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underground-secret · 11 days

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The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x F! reader

Description: When Dean gets a call from an "old friend" asking for help, old feelings resurface leaving for messy feelings and a complicated hunt.

Warnings: canon violence, feelings of unrequited love, angst, loving someone being difficult, corpses, crime scenes, cursing, mentions of racism, racist ghost truck?

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 , @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool

Word Count: 9,251

Route 666

(Master list, Prev Ch, Next Chapter)

I lean against the expanse of the Impala, letting the bright sun shine over me. It was one of those cold but not cold days, where as long as the sun was hitting you it was perfectly right. Sam is next to me looking over the large map he has laid out on the hood of the car, trying to look for a way around a closed-off road.

I’m glad he knew what he was doing ‘cause my map and geography skills only went so far before I was lost.

Meanwhile, Dean was off to the side, his phone pressed to his ear his brows furrowed whoever he was talking to was clearly telling him something important and maybe shocking.

“Ok. I think I found a way we can bypass that construction just East of here,” Sam informs gaining my attention, “We might even make Pennsylvania faster than we thought.” I nod, taking advantage of his hunched-over figure to ruffle his hair, “Nice work, map man.” He snorts, rolling his eyes as he pushes my arm away playfully.

“Yeah. ‘Problem is, we’re not going to Pennsylvania” Dean points out, closing his phone and looking at it thoughtfully. I look at him confused, “We aren’t…?” He nods, wetting his lips, “I just got a call from an, uh, old friend. Her father was killed last night, think it might be our kind of thing.”

“What?” Sam vocalizes. “Yeah. Believe me, she never woulda called, never, if she didn’t need us” Dean clarifies. Without giving us any more information or even a chance to contemplate or counter his statement he gets in the car, “Come on, are you coming or not?”

The Impala cruises down the expanse of the road, a long beautifully green field on one side and a lake on the other. “By old friend you mean…?” Sam asks the question we were both undeniably thinking. “A friend that’s not new” Dean grumbles.

“Oh! Thanks, genius” I remark, he was being weird and that alone was not helping his case. “‘Said her name’s Cassie huh?” Sam said, trying a different angle, “You never mentioned her…”

“Didn’t I?” Dean remarks. He wasn't very good at hiding this one, the car falling silent in the wake of his stupid answer. He finally huffs, “Yeah, we went out.”

“You mean you dated somebody?” Sam asks with a snort, “For more than one night?”

“Oh come on Sammy we're all adults here, we’ve all dated before” I chime in with a smirk. He turns around in his seat, facing me with an expectant look, “Are we talking about the same person here? Dean doesn't date.” Sam exclaims and I push down the ache of that implication, “And aren’t you the least bit curious.”

“Oh no, I am,” I nod enthusiastically, laughing lightly, “I want all the details. I was just tryna be nice.”

He snickers, turning back to his brother, “You heard her, we want all the details.”

I swear Dean’s eye practically twitches, “Am I speaking a language you’re not getting here? Dad and I were working a job in Ohio, she was finishing up college. We went out for a coupla weeks.”

I want to ask how long ago this was, was it months before his dad disappeared or a year or more ago, but I hold back on my questioning. “And…?” Sam pushes. Dