schedule he'd made out for her was more for her than for him, as he still wanted her to be a kid sometimes too, not just focus on learning everything she could and grow up too fast. He loved seeing how she interacted with Sam earlier that day.

“So, John and I are gonna team up for a while, since we're after the same thing. This will make things easier,” William explained to Maria.

“Okay Pappa,” she replied, looking up at him.

It didn't bother her. She had enjoyed spending time with Sam, although she found Dean slightly annoying. She wouldn't say that part to her father though, knowing that would be rude. It was clear to Maria that her father and John had spoken to Dean in the living room while she'd been helping her Uncle with dinner since he hadn't been addressed during dinner.

“Will my lessons continue like you had scheduled?” she asked her father after she finished her burger.

“Yes. And I'll check it when I am at the motel, so it will be a little different than it is now,” he told her.

“Okay, Pappa,” she replied.

Part of her was going to miss the quizzes after her reading, but she knew it happened sometimes, depending on whatever case her parents worked. Although now, her mother was gone. Something she still hadn't grieved for. She'd even managed to keep her nightmares at bay, reading one of Bobby's books before bed, which he still didn't know about and she was going to miss that. Once dinner was done, Maria helped with clean up, and John had Dean help as well, to which he didn't argue. 

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

Chapter 2

Link to the master list for this story.

#supernatural #dean winchester x oc #Dean Winchester x femaleOC #nephilim #sam winchester fanfiction #spn fic #SPN FANDOM #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spnfandom #spn #spn au #supernatural series #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural fandom #supernatural oc #supernatural fanfic series #supernatural au #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #nephilim fanfiction

[babeydollx]

Bad Girls Don't Get To Cum

❀ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: smut, daddy kink, punishment, edging, p in v, unprotected sex

❀ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

❀ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: In which Dean punishes Y/N by edging her.

❀ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This is my first fic trying out this new kind of layout. I may add gifs or photos/collages but for now they may be blank. I may still go back and edit the rest of them but idk yet seems like a lot of work lmao.

© Maybanks-Luver 2023, please do not steal, copy, modify, repost, or translate my work.

You whimpered and whined as Dean flipped you over onto your stomach before thrusting into your abused pussy once again. He had been edging you for hours. You knew that by doing what you did that you would end up getting some type of punishment, you knew you were suppose to obey the rules but, you'd rather be a brat instead.

"I- fuck- please, Dean!" You moaned out as his cock thrusted into you hard and faster, the tip hitting that spongey spot deep inside of you. "Dean? You know that's not my name, princess." Dean said with a smirk. You whined as he continued to fuck into your abused hole. "Come on, say it." Dean growled. "Fuck! Please, daddy!" You moaned out loudly.

"Atta girl." He said with a devilish smirk as he smacked your ass roughly. You kept begging and begging Dean to let you cum, your begs eventually becoming inaudible when you became a moaning mess for him. "You want daddy to let you cum, is that what you want, baby?" He asked with a smirk. You just nodded quickly. "No, no, baby.. you know we use our words." He said.

"Shit! Yes, I want daddy to let me cum! Please let me cum, daddy!" You moaned out loudly, almost yelling and screaming. "Well, tell me this, do you think naughty little sluts deserve to cum?" He asked with a growl as he smacked your ass hard once again, the skin already stinging from his first attack on your ass. "Please! I'll be a good girl for daddy, I promise! Please!" You begged him more.

"Who owns this pussy?" Dean asked. "You do, daddy!" You said as you moaned out loudly. "Who fucks you better than anyone else?" He asked. "Still you! O- only you!" You yelled. "Damn right." He said with a growl as he picked up the pace even more. "Come on, cum, cum for daddy." He said.

With that your eyes rolled back, your whole body was trembling as the coil inside of your snapped causing you to gush all over your boyfriend's cock. Dean continued to fuck your cunt hard and fast, the feeling of overstimulation setting in now. Your eyes began to water a little as your walls fluttered around his hard cock causing him to cum now, shooting his load deep inside of you causing his seeds to cover your gummy walls.

Dean slowly pulled his cock out of your cunt once you both came down from your orgasms. You laid there on the breath sticky, sweaty, and breathless. Dean laid down beside you and he was also catching his breath as well. "Did I go too hard?" He asked softly as he gently removed some hair out of your face that was sticking to your forehead. "No, I love it." You said with a grin as you leaned in and kissed him. "Mm.. I love you, Dean." You said with a warm smile. "I love you too, Y/N." He said with a grin.

Author's Note: tysm for reading! <3

#supernatural #dean winchester #d. winchester #deanwinchester #dean #winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester x f!reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #smut #supernatural smut #dean smut #dean winchester smut #smut warning #smutwarning #smut warnings #smutwarnings #jensen ackles #j. ackles #jensenackles #jensen #ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x female reader #supernatural cast #supernatural cast smut

[gcthvile]

An Unholy Alliance

Couple: Felicia MacLeod (OC) x Dean Winchester

Fandom: Supernatural

Warnings: none

Summary: A hunter and a demon are forced to work together, yet again. But this time working as a team awakens sparks between them despite his reluctance.

Felicia huffed as she looked out the passenger window of the Impala. Of all people, her dimwit brother had to assign her to work with Dean Winchester, she's already lost count of how many time Crowley did that to her, at this point, she was starting to think he was doing it on purpose. This man was more annoying than helpful in her opinion.

As they drove down the rural road towards their latest case, Dean's eyes kept flitting between Felicia and the road. "Let me get this straight, Crowley actually expects us to work together?"

"Don't look so pleased about it, darling." Felicia replied boredly, examining her nails. "It's not like I want to be stuck with you either."

"Good, cause hunting with a demon is bad enough, but you again? No thanks." Dean scoffed.

Felicia rolled her eyes. "You're no picnic either. At least tell me about this case so I know what I'm wasting my time with."

Dean briefly summarized the case - mysterious disappearances and strange attacks in a small town. Several witnesses claimed to see strange glowing eyes in the dark.

"Sounds like our run of the mill shapeshifter then." Felicia mused. "Should be simple."

"Don't get cocky. We don't know enough yet." Dean warned as he pulled up to the local motel.

A smile played on Felicia's lips. "We'll see about that darling. You go check us in. I'll start interrogating the locals and get us some real leads." Without waiting for a response, she flashed out of the car. Dean grimaced. This was going to be a long case.

Felicia flashed into the busy street outside the local diner. Her smoky gray eyes scanned the patrons through the large front window. There, in a corner booth, sat two young women gossiping over coffee. Perfect targets.

In an instant she was inside, sliding smoothly into their booth with a sly grin. "Ladies, you don't mind if I join do you? I couldn't help but overhear you discussing the strange goings on in this town. I'm new here and desperately seeking some insight."

The women exchanged a nervous glance. "Who are you?" Asked the brunette warily.

"Where are my manners? Name's Felicia." She purred, reaching across the table to shake their hands in turn. Both women visibly shuddered at her touch, but didn't pull away. Good, her demonic allure was already working on them.

"I'm Claire, this is Jess." The brunette replied hesitantly. "What do you want to know exactly?"

Felicia tilted her head, eyes flashing darkly. "Tell me everything. No details too insignificant. I want to know it all."

Claire launched into the reports of missing hikers and campers in the nearby woods. As she spoke, Felicia casually traced patterns on the back of Jess' hand, keeping the blonde enthralled. By the time Claire finished, Jess was practically salivating.

Felicia smirked. "Fascinating. You've been most helpful." She dug a scrap of paper from her pocket with her room number scribbled on. "If you think of anything else, don't hesitate to stop by."

With a wink she slid smoothly from the booth, satisfied with the first leads for her and her reluctant partner to investigate. Now back to the motel to scheme.

Felicia flashed back to the motel, finding Dean just entering their room. "Well that was quicker than expected." He commented, throwing his duffel on one of the beds.

Felicia sauntered in behind him. "What can I say, I work fast. Already have us a few leads too."

Dean raised a brow skeptically. "Do tell."

Flopping back on the other bed, Felicia recounted what she had learned from the girls. Dean listened with a frown, not looking pleased about her interrogation tactics.

"So the woods are our first stop. I say we start tracking at dusk, better chance of stumbling on any monsters that way." Felicia proposed.

"Or we could talk to the sherriff first, get the official reports." Dean countered.

Felicia groaned dramatically. "You and your proper procedures are no fun, Dean. The girls were much more willing to share than some stuffy cop." She flashed him a mischievous grin. "Don't tell me you're not at least a little intrigued by my methods?"

Dean huffed. "Your methods involve scaring innocent civilians half to death. We do this my way."

Rising from the bed with a huff, Felicia sauntered over to invade his space, looking up at him through her lashes. "Don't be like that, darling. I know you love it when I get us answers fast." She purred, running a finger along his chest.

Dean scowled, batting her hand away. "Knock it off. No flirting is getting us out of seeing the sheriff today. Now come on before I leave you behind."

Felicia pouted as Dean stormed out. Maybe working with the hunter wouldn't be as fun as she hoped, but that just meant she'd have to try harder to get under his skin.

Dean slammed the Impala door as he slid into the driver's seat, grumbling under his breath. Felicia slid into the passenger seat with a smirk.

"Aww don't be like that, Squirrel. I was just having a little fun with you." She cooed.

Dean started the car with more force than necessary. "Well knock it off. I'm not interested."

Felicia pouted dramatically. "You wound me, darling. Most men are putty in my hands. What's it gonna take to crack that hard exterior of yours, I wonder?"

Dean glared at her as he pulled out. "You know, working with you would be a lot easier if you'd actually help the case instead of screwing around."

Felicia rolled her eyes. "I told you, I already got us solid leads. But if you're so determined to waste time with the sheriff..." She trailed off suggestively.

Dean ignored her insinuation. "Information is only useful if it's verified. Now are you going to behave yourself at the station or do I have to put you on a leash?"

Felicia grinned wickedly. "Kinkier than I expected, Dean. You sure know how to show a girl a good time." Dean groaned in frustration. This was going to be a REALLY long afternoon.

They pulled up to the station. As Dean got out, Felicia flashed to his side, hooking her arm through his with a flirty smile. "Lead the way, partner."

Dean sighed heavily but didn't protest, resigned to a lot of disapproving looks from the cops. This case was off to a great start.

Dean pushed through the doors of the police station, Felicia still clinging smugly to his arm. All conversation in the room stopped as eyes turned to take in the unusual pair.

A grizzled officer behind the desk glowered at them. "Can I help you folks?"

"I'm David, this is Fiona. We're here about the disappearance cases." Dean replied professionally, showing the fake badges.

The officer eyed Felicia warily. "You FBI?"

Before Dean could respond, Felicia flashed her most disarming smile. "Private investigators. But don't worry, we can be very... discreet." She purred.

Dean elbowed her sharply. "Ignore her. Can you tell us what you've got?"

The officer sighed and launched into the details. Felicia listened intently while subtly caressing Dean's bicep, just to watch him twitch in annoyance. According to the reports, eight hikers and campers had gone missing over the past month in the forest surrounding the town. All left camp in the evenings and were never seen again.

"Anything useful in the woods?" Dean asked once the report was finished.

The officer shook his head. "Search parties found nothing but shredded clothes and a lot of strange tracks we couldn't ID."

Felicia perked up. "Mind if we take a look at what you've got? A fresh pair of eyes might notice something new."

The offer was clearly reluctant but the man nodded, leading them to an evidence room in back. Felicia gleefully released Dean's arm to pore over photos and articles left behind.

After a moment, she straightened with a curious look. "Dean, take a gander at these tracks for me."

Dean made his way over to where Felicia was examining the photos of strange tracks found at one of the crime scenes. He peered down, furrowing his brow as he took them in.

"What am I looking at?" Dean asked gruffly. "These could be from any number of animals."

Felicia tilted her head with a sly smile. "But you and I both know there's more out there than mere animals, wouldn't you agree?"

Dean shot her an annoyed look but had to concede the point. After years hunting the supernatural, he'd seen his fair share of creatures leave strange traces.

Felicia's smile widened at Dean's hesitation. "My thought exactly. See how the toes seem elongated, almost talon-like? And the spacing is off for any normal predator." Her eyes glinted with excitement. "I'd wager we're dealing with a rugaru."

Dean brows raised in surprise. Rugarus were nasty creatures, homicidally hungry for human flesh. If Felicia was right, they were in for a nasty fight.

"It's just a theory." Dean cautioned. "We'll need more evidence before we go charging in."

Felicia rolled her eyes. "Always so cautious. When was the last time one of my theories led us astray?" She held his gaze temptingly. "Admit it, you're starting to enjoy working with me."

Dean huffed, looking away. "Don't get ahead of yourself. We still work better apart." Yet he couldn't deny her idea seemed plausible. Against his better judgment, he was beginning to appreciate her unique skills and instincts. Not that he'd ever tell her that.

Felicia smirked, sensing Dean's resolve weakening. "You say that now, but I know you'll be singing a different tune once we take this rugaru down together."

Dean sighed wearily. "Let's just focus on getting more proof first, okay?" He turned to leave the evidence room.

Felicia flashed in front of him, blocking his path with a wicked grin. "Eager to get back to the case, are we? I like a man with focus." She traced a finger along his chest teasingly. "Though I must admit, I enjoy distracting you even more."

Dean gripped her wrist to still her hand, meeting her eyes with an unreadable expression. For a moment they stood frozen, electricity seeming to crackle between them.

Then Dean releases her slowly. "Stop messing around. We've got a job to do." Yet as he walked away, Felicia swore she saw the faintest twitch of a smile.

She followed, feeling unusually triumphant. Maybe winning over the righteous man wouldn't be so impossible after all. By the time they ganked this rugaru, she'd have him wrapped around her little finger.

"So if it is a rugaru, we'll need to lure it out of hiding." Dean mused as they exited the station.

Felicia paused, struck by inspiration. "Actually, I may have a better idea. One that involves considerably less risk to us and a lot more fun." She flashed Dean a wicked grin. "Care to play bait, darling?"

Dean eyed Felicia warily. "What kind of plan involves me as bait?"

Felicia smirked. "The fun kind. All we need to do is leave a tempting trail back to where we've set a trap. The rugaru won't be able to resist fresh meat." She traced a finger down Dean's chest. "And what better bait than a big, strong hunter?"

"Oh no way. I'm not letting myself get eaten just so you can have your thrills." Dean argued.

Felicia rolled her eyes. "Please, like I'd let it get that far. I'll be lurking invisibly the whole time to jump in and save you at the last minute." She ran her hands up his arms suggestively. "You'll be in perfectly safe hands, I promise."

Dean still looked doubtful. Felicia leaned in close enough to feel his breath on her lips. "Trust me darling, it'll be fun. I'll make it worth your while..."

She knew he was moments away from caving. Dean might try to resist her charms but they both knew he'd crack eventually. Before he could respond though, Felicia's head jerked up at the sound of screams echoing through the trees.

"Looks like our rugaru found another victim first." Felicia said seriously.

Dean nodded, slipping into hunter mode. "Let's move. You lead the way and I'll cover our backs."

Felicia flashed him a quick wink before flashing away, senses stretched out to track the distressed cries for help. Dean revved the Impala and tore after her trail of sulfur smoke. It was showtime.

The sounds of struggle grew louder as they closed in on the source. Felicia appeared to Dean, grabbing his hand. "This way, it's just ahead."

Together they burst into a small clearing to find the rugaru bearing down on a cowering teenage boy. Without hesitation, Dean raised his pistol and fired a shot that tore through the monster's bicep. It howled and whipped around to face the new threat.

The rugaru snarled at Dean and Felicia, blood dripping from its wounded arm. Felicia smirked, drawing her own weapon - a wicked looking blade encrusted with demonic symbols.

"Looks like dinner's cancelled, big guy." She taunted. "How about you pick on someone your own size instead?"

With a roar, the monster charged. Felicia met it head on with a fierce battle cry, diving into hand to hand combat with seemingly reckless abandon. But Dean knew from experience she was always several steps ahead.

While the rugaru was distracted swiping at Felicia, Dean circled around behind and took aim again. This time his bullet found its mark between the creature's massive shoulder blades. It howled and fell to one knee, giving Felicia an opening to deliver a killing stroke across its throat.

Black ichor spurted as the rugaru collapsed dead at their feet. Felicia flashed Dean a triumphant grin, hair and clothes splattered with viscera. "And that's how it's done, darling!"

Dean allowed himself a faint smile in return before turning to check on the traumatized teen. "You okay, kid? Think you can make it home alright?"

The boy could only nod mutely, still in shock. Dean gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder before ushering him off into the trees, keeping watch til he was out of sight.

When he turned back, Felicia was giving him a look of naked appreciation. "Not bad teamwork, if I do say so myself. Tell me that wasn't at least a little fun, Dean."

For once, Dean didn't argue. Saving civilians and taking down monsters - that was what he lived for. And he had to admit, working with Felicia had its perks too when they weren't at each other's throats. Against his better judgment, he flashed her a crooked grin.

"Maybe you're growing on me a bit, she-demon. Don't let it go to your head though."

Felicia threw her head back with a delighted cackle. This partnership was really starting to heat up.

Felicia smirked, beyond pleased with how the night was progressing. Victory always tasted sweeter when shared with a handsome partner.

"So now that the case is solved, what do you say we go celebrate our success?" She slid closer to Dean, running her knife along his collarbone teasingly.

To her surprise, Dean actually chuckled. "Normally I'd say you're buying the drinks. But considering you're related to Crowley..."

Felicia pouted playfully. "You wound me! I'll have you know I can be very generous when properly motivated."

"Is that so?" Dean regarded her thoughtfully. "Alright then, demon, you're on. One drink, your treat. But then we part ways for good."

Felicia raised a brow. So he was willing to indulge her after all. This was going even better than planned.

She flashed them away in a burst of sulfur, reappearing inside a rowdy bar in a seedy part of town. Dean stared around in mild surprise as Felicia dragged him to the counter.

"Two of your finest whiskey, bartender!" She cried theatrically. The bartender slid them over warily, eyeing Felicia like she might blow the place sky high.

Dean gave a bemused snort and raised his glass in a toast. "To surviving another day."

Felicia clicked her glass against his. "And to many more hunts together in the future."

Dean choked on his sip at that, coughing as Felicia cackled. But when he met her gaze again, his eyes held a glint of amusement rather than irritation.

Maybe working with the she-demon wouldn't be such a chore after all. Stranger things had happened in Dean Winchester's life. And Felicia was nothing if not entertaining.

hope you guys like the fic!

@jackiequick @missstrawbs2001 @blueboirick @cherrysft @gaminggirlsstuff @meiramel

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #supernatural oc #supernatural x oc #dean winchester x oc

[bitchinfawkseh]

Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 15

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Summary: While on a case in Ohio, Cheryl's attempts to seduce Dean become increasingly more frequent.

W.C: 13326

Warnings: Gambling, sexual themes, heavy flirting, death, and violence.

[A/N] writing smut is my strong suit if you can't tell.

Masterlist | AO3

Cheryl pushed her sunglasses up to sit properly on her nose, and she smiled wide as they rolled to a stop in front of Bobby's house. “Oh, Carlos! You'll love Bobby. He's just great.” She gushed. Carlos let out a humorous snort and pulled his keys out of the ignition. “Yeah, you said that about Dean too.” 

“Don't start, Carlos. He's nice and I like him.” 

“You like him? Like – have a crush?” 

“Um… well, sort of I guess.” Cheryl shrugged. “I'm trying to figure out how to ask him out… and I’m in a bit of a time crunch so if you have some tips that'd be greatly appreciated.” She said as she hopped out of the truck. Carlos ran a hand through his hair and slammed the truck door shut, immediately sticking his hands into his pants pockets once they were free. “Just grab his dick and ask him to fuck, that'll make him swoon.” He said dryly. 

“Shut the fuck up,” She hissed as Sam and Dean sauntered towards them from the Impala parked in front of them. 

“What you guys talkin’ about?” Dean asked with a mischievous grin. Carlos stared down at him as if he were a pest – vermin. “You.” He answered. Cheryl's eyes widened comically and her jaw went slack. Of course, he wouldn't lie – of course, he'd tell Dean that they were talking about him. “I –” Her eyes landed on Bobby who was descending the porch steps – her saving grace. “Bobbyyy!” Cheryl cheered, pumping her fists in the air. “I brought you a Delgado heir!” She yelled. She gestured towards Carlos and gave a curt bow as if she were a medieval peasant presenting the Duke. 

Bobby's brows shot up and he had a grin that stretched ear to ear. “Hey! Cheryl! You're all right! How have ya been?” 

“Oh, you know. Been as okay as I can be.” She chuckled. Cheryl tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and glanced up at Carlos who joined her side. “Bobby, this is Carlos Delgado. The man I was married to, he is the son of Isabela and Danny.” 

Carlos extended his hand towards Bobby, “Pleased to meet you, sir. I've heard good things.” He smiled politely. Bobby enveloped his hand and gave it a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Carlos. You look just like your Mother.” He said. 

“Oh. I know. It's her fault I'm so tall.” He laughed. He pursed his lips together and glanced down at Dean, “But, you know, it's a blessing ‘cause I can put this lil’ guy in his place.” 

Dean's eyes narrowed as Bobby laughed at his “joke,” but Cheryl linked her arm with his, catching his attention. “Don't mind him,” She whispered. Dean raised his brows and peered down at her, ignoring Sam's eyes pressing into the back of his head. It was so obvious that he was staring at them – he could feel it. Cheryl then grinned, “You're a big guy compared to me, and I like big guys.” 

Dean smirked, “Oh yeah? Well–” 

“Let's go inside, Dean.” Sam cut off as he brushed past him, purposefully knocking against his shoulder. He reluctantly unhooked Cheryl's arm from his and sent her an apologetic look. She dismissed it with a subtle smile, “Oh, don't worry. We can chat later, when we're alone.” She said innocently before skipping off to join Carlos and Bobby as they headed inside. Dean was left there starstruck. She was definitely flirting with him – no doubt about it. And – she wanted to talk to him alone. He hoped it meant what he thought it meant. 

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Bobby sat at a desk, inspecting the Colt which was taken all apart with a magnifying glass before glancing at a drawn diagram of its parts. Dean was working on melting some metal into bullets, they were hoping that this would be a good substitute for the demon-killing bullets. 

“Hey,” Sam said as he entered the room with Cheryl trailing behind him. Dean glanced up, his lips parting as his gaze settled on Cheryl. “Hey, what's up?” He asked. 

“We overlooked Bobby's notes, it looks like there are some omens in Ohio. Dry lightning, barometric-pressure drop.” Sam explained. 

“Well, that's thrilling.” Dean scoffed, shaking his head. Cheryl plopped down on the couch next to Carlos and leaned into his side. Carlos wrapped an arm around her shoulders as if it were natural and continued to read one of Bobby's books on tombs. “Plus, some guy blows his head off in a church and another goes postal in a hobby shop before the cops take him out. Might be demonic omens.” Sam added, glancing back at Cheryl and Carlos. He had to do a double take, his brows furrowed in confusion and he slowly turned back to face Dean who was watching them intently. 

Dean wrinkled his nose and gritted his teeth before returning his gaze to Sam. “Or it could just be a suicide and a psycho scrapbooker.” He replied. 

“Yeah, but it's our best lead since Lincoln.” 

“Where in Ohio?” Dean asked, cocking a brow. 

“Elizabethville. It's a half-dead factory town in the Rust Belt.” Sam answered. Cheryl ran her fingers through her hair before peeling herself from Carlos’ side. Dean sighed sadly, “There's got to be a demon or two in South Beach.” 

She raised her brows in disbelief, “It's September.” 

He shrugged, “Hey, anything to see some hot chicks in bikinis.” Cheryl grinned and leaned down, urging her shoulders closer to push her breasts together. Dean's eyes darkened before they flitted down to peek at her cleavage. God, she is sexy. “You could just ask me to wear a bikini for you… have ourselves a private fashion show.” She purred lowly. He cocked his head to the side and smirked knowingly, acting as if they were in their own little world. “You know, I think I may take you up on that offer…” 

Carlos sighed and flipped over the page, beginning to read the next section of the book. “Cheryl, stop acting like a whore. It's impolite in front of our host.” Cheryl's head snapped over to him in an instant, her eyes blown wide. Then, she wrinkled her nose and walked back to sit on the opposite end of the couch. “I'm not a whore…” She murmured sadly, crossing her arms against her chest. “Of course, you're not,” He said without even looking up from the book that he was engrossed in. “Which is why I told you to stop acting like one.” 

Sam raised his brows and sucked in a sharp breath before turning his attention to Bobby who hadn't even seemed to notice what just happened. “How's it going, Bobby?” He asked, referring to the Colt. He smacked his lips together once and set the body down on the table. “Slow.” He replied. 

“Eh, I tell you, it's a little sad seeing the Colt like that.” Dean chuckled softly, shaking his head. Cheryl had to agree with him, it was sad seeing the Colt taken apart – useless. Bobby let out a scoff, “Well, the only thing it's good for now is figuring out what makes it tick.” 

“So what makes it tick?” Sam asked. Bobby's eyes narrowed venomously and he glared up at Sam, his nostrils flaring. Sam let out an amused laugh and raised his hands in resignation. Dean grinned and climbed to his feet, grabbing his jacket off of the back of his chair. “So, if we want to go check out these omens in Ohio,” He started teasingly. “You think you can have that thing ready by this afternoon?” 

“Well, it won't kill demons by then,” He smacked the butt of the gun against the desk, “but I can promise you it'll kill you.” 

Dean and Sam both laughed. They enjoyed pushing Bobby's buttons. His reactions were always funny. “All right, come on, we're wasting the daylight,” Dean said. He glanced over at Cheryl and Carlos and gestured for them to get up and get going. Carlos sighed and set the book on the table as he got up, then offered Cheryl a hand to help her up – which she gratefully accepted. “Thank you for having us, it was nice to meet you.” Carlos smiled at Bobby. 

“Yes, thank you for having us.” Cheryl nodded before following Carlos outside. Bobby raised his brows and glanced up at Sam and Dean, he pointed his pen towards them. “I like ‘em.” 

Sam let out a small laugh, “All right, see you, Bobby.” They both started to head out, both shrugging on their coats. Bobby's head shot up, “Hey! You boys run into anything – anything – you call me.” He called out. They nodded. 

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Cheryl grasped the little arm and twisted it, rolling down the window in the truck. It was too hot – so hot that her skin was sticking to the seat. “I want him to ask me out – but if I have to do it myself, I will.” She sighed. Carlos tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and glanced over at her. He assumed Cheryl had feelings for Dean because she talked about him a lot when they were apart, and because she looked at him like he was God himself. “I say just go for it, what have you got to lose? He's clearly into you.” He said. 

“Well – how do I know that he actually likes me – what if he only wants to sleep with me?” 

“Oh my God, you have issues…” He muttered under his breath. Carlos inhaled deeply before speaking again, “I'm gonna be real with you, he probably definitely does want to have sex with you. Badly. But – you know, considering how butt hurt he was about you leaving and that he asked you out before, he likely still likes you.” 

“You think so? Really?” She asked, her eyes full of hope. Carlos nodded and pursed his lips together, he wouldn't lie to Cheryl – especially about something like this. Even though he didn't like Dean, if he made Cheryl happy, he'd let him continue. “Oh yeah, you know, if you're so unsure you should try to get him goin’. Or – you know, make him jealous.” 

Cheryl's brows raised, “Jealous? How? Should I like – makeout with someone?” 

He shrugged, “I mean if you want to. But I think you should do something more subtle than that. You don't want him to think that you don't like him.” 

“He literally hooked up with a girl three days ago, which is why I'm so unsure if he likes me because if he did – why would he be hooking up with other women?” 

“Look, it doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't like you. White people are weird. Just take it as a guy having needs, doesn't mean he doesn't want you.” 

“Hm… okay…” She trailed off, rubbing her chin in thought. She stared out the open window, seemingly lost in her thoughts. Carlos’ words eased her worries greatly, but they were still there. 

~ 

Dean let out a loud grumble, sending a disapproving glare Sam's way. “We're just flirting – there's no feelings behind it, Sammy.” He said. Sam let out a bark of laughter and hunched forward, his entire body shaking – he was amused by Dean's words. “Dude! Are you being serious right now? You totally like her and she totally likes you! You looked like you were ready to kill Carlos when they barely cuddled on the sofa.” 

“No, I didn't! I don't care–” 

“Uh, yeah you do. You're all jealous because they were married and they're close.” Sam grinned. Dean clenched his jaw and gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles went white. His feelings were embarrassing. He felt all mushy and gushy when he thought about her – it was humiliating – it should be the other way around. 

“Okay! What if I do like her? So what? Nothin’ is gonna happen, my fate is sealed, I'm gonna die. There's no point.” He huffed. 

Sam's brows shot up “And you'd rather do nothing than have a few good months with her?” His eyes narrowed accusingly and then he grinned as he dawned on the realization. “You're scared.” He gasped. 

“What?! No, I'm not!” 

“You are! You're scared that she'll reject you!” 

Dean scoffed, “I don't get rejected.” 

“Okay – whatever. But I think you should tell her how you feel, she's pretty. She isn't gonna be on the market forever, Dean.” 

The thought of some other guy going out with Cheryl, kissing her, holding her – taking her to bed, was sickening. It was utterly ridiculous that he was getting this worked up over her, but he was drawn to her. Her looks, her personality, her spirit, her soul. Maybe there was some higher power at work here – maybe there wasn't. Dean knew what he wanted, and he wanted her. He wanted to be the guy to take her out, kiss her, hold her, and go to bed with her at night, and he'll be damned if he never even tried. 

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Dean set his bag on the floor and glanced around the room, chuckling lowly when he noticed a mirror on the ceiling above the bed. That would make for some good fun. Cheryl decided to sleep with them again, and she was even fine with having to share a bed (with him he hoped.) While he and Sam went to the Church, Carlos and Cheryl went to the motel to get a head start on some research. 

The door across the hall flew open and both Sam and Dean turned to see who was there. Dean's eyes widened, “Richie. I don't believe it.” He said in disbelief. The short stubby man wearing a Hawaiian shirt with the front buttons undone and a white fedora glanced up just as a tall blonde woman in a skimpy outfit joined him by the door frame. “Hey, Dean... Winchester, right?” He inquired. He seemed like he was doing some sort of fake Italian accent, it was quite obnoxious. Dean nodded and looked towards the blonde woman, watching as Richie handed her a wad of cash. “This is my, uh, sister. Cheryl.” He lied. Dean's brows shot up and he dragged his eyes up the woman's form. Long legs that were shown off due to her miniskirt and her small perky breasts that were noticeable because of her purple halter top. “Cheryl.” He repeated. He liked his Cheryl better. Richie shrugged and let out a little nervous chuckle as the blonde Cheryl strutted down the hallway. “Well, you know, step-sister.” 

Dean pouted his lips together and nodded slowly, scratching the spot above his ear. “Well,” He hummed. He stepped back from the door and pointed towards Sam. “Come on in. This is my brother, Sam.” He introduced. 

“Hey. How you doing?” Richie asked.

“Not too bad. How do you two know each other?” Sam questioned with a raised brow sent Dean's way. 

“You were in school.” Dean answered simply. 

“It was that succubus, in Canarise, right?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“Oh, man. You should have seen the rack on this broad. Fuckin' tragedy when I had to gank her.” Richie snickered. 

Before Dean could retort back that he in fact was the one to kill the succubus and not Richie, Cheryl's voice echoed in the doorway. “Oh sweet, I found you guys.” She breathed out in relief. Richie spun around with wide eyes and looked her up and down before smirking. “Well, who's this?” He asked flirtatiously. Cheryl's brows furrowed and she shot Sam and Dean a confused look. This guy was barely taller than she was – and he was already grating on her nerves with his flirting. Dean's eyes narrowed and he untucked his hands from his pockets. “That's Cheryl... My‐” 

“Girlfriend.” She interrupted with a cool smile. Maybe if she pretended to be Dean's girlfriend, this guy would back off. Sam and Dean clearly knew the man, she'd rather not have to put up with him and the endless flirting. 

She extended a hand towards the man and ignored Sam and Dean's shocked looks. “I'm Dean's girlfriend, Cheryl Jones. Nice to meet you.” She smiled coldly. Richie nodded slowly as if he were in disbelief and shook her hand. “Wow, Dean, you got lucky.” He marvelled, craning back to look at him. Dean glanced down at his feet to mask his grin, it felt a little surreal having Cheryl call herself his girlfriend. “Yeah, I did.” He admitted. When he glanced back up, his eyes met Cheryl's. She was staring up at him through her lashes intently like she was in a museum studying an art piece. Dean swiped his tongue across his bottom lip and tore his eyes away from her. “Richie, know what? I told you then and I'll tell you again – you're not cut out for this job. You're gonna get yourself killed.” He said, referring to the succubus case with Richie. 

Richie's phone started to chime in his pocket and he quickly picked up the phone. “Hey, talk to me,” He said. He raised his brows at Dean, “FYI Winchester – words hurt.” He turned away from them and Cheryl went to Dean's side. “Yeah?” He said to the person on the phone before pausing. “No, it's not a good time, babe, later.” He said. Richie flipped his phone shut just as Dean decided to play into his and Cheryl's whole dating thing, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to his side. “So you find anything in this town, anyway?” Dean questioned. 

“Ah, no. I got nothing. Oh, wait a minute. You mean as in demons and whatnot?” 

He nodded, “Yeah.” 

“No, I got nothing.” 

“What about your sister back there?” Dean asked teasingly with a cocked brow. 

“Oh, honestly? She definitely had the devil in her, but she wasn't no demon, you know what I'm saying?” Richie chuckled humorously. When nobody laughed nor even smiled, Richie wiped the proud grin clean off of his face. “Right. Seriously. Church guy, hobby-shop guy – they were lunch meat by the time I got there. Hey, maybe they were possessed, but I can't prove it.” 

“Yeah, that's where we are, too. You know, let's just say that demons are possessing people in this town. You know, raising hell.” Sam said as he side-eyed Cheryl and Dean. Their relationship status would have been confusing to him had they not had that conversation in the Impala. Dean's brows knitted together, “Yeah, but why would a demon blow its brains out?” 

“Probably just for fun, demons like to wreak havoc and it'd not affect it – only the vessel it possesses,” Cheryl explained. 

“Your chick's spot on, man,” Richie said. Cheryl's eyes narrowed venomously and she clenched her jaw, she was not something to have. And she certainly wasn't just a chick. “You mean Cheryl is spot on. I have a name. I am not just Dean's chick.” She spat before tearing free from Dean's side and marching off to the bathroom. 

They all watched as she locked herself inside, Sam was a little amused by Cheryl's call out, Dean was annoyed at Richie, and Richie was a little embarrassed. Dean inhaled deeply and his nostrils flared, “Anybody else left in the town that fits the profile – you know, nice guy turned douche, still breathing?” He questioned. Richie straightened his hat and smoothed out his button-up, still recovering from Cheryl's confrontation. “There's, uh, Trotter.” He replied quietly. 

“Who's that?” 

“Well, he used to be head of the Rotary Club. And then people say he turned a bastard all of a sudden? Brought in the gambling, the hookers. ... Ah, he practically owns this whole town.” 

“Know where we can find him?” Sammy said. 

“Oh, he'll be at his bar in a few hours.” 

~

Cheryl sat on the toilet hunched over, her breasts were pressed as flat as they could be against her thighs and she was breathing slow and deep. A knock sounded against the door again and she let out a groan. “What?” 

“It's me, Carlos. I have your clothes.” He said through the door. Cheryl practically jumped to her feet to unlock the door for him and ushered him inside. “Okay – are Sam and Dean outside?” She asked. 

“No, I caught them just as they were leaving for the bar. Sam let me in.” 

“Good! I need your help picking out an outfit for the bar, something that will make Dean's eyes bulge out of his head.” She mimicked the motions of her eyes bugging out by making circles with her fingers and placing them over her eyes. Carlos laughed and shook his head, “Hah! Just show up naked.” 

“I don't wanna get arrested, Carlos.” She sneered. He rolled his eyes and set her bags down on the white tiled floor. “Okay, okay. What are you going for?”

“I don't know! I just – I want him to look at me. None of the other girls.” She said, slashing at her chest erratically. 

Carlos smirked knowingly and crossed his arms against his chest. She wanted Dean to look at her, and he knew just how to achieve that. “If you want him to look at you,” He kicked her bag to the side. Cheryl's eyes widened and she let out a fearful gasp, she had nice clothes in there. Carlos raised his brows, “If you want him to look at you,” He said more firmly to grab her attention. “You have to wear his clothes.” 

“But he's so possessive over his stuff – he'll get mad at me if I wear his clothes.” 

“Oh nah, trust me. It's a universal thing. Seeing a girl you're interested in wearing your clothes gets a guy going.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” 

“Okay then…” 

~

Dean snorted and leaned close to Sam so that he could hear him over the loud chatter and music. He pointed at the woman bartender, more specifically her behind. “No way Richie gets a girl like that. I mean, look at her. You could fit that ass on a nickel.” 

“Who's ass?” Cheryl spoke up from behind them. Dean spun around, flushing with embarrassment. But, he was taken aback by her appearance. She was wearing his simple grey T-shirt – he could tell because it fit her like a dress and had a tiny hole near the collar. “I-” He pursed his lips together and ran a hand through his hair. “Uh, is that my shirt?” 

“Yeah, is that a problem?” 

“No! No – no it's not. It… looks good on you.”

She smiled up at him, “Gracias, I thought so too.” She ran her hands down the fabric of the shirt, feeling her curves and hips. Dean let out a little breath that ended up sounding like a humiliating squeak. 

Cheryl turned her gaze up towards Sam, “Was he talking about the bartender?” 

“Yup.” He answered. Cheryl's nostrils flared and she sucked on her inner cheek as she peeked between them at the bartender. “Oh, she's hot,” She breathed. “I'm gonna get a drink and play some pool.” She murmured as she brushed in between them, never taking her eyes off of the woman for even a second. As soon as she was out of earshot, Sam started to snicker. “Oh – it looks good on you.” He mocked. 

“Shut up, Sammy!” Dean barked. 

He only continued to laugh, “Oh, man! You should have seen your face! You are so whipped!” 

“Yeah, yeah. Quit your chortling.” He growled under his breath. Sam pretended to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. He found Dean having a crush to be very funny. 

“Knew you boys would find your way here. They all do.” Father Gil spoke up. He was parked at a bar stool nursing what looked like a whiskey sour. The boys immediately straightened their posture and Sam stuck his arms to his side. “Father – I – what are you doing here?” Sam questioned, his brows furrowing. 

“Like it or not, you go where your flock is.” He sighed. The bartender that Dean was ogling earlier came to refresh Father Gil's drink. Her face was even prettier than her ass – dark hair and dark eyes that had smokey black eyeshadow smeared around them intricately. “Plus, the clergy drinks for free.” She purred. 

“True, and a certain bartender owes me a confession.” Father Gil chuckled. He slammed back the rest of his drink and set the empty cup down on the counter. “Not in this lifetime, Father.” She grinned 

“I better see your butt on Sunday.” He said as he waved his finger at her. He slid off of the barstool and glanced over at Dean, raising his brows so high that they disappeared in his fluffy grey hair. “Nickel or no nickel.” He said as he left the bar.

The bartender flashed them a flirtatious smile, “What can I get you, boys?” 

“What's your specialty?” Dean asked. 

“I make a mean hurricane.” She smirked. She flipped her long silky hair off of her shoulder and batted her eyelashes. Bartenders always flirted, it was good for tips. Dean grinned and tucked his hands into his pockets, “I guess we'll see about that.” He said. Sam let out a snort and looked Dean up and down. His drink of choice was never a fruity cocktail. He preferred “manly” drinks like whiskey or beer. “You drink hurricanes?” He asked in disbelief. 

“I do now.” 

~

“He was talking about the bartender's ass.” Cheryl mumbled sadly as she circled the pool table. Carlos sighed and tilted his head to the side, watching her with careful eyes. He'd kick Dean's ass six ways to Sunday if Cheryl wouldn't get mad at him for it. “Well, what are you gonna do about it?” He asked. Cheryl shrugged and set the pool stick back on the hooks on the wall. “She was hot, I get it.” 

“Girl, you have got to respect yourself some more. You're a beautiful, smart, kind, and funny woman. You deserve to be loved and feel wanted. You deserve to be treated well.”

Cheryl's lips thinned into a straight line and she shyly looked up at him. She wanted to believe him, and she did, but she didn't think that she was desirable for anything outside of her body. Some traumas never leave you, even the things that you wish would go. 

“He's not my boyfriend or anything so I can't expect him to not check other girls out.” She shrugged. Carlos rolled his eyes so far that it looked like they disappeared in the back of his head. “You're embarrassing. Tell him you like him or I will.” 

She gasped, “You wouldn't dare.” 

“I can and I will, this is painful to watch.” 

“Carlos! Please don't – I will do it! Soon!” 

“Calm your tits girl, I won't.” Carlos snorted. A sickly-looking man with shaggy and greasy grey hair slowly marched up to the pool table. “Hi, John.” He said in a monotone voice. The man next to Cheryl trying to figure out his next move glanced up. He raised his brows, “Reggie, is everything okay with you?” 

“I don't know, I'm not feeling myself today.” He reached into his coat pocket and alarm bells started to go off in Carlos’ head. 

As soon as he saw the gun, and Reggie aiming it straight at John who Cheryl was next to, his suspensions were confirmed. He darted towards Cheryl just as the gun fired, the bullet flying straight through Reggie's head. His full body jutted back before he fell to the floor and Cheryl gasped, taking a few staggered steps back. The crowd erupted into panicked chaos, screaming and rushing to the nearest exit. Carlos wrapped an arm around Cheryl and shielded her head with his hand and pulled her to the floor. Reggie tucked the barrel of the gun under his chin, ready to blow his brains out when Dean tackled him to the ground. Sam sprinkled holy water on Reggie's face from his flask and his brows knitted together when it had no effect. He shook his head from side to side as the cold water shocked him and groaned. “What are you doing?! He slept with my wife! That bastard slept with my wife!” He screamed. Sam sucked in a breath and glanced around the bar at the remaining panicked patrons. “Somebody call nine-one-one!” He yelled. 

Cheryl sat on a barstool set against the wall in between Dean and Carlos. She watched as the cops cuffed Reggie and hauled him out of the bar, then as the EMTs wheeled John's lifeless body out in a bodybag on a stretcher. Sam nibbled on his thumbnail before letting his hand fall to rest in his lap. “Too many cops, I say we roll.” He whispered. 

Dean shook his head, “Just be cool. Poor jerk. The only thing possessing him was a sixer of Pabst.” He whispered back. 

“So, what's the deal, then? People in this town getting possessed or not?” Sam asked. 

“I don't know. Maybe it is just what it is – a town full of scumbags.” 

“I doubt that.” Cheryl sighed. Dean glanced down at her and bumped her arm with his elbow. She was right beside the guy when he got shot, and from what he saw she was pretty startled. “You okay?” He asked gently. 

She smiled, “Yeah, I'm okay. Are you?” 

“What?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“I – uh, yeah?” He answered with furrowed brows. He didn't know why she was asking him that, it was every average day. 

A police officer strolled up to them, his hands tucked into his pockets. “Hey, you boys ready for your mugshots?” He asked, glancing between Sam and Dean. Their eyes widened comically and their hearts stopped beating. Mugshots – no, no, no, no, no. “The photographer's gonna be here in a few, and... take your picture for the local paper.” The cop reassured with a smile. He was just kidding, of course. “Be an honour, officer. What a thrill!” Dean cheered, relief filling him to his core. 

Sam's lips thinned, “Yup, time to go.” He said as he quickly rose out of his seat. 

“Wait a second, wait a second.” 

“What?” 

“Where's Richie?” 

–––––––––––––––––––––––– 

Dean stared down at his phone, annoyed by the beep after Richie's voice-mail. He grits his teeth and flips his phone shut. He had a burger in front of him that he hadn't even touched yet. Cheryl gently rubbed his shoulder and set a fresh beer down beside his plate. “Didn't pick up?” 

“Nope.” 

“Oh… well, he's probably alright – he's just… hooking up with the bartender.” 

“Yeah, right.” Dean grasped the beer bottle and took a swig. “Thanks for this, by the way.” 

“Anything for my pretend boyfriend.” She winked. Dean smiled faintly and glanced back down at his plate full of food. They fell into an awkward silence, and when Dean looked back up, Cheryl was already staring at him. He swallowed hard and swiped his tongue across his bottom lip which made her breath catch.

 “Uh, how's your week been?” He asked through a heavy exhale. 

“You've been with me this entire week.” She deadpanned. 

“Yeah – well, you did go out a couple of times.” Dean's lips thinned and he took another sip from his beer. “Any fun hookups?” He asked hesitantly. 

“No, hookups aren't my thing.” 

He was full of hope now, “Really?” 

“Mhm,” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced up as Sam and Carlos sat next to them. Carlos had gotten her water much to her dismay, but she probably should slow down for the night. Cheryl sipped on it bitterly and stared at him through the rim of the glass. “¿Agua?” She scoffed. 

“Si, has bebido demasiados tragos.” 

(“Yes, you have had too many drinks.”)

“Fuck off.” She heaved as she set the glass down. 

Dean glanced over at Sam, he was still worried about Richie. He could feel his forehead creasing. “I think Richie got himself into some deep shit.” He confessed. 

Sam sighed, “Dean, you're assuming he's missing. I mean, maybe he just bailed.” 

“He's a moron. I mean, he's a sweet moron, but he's not a coward. He wouldn't just bail. I have to go find him.” 

“All right. Meanwhile, I think I'm gonna trail this Trotter guy.” 

“Who's Trotter?” Carlos questioned with a cocked brow. 

“He owns the whole town, he was the one who brought in all the hookers and gambling,” Sam answered. Carlos pouted his lips together and nodded slowly, his long fingers tracing the crystallized cup. “All right, I'll come with you. You're more tolerable than Shortie over here.” He said, jutting his head in Dean's direction. 

“Carlos,” Cheryl warned. She pointed her finger just under his chin before snatching it away. She has had it with all of his rude remarks towards Dean. Carlos rolled his eyes and dramatically swung his head towards Dean. “My apologies, Mr. Winchester.” He cooed. Cheryl rolled her eyes and finished the rest of her water before sliding off her chair. “I'm tired, I'm going back to the room.” 

“Oh, goodnight Cheryl.” Sam smiled. 

“I'll come with you,” Dean quickly offered. Cheryl couldn't help but smile, she felt a little special. He wanted to end the night early and leave with her rather than pick up girls. “Okay.” She whispered. Carlos gulped back some of his water and stole some fries off of Dean's untouched plate. “I'll stay here with Sam, we gotta plot, right?” He said. 

“Uh, yeah.” 

–––––––––––––––––––––––– 

Cheryl studied her cards splayed out in her hands and then glanced over the edge of them to try and predict Dean's next move. It was an intense game, they were tied and whoever won this match won the entire game. He grinned and met her eyes, “Do you have any fours?” She shook her head proudly and held her chin high, she was a pro at this game. “Goldfish.” 

“It's go fish, Cher.” 

“Oh – go fish.” She corrected. Dean chuckled humorously and leaned forward to pluck a card from the pile stacked in the middle of the bed. Cheryl let out a cheerful giggle, so far she was kicking Dean's ass. “You are sucking!” She adjusted herself to sit cross-legged, accidentally giving him a glimpse of her cards. He smiled and returned his eyes to her face, “I kinda forgot how to play, to be honest.” 

“Good thing we're not betting anything then.” 

Dean let out another chuckle and hung his head, “Okay, okay. It's your turn.” 

“Okay! Ummm… do you have any aces?” She asked. She tilted her head and stared up at him hopefully, she really wanted to win. He briefly glanced through his cards before letting out a heavy sigh and nodding. “Yup, one ace for little Miss. Cheryl.” He passed the card to her and she happily took her card and set it in a neat pile by her knee. “So far I am winning!” She said cheerily. 

“Yeah, we still got two more cards to play. Just you wait.” He smirked knowingly. He knew what cards she had, a queen and a ten. He just so happened to have the same cards as her. Luck of the draw. 

“Do you have a nine?” 

“Nope!” She grinned ear to ear. “Go fish!” Dean let out a loud groan and snatched another card from the deck. Cheryl tucked her hair behind her ears, a few strands had fallen out of her high ponytail. “You have any queens?” Dean rolled his eyes and playfully threw the card at her. “Did you look at my cards?” He asked accusingly. 

“No! I swear!” She giggled. He cocked a brow and looked her up and down which only made her laugh more. “I'm not a cheater!” 

“Alright…” He said unconvinced. He had two cards left, and Cheryl had one. He was sure she wouldn't notice. “Do you have any sixes?” 

“Go fish.” She said smugly. 

“Dammit.” 

Cheryl smiled and stared up at him through her lashes, “Do you have a ten?” 

“Are you fucking kidding!?” He groaned before slapping the card face up in front of her. She let out a gleeful laugh and set her card on top of it, now empty-handed. “I win!” She cheered.

“Only because you cheated.” He scoffed. 

“I didn't! Seriously!” 

“Okay, okay. Whatever you say, cheater.” Dean smirked. She raised her brows and leaned forward, “I was going to give you a second place prize… but not if you're being such a sore loser.” She said huskily. His eyes darkened and his lips parted when she bit her own lip. “What's the prize?” 

“A kiss.” She whispered. Cheryl leaned forward and Dean's breath got caught in his throat. He eagerly hurried forward, and just as their lips were about to touch, she swerved and planted a kiss on his cheek instead. “I never said on the lips,” She said, her breath hot against his skin. Cheryl licked her lips and slid off of the bed, “I'm gonna go smoke, clean this up por favor?” She asked sweetly and gestured towards the cards splayed out on the bed. Dean only nodded, still a little delirious. Cheryl smiled, “Gracias, ojos de angel.” He had goosebumps all over his skin and his heart was going a thousand miles an hour. Cheryl kept him on his toes, that's for sure. 

He sucked in a breath and jumped to his feet, “Cher,” He said a little louder than he intended. Cheryl spun around, the oversized hoodie that she was wearing was slipping off of her shoulders. “Yeah?” She responded a little too quickly for her liking. His lips thinned and he tapped his foot against the ground anxiously. Then, he slashed through the air with his hand. “Nevermind… enjoy your cigarette.” He muttered before racing to the bathroom. 

As soon as the door was locked, Dean let out a heavy pant and ran his hands through his hair. They came back to the motel. They played go fish. She kissed his cheek. He almost confessed his feelings for her. Dean palmed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mother fucker…” He mumbled under his breath. He leaned to rest his elbows on the counter and continued to rub his face. He so desperately wanted to man up and ask her out – but he couldn't. Part of him was hesitant, he was scared that she would leave again. It was stupid. Sam would laugh at him nonstop if he saw what just happened. 

–––––––––––––––––––––––– 

Dean barely said anything to Cheryl or Sam before they went to bed that night. He only listened to Sam and Carlos’ plan for Trotter and told them each goodnight. Everything was fine until long after they all went to sleep. Dean had a dream, a dream about Cheryl. 

His lips mapped every inch of her writhing body, suckling at the most sensitive spots and leaving little love bites. Cheryl arched her back into him and let out a pleasurable moan. “Oh… mi amor…” She sighed, making Dean grin. His tongue ducked out and he slowly traced the tip of it up her bare stomach to the apex of her breasts. “Mi amor, huh?” 

She nodded and shuddered. “Yes…” 

“I like it when you speak Spanish,” He murmured as he peppered kisses along her neck. He took her ear lobe between his teeth and rolled it, enjoying the cool silver of her hoop earrings against his tongue. She moaned again and it sounded absolutely intoxicating. Dean let out a groan when his cock throbbed against the tight confines of his jeans. Cheryl seemingly knew that he was as hard as a rock because she quickly worked the belt of his jeans free and tugged his pants down his hips. 

“Please.” She whined. She caught his lips in a searing kiss and spread her legs wider for him. “Please, Dean.” Cheryl repeated, a little more needy this time. “I need you.” She said. 

“I need you too,” He murmured against her lips as he hastily pushed her cherry-red panties to the side. Cheryl placed one of her hands on his ass as if she were trying to push him inside of her, and it worked. 

As soon as he was inside of her – her walls throbbing around him greedily and he began to pound into her. Cheryl tossed her head back and let out a loud moan, and Dean took the opportunity to suck hickeys onto her neck. She felt good – so, so, so good. “Fuck,” He stuttered out, his voice falling into a soft whimper. She panted against his shoulder, “Faster Dean – faster – por favor, please.” She begged. Cheryl crossed one of her arms over his back and pulled him closer to her as he increased his pace. She wanted to be close to him. She wanted to be close to him. 

Dean moaned against her lips and hiked one of her legs up to hook around his hip so he could go deeper. “Sweetheart,” He gasped. “You… you…” He moaned again. “You sound beautiful. You feel amazing.” He kissed her again, this time much more passionately. With need and fervent. “Please don't leave me.” He pleaded. Cheryl gently caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers. “I won't, I promise.” 

Dean's eyes snapped open and he inhaled deeply, immediately smacking his hand over his face and dragging it down. His hard cock throbbed against his pyjama pants and he groaned. “Fucking hell…” He muttered. He ruffled up his already messy hair and snatched Cheryl's pillow to place over his tent. She wasn't in bed, thank God, but Sam was sitting on the edge of the other bed lacing his boots up. “Bad dream?” Sam asked. Dean scoffed and reluctantly sat up, pressing his back against the headboard. “No.” He adjusted the pillow to cover himself more comfortably. “It was a very good dream actually.” He added. 

“Yeah, tell me all about it when I get back from a coffee run.” Sam chuckled. He glanced at him from over his shoulder, “Do you know what Carlos likes?” 

Dean snorted and shrugged, “Why the hell would I know? Ask Cher.” 

“I did, she said he likes smoothies. But I'm not sure what kind of smoothie he likes.” 

“Just get him a damn banana and strawberry smoothie, it's fine.” Dean huffed out. 

As soon as Sam left, Dean sprang out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom. Unfortunately for him, it was locked. He pounded against the door with a closed fist and grunted. “Cher! Come on! I gotta piss!” He lied easily. Cheryl groaned obnoxiously and booted the door with what he thought was her foot. The door rattled from the impact of her hit, but Dean knocked on the door again. “I'm doing my eyeliner! Just wait a second!” She snapped. 

“Cher, I swear, my dick is abouta explode!” 

“Oh my God!” She yelled. The doorknob clicked as she unlocked it, and the door flew open. She stormed out of the bathroom with her makeup bag in hand. “I'll just do my makeup in the reflection of the TV then. You're a boy! Pee outside!” She sneered. 

“There's literally a mirror on the ceiling!” 

“I can't see myself properly!” 

Dean grumbled something incoherently under his breath before stomping into the bathroom. His dick was still rock hard, but it was nothing a good ol’ cold shower couldn't fix. He tore off his clothes and turned the shower tap on before climbing inside. The cool water was a shock almost immediately – making him tense up and clench his jaw. He'd much rather have this than have to wank one out to Cheryl. It was weird, she was his friend. Slowly, he relaxed and his blood was no longer pumping in his ears (and elsewhere.) This was fine, it was fine. It's not like he can control his dreams. He had a sex dream about Cheryl (again), it's not like she'd ever find out. He blew out a heavy sigh through pursed lips, even in his dreams she looked beautiful. She even tasted good, but he didn't have a real-life comparison for that. His thoughts were just thoughts, no one would ever find out. 

–––––––––––––––––––––––– 

They all had their plans formulated, Sam and Carlos would go scout out Trotter and see what he was up to, while Cheryl and Dean would deal with the bartender. Thanks to Sammy being a tech whizz, they tracked Richie's cellphone to a basement which was leased by Casey (the bartender.) Dean would flirt with her, go back to her place and deal with her while Cheryl waited across the street in case things went south. Everything was going perfectly – until Casey showed zero interest in Dean and kept flirting with Cheryl. 

Dean sipped on his beer bitterly from across the bar as he watched the bartender run her fingers through Cheryl's silky smooth hair. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, it was too dangerous for Cheryl to go in there solo. He couldn't watch her get hurt. 

Cheryl however, was confident in her abilities. She chuckled softly and leaned in closer, “You know, I never took you for the type to like girls. You seem like you like strictly dick.” 

Casey swiped her tongue across her lips, “That's no way to live life, especially when there are girls as hot as you.” 

Cheryl grinned, “I agree, say, why don't we get out of here and have some fun?” 

“You read my mind,” Casey purred. “Let's go to my place, I have fun toys.” 

“I like toys.” She breathed as she shrugged her red leather coat back on. Much to Dean's dismay, Cheryl and Casey left the bar together and Cheryl didn't even give him a single look. He decided right then and there that not only was he going to follow her to the place as planned, but he was going to follow them inside the house. 

~

Carlos and Sam were splayed flat against the wall between the cracked open door of Trotter's office. He was talking to his assistant about things that weren't that useful to them, like what to order for lunch. Carlos rolled his eyes and rubbed his chin, he was a little fed up with the unnecessary chatting. Suddenly, Sam's phone started to chime in his pocket and both of their eyes widened. He fumbled before reaching inside of his pocket flipping his phone open and pressing it to his ear. “Sammy.” Dean said, his voice hushed. 

“I can't talk right now.” 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, I'm fine. Just, uh ... meet us at the bar in thirty minutes, okay?” He whispered before hanging up. There was some shuffling towards the door from the inside of the room. Carlos and Sam quickly raced down the hallway and ducked behind another wall. 

The door creaked as Trotter's assistant pushed the door open to glance down either end of the hallway. Thankfully, they were speedy enough to get out of view. Carlos clenched his jaw and shot Sam a mean glare, “You kept your ringer on?” 

“I thought I turned it off…” He murmured.

“Well, you didn't,” Carlos growled through clenched teeth. He poked his head out to peer down the hallway, catching Trotter and his assistant leaving in a hurry. This was their chance. 

“Come on,” Carlos whispered to Sam before sneaking down the hallway. He made sure to keep his steps quiet, coming down on his heel first instead of his toes. When they made it into the hidden safety of the office, Sam quietly clicked the door shut before they started to search the place for any clues. Carlos rifled through the desk, flipping through papers and documents. He spotted a pack of mint gum and stole a piece, loudly unwrapping it before popping it into his mouth. Sam's brows furrowed, “Did you just take some gum?” He asked. 

“Yeah, you want some?” 

“No… thanks.” He sighed, wrinkling his nose. Sam returned his attention to the books on the bookshelf, fanning through some of them to see if there was anything hidden in them. There was nothing listed on the calendar posted on the wall, nothing suspicious about the set of keys on the desk, this guy had nothing on him. 

Suddenly, Trotter's assistant grasped Sam's shoulder and spun him around before lurching his arm back to clock him in the face. Sam quickly ducked and knocked him to the floor, punching him right in the nose a couple of times. Blood spewed from his nose onto the floor, and then he felt the cold barrel of a gun press against his neck. Slowly, Sam raised his hands and let out a heavy breath. “What are you doing here?” Trotter demanded, pressing the gun deeper into his skin. 

“I think maybe you know,” Carlos said as he chewed the gum obnoxiously. He took his hands out of his pockets and stared down at Trotter. Trotter's brows furrowed and he turned his head, he didn't see Carlos in here… “Yeah? Well, I'm calling the cops!” He yelled, a little smug. Then his eyes narrowed as he noticed Carlos chewing gum and the open pack on his desk. “Did you… take my gum?” He asked. 

Carlos snorted, “Yeah.” He said humorously. 

Given the fact that Trotter was distracted, Sam took this chance to elbow him in the face and disarm him. He ripped the gun from his unpracticed hands with ease and aimed it at him. “Back up!” Sam ordered. Trotter's assistant scrambled to his feet and raised his hands while Trotter himself staggered back. “Money is in the safe! Take it and go!” He pleaded. Carlos’ brows knitted together and his nose wrinkled in confusion. They didn't want his money, but it was a nice offer. “We don't want your money,” Sam said. “I just got to be sure.” Without taking his eyes off of the pair for even a single moment, he reached into his pocket and fished out his silver flask full of holy water. He unscrewed the cap with one hand and threw the water at both the assistant and Trotter. 

They both flinched from the shock of the cold water, and Trotter's brows furrowed as he wiped his face dry with his hand. “What kinda psychos are you guys!?” He yelled in disbelief. Carlos’ lips curled and he sucked some air through clenched teeth. They were following the wrong lead, had things gone south, they would've been in deep shit. “Oh, you know what! This is a prank,” Carlos chuckled. He gestured around and slowly backed up, ushering Sam out the door. “Yeah, cameras are everywhere. You'll be on our show! Channel 18.” He winked. Carlos grasped the doorknob and sent them a thumbs-up. “You guys did great.” He smiled before yanking the door shut. 

~

Dean kept a good distance from Cheryl and Casey as he followed them down the stone stairs that led to the basement. He found a separate way into the main floor – an unlocked back door which he quietly crept inside. The same way he came in earlier today when he drew a devil's trap under the rug. The place sort of looked like an old dungeon with all of the stone and bars on the high windows. 

When their backs were still turned towards him, he stealthily ducked behind a heavy and large bookcase with many old books and candles. Silently, he slid a book a little to the left so he could peek out the crack in the shelf and watch them. For Cheryl's safety, of course. 

Cheryl glanced around and shrugged her coat off as Casey fluffed up a pillow on her bed in the centre of the room. “It's nice here.” Cheryl echoed. It certainly was not, but she wasn't going to tell her that. It was very clearly a demon's lair. Casey grinned and sauntered to Cheryl, her lips pressed against hers, giving her a soft yet quick kiss. Cheryl returned the kiss, bringing her hand up to cup her cheek. Her feet scuffed against the edge of the rug, meaning Casey was definitely inside the devil's trap. Such a shame, Cheryl thought. She's a good kisser. 

Dean clenched his jaw and watched the two of them kiss with resentment. It was like his biggest nightmare and fantasy all mixed into one. Girl-on-girl action was hot – but when Cheryl was the girl kissing someone else, it wasn't enjoyable, not at all. He was jealous. Very jealous.  

Cheryl pulled back from Casey and grinned coolly, “So,” She started. 

“So?” Casey raised her brows, amused. 

“Where are you hiding Richie?” Cheryl asked nonchalantly. She circled the rug and glanced around as if she were looking for him. “I assume he's dead, he deserves a proper burial, don't you think?” Cheryl said. Casey's eyes grew wide and she let out a low growl before lunging towards Cheryl. She was thrown back right onto her ass by an invisible force. Cheryl raised her brows, this devil's trap was stronger than she thought. Kudos to Dean. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “Devil's trap.” She said. Cheryl knelt to the floor and lifted one of the corners of the rug revealing a devil's trap painted in black. Casey's nostrils flared, “Impressive.” She replied shortly. 

She smirked, “Isn't it?” 

Cheryl clapped her hands together, “Here's what's gonna happen,” She began. She pointed her finger at Casey, “You're gonna go back to Hell.” 

She cackled, “I don't think so.” She closed her eyes and raised her chin as if she were medicating and breathed deeply. A small breeze started to billow around, blowing Cheryl's hair off her shoulders. She squinted her eyes shut and the chandelier above Casey began to swing from the ceiling. The crystal glass that hung from the chandelier clanged against each other. If it wasn't such a bad situation, it'd sound like a soft song. 

The wind grew stronger, and a giant crack formed in the floor at her feet and steadily spread towards the door that led upstairs. Tiny little cracks spread out from it, engulfing the door frame before the bricks fell, trapping them all inside. Cheryl turned and her eyes widened briefly, well that wasn't good. Casey laughed and laughed at Cheryl like she was making fun of her to someone else in the room. Cheryl grit her teeth, “What are you laughing at, you're still trapped.” 

“So are you,” She smirked. Her eyes slowly dragged towards the bookshelf. “And so is he.”

–––––––––––––––––––––––– 

“You are the worst!” Cheryl yelled at Dean, pointing her finger right at his chest. She couldn't believe that he dared to follow her inside of the house. She had this handled – everything was going to turn out fine. Dean scoffed, “Look at what you got yourself into! You'd be trapped here with that bitch all alone if I didn't follow you!” He shouted back. 

“I had it handled! I am not some little weak woman that you need to protect!” 

“I didn't say that!” 

“Your actions did!” Cheryl spun around and ran her hands through her hair and let out a groan. Casey only sat on the edge of the bed, watching them intently with a huge grin on her face. “You two remind me of my parents.” 

Dean grit his teeth, “All you demons have such smart mouths.” 

“It's a gift.” She replied. 

“Yeah, well. Let's see if you're smiling when we send your ass back to Hell.” Dean said. 

She cocked her head to the side, “Go for it.” 

“Stop being so smug,” Cheryl hissed. “In case you didn't know, Latin is quite similar to Spanish and I'm fluent in Spanish. I can send you back to Hell easily.” 

“Then why aren't you?” Casey smirked. Cheryl opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it and crossed her arms against her chest. She swayed her hips and pursed her lips together, she will admit she was a little out of practice when it came to exorcisms. This was her first case in over a year. “Because… uh, Dean wants to perform the ritual! Don't you? Since, you know, you followed me.” 

His eyes narrowed, “Yeah… I do. But why can't you?” 

“Oh, because I'm being so gracious and generous by letting you do it!” 

“What if I want to be gracious and generous?” 

Casey smiled, “Neither of you remember, do you?” 

Dean chuckled and crossed his arms, “Of course we do! …uh, spiritus immunde ... un, uh…” He trailed off, failing to remember the next part. He scratched the top of his head and pursed his lips together. Cheryl nudged his arm, “I think it starts with spiritus immunde, undolare, pasonitote… I don't remember the rest.” 

“Dammit, Cheryl!” 

“Hey! You don't remember either, dick!” 

Casey tilted her head, “Guess you should have paid more attention in Latin class.” 

Cheryl smirked smugly and closed her eyes, “Jokes on you, I didn't graduate.” 

This was just great, being trapped with a demon. Surely Sam and Carlos would notice something and come find them, but they didn't know how long that was going to take. 

~

Sam tapped his fingers against the bar counter and glanced back at the door for the third time. Cheryl and Dean had made no appearance yet, and he was growing a little worried. Carlos sipped on his water and followed Sam's eyes. “Uh, maybe they're running late?” He suggested. 

“Maybe…” He looked back to the bartender as he set down a glass of root beer for him. “Thanks… hey, you remember the guy and girl I was here with yesterday?” He asked the barkeep. 

“The big hero who jumped Reggie and the Latina?” He confirmed. Sam cringed and Carlos’ eyes narrowed, that was one way to put it. “Uh… yeah, have you seen them around today?” 

“Maybe. Depends.” The barkeep shrugged. Sam's brows furrowed in childlike confusion and he once again tapped his fingers against the counter, trying to resist the urge to chew on his nails. “Depends on what?” He asked. The barkeep cocked a brow and Carlos rolled his eyes, reaching for his wallet snug in his back pocket. “This town and their money…” He scoffed as he fingered out a couple of twenties and handed them to the bartender. 

The bartender quickly snatched them up and shoved them into his pocket. “The Latina left with Casey an hour ago, your guy followed them out. I think they were unicorn hunting.” 

“U-unicorn hunting?” Sam questioned. Carlos sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Looking for a third.” He answered. 

Sam flushed, “Oh, well – any idea where they went?” He asked the barkeep again. 

“Her place… for Bible study.” 

“Got an address?” 

The barkeep's lips curled and he looked them up and down with judgement in his eyes. “What's wrong with you? You think I'm gonna give you a co-worker's address, just so you can go over there and get your freaky peeping-tom rocks off?” He scolded. Without missing a beat, Carlos slid another twenty across the bar counter to him. He grinned, “Corner of Piermont and Clinton. Have fun.” He tucked the bill into his pocket once again, happy to have made sixty bucks off of these pervs. 

~ 

Dean pushed a heavy wine cask against the wall directly under the barred window. Some sunbeams were streaming through it, daylight. They'd been trapped here with this demon for nearly twelve hours now and they all felt themselves slowly going insane. 

Dean climbed on top of the cask and stretched out his arm towards the window, desperately trying to get a cell signal. This place was so deep in the ground that they couldn't even contact anyone to come and get them. Dean grit his teeth and let out a low groan when he couldn't get a signal. Casey cooed, “Why don't you relax?” 

“Why don't you kiss my ass.” He shot back. 

She smirked, “Why, Dean, you're a poet. I had no idea. Look, we won't have any effect on the outcome of this. We might as well be civil.” 

Dean scoffed, “Civil, huh? Killing Richie – that was, that was civil? The guy was harmless.” 

“The knife he pulled on me? Didn't look so harmless.” She said coolly. Cheryl sighed and leaned forward to rest her chin on her knees that were pulled to her chest. She had parked herself on the floor with her back to the wall some time ago, and she hasn't moved since. 

Dean hopped off of the wine cask and circled the rug, watching Casey intently. “A knife wouldn't hurt you.” He spat back. Casey pursed her lips together and nodded slowly in agreement. “No… but it would damage this body. And Casey has such a fine body, I wouldn't want to see it ripped.” 

He chuckled, “A demon with a heart. Wow.” He glanced over at Cheryl briefly, his lips thinning at her hunched-over form. She was a little pale, was she sick? His eyes dragged back to Casey who sat on the edge of the bed tauntingly. “There's a bunch of dead people in town who disagree with you.” He said. 

She raised her hands in mock surrender, “Hey, I didn't pull any triggers.” 

“Yeah? You did something.” 

“You want to know what I did – what I really did? I had lunch.” 

“Lunch?” 

“Me and Trotter. He had a cheeseburger, I had a salad, and I just pointed out the money that could be made with a few businesses that cater to harmless vice. So Trotter built it, and, man, did they come. Supposedly God-fearing folk, waist-deep in booze, sex, gambling. I barely lifted a finger.” Casey replied. 

He scoffed, “That's it?” 

“You don't get it. All you gotta do is nudge humans in the right direction. Some whiskey here, a hooker there, and they'll walk right into hell with big, fat smiles on their faces. Your kind is corrupt, Dean. Weak.” Her lips stretched up into a menacing grin that showed nothing but confidence. “Our will’s stronger, that's why we'll win.” 

“And that's how it ends?” 

“No. It's how it begins.” 

~

The front door crept open and Sam and Carlos slipped through the small crack before clicking the door shut. They both glanced around the dark place, the drapes were shut and there was a thin layer of dust on every surface. Nobody's been here for a while. 

Carlos strolled down the narrow hallway, noticing a small end table with a photo in the centre of it. He pursed his lips together as he noticed that it was Casey in the photo with a man. As he inspected it closer, he saw that she was wearing a cross necklace. How ironic. His eyes narrowed as he saw a little bit of faint yellow powder poking out from under the frame. Carefully, he touched his fingertips to the powder and raised it to his nose. 

Sulphur. 

~ 

“Dean, I feel a little lightheaded.” Cheryl whispered. His eyes widened and his brows shot up and he almost immediately knelt to the floor. “What? Why?” 

She nodded, “Period cramps.” She answered. Her period cramps were so incapacitating that she'd stay in bed the whole day – sometimes it'd be so bad that she'd even vomit. The first time Dean witnessed it, he thought she contracted the flu. Casey tilted her head to the side and swung her legs back and forth. “You know what helps with cramps? Orgasms.” 

Cheryl flushed deeply, “Mind your business.” 

She smirked, “You're one to talk, you hunters are always waltzing into places and sticking your noses where it doesn't belong.” 

“Maybe stay where you belong.” 

“That's ironic coming from you.” Casey sneered. Cheryl's eyes narrowed venomously at her comment, and once Dean had clued into what she meant, he spoke up.

“You know, being a racist demon doesn't make you any more likeable.” He growled. 

“I'm not racist.” 

“I'm not buying it.” 

“Why would I lie?” 

“Demons lie.” Dean answered simply. Casey cocked a brow as he helped Cheryl to her feet and rubbed her back in small circles. It's been a long time since she had period cramps of her own, but she remembered them being horrendous. “Some do,” Casey breathed. “Others are true believers.”

“Believers in what?” Cheryl scoffed, gripping Dean's hand with such strength that he thought she might break it. Casey rolled her eyes, “What, you think humans have an exclusive on a higher power?” 

Dean's lips parted, “You have a God?” 

“Sure, his name is Lucifer.” 

“You mean the Devil.” Cheryl deadpanned. 

“Your word, not ours. Lucifer means light bringer. Look it up. Once he was the most beautiful of all God's angels, But God demanded that he bow down before Man, and when he refused, God banished him.” 

Cheryl's nostrils flared. That's not how the story goes, Lucifer wanted free will for humans who didn't want to worship God. But there were many tales, who knew what was really true? “So, Lucifer is real?” He asked. 

Casey nodded, “Well, no one's actually seen him, but they say that he made us into what we are, and they say that he'll return.” 

“Oh, so he really is your God, huh? Never seen him but so dead set on him being real?” Dean grinned. Cheryl let go of Dean's hand and rubbed her hands on her jeans. She was a little clammy, and it felt a little weird holding hands in front of a demon. Casey's eyes dragged up the two of them, “I've heard about the prophecy, I didn't believe it at first, but now that I've met you I think that I do.” 

Cheryl cocked a brow, “The prophecy? Of what?” She asked inconspicuously. 

She grinned, “The ultimate vessel.” 

~

Sam pressed his phone to his ear, unfortunately, he had gotten Bobby's voice mail. But they were in a bit of a pickle, he'd listen to the voice-mail eventually and come help them. Carlos held the bar door open for Sam before walking through it himself. “Bobby, it's Sam. We have a big problem. Carlos found some sulphur, and now we can't find Cheryl and Dean. Call me as soon as you get this.” Sam said into the phone before flipping it shut and tucking it into his pocket.

He approached the bar counter and swallowed hard, “Hey, excuse me. Um, they weren't there.” Sam said to the same barkeep they talked to earlier. The barkeep pouted his lips together and shrugged, he didn't care that they didn't find who they were looking for. It didn't affect him one bit, and he was sixty bucks richer. “I guess you got to catch your jollies another night. Here. Why don't you have a drink ... and relax?” 

Sam slapped his hands against the counter, clearly fed up with everyone near him and in this town. “I don't want to relax! What is it with the people in this town?” He said, exasperated. Carlos patted his shoulder and sighed, he felt bad for him. He wanted to find Cheryl as much as he did – he didn't care much for Dean though. “Come on, Sam.” He jutted his head in the direction of a booth in the corner where Father Gil had parked himself. “Let's go talk to him.” Carlos whispered. 

They shouldered their way through the crowd, hoping to make it to Father Gil before he decided to leave. Once Sam reached the table, he started to speak. “Hey, uh, Father Gil. Can we talk to you for a second?” 

~

Casey stretched across the bed, arching her back languorously. She caught Dean's eyes and smirked, “Why, Dean, if I didn't know better, I'd say that was lust in your eyes. Well, it would be one way to spend the time ... but I don't think you'd respect me in the morning.” 

He clenched his jaw, “That's okay.” He said quickly, rejecting her offer. The last thing he wanted to do was have sex with a demon in front of Cheryl. “I mean, hey, I barely respect you now.” He paused, “hey, can I ask you a question?” He asked. 

She smiled, “I'm an open book.” 

“So, the gate opened. The demon army was let out. What now, huh? I'm not seeing a big, honking plan here.” 

“Honestly, there was a plan. Azazel was a tyrant, but... he held us all together.” 

“Azrael?” Cheryl spoke up. Casey rolled her eyes and slumped back onto the bed, grateful that they at least had the courtesy to draw the devils trap around the bed. “What, you think his friends just called him “yellow eyes”? He had a name. After you did him in, it all fell apart.” She sighed. 

Dean smiled proudly, “Sorry about that,” He chuckled, “so, what? No chain of command?” 

“There was. It was Sam. Sam was supposed to be the grand pooh-bah and lead the big army, but ... he hasn't exactly stepped up to the plate, has he?” 

Cheryl exhaled a sigh of relief and rubbed her forehead with her palm. She was grateful that Sam hadn't stepped up or whatever that meant. They'd caught her up over the events over the past year, except for why Dean made a deal – and Dean didn't even know that she knew he did that. “Thank God for that.” Cheryl said. Casey rolled her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ear, clearly everything that Cheryl said aggravated the hell out of her. “Again with God. You think this is a good thing? Now you've got chaos, a war without a front, hundreds of demons all jockeying for power, all fighting for the crown. Most of them are gunning for Sam.” She scoffed. Cheryl's eyes briefly met Dean's and she swallowed hard, she didn't know what that exactly meant. Whether it was that demons wanted to kill Sam or not, she didn't like how it sounded one bit. 

~

“So you know the bartender Casey pretty well, right?” Sam asked. Carlos and Sam sat across from Father Gil in the booth. Sam was eagerly leaning forward, his hands clasped together on the table while Carlos leaned back against the backrest of the booth. Their body language was vastly different, Sam seemed more interested in what the Father had to say than Carlos. Father Gil nodded, “Since she was in pigtails.” He replied. 

“Well, um, she and my friend… and my brother… They left last night. Together.” 

“Ah. Well ... not that I approve, but they are consenting adults.” 

“Right.” Sam breathed. 

“I – I'm sorry. You said brother. I thought the two of you were insurance investigators?” 

“Family business,” Carlos quickly interjected. “Yeah, uh, I'm their manager. And their cousin. Our friend – she's my wife.” 

“Wife? And she's committing adultery?” Father Gil asked, his brows shooting up. Carlos chuckled, “I know, I know. I'm pissed. I mean like – come on?” 

Sam side-eyed Carlos and his lips thinned, sometimes he was over the top with his lies and excuses, but they worked funnily enough. “Anyways, um, so – so, I went to Casey's apartment, and they weren't there. I – I – I just have this feeling that they... that they might be in trouble.” Sam stuttered. 

“What kind of trouble?” 

“Just ... trouble. Look, please, Father, I – I need your help. Is there anything you could tell me about Casey – anyplace she'd go, maybe…?” Sam asked hopefully. 

“Yes, there is a place. Let me get my jacket.” Father Gil answered as he rose out of his seat, grabbing his jacket off of the hook screwed into the booth. Carlos’ eyes widened and he quickly rose out of his seat as well, “Father, we appreciate the help but we can do this ourselves.” He explained. 

“Nonsense, if Casey is in trouble, I should come with you.” Father Gil turned his back to them and shrugged his coat on. His eyes flashed a putrid void like black, engulfing the entire eye before flickering back to normal. A demon. Unfortunately for Sam and Carlos, they didn't notice. “Shall we go?” Father Gil smiled. 

–––––––––––––––––––––––– 

Father Gil's brown station wagon rolled up in front of Casey's house, parking in front of the sidewalk that led up to the front steps. Sam and Carlos were quick to hop out of the car and rush up to the house. “Dean?! Cheryl!?” Sam bellowed, glancing down either end of the shrubs perched under the big bay windows at the front of the house. 

They walked along the side of the house before stopping at this big storm shelter which had chains and a padlock around the handles. “Dean! Cheryl!” Sam called out, pounding against the door with closed fists. Carlos yanked at the padlock, but it didn't want to budge. Finally, their voices echoed from inside the storm shelter. “Sam?” Dean yelled. 

“Dean!” 

“Sammy! We're in here! The basement caved in!” Carlos let out a sigh of relief and leaned down to peek through a small window, noticing bars on the inside of the window and that the window itself was caked in a thin layer of dirt. “Hold on guys! We're coming!” Carlos said. “Us and Father Gil!” 

“Father Gil?” Cheryl questioned. They were silent for a moment before Dean's wary voice sounded again. “Sammy, be careful!” 

“Rude.” Carlos yelled back. 

Sam turned and Father Gil loomed behind him, his eyes black as coals. Sam's eyes widened, and before he could even do anything, he threw Sam into the windshield of the Impala. Suddenly, a bullet whizzed past Father Gil's ear and smashed into a statue covered in ivy by the fence post. The man behind the gun was none other than Bobby, he had come to their rescue, thankfully. Father Gil growled and flung his hand out, sending both Bobby and Carlos flying into the fence. Their weight combined knocked it down, the wood crunching and splitting. The Father didn't wait for them to regain their strength, instead, he stormed inside of the house and smashed the basement door open and began to push the rocks away from the entrance. Demon strength came in handy. 

Sam groaned and rolled off of the Impala, “Bobby, Carlos, you okay?” He asked. Bobby nodded and climbed to his feet, he'd feel that tomorrow – in his back probably. “Yeah, go.” 

“How did you know where–”

“Go!” Bobby yelled, tossing him the rebuilt Colt. A soft wind blew through the air and Sam's blood went cold. Ruby rounded a light pole and wrinkled her nose. “He said go, Sam!” She hissed. 

~

As the bangs and smashing grew more forceful and booming, Cheryl instinctively backed up into Dean's side. That certainly was Sam or Carlos… it was something, not someone. “Dean…” She whispered, her eyes growing wide as she noticed that Casey had moved from her spot on the bed and waited by the edge of the devil's trap. 

Dean ushered her behind him and his eyes narrowed as the final set of bricks smashed to pieces and Father Gil emerged from the stairway. He simply waved his finger, sending Cheryl and Dean flying back into the wall. Father Gil sauntered towards Casey with purpose, and Casey raised her hands when he almost reached the rug. “Stop!” She yelled. She pointed down to the floor, silently telling him that she was stuck in a devil's trap and the same would happen to him if he went any further. Father Gil knelt on the floor and slammed his fist down, cracking the stone floor right down the centre and through the devil's trap, setting her free. Casey jumped out of the circle into his arms and worked her lips over his passionately. Dean and Cheryl wrinkled their noses in disgust, “You two?” Dean asked in disbelief as he helped Cheryl to her feet. Cheryl covered her mouth with her hand to hide her judgemental smile. “Ew…” She muttered. Father Gil reluctantly pulled away from Casey and hugged her to his side. “For centuries. We've been to Hell and back together, literally.” 

“Leave him be.” Casey chuckled. 

Sam barreled down the stairs and aimed the Colt at the back of Father Gil's head. He didn't hesitate to squeeze the trigger, and the bullet flew right through his head. Lighting omitted from his eyes and flashed within his body before he collapsed to the floor lifeless. One less demon out of the way. Sam wasted no time to point the gun at Casey, “Sam wait!” Dean yelled, but it was too late. He had already fired, and now both Father Gil and Casey lay dead within the circle. Their blood pooled together, and Cheryl could no longer tell whose blood was whose. She frowned, these people were now dead. She felt a little bad, even if they caused them some misfortune.

–––––––––––––––––––––––– 

Shortly after Cheryl and Dean packed their things up and went to put their stuff in their respective vehicles, leaving Sam in the motel room, Ruby came to say hello again. She stood behind him with her arms crossed and tilted her head, her golden hair sliding off of her shoulders. “Leaving so soon? We haven't had a chance to celebrate.” She said coolly. Sam's lips thinned into a straight line and he didn't even bother to turn to look at her. “Yeah, well, you can celebrate without me.” 

“You're not gonna get all pouty on me now, are you? Come on! You killed two demons today.” She grinned, proud of Sam. 

“Yeah, well, maybe you don't care, but I killed two humans, too.” 

“Sam, you know what happens when demons piggyback humans. They leave them rode hard and put up wet. Chances are those two would have died a slow, sticky death. You probably did them a favor.” 

Sam's nose wrinkled in distaste and he shot her a rude glare. “Did them a favor? You're a cold bitch, you know that?” He spat. 

“Yeah, and this cold bitch has saved your ass a couple of times now. Some respect might be nice. Especially if you want me to help you out with Dean and his little problem.” 

“You know what? You keep dangling that, but last I checked, Dean's still going to Hell.” 

“Everything in its own time, Sam. But there’s a quid pro quo here. We're in a war.” 

“Right. But for some reason, you're fighting on our team. Now, tell me, why is that again?” 

“Go screw yourself, that's why.” Ruby hissed. Sam's nostrils flared and he clenched his jaw, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He was quite ticked off by Ruby's presence – all she did was say she knew how to help Dean, but never told him how she could. Ruby straightened her posture and raised her chin, “I don't have to justify my actions to you, Sam. If you don't want my help, fine. Then give me the gun and I'll pass it on to someone who will use it.” She said. 

Slowly, Sam pulled the Colt from his pocket and raised it, aiming it for Ruby. “Maybe I'll just use it on you.” He growled. Ruby showed no signs of fear, she only looked amused, grinning at him like a child who just learned the alphabet. She shrugged nonchalantly, Go ahead, if that makes you happy. "It's not gonna do much for Dean, though.” Sam grit his teeth before reluctantly lowering the Colt, maybe she was lying, maybe she was telling the truth. He didn't know, but he couldn't risk it. Ruby chuckled proudly, “Ah hah. That's my boy. This won't be easy, Sam. You're gonna have to do things that go against that gentle nature of yours. There'll be collateral damage... But, it has to be done.” 

“Well, I don't have to like it.” He grumbled. 

“No. You wouldn't be Sam if you did. On the bright side, I'll be there with you. That little fallen angel on your shoulder.” 

#Spotify #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #spnfandom #dean winchester x oc

[violentdelightsproductions]

"There's a light There's a sun Taking all Shattered ones To the place they belong And his love will conquer all..."

A tribute to Dean Winchester. Everything he is. Everything he's ever been. Everything he means to the ones around him. All tge people he touched. The lives he saved. The lives he changed. And all the love and appreciation he deserves.

Happy Birthday Dean Winchester (January 24th)

Find our Dean x Ellie videos here!!! Ellie Spencer is an original character character created by @girlshunttoo - Faceclaim Deborah Ann Woll

Made by @girlshunttoo / @ddriverpicksthemusic

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x oc #happy birthday dean #dean winchester birthday #dean winchester x female oc #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x ellie spencer #deborah ann woll #jensen ackles x deborah ann woll #Youtube #video #birthday #deanwinchesterweek #reupload

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Old Friends, Old Cars and New Love

Summary: Dean Winchester x Fe!OC (Peggy) [feel free to see yourself as Peggy] -> When Dean takes Sam to see an old friend of his, Sam is, it's safe to say, more than confused to see his brother with an attitude that could only equal lovesick teen or, better yet, married.

Warning: FLUFF! Dogs, Back to the Future mentions (small), light swearing and fade to smut (mostly kissing), mutual pining, long fic etc.

When Sam woke up that morning, the last thing he expected was to find his brother awake before him - after having a full 8 hours sleep. Both of them. Both of them had slept 8 full hours and yet, Dean was still up before him. 

“Dude, what the-”

“Get dressed.”

Sam paused by the kitchen door. “Okay?...Why?”

“We’re going for a ride.”

“Dean,” Sam began, “we’ve just come back from a hunt yesterday. Dude, we need a break-”

“You can stay here if you want.” Dean said, looking to his brother. “It’s not a hunt. I’m just visiting an old friend.”

“Friend? What friend? We don’t have friends, Dean. Our friends are all dead- well, most of them are.”

Dean ignored Sam’s comments. “Look, I’m going up to see her. You can either stay here or you can come with.”

“Her?”

Dean had never mentioned a ‘her’ before outside of Charlie, Jody and Donna. 

Dean just nodded to his brother. “She’s just moved. Lives a couple hours away. Thought I’d go up and say hi. There’s a couple of things I want to grab while I’m up there, too.”

“Things? What things?” Since when had his brother become a sudden mystery. Her? Things? “Are you feeling okay, Dean? You’re not…concussed? Are you? Fever?”

Sam went to place his hand by his brother’s head, but Dean just batted it away. “Are you coming or not?”

Sam agreed to go. He wanted to know who this ‘her’ was. 

All the way there, Sam asked questions. 

“Who is she? When did you meet her? What’s her name? Where the hell are we going? You’re not going just to hook up, are you? Because if you are-”

“Sam.” Dean interjected. “She’s just an old friend. I met her when I was younger. She’s got a couple of my things in her attic that I need since we’ve moved into the Bunker. Now, will you please shut up.”

“Okay.”

It was a little while longer until finally they arrived. 

Dean pulled Baby into park outside of a car mechanic shop. Sutton Workshop. 

Slowly, Sam got out of the car whilst his brother practically skipped. Where the hell were they?

Mostly, the place was silent. Was she, whoever she was, aware that they were coming?

But Sam jumped the moment he heard a voice swear. Then he spotted a pair of legs from under the cherry red mustang.. 

“Shit!”

Dean chuckled. “Don’t worry Cherry. She’s all bark and no bite.”

Sam could only see the legs of the person, but they became paralised. But not out of fear - out of recognition. 

From under the car, Peggy smiled. She thought she had been kidding herself when she heard the familiar roar of the familiar, black, 67’ but the moment she heard that deep chuckle, she knew. 

“You talking to me or the car?” Peggy asked before she rolled herself from under the car to look at the older Winchester who was stood leaning against the car. “And get off. It’s a new paint job.”

Dean stepped back with his hands up. “Yes, ma’am.”

Peggy stood up and was quick to embrace Dean. “God, it’s good to see you.” He still smelt the same. It was almost intoxicating. Whiskey and leather the seats of Baby and…gunpowder? Yep. Still Dean Winchester. 

As Peggy let go and stepped back, she found another guy stood beside them. “Peg, this is Sam.”

Peggy shook the hand of Sam’s shocked person. “Hi, nice to finally meet you.”

“I’d say you too but…”

“He didn’t tell you who I was, did he?” Peggy hit Dean’s arm, enough to make him hold it after. “Thanks for that.”

“What? He never asked.”

Sam pulled a face at Dean but he just shrugged in return. “So, tell me, what are you in town for?”

“I was hoping you still had some of my boxes.”

Boxes? What boxes? Dean had boxes?

Peggy smiled. “Yeah, I’ve still got em’. They’re up in my attic. I’ve still got a couple cars to work on but you’re welcome to go and get em’.” Peggy walked into her office before finding her house keys and chucking them over to Dean. 

“You sure?”

Peggy nodded. “Yeah. I’ll meet you back at home later. I’ve got a customer coming picking up his car in about 20 minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll see you there.”

“See ya!” Peggy then slipped back under her car and continued her work. 

“Sam!”

Sam jumped back into action and followed his brother back to Baby before Dean began driving a few streets away. “This is where she lives?”

“It didn’t look like this beforehand.” Dean told Sam, “She fixed it up.”

“She did all of this?”

Dean shrugged, placing the key into the door. “Well, I helped…a little.”

“When?” Sam asked, a little offended he didn’t know. 

“About two years ago. There was a hunt close by and she needed some help. So I helped.” Dean briefly explained. “Up here.”

Sam found it oddly unsettling that his brother knew this house a lot better than he knew the Bunker. And that's saying something. It was like there was an air of domesticity around Dean - something Sam never, ever saw in him. No matter how hard Dean tried to have it, he never could but here? Here it was like he was swimming in it. 

It was a good look on him. 

Dean pulled at the short cord before the stairs collapsed down and he began to climb them. 

The attic had been decorated, too. A little, at least. There were wooden panels everywhere, a couple of empty case boards and case file boxes on the floor. In the other corner was a large double bed with multiple plastic boxes on top with the labels of Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas on them. 

All Dean could say was; “She’s a holiday person.”

Underneath the rest of the unpacked boxes and trunks was a rug. Clearly, this was made to be an extra bedroom but had become more of a storage space for a while. 

Dean shrugged off his jacket and placed it over the wooden banister that was placed at the side of the door and began looking around. 

In the middle of the sloping roof was a window that allowed you to either watch the birds fly by or watch the stars at night. 

There had been so many nights spent here, for Dean. He could still remember the days when the case boards were filled with pinned photos and colored string leading from one to another. 

As Dean began opening one box, Sam opened another. And that was when he saw it. 

Dean’s things. 

His stuff. 

Everything from his childhood - photo albums, school reports, school projects…everything was saved. In another box were awards he’d gotten from school. His highschool diploma. 

“She framed it.” Dean said in shock as he found it at the bottom of his box. 

“What?” Sam asked, but Dean just ignored him and turned to the next box. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about all of this?” Sam asked. 

Again, nothing. 

“Dean!”

Dean snapped out of his trance and looked to his brother. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Peggy?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it just never came up.”

“You helping fix a house never came up? Dean. We’ve been here half an hour and you’ve yet to tell me anything.”

“Look, Peg and I…we’re friends. Sometimes when I’d go hunting and there wasn’t a case, I’d come and see her. I’d help her out. It’s nothing.”

Sam thought for a moment. “So…have you two ever…”

Surprisingly, Dean seemed a little confused by what Sam was insinuating, but then it clicked. “What? Oh. No. No. We’re just friends. Jesus.”

Sam chuckled a little. “Okay, just…had to ask. You dressed as the easter bunny?”

“What?” Dean looked up and Sam showed him the photo. 

“No. Mom dressed me as the easter bunny.”

“It’s cute.”

“No, it’s not.”

Then a voice cut the conversation. “It’s adorable.”

Dean smiled seeing as Peggy scaled the stairs and came up into the attic space. She looked over Sam’s shoulder from where he sat and took the photo in her hands. “Come on. I should frame it.”

“Don’t.” Dean warned. 

She turned the photo so he could see. “But you’re adorable.”

He swiftly stood up and took the photo from her. “Absolutely not.”

“Fine.” Peggy groaned. “Jackass.”

“Moron.” 

Sam couldn’t help but smile as he watched their interaction. He’d never seen Dean like this…it was good. 

“Why are you looking through this stuff anyway?” Peggy asked, sitting on the floor beside Dean as he sat on the trunk. 

“We’ve moved into a Bunker.”

Peggy laughed at first but then realized. “Oh, you’re being serious.”

Dean nodded, proudfully. “Yep. We’re legacies.”

“Legacies? How fancy.” 

Dean didn’t explain further, so Sam did. “Our grandfather- Henry-”

Peggy quickly looked to Dean. “Your dad’s dad? You met your grandfather?”

She looked back to Sam and he nodded. “Yep.”

“Holy crap.”

“Anyway, he’s a Man of Letters. Apparently it’s a secret Hunter’s organization thing. Anyway, we’ve moved in.”

“And I want to actually make it a home.”

Peggy nodded, looking at Dean as he spoke. “That’s good. But you’ve always got a home here, if you need one.”

Dean looked at her and smiled. “I know.”

Sam watched the interaction again. Was Dean lying to him about the dating thing?

Peggy, however, then broke it and stood up. “I’ve put some food on. I’ll shout you down when it’s ready. You need any help?” 

Dean shook his head. “No, we’ve got it. Thanks, Moron.”

“Anytime, Jackass.” Peggy smiled before making her way down the stairs but not before popping her head back up. 

“You’re not allergic to anything, are you Sam?”

Sam shook his head. “No.”

“Okay, good. See you soon.”

Around an hour later, Peggy shouted for them both to come downstairs and wash up before all three of them sat down to eat. 

“Who is this guy?” Dean asked, suddenly being met by a shaggy lab. 

“That is Einstein." 

“Back to the Future?” Dean asked. 

“You know it.” Peggy smiled.

Sam was in shock. His brother couldn’t be more…normal if he tried. And since when did Dean like dogs? 

“Einstein, outside. Come on. Fetch.”

Peggy threw his ball out into the backyard before closing the door and letting him run around the garden in circles until he’d tire himself out. 

“When did you get him?” Dean asked, making his way into the dining room. 

“Last year.” Peggy explained. “He was a shelter dog and I was getting lonely around here, so I adopted him.”

“What happened to creeper-dude? Rick.”

Peggy nodded. “Rich. And, we broke up.”

Dean nodded. “Good. Never liked him anyway.”

“You don’t like any guys I date.”

“Because they’re all wrong for you.”

“Then who’s right for me?”

Dean gave a slight smirk. “I don’t know. Me?”

Peggy looked at him and Sam could have swore he saw her blush as she looked down. “Oh, I walked into that one.”

“Yeah, you did.” Dean smiled. “You need help?”

“No, I got it.” Peggy carried the large bowl of pasta into the dining room whilst Dean grabbed the plates and laid them out. 

The next hour and half was filled with many different conversations all from Dean’s stint in Purgatory to Sam’s days at Stanford. But it was all good. They laughed and cried at the laughter. And for Sam, it was the happiest he’d seen his brother…ever. 

“I’ve finished the spare rooms so you two could stay if you want?”

“Are…are you sure?” Sam asked. 

Peggy nodded and collected the plates but Dean swiftly took them from her and took them to the kitchen himself. “You cooked, we’ll clean.”

“Thanks. And, yes. I’m sure. I’d be nice to actually have someone to talk to. And I could use your help,” Peggy walked into the kitchen carrying the glasses. “A customer came in just before I shut up for the evening. American Station Wagon and I, for the life of me, cannot see anything wrong.”

“Well, it can’t be good if you need a second pair of eyes.”

“I know.”

Peggy was the best mechanic Dean knew. Anything that came into the shop from motorbikes to Baby herself. Peggy could fix anything and she was the only one Dean trusted enough to handle Baby. 

The next day soon came and Sam decided to take a walk with Einstein to the dog park since Dean and Peggy headed to the shop early. 

Meanwhile, as he passed the shop, he could see Dean stood in his gray t-shirt that was covered in grease stains from the oil whilst Peggy stood in her overalls and her hair pulled up into a messy bun. With the heat, Dean had pulled his own overalls to tie around his waist hence the stains on his t-shirt. 

And when Bobby called Sam and Sam asked the old man about Dean and Peggy - 

“Oh, yeah. I’ve seen them. God love that boy, but he’s an idiot.”

“Tell me about it.” Sam replied, rolling his eyes. “We’ve been here just over 24 hours and, Bobby, I have to tell you. I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s actually…happy. He slept all night. He was up just after me and Peggy.”

“You don’t have to tell me, boy. I was there when they met. Pair of lovesick teenagers if I ever saw em’.” Bobby explained. “But the idjit waited too long to make a move and now thinks he’s stuck in the friendzone.”

“Maybe he is.” Even as Sam said it, he didn’t believe it. “Maybe they are just friends.”

“Boy, have you ever seen Dean look at Jody that way? Or Donna, or Charlie? No.” Bobby pointed out. “That isn’t the look of friendship, Sam. That is the look of a man in love.”

Sam looked across the street and saw Dean looked at Peggy. God, Dean was so in love. 

“You’re right, Bobby.”

“That boy’s too frightened of his own skin to do anything about it.” For as much as Dean was one of, if not the most feared hunter, he was terrified. He was terrified of something happening to him and leaving her alone or heartbroken, or worse, hating him for all eternity. And he was terrified that something would happen to her. He’d lost a lot of good people in his life, but Peggy? Well, she was the best. He couldn’t lose her or he might just lose himself, too. 

Sam continued on his walk back from the park with Einstein and, eventually, around 8pm Dean and Peggy arrived back home. 

Sam had called Dean and left him a couple of messages but, it was the note left on the kitchen counter which let him know where his baby brother was. 

Dean listened to the voicemail Sam left. 

“Everything okay?” Peggy asked. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah…Sam’s gone on a date.”

“He has?”

Dean was a little shocked, but he was happy. 

“Yeah. Eileen. She’s…a hunter we met a couple weeks back. She’s not too far from town and…he’s gone on a date.”

Peggy smiled. “Good for him. Oh, no. What’s that look?”

“I know he’s a grown man- we both know that.” Dean mentioned, mocking his brother’s height a little. “But…I don’t know.”

“It feels like he’s flown the nest?” Peggy smiled. “Don’t worry. When he comes back here with all his ‘first date’ questions, you can answer all of them in detail. Maybe even teach him about the birds and the bees-”

And the moment was gone. “Okay. Nope. Not doing that.”

Peggy gave a soft laugh. “Okay, go and get a shower because as much as I enjoy the smell of motor oil, I’d rather not smell it 24/7.”

Dean nodded. “Okay.”

When Dean finished in the bathroom - remembering to place his towel inside the washing basket outside the door - that was when he spotted them. 

Photos. 

Their frames lined the walls and they were all of her family. Her folks, cousins, school friends and…him. 

Dean, carefully, picked it off the wall. 

There were a few of both of them scattered across the walls in the home. But Dean could remember this one. 

It was the first time they fixed a car together. Her mom or dad must have taken it since Bobby was asleep in the background with his cap over his face. He could see her smile - it still made his heart warm. But he could see his, also. God, he was so in love with her. Still was. 

That was when he heard the soft humming of music from the attic. 

Turning back, he switched the bathroom light out and headed up the stairs and found Peggy smiling softly at the record case in her hand. 

Etta James. 

She’d maybe played that album 30 times or more when they first met. 

The song currently playing was Sunday Kind of Love. It was…her. 

Peggy had to move the boxes from the bed to grab the record player from down the opposite side of the bed. 

Peggy looked up when she sensed him, and smiled. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey,” Dean then remembered the photo in his hand. “I found this.”

Placing the record beside her on the trunk, she stood and walked over to Dean. She took the photo from his hands and examined it. She’d put the photo’s up so long ago, she almost forgot she actually had them. 

Peggy smiled, as did Dean. “I remember this! This was the first car we worked on together.”

She went quiet for a few moments until- “God, I was so in love with you here.”

But then she realized what she had said and the fact that she had said it out loud. The smile from Dean’s face dropped when he realized, too. “What?”

Peggy panicked, but tried her best to remain calm. “Nothing. I - I don’t even know why I said that.”

She went to turn away and to pick the album cover up again. “Peg, what do you mean-”

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” But Dean didn’t take her reply. 

“You were in love with me?”

Crap. 

“Dean, you don’t have to worry.” Peggy tried to tell him. “I was young. We both were.”

“Peg, just answer the question.”

“Dean-”

Dean stepped a little closer to her. “Did you love me?”

There was no getting out of this one. 

“Maybe.” She first answered. “No. Yes. Dean, look, I was young and you were…you. You don’t have to-”

“Do you still?”

Now this question shocked her more than the last. Of course she did, but could she really tell him that? Tell him that for the past, almost 17 years of her life, she had loved him. That every now and then she’d date someone but it always ended because of many reasons, but the main was was that the guy wasn’t him? Because she knew, deep down, that her heart or at least some part of her would always belong to him. Always. 

“Dean…I-” Peggy couldn’t find the words. 

Dean found himself stepping forward a few more steps and slowly leaning down. “Dean-” He pulled back a little. “You don’t have to do this.”

But Dean only gave a silent answer by looking at her and leaning in slowly until eventually the breath he could feel on his lips wasn’t just his own. It was hers, too. He’d waited 17 years to do this - all because he’d been too scared, too chicken. Bobby was right. He is an Idjit. 

The first kiss was soft. Barely there. Really, it couldn’t be considered a kiss. It was more of a breath. 

But then his lips caught hers and as he truly kissed her, she kissed back. His hands cupped her cheeks and softly held her closer to him. 

Peggy herself found his reaction a shock, but found her own an even bigger one. She was kissing him back. Slowly, her hands came up to his chest and the moment she felt him pulling away, her hands gripped at his shirt and pulled him closer. 

Even though the first kiss didn’t really break fully, this was still their second kiss. And she could feel Dean’s smile in it, causing a small one of her own as she felt his hands go from her face to her back, holding her in a hug almost until finally his hands reached her legs and he lifted her up. 

Her own hands were by his face, feeling his clean shaven skin beneath her palms. 

This was the best kiss of their lives. 

It only took a few steps, but Dean eventually reached the bed in the corner of the room and lay Peggy carefully onto her back, being careful not to break the kiss too much. 

They’d both waited so long for this. 

Maybe they should have told each other sooner. 

“Peggy-” Dean managed to pull back for a moment but his own desire to keep on kissing took back over for a short second. “Peg- Peggy.”

“Dean, if you don’t-”

“I love you.” 

Dean was never one for words, not really. He usually showed his love more than he said it. But with her it was different. He could talk. He could tell her how he felt and what he was thinking. He could tell her he loved her. He had to tell her. 

“I know I don’t say it often, but I do. I was in love with you, too. In that photo. I have been since we were kids. Maybe that’s why it didn’t work out with other people? Maybe that’s why I don’t want anyone to stick. But you-”

“Dean,” Peggy interjected. “I love you too.”

Dean felt his own brain stall. He had an idea before he kissed her but hearing it? That was something different. It felt different. 

“Are you-”

Peggy gave a light laugh that had been giving him butterflies in his stomach since the first day he heard her laugh. “Jackass? I just told you I love you, too. Now, shut up and kiss me.”

Dean smiled back. “Yes, ma’am.”

And he did as he was told. 

Dean lowered himself back down and they began kissing all over again. If they were both dead now, this was their heaven. They didn’t need much else besides one another, and maybe a comfortable bed and a couple cars to fix when they weren’t too busy. 

#dean winchester #dean winchester x fe!oc #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x fe!reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #spn family #spn fandom #long fic #oneshot #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester imagines #mechanic oc #dean winchester x mechanic!reader #supernatural #love #fluff #sam winchester #spn #angst #major fluff #fade to smut #making out #etta james #a sunday kind of love #at last #season 8 #henry winchester #bunker #spn fanworks

[welldonebeca]

Stupid Squeeze (2)

WC: 1.9k words Warnings: Semi-public sex. Dirty thoughts.  Oral sex. Size difference. Size kink. Degrading kink. Praising kink. Unsafe sex. Breeding kink.

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Masterlist

Baby was parked in the darkest spot behind the bar, nearly completely hidden.

If they managed to keep their little flower quiet, it would be easy to hide.

Sam glanced at her face, finding her wide-eyed and flustered.

"You can back away anytime, sweetheart," he assured her.

They would never force her into anything.

But she looked at him, shaking her head.

"I just... I've never done it in a car before," she confessed. "I never had the chance."

Dean chuckled, smirking to himself, and Sam let her go, so his brother could kiss her lips.

"Don't worry," he spoke softly. "We are very experienced."

That they were.

Finally, Lily nodded, and Dean smirked before picking her up, leaving Sam to be the one to unlock the door.

His brother lied her onto the seat, spreading her legs and placing himself right there.

Helen was gorgeous. Beautiful.

Her face was cherubic, her round cheeks nearly as attractive as her breasts.

She was full, at every little bit. Her hips, her chest, her cheeks...

Sam could see himself sinking his teeth onto her soft belly on his way to eating out her pussy very happily.

The moment Sam saw her, he'd gotten a hard-on. The curve of her hips, the way her fat ass looked in that tiny skirt.

He could have fucked her right there.

He was surprised when she pushed her fingers into Dean's hair, taking his mind off of his own thoughts.

"No," she whined. "No more teasing."

His brother lifted his hair, and though Sam couldn't see it, he could feel his confusion, and walked near them.

Lily sat up, pouting, growling.

"I believe I was promised some good fucking," she affirmed, at last.

Sam laughed, but she crossed her arms, pouting and he looked at Dean.

Well... she was right, wasn't she?

Dean chuckled, shaking his head and standing up.

"Alright," he stood up. "How do we do that?"

"The backseat can only fit one of us with her," Sam reminded him. "We'll have to take turns."

His brother glanced at him.

"Alright, there," he nodded. "Let me just-"

What now?

"Hey!" Sam interrupted him. "Who agreed you'd go first?"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"House rules, Sammy. It's my car."

He scoffed. As if.

"It's our car," he corrected him. "You just happen to have a monopoly over the driving seat."

They had both been living in that car for their whole lives.

"Well, I'm the oldest," Dean decided. "And I go first."

"No," he shook his head. "That doesn't work like that."

As if he was going to let him take her first!

Dean scoffed, kicking his feet as if he was about to throw a tantrum.

"Dude, every time you go first you are too rough with them," he half whined. "You suck bruises all over them, you bite their tits, you squeeze their hips so hard you leave handprints!"

From the car, Lily whined, and Sam looked over to see her squirming, squeezing her legs together, very flushed.

Oh. Did she like that?

"It's not true," he mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

It wasn't like he marked them... too much.

Dean was just too soft!

He would let any girl top him if he was to have his way!

"Dean-"

"Let's just Rock-Paper-Scissors," his brother decided. "Okay?"

Sam wanted to laugh. Asking for Rock-Paper-Scissors just meant loosing for him!

"Sure," he walked to him.

Sam hit his palm twice, thowing rock right as his brother threw scissors.

There.

His brother grimaced.

"Dammit," he grunted.

But he didn't even fight him.

"Fine," Dean crossed his arms. "Just go."

Wait. Really?

No best of three?

But Dean just sat on the driver's seat, and Sam didn't take any time before grabbing Lily.

"Sam," she whined, taking him from her thoughts.

He looked down at her, holding her by her hips, and pressed her chest against his.

Oh, those tits... he could mark those cheeks.

"Yes, sweet flower?"

She pouted.

"Are you going to mark me too?" she asked timidly.

Sam licked his lips, tempted, before restraining himself.

"Let me check if you're ready for me first," he changed the subject, unbuckling his pants.

It would be a little too hard to take off his pants inside.

Sam took his belt off, shoving it into the car, and guided her to the back seat.

But Lily looked at him with hunger, licking her pink lips.

But he knew just how to fuck in that backseat without much restraint.

If she wanted him to be rough, Sam would love to give it to her.

He tugged on his clothes, quickly revealing and freeing his cock, and her hands were very quick to come to take it.

"Oh," Lily spoke softly.

Her fingers wrapped around him, stroking him slowly.

"It's so big..."

"Turn around, sweetheart," he tilted her chin up. "Raise your ass for me, will you?"

Lily whined, but complied, and Sam sat back a little as she put her knees on the seat.

Fuck, her ass was so gorgeous. Round and so juicy.

He flipped her skirt, pushing it up, and her panties were buried between her ass cheeks.

"Oh no," he faux lamented. "Your panties are ruined!"

They were. Her juices had made the light fabric all transparent now.

He pulled them off, and shoved them into Dean's hand, knowing his brother enjoyed them quite a bit.

"I'll keep these," he decided.

Sam smirked.

Of course he would.

His brother had no shame, taking them to his nose and sniffing them.

"Wet pussy," Dean hissed, looking at her. "Delicious."

Lily whined, and Sam couldn't hold himself, slapping her ass right away.

"You like it, pretty thing?" he hummed. "Bring a drippy slut for us?"

She arched her ass to him.

"Please, Sammy," she shook her ass side to side. "Fuck me?"

His cock throbbed.

How could he say no?

Sam spread her ass to get a better look at her cunt, and took his cock in his free hand, teasing her folds with it.

Fuck, she was so fucking wet, just so slippery.

He pushed the head into her entrance, pushing in, and her cunt squeezed him right away.

The way Lily moaned should have been illegal.

Sam had no patience, just pushing and pushing, engulfed by her wet walls, until he was fully settled inside her.

"Fuck," he groaned.

He leaned over her, covering her whole body with his, and earn a silly moan.

"Sam," her head fell forward.

"Like this, my flower?" he pressed his lips to her ear. "Is this what your pussy needs?"

But before she could even answer, he pulled back and slammed himself all the way into her.

"Fuck!" she cried. "Yes, Sam!"

He growled, burying his face into the crook of her neck.

"Fucking look at you," he pulled back, slamming into her again. "So pathetic, getting fucked by a stranger in his car outside..."

She moaned, silly, her cunt squeezing around his cock already.

"Yes, Sam," she whined.

"You didn't even care that I pushed my cock into you all bare," Sam reminded her. "Don't even care we're not using protection. You really want to be dripping with cum, don't you?"

Lily gasped under him.

"Oh f-"

But he interrupted her, taking his fingers to her clit and rubbing on it hard.

"Fuuuck," she whined.

Her cunt fluttered around him.

"Stupid girl," he rubbed her. "Just a drippy slut for me."

He was going to leave her all stuffed for Dean.

"Maybe we'll even leave a little gift inside you," he teased her, smirking. "Everyone will know you're a knocked-up slut."

She moaned, and he could feel the heat on her neck, as if she was flushing. Her cunt, though, got wetter and tighter.

Oh, she liked that, hm?

"Sam," she whined.

He kissed her neck.

"Why don't you say it, baby girl," he taunted her. "Say you want to be a knocked-up slut."

Lily shook her head, moaning under him.

He clicked his tongue.

No, that, wouldn't do.

Sam took his fingers from her clit and pushed them into her hair, pulling her head back, making her look at him, and buried his cock inside her, not moving.

"Sam!" she yelped.

"If you don't want to be my drippy knocked-up whore, then I'll have to stop fucking you," he reminded her, mockingly. "My cock is bare inside you, I can't risk it, little flower."

Lily whined, squirming, trying to move her hips under him, but Sam was just holding her.

"You're so mean, Sammy," Dean chuckled.

He looked over at his brother, finding him watching them as his arm moved slowly, her panties buried in his nose.

"The poor girl," he lamented.

Sam laughed, shaking his head, angling her to look at him.

"Look at him," he commanded. "My brother is so sweet, little flower. He'd let you walk all over him. He would let you ride him just so he could bury his face in those tits."

Dean moaned, undoubtedly thinking of it.

"But I'm not my brother," he bit her earlobe. "I want to break you. Make you into a stupid little thing that needs cock to live, that needs MY cock to breathe."

She moaned, her cunt squeezing him more.

"Now tell me, my dumb little flower," he made her look at him. "What are you?"

She whined.

"I'm your dumb slut," Lily moaned.

Sam smirked.

"And...?"

She pouted.

"I want to be your knocked-up slut, Sam," she begged. "Please."

Sam couldn't help himself.

Well, she had asked, hadn't she?

He fucked her hard as fast, the sound of his lips slapping her ass echoing loudly.

"Sam!" she moaned, a little too loudly.

She whimpered around them.

"P-ease," Lily moaned.

They laughed together, and Sam closed his eyes at her squeeze.

Fuck, he was getting close already.

He wished he could stay in her forever.

But he had to be a good brother.

Dean deserved a turn.

Sam took his fingers down again, rubbing her clit as he used her.

"You're going to cum for me while I fill you up," he commanded.

She moaned, silly.

"You're gonna cum on a stranger's cock while he knocks you up," Sam laughed. "Look at you."

Lily's cunt squeezed him, fluttering, squeezing.

Sam pressed his fingers harder to her clit, and he closed his eyes when she came right away, drooling all over Dean's fingers and Sam's cock.

"There you go," his brother praised. "Good slut."

Sam groaned, pulling back from her chest, rising from his spot as much as he could and grabbing her hips, fucking her hard and deep.

He was going to paint her insides, fill her up so much his seed would have nowhere to go but into her womb.

He moaned as he released himself, stopping himself from collapsing on top of her, but holding himself back.

The moment his balls emptied inside her, he pulled out slowly to look at the display in front of him.

Fuck, her cunt was all used, swollen and flushed.

"Wish I had a fucking camera," he grunted. "Would keep a memory of the day we put a baby into you."

She whimpered, face down on the backseat, and Dean pulled on his shoulder.

"Hey, you have your fun," his brother grunted. "She is mine now."

…

“Stupid Squeee” was posted on Patreon on February 2023. To read it now before anyone else, subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month and it helps a lot.

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#Welldonebeca's Stupid Squeeze series #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x oc smut #dean winchester x reader x sam winchester #dean winchester x reader x sam winchester smut #dean winchester x oc x sam winchester #dean winchester x oc x sam winchester smut #sam winchester #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x oc #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester x oc smut #sam winchester x reader x dean winchester smut #sam winchester x reader x dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader x dean winchester #sam winchester x oc x dean winchester #sam winchester x oc x dean winchester fanfic #sam winchester x oc x dean winchester smut

[raised-u-fr0m-perdition]

MAIN MASTERLIST

ѕρη мαѕтєяℓιѕт

Characters I write for:

Dean Winchester (mainly)

Sam Winchester (if requested)

Castiel (if requested)

𝔹𝕀𝔾 𝕊𝕂𝕐 𝕄𝔸𝕊𝕋𝔼ℝ𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋

Characters I write for:

Beau Arlen (coming up!)

ᴄᴊ ʙʀᴀxᴛᴏɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

i like me better (coming Friday 3/5) - CJ’s been best friends with Alyssa Myles since tenth grade and have gone through thick and thin together. Now that they’re in college, CJ’s struggling with his breakup with Jen and it’s Alyssa’s mission to help. Because somehow, CJ always feels less broken around her.

𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

#dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn #dean winchester x oc #spn masterlist #dean winchester x you #supernatural oc #sam winchester #castiel #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #big sky #cj braxton #soldier boy x oc #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction

[thsillystringbeanscribbler]

Bunny Slippers: Chapter Six

Summary: Julia and Dean have a wholesome moment after an emotional evening.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader [ OC: Julia Blackburn ]

Warnings: Swearing, just fluff

Word Count: 2,436 words

Author's Note: Another smaller chapter, I promise that chapter seven will probably be a thick boi.

Chapter One; Chapter Two; Chapter Three; Chapter Four; Chapter Five

The warmth emanating from Dean, combined with his gentle touch and the ambient noise of the movie, created a cocoon of comfort that enveloped Julia, drawing her into a deep sleep. As the movie came to a close, its end credits silently scrolling across the screen, Dean noticed Julia's peaceful slumber against him. Carefully, he maneuvered to slide off the bed, intent on not disturbing her rest.

Turning to Sam, who had quietly observed the scene unfold, Dean whispered, "Jules had a rough night. I'll crash in her room so she can have the bed here." His voice was soft, a testament to the protective instinct he felt towards Julia.

Dean then positioned himself closer to Julia, his movements deliberate and gentle. "Sammy, help me out here. Lift the covers for me, will ya? I'm gonna move her so she's more comfortable," he instructed, his tone low but clear, ensuring their combined efforts wouldn't wake her.

As Dean carefully lifted Julia into his arms, cradling her with a tenderness that spoke volumes of his concern, Sam complied without hesitation, pulling back the bedcovers as requested. Together, they managed the task with an ease born of countless nights spent in similar, makeshift accommodations.

Dean gently laid Julia down, her head finding the pillow with a softness that assured him of her comfort. He then took a moment to remove her slippers, placing them neatly by the bed, a small but significant gesture of care. Pulling the covers over her, he tucked them around her sleeping form, ensuring she was warm and secure.

Sam, witnessing the scene, nodded in silent agreement, a shared understanding between the brothers that no words could encapsulate. They were protectors, not just of each other, but of those who entered their lives, willingly taking on the night's shadows to ensure the safety of those they cared for.

Dean offered Sam a quiet "Goodnight" before making his way through the motel door and into Julia's room. The transition was seamless, the familiar scent of her perfume greeting him as he crossed the threshold, a subtle reminder of her presence even in her absence.

Settling into her bed, Dean found comfort in the remnants of Julia's scent that clung to the pillows, an invisible yet palpable connection to her. The room, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, felt peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos that often followed them.

As he lay there, thoughts of Julia filled his mind, not just the events of the day but the shared moments of laughter, danger, and quiet understanding that had come to define their relationship. Her resilience, her kindness, and the way she fit so seamlessly into their world enveloped his thoughts, a soothing balm to the day's end.

In the silence of Julia's room, with her essence enveloping him, Dean drifted off to sleep, the trials of their lives momentarily at bay. In these hours of rest, the lines between protector and friend, between hunter and human, blurred, offering a glimpse of tranquility in their tumultuous existence.

 –––– –––– –––– –––– –––– OoOoO –––– –––– –––– –––– ––––

As the night's deep veil gradually lifted to welcome the early hues of dawn, Julia's sleep, once deep and undisturbed, turned restless. Stirring awake, she was momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliarity of her surroundings until her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Glancing towards the other bed, she noticed Sam, sprawled out in a peaceful slumber, his limbs taking up the expanse of the mattress, a soft snore punctuating the quiet of the room.

The realization of Dean's absence — and the memory of his gentle care the night before — washed over her. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought of his selflessness, his decision to vacate his bed for her comfort, reflecting the depth of compassion he possessed beneath his rugged exterior.

Motivated by a desire to express her gratitude, Julia quietly rose from the bed. She slipped her feet into her fluffy bunny slippers, the soft fabric a comfort against the cold floor. With a plan forming, she remembered the quaint coffee shop she had spotted not far from their motel — a perfect place to procure a morning treat for Dean.

In the predawn dimness, she located a flannel shirt draped over a chair, an afterthought left by one of the brothers. Pulling it on over her pajamas, she appreciated its warmth and the faint scent of detergent mixed with a trace of Dean's cologne that clung to the fabric.

With care to avoid any noise that might disturb Sam's rest, Julia opened the motel door and stepped out into the fresh morning air. The world outside was quiet, the bustle of the day yet to begin, the streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights transitioning to daylight. Her heart carried a lightness, fueled by the simple act of kindness she was about to perform, a silent thank you to Dean for his unspoken support.

As the early morning light began to seep through the curtains, Dean remained oblivious to the world, lost in the depths of sleep, face buried into the pillow beneath him. The quiet click of the door announced Julia's return, her hands carefully balancing two to-go coffee cups as she navigated her way into the room. Gently, she placed them on the bedside table, a silent offering of gratitude for his kindness.

Leaning over, Julia's touch was feather-light on Dean's back as she called his name, "Dean," her voice carrying the softness of the dawn, a tender attempt to bridge the gap between sleep and wakefulness.

Stirred by her voice, Dean slowly surfaced from the depths of sleep, his first sight the dim outline of Julia standing beside the bed. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he shifted to prop himself up on his elbows, a look of momentary confusion giving way to recognition.

"Hey," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep, a half-smile forming as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Is that for me?" he nodded towards the coffee, his early morning gruffness melting into a genuine warmth at the sight of her. "You didn't have to, but thanks, Jules. That's... really thoughtful of you." His appreciation was evident, not just for the coffee but for the gesture, for the morning's quiet beginning, and for the companionship that had grown between them in the face of everything they faced together.

Dean sat up fully, his legs swinging over the side of the bed as he faced Julia. Noticing the aged flannel she had thrown over her pyjamas, he couldn't help but flash a cheeky smile. "Is that my flannel?" he queried, amusement lacing his tone.

"I don't know, I just grabbed it off the floor in your room," Julia responded, a playful note in her voice as she gave the flannel a cursory glance, assessing its fit over her frame.

She then added with a chuckle, "The waitresses at the coffee shop thought I was homeless, so they gave me a donut." Her light-heartedness about the morning's attire and the unintended impression it gave off was evident. "But before you get any ideas, I already ate it," she admitted as she took a seat next to Dean.

"Steal my flannel and don't even share your donut. Wow, Jules, I can't believe you," Dean teased, giving her arm a gentle nudge, his tone playful yet filled with a warmth that only deepened their connection.

Julia rolled her eyes in mock exasperation before turning to face him, their eyes locking in a moment of silent communication. Dean, caught in the gravity of their gaze, found his eyes drifting to her lips as she bit them in contemplation.

Breaking the moment, Julia spoke up, her voice soft, "I just wanted to say thanks for last night," as she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, the gesture revealing her vulnerability. "So, I got you a coffee," she finished, the simplicity of her thanks underlining the depth of her gratitude and the complex emotions of the night before.

As she looked back into Dean's eyes, there was a palpable shift in the air between them. Dean, feeling the intensity of the moment, found his heartbeat quickening, a rush of adrenaline mingling with an undeniable warmth. His eyes locked on hers, and he swallowed, trying to find his voice, which seemed lodged somewhere between his heart and his throat.

"I'll always have room for a cup of coffee, especially when it's with you," Dean managed, his voice rough with sleep but softened by the tender moment they were sharing. His usual cockiness was there, but it was tempered by a genuine warmth that wasn't always visible to others.

As he noticed Julia wearing his flannel, a playful yet affectionate smile danced on his lips. "You know, in any other circumstance, I might have to start a manhunt for my stolen goods. But seeing you in my flannel, I gotta say, it suits you way better than it does me." He reached up, his fingers gently brushing another lock of hair behind her ear, his touch deliberate and tender. The way Julia's cheeks flushed under his touch, the way her breath caught slightly—it was like watching a flower bloom under the morning sun. For a moment, they were caught in a bubble of intimacy, a world away from the chaos that usually surrounded them.

But, as if on cue to shatter their brief respite, Dean's phone erupted into a cacophony of ringing. He cursed softly under his breath, "Son of a bitch," the words slipping out in a hushed tone, more out of reflex than anger.

Julia, observing the conflict playing out in Dean's eyes—the desire to remain in this fleeting sanctuary versus the call of duty—spoke gently, "You should probably take that." Her voice was laced with understanding, yet a hint of disappointment that they couldn't hold onto the moment a little longer.

Dean's eyes met hers, a storm of green that spoke volumes of apologies and what-ifs, before he reluctantly turned to grab the phone from the bedside table. "Yeah, Bobby, what's up?" he answered, his voice betraying the frustration of being pulled away from Julia, even as he tried to mask it with his usual bravado.

In the background, Julia quietly gathered her things, the spell of the moment broken, as she slipped into the bathroom to change. The transient intimacy they shared was now just another memory, fleeting and bittersweet, as they both returned to the realities waiting for them outside their temporary haven.

As Dean juggled the phone between his shoulder and ear, his attention was split. Half of him was on the conversation with Bobby, absorbing the details of their next case, his voice laced with that unmistakable Winchester determination. "Yeah, Bobby, I got it. We'll head out first thing. No, I haven't seen anything like it either. We'll be careful, you know us."

But the other half of his focus was entirely on Julia as she emerged from the bathroom. She was a vision in her high-waisted jeans and black AC/DC t-shirt, the red and black flannel he recognized as his own adding a layer of intimacy to her outfit. Dean couldn't help but pause mid-sentence, watching her move with a grace that always seemed to capture his full attention. His eyes followed her every step, admiration and a touch of something deeper flickering in his gaze.

As Julia sauntered across the room, there was a playful confidence in her stride, a silent conversation passing between them. She winked at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and whispered in a way that was both conspiratorial and tender, "I'm gonna wake up Sam. Looks like we're hitting the road soon, huh?" Her voice was a soft murmur, barely audible over the distance but loud enough for Dean, a smile briefly playing on his lips at her gesture.

Before he could respond, she slipped through the motel door, leaving Dean momentarily caught between the worlds of his duty and the brief domestic bliss they'd carved out for themselves. He returned his focus to Bobby, his voice now carrying a hint of the reluctance he felt at the day ahead. "Alright, Bobby, we're on it. Yeah, I'll keep you posted."

Hanging up, Dean allowed himself a moment to linger on Julia's departure, her presence still palpable in the room. The mix of rock 'n' roll rebellion and the unexpected softness she brought into his life was a contrast Dean found himself increasingly drawn to. With a resigned sigh, he started to gather his things, the weight of the hunter's life settling back onto his shoulders as he prepared to face whatever lay ahead, fortified by the brief respite Julia's presence had offered.

With the seamless coordination of a well-oiled machine, the trio methodically packed their belongings, each movement honed from countless similar mornings. The anticipation of the road ahead to Sioux Falls hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the challenges and uncertainties that lay in wait. Yet, the mood was lightened by the unmistakable chords of AC/DC blasting through the radio, a testament to Dean's unchanging taste in music and a nonverbal pact of their shared readiness to face whatever demons awaited them.

Julia, seated in the back, found a moment of tranquility amidst the chaos of their lives. She rolled down the window, inviting the cool morning air to dance through her hair. The wind was a welcome companion, its whispering roar a contrast to the constant hum of danger that shadowed their steps. It was in these moments, with the world rushing by and the music enveloping them, that Julia found a semblance of peace.

Her gaze, lost in the passing landscape, occasionally drifted to the car's rearview mirror. Each time, she was met with Dean's bright green eyes, a silent conversation passing between them. Those fleeting glances were filled with an unspoken language of reassurance, challenge, and a shared recognition of the moment's fleeting beauty. Dean's eyes, so often a mirror to his soul's complexities, now reflected a mix of determination and the rare, unguarded affection he reserved for those he truly cared for.

As the car sped down the highway towards Sioux Falls, the trio was enveloped in the sounds of classic rock, the engine's steady hum, and the world blurring past. It was a moment captured in time, a breath between the chaos, where the only things that mattered were the road ahead, the music, and the unspoken understanding that, no matter what lay ahead, they faced it together.

To Be Continued...

Tag List: @deanwinchestersgirl87

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #sam and dean #spn

[floredaqueen]

Non-Stranger Things Post

InCOMING

Okay, but if she were to exist.. it would be in Fargo or Supernatural, and she would eat everyone's ass up.. figuratively.

Gator and Dean better watch out, lol

Right art by @juhihuji /left one by meh♡

#artists on tumblr #original character #original art #digiralillustration #digital artist #digital drawing #digital illustration #my art #artist #artwork #digital art #fargo season 5 #fargo s5 #supernatural #gator tillman #gator tillman x oc #dean winchester #dean Winchester x oc #gator tilman imagine #dean Winchester imagine

[imagines-all-day-everyday]

A Hunting Trip (Part 3)

pairing: dean winchester x reader x damon salvatore

synopsis: a spiked punch - damon finds *yn* after the incident at the boarding house and dots finally start to connect. *yn* and damon share a moment & reminisce on their first memories. dean makes amends.

warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, violence, just vampires being vampires man

notes: the series is gonna start ramping up now... strap in ;)

Series Masterlist

Leaves crunched under *yn*'s sneakers as she trailed through the woods. Her phone pressed to her ear as it rung, silently begging for Sam to answer.

"*yn* I-"

"-listen Sam, Dean's safe." She cut him off before he barely got a word out. She could hear the sigh of relief echo through the speakers.

"Where is he? I need to come get him-"

"-I don't think that's a good idea." She said quickly.

There was a pause before, "I thought you said he was safe?"

"He is. Sort of. I've got it under control, I promise. Just get back to the motel and I'll ring you when I've got Dean out and I'll explain everything."

"Got Dean out? *yn* what the hell is going on?" Sam demanded. *yn* silently cursed, glancing over her shoulder at the sound of a twig cracking. She paused, surveying her surroundings before turning her attention back to the younger Winchester.

"I can't explain right now, just trust me. Please. If you come back here it's just going to make things a thousand times worse."

Another pause as Sam contemplated. *yn* held her breath as he let out a defeated sigh, "fine. But if I don't hear from either of you in an hour I'm coming back, got it?"

"Got it. Thanks Sam, be careful."

With that *yn* hung up, sliding her phone back into her pocket as she continued her march through the woods. After what felt like an eternity she finally slowed her determined pace as she reached a large oak tree.

Her mind was racing at what felt like a million miles per hour as she pressed her back to the trunk of the tree and slid down until she was seated on the bed of leaves.

"The man's probably rolling in his grave right now. It's like he died for goddamn nothing." Dean's words echoed in her head as she hugged her knees to her chest and stared into the woods blankly.

She tried to slow her mind, to focus on the little bird that was pecking absentmindedly at the ground in front of her instead. But it was impossible, her brain was jumping from one thought to the next, trying to process everything that happened over the past 12 hours so quickly she could barely keep up.

"Haven't you heard it's dangerous to be out in these woods by yourself?"

The voice snapped her out of her trance like state and the bird that had edged closer took off in a flurry of feathers.

"What with all those animal attacks lately." She could hear the leaves crunching under Damon's boots as he approached. She didn't answer him, instead resting her chin on the top of her knees as she hugged herself tighter.

"Good start." Damon mumbled under his breath as he studied her rigid form.

She looked out of her peripheral to see him taking a seat beside her, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

"I know you said you wanted to be alone." Their arms brushed as he leant back against the tree.

"So you do listen to me." Her dry response made a half smile twitch up onto Damon's lips.

"Don't get used to it."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Her quip made him turn to face her, studying her features as he tried to get a read on her. When he couldn't, he cast his gaze down to his lap.

"I always wondered why you weren't that afraid of me. But now I know you were a baby hunter it all makes sense."

"Don't underestimate how much the leather jacket drags down your scary score." A huff of laughter escaped Damon's lips at her words as he turned back to her.

"The extra points it adds to my sexy score makes up for it." He jerked his brows up and shot her a flirty grin as she finally looked over at him. Despite her mood, *yn* couldn't fight the small smile that twitched up onto her lips.

She couldn't disagree with him on that point.

He didn't need to know that.

"When dad would tell me what sort of monsters were out there, you were so not what I had in mind."

"Much more charming? alluring? witty?" This time she let out a breathy laugh.

"I was going to say more annoying, but sure."

"I'm touched." He placed his hand over his heart. He let his eyes glide over her for a few moments before speaking once more.

"So.. when you said you put safety measures in place... what are we talking?" His question illicited a shrug.

"Holy water in the town water supply, party punches, in anything I can to be honest." She answered him after a few moments.

"To prevent demon possession." She added when she saw Damon's confused expression.

He nodded slowly as he digested her words, "naturally."

"So that night we first met you were actually...?"

"Yep."

"Right..." He trailed off, raising his brows in amusement. Who'd have thought holy water actually did anything. He'd always just thought it was ironic. A good source of amusement.

"So the town's drinking water is spiked with vervain and holy water."

"And I've carved devil's traps all around town too. In all our friend's houses, the school, Mystic Grill. They trap demons once they step into it."

A "Huh" left Damon's mouth after a few moments of silence.

"So demons are your ultimate concern?"

Memories flashed before *yn*. The screams, the blood, the maniacal laughter.

"They're insidious little bastards. One of the easiest to flush out though. Luckily we haven't had to deal with one."

She flinched as the memories of all of the hunting trips her dad had dragged her on resurfaced.

"Or something worse."

Damon had a million questions he wanted to ask her. One look at the pained expression on her features told him that it would have to wait.

"Stefan took off the second he woke up." He began after the pair stewed in silence for a few moments.

"Bon Bon and Elena have gone to talk to mother witchy. Caroline's gone to go help Tyler out with his little siring issue and Donavan... well I've got no clue where Donovan is... probably somewhere annoying someone."

"and Dean?"

Damon knew she would ask but it didn't stop the jealousy that sparked through him at the sound of the name. Part of him wished he had just told her so he didn't have to hear her say it. So he didn't have to hear the level of concern in her tone that she was so clearly trying to conceal.

"Don't worry, your other bloodsucker friends made sure he got down to the cells safely." Damon didn't bother hiding the venom in his words. His face was taught, the jealousy making his muscles strain. It was enough to make *yn* stiffen up beside him.

"We can keep him down there for a while but- hey!" *yn* was up and onto her feet before Damon could finish his sentence. He cursed under his breath, his shouts going ignored as *yn* started off in the direction of the boarding house.

"And where do you think you're going?"

*yn* rolled her eyes as Damon was in front of her in a split second, stopping her in her tracks.

"We can't leave him in those cells. He's not a prisoner, Damon."

"Well he did kind of threaten to kill us all... I think that justifies detainment, don't you?"

Damon let out a defeated sigh when his attempt to lighten the mood was met with a sour expression.

"Look I'm sorry about what happened before, but we can't have hunters running around Mystic Falls. We've got enough problems as it is."

"I know." *yn* conceded. "That's why I want to talk to him. To both of them. To convince them to leave town."

Her words made Damon raise a brow, "you really think that's gonna work?"

*yn* sighed and shrugged, "maybe?"

"I don't know." She confessed as Damon shot her a skeptical look. "Maybe if I explain to them what's going on they'll realise they're in over their heads. They're looking for their dad anyway, they might move on and focus on that."

"*yn*, I know I don't know the guy, but your pretty boy friend doesn't really seem like the type to just walk away."

Damon was right. Of course he was right. *yn* knew that there was no way in hell Dean Winchester was just going to throw in the towel and let a bunch of vampires run around a town unchecked. But she had to at least give it a try.

"Just let me try Damon. Please." He was wavering just from one imploring look from her. He really needed to work on getting back his spine. Back to who he was when he first arrived back in Mystic Falls. But who was he kidding, he'd had a soft spot for her the second he'd laid eyes on her.

He let out a defeated sigh, "and if it doesn't work?"

"You can compel them to forget everything they saw here and make them leave town for good." She responded without even skipping a beat.

Damon's eyes narrowed at her answer as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Her doe eyes were even wider than usual as she looked up at him imploringly. He swore that she was even blinking slower on purpose. She was getting a little too good at bargaining for his liking. She was also getting a little too good at manipulating him.

"You've been hanging around me for too long." A small smile appeared on her lips at the sound of his relenting. "But fine, you get until the end of the day to get them out of here willingly and not a moment more."

"Thank you."

"Ah ah ah-" She had only taken a few steps and he was in front of her once more.

"This conversation is so not over missy."

"What else is there to say?" Her question came out more harsh than she intended. But she knew that Sam would be counting down the minutes until an hour had passed and would be on her if she wasn't on her way with Dean. That he'd get in his car and kick down the door to find Dean. Then things would really go to shit.

Something changed in Damon's eyes at her words. The mood shifting as his jaw set and his gaze hardened.

"What else is there to say?" He repeated. *yn* knew instantly that she'd said the wrong thing.

"Damon-"

"I don't know, maybe talking about the fact that your last name isn't even really your last name, that I don't really know anything about you, that you lied to me about everything?"

"I wanted a fresh start when I got here, I wanted to forget about what my life was like when I was a hunter." She defended herself, standing her ground as he glowered down at her.

"And then when I realised what was going on here, do you really think I was going to run around telling everyone I was a hunter?"

"I'm not talking about everyone *yn*, I'm talking about me. You lied to me." His eyes were like blue flames, burning wild with anguish as he took a few steps towards her.

She scoffed as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Do you remember what you were like when you first arrived here? All you cared about was getting Katherine out of that damn tomb. You would have killed me the second you found out."

Her words were designed to hurt, and they found their mark perfectly. She could see the pain dance on his features as her weapon embedded into him, twisting in right where it hurt.

"That was then. This is now. That was before I-" He cut himself off as he stared down at her. His tongue darted over his lips as his jaw clenched.

*yn* felt her heart hammer in her chest as she studied him. She could have sworn his eyes darted down to her lips for a split second before they locked with hers once more.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" His tone was soft this time. Less angry, more hurt. More desperate.

Her lips parted but no words came out as she looked up at him. His eyes were searching hers, desperately trying to find an answer to his own question.

"I don't know." She finally admitted quietly.

She could see him shutting down immediately. That stone cold look that crossed his face was one she was all too familiar with. The one when he was hurt and wanted to lash out.

"Damon wait-" Her hand encircled his wrist before he could storm off.

"I was scared to tell you because I was worried you would react like this." She explained as he swung around to glare at her. "Please." She lowered her tone -

"don't."

He knew what she was really asking. What she was begging. But she didn't want to say it out loud. Don't go and hurt someone because you're upset at me. Which was exactly what his first instinct was.

To lash out and go find some poor innocent schmuck and sink his fangs into their artery. To drink until he was drunk and delirious off their blood. Until he could barely even remember why he was upset.

To forget that the girl he was in love with had just admitted that she might have lied to him for the rest of her life.

"Don't ask me to do something you know I can't do *yn*." He spat back. She took a step towards him.

"I'm the bad guy remember?" He sneered, the veins under his eyes rippling under the surface to prove his point.

"You and I both know that's not true Damon." Her tone was soft, soothing. Another step closer. She still hadn't let go of his wrist.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Her words were eroding away his murderous anger. His breathing slowing as he watched her bring a hand up to gently trace the veins under his eyes.

"I would never hurt you."

"I know." She nodded.

She could feel her heart beating against her ribcage as she finally released his wrist and dropped her hands to her side.

"After this is all over I'll tell you everything."

"Is that a promise?" His tone was teasing as one side of his lips twitched up into a smirk.

She knew that he was lightening the mood for her benefit, to show that he wasn't going to go and take out his anger on something - or someone.

"Yeah."

This time she knew it wasn't her mind playing tricks on her, because Damon's eyes lingered on her lips for what felt like an eternity. She swallowed as his eyes dragged up to meet hers. Had he been standing this close the whole time?

"It's a promise." She whispered back, nodding her head. This time it was her turn to glance down at his lips as she spoke.

*yn* could have sworn Damon started leaning in when the tinny voice of Taylor Swift erupted from her jean pocket.

"Uh-" *yn* took a step back from Damon as she hurriedly fished her phone out.

She cursed under her breath when she saw the contact name flashing on the screen. She shot him an apologetic before pressing the phone to her ear.

can't you see that I'm the one who understands you- Taylor was cut short as she accepted the call.

"Sam, hey listen-" Damon rolled his eyes.

"Where the hell are you guys? It's been over an hour *yn*."

"I know I'm sorry I- we got caught up." She avoided Damon's unimpressed gaze as she ran a hand through her hair.

"Look we're on our way. I can meet you at mine in twenty minutes, I'll text you the address. Ok?"

There was a pause on the other line as Sam deliberated her words. "Fine, yeah ok. I'll be there."

She let out a relieved sigh as she hung up.

"Your house in twenty minutes huh?" Damon queried as he watched her type in her address.

"You said you'd give me till the end of the day. You didn't say he had to stay locked up." She countered as she shut her phone and slid it into her back pocket.

"Hm." Damon hummed as he studied her, "have you always been this slippery?"

"I learnt from the best." She shot him a sarcastic grin before heading off back towards the house.

"Like I said, you've been hanging around me too long."

It was as if that moment that had just transpired between them had been a figment of her imagination as the pair walked alongside each other. They were right back to how they usually were around each other. Sarcastic, mean, slightly flirty.

Platonic.

Maybe she really had imagined it, maybe he hadn't been leaning in like he was about to kiss her.

"The keys are just outside the cell door." Damon told her once they were standing in the entrance of the boarding house.

"You're not staying?" *yn* watched as Damon shrugged on one of his leather jackets.

"Negative, gotta check out Ric's lady doctor friend." His answer made her raise a brow.

"Does Ric know?"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides, I'm doing him favour, what if he's got a good old bunny boiler on his hands?" He shrugged innocently, his eyes shining with amusement.

"Mmhmm, I'm sure he'll definitely see it that way."

"Your confidence in me is touching, truly." He placed a hand over his heart which made her roll his eyes.

"Just try not to do anything too stupid." Was all she answered with as she began to head down towards the basement.

"Did you really carve those devil trap thingies in everyone's houses?" Damon called out just as she reached the cellar door.

Her fingers floated just above the handle as he spoke. A smirk was painted on her face as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

"Look under your rug." Her eyes flickering down to the rug placed at the front door.

His brow furrowed in confusion as she disappeared down the stairs. He glanced down at the rug beneath his feet. There was no way. Surely he would have noticed.

He stepped off the rug and crouched down, yanking it back in one sweep of his arm.

"Huh." He blinked a few times and pursed his lips as he stared down at the timber.

A huge circle with a pentagram sort of shape inside it was indeed carved into the wood. Intricate symbols and words he didn't recognise littered throughout.

"Well that's new."

The Woods - Mystic Falls, 1 Year Ago

*yn* weaved her way through the throng of teenagers that were gathered around the bonfire. She watched as two girls in her class made their way towards the main gathering, red cups filled with punch in hand. Away from the source. She stepped over a couple making out on the ground as her hands found the flask.

*yn* cursed under her breath as she heard her name being called over the raucous laughter and chatter. She slid the flask back inside the pocket of her jacket before turning around to face Caroline.

"Where the hell have you been? "

"Sorry I uh- someone was really wasted so I was just making sure they were ok." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

"Well come on, we're going to play truth or dare."

"I'll be there in a second."

Caroline rolled her eyes, "whatever I'm going to see if I can find Matt."

*yn*'s brow furrowed, "I thought you were with that Damon guy?"

"Ew *yn* no he's a jerk." Caroline's face screwed up in disgust. "Ugh god does anyone ever listen to me?" She threw her arms up dramatically as she stormed off, disappearing into the crowd.

"Sorry Care!" *yn* called out, but her apology was swallowed up by the pulsing music and shouts.

She sighed and turned around to find the beverage table but was stopped by a firm chest.

"Was hoping I'd see you tonight, Young." *yn* resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she looked up at Tyler Lockwood.

"Wish I could express the same sentiment, Lockwood."

"C'mon Young." His hand gripped her wrist stopping her in her tracks before she could move past him. "Let loose with me."

"Hm, hard pass." She yanked her arm out of his grasp. "But thanks." She shot him an emotionless smile before turning on her heel.

"Bitch." Tyler mumbled under his breath.

"Nice one Ty."

Tyler rolled his eyes as Matt appeared beside him, drinking deeply from his cup.

"Whatever man, I'm going to find Vicky."

*yn* glanced over her shoulder as she slipped out of the clearing and into the woods. The music and voices faded quickly, masked by the dense trees that now enveloped her.

She wasn't very far from the party, but the darkness and silence that surrounded her made her feel strangely isolated. She quickly approached the table that was home to the punch bowl and the beer keg, glancing over her shoulder one last time before leaning over it and pulling out the flask.

"I don't think we've met before."

The unfamiliar voice made her stiffen. She rose up, swallowing down her nerves as she stuffed the flask back into her jacket pocket and turned around.

Piercing green eyes shaped by jet black hair and a stomach-churning smirk stared back at her. She knew who he was instantly. A chill ran up her spine as he took a step closer to her.

He cocked his head as he studied her intently. *yn* straightened up, determined to mask any fear she had as she stared back at him.

"Wow how have I managed to survive until this moment." His smirk widened at her sarcastic tone.

He liked a challenge.

"I'm Damon." He mirrored her steps, blocking her path back to the safety of the group.

"I know."

"Ah so you've heard of me." He wriggled his brows as he grinned down at her.

"I've heard about how much of jerk you've been to Caroline, to Elena, to your brother. Actually, to pretty much everyone in town. So yeah, I'd say your reputation proceeds you."

"Well Caroline's always been a little bit-" His finger twirled in circles next to his ear.

"And I mean my baby brother come on, with that hero hair of his? He was born a drama queen."

She let out a huff as he once again stopped her from getting around him.

"Hold on a minute.." Damon held up his hands, "Caroline has told me about all of her little friends..." He trailed off as he studied her for a few moments. His eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers as he pointed at her.

"You must be *yn* Young." He grinned, "am I right?"

"Ding ding ding we have a winner folks, head to the exit to collect your prize." She drawled, a roll of her eyes as she tried one more time to get around him.

"Caroline did tell me you were quite the sarcastic one."

"How sweet of her."

He let out a hum of acknowledgment at her words as his eyes raked up and down her body.

"What are you doing with that flask?"

His question caught her off guard, she thought she'd hidden it before he could catch a glimpse of it.

"You know I'm all for a good time but spiking the punch bowl?" He let out a low whistle. "That's pretty twisted, even for me."

*yn* gritted her teeth, not saying anything as she glared at him.

"Hand it over."

A roll of his eyes and a huff as she stayed still. "I can hear the liquid swishing against your rib, come on." He extended his palm out.

She remained composed as she slowly reached into her hidden inner jacket pocket and pulled out the small flask. She watched as he snatched it from her and twisted open the cap.

"This isn't alcohol." He stated as he sniffed it hesitantly.

"What the hell is this?"

"Water." She answered him.

"Don't lie to me." He gripped her shoulder as his eyes bore into hers. "What is in the flask?"

This is what Elena had told her about. The compulsion. At least she knew that the vervain worked because she could feel her lips beginning to form the words 'fuck off'. She clamped her mouth shut before she could say them.

There was no point in antagonising him further. He was still a vampire who could rip her head from her shoulders before she even had a chance to blink. She could just tell him a sanitised version of the truth.

"Holy water." She answered him.

A chuckle escaped his lips at her words. "Holy water? I'm sorry sweetheart but I don't think even holy water could purify these teenagers."

His laughter faded as he studied her, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the flask and then back at her.

"Why?"

"To protect against monsters, like demons."

Her answer seemed to actually take him by surprise, a brow jerking up at her words. His shock was quick to vanish, replaced by an amused expression.

"I hate to break it to you but-"

She tensed up as she watched him tilt the flask upside down, letting the liquid poor all over the ground.

"-holy water won't do you much good." He tossed the empty flask to the ground.

"- especially around here, I mean with all these animal attacks lately, who knows what's prowling out around here."

*yn* swallowed as the atmosphere changed. The way his eyes darkened didn't go unnoticed by her either. She felt a chill run up her spin as his tongue darted out, running along his top lip. The whites of his teeth flashed back at her.

He took a step towards her. Like he was stalking his prey.

"Lucky I'm not alone then, right?"

He snickered, "Not so lucky I'm afraid."

Her heart pounded as she watched his face morph into that of a monsters right before her eyes.

"I wouldn't." Her calm tone even took herself by surprise. "I've been drinking vervain, wouldn't taste very nice I'm afraid."

He took a step back in surprise, his jaw falling open slightly revealing the two fangs that were now protruding from his gums. He hadn't considered that she might know what he was.

"Well, that is a shame." An animalistic grin twisted up onto his lips.

"I'm sure you would taste divine."

"Shame you'll never find out." She felt queasy at his words, watching as he licked his lips as he studied her.

"Drinking vervain doesn't stop me from ripping your heart out of your chest."

"Your right, it doesn't." She nodded, taking a step towards him as she squared her shoulders.

"But you see, I've collected all of this evidence about you and your brother that's sitting in an email scheduled to be sent to the Founder's Council."

Damon faltered at her words, emboldening her further.

"And if I'm dead, well." She paused as she cocked her head slightly. "There'll be no one to stop that email from being sent by the end of the evening."

Her words made his eyes narrow, watching as a taunting smirk twisted up onto her lips. "And you can kiss the dream of getting Katherine out of that tomb goodbye."

"How do you-"

"*yn*!" Damon turned around to see Elena and Stefan hurrying towards them.

"Are you ok?" Elena asked as she glanced between the pair.

"Yeah Elena, I'm fine." *yn* nodded as she turned her attention back to Damon who was staring at her with an unreadable expression on his features.

"Was just getting to know Damon a little bit better, right Damon?"

A tight lipped smile appeared on Damon's face as he stared back at her.

"Right."

Mystic Falls, Present Day

"Come on you stupid thing."

Dean paced around the cell, his cellphone held up to the ceiling. He cursed as the 'No Signal' continued to flashed back at him. Only once his arm started aching in protest did he finally admit defeat.

He froze at the sound of footsteps descending the steps. He shoved his phone into his pocket and approached the door, peering through the bars of the cell door. He pursed his lips, his face void of emotion as *yn* appeared.

"Sam's ok." She said it before Dean even had the chance to open his mouth.

The sigh of relief that Dean tried to compress bounced off the basement walls. She could feel those green eyes on her as she crossed the length of the basement to one of the storage chests.

"I thought you'd have at least tried to pick the lock." Dean watched as she opened it. He swallowed. She was wearing denim shorts that slid up her thighs as she bent down over it.

"Don't worry your friends made sure to 'compel' me to not try and escape." He answered, his eyes darting up to her face as she turned to face him.

"That is what you guys call it isn't it? The thing they do when they take away people's free will."

*yn* refused to let his jab illicit a physical response from her as she approached him, a water bottle now in hand.

Dean raised a skeptical brow as she slid the water bottle through the bars. His forehead furrowed when he saw that there was a sort of herb that he didn't recognise floating in the liquid.

"It's a herb called vervain. Vampires won't be able to compel you while it's in your system."

He hesitantly took it from her outstretched hand upon her explanation and examined the herb close up. For a split second a small voice piped up inside his head, "what if this is some sort of trick?"

He glanced up at her to see that she was observing him intently. With the exact same look that her dad used to have on his face when he was on a job. One look at her and those doubts were pushed to the side. He knew deep down he could trust her. He unscrewed the lid and pressed the bottle to his lips.

"So this is really gonna stop those vamps from screwing with my head?"

"Consider it a peace offering." She shot him a tight lipped smile as he wiped his wet lips with the back of his hand.

He screwed the lid back on and studied her for a few moments. Their last conversation was playing on an audio loop in his mind, acting as the soundtrack for the image of her anguished features.

"Listen, about what I said before-"

"- you don't need to say anything." She cut him off, waving her hand dismissively.

"I probably would have said the same thing if the roles were reversed. If two years ago you would have told me this was my life I-" She shook her head and chuckled humourlessly. "You're probably right."

"Maybe." He nodded as he leant against the bars. "Doesn't make me any less of a jerk for saying it."

He felt a smile threaten to tug on her lips as a soft laugh escaped her lips. That was the closest thing to an apology she'd probably ever get from Dean Winchester.

"I won't argue with you on that one."

"Your boyfriend know you're here?"

Her eyes rotated in their sockets at his question. "Firstly, not my boyfriend." She leant over and grabbed the key from its hook.

"You might want to tell him that." Dean muttered, earning a pointed look from *yn*.

"Secondly." She chose to ignore his comment as she slid the key into the lock. "He does."

"He must really trust you then, if he's willing to let you be alone with the enemy." His words made her hand still mid twist.

"Has it ever occurred to you that we might be on the same side?" All humour had vanished from her features.

Her question made a dry chuckle escape Dean's lips. "We hunt supernatural beings. Unless I've missed the part where vampires are suddenly considered natural-" He shook his head.

"Sweetheart we are definitely not on the same side."

She nodded slowly at his words, "you know I used to think the same thing."

She pulled the key out of the lock and examined it.

"That everything was black and white. Good and evil. Hunted or hunter. Like our dads taught us. If a thing was supernatural you just killed that son of a bitch, no questions asked." Her words were slow. Thoughtful. Calm.

"Until I moved here. Until I saw some of my closest friends turn into vampires. Into werewolves. And afterwards they still cried, still laughed, still loved." Her voice was wavering slightly now as all the events from the past year washed over her like a tidal wave.

Dean was staring at her intensely, clinging onto every word like it was a cliff's edge.

"They're still human, at the core of their being. In their soul. And it made me realise that maybe there is a grey area in all of this. That not all supernatural creatures are monsters. In fact from my experience, some of the most terrifying monsters I've met-"

The key was sliding back into the lock now.

"Are human."

The door swung open, the barrier between them vanishing. A few moments passed as they stared at each other. *yn* stepped to the side to indicate he could leave the cell.

"Jesus." Dean finally spoke, clearing his throat as he stepped over the threshold. "You sound exactly like Sammy."

His words were light, sarcastic. Deflective. Like it always was when he was faced with an uncomfortable conversation. He'd been the same at 18.

But she could tell by the way his eyes lingered on her that her words had had an effect on him.

"I knew there was a reason he's always been my favourite." Her tone teasing as she hung the key back onto the hook.

The tension and angst that had hung over them only moments ago had cleared now much to both their relief.

It was strange to *yn*, how she could jump so easily, so comfortably, from something so angsty to so light. It was the same with Damon.

"C'mon sweetheart it isn't nice to lie."

He was smirking now as she brushed past him. She paused as she reached the bottom of the stairs "I never said I was nice."

Dean's brows raised as she shot him a wink before starting the ascension.

He let out a breath as he watched her.

"Come on!" Her words jolted Dean into action as he hurried after her.

"Where are we going exactly?" He asked as he followed her up the stairs and towards the foyer.

"My house, Sam's waiting for us." *yn* answered as she neared the door. Dean's eyes fell on the rug in the entrance way.

"To have that catch up, you know the one that we were supposed to have today before you guys took it upon yourselves to ignore me and get caught."

Dean was only half listening as his attention slid to the wooden slats that were no longer obscured.

"Did you do this?"

*yn*'s eyes followed his, "that one and about thirty others around town."

At her answer, his eyes traced the engraving, soaking in the intricate symbols that were carved to near perfection.

A grin spread across her lips as he lifted his head to look up at her. Words weren't needed to convey his awe. He was impressed. Almost jealous even. He'd been carving these things a lot longer than she had.

"C'mon Winchester, don't act so surprised." She pulled open the front door before glancing over her shoulder.

"You can never really leave the job. Even if you try and convince yourself you can. You and I both know that."

Dean watched as she disappeared out the door. His eyes fell to the carving once more as he shook his head.

Yeah, he was in trouble.

Part 4

I have the next few parts planned out and I am so excited heheheh, hope everyone is still enjoying it <333 As always, feedback would be super super appreciated and you can give it back HERE!

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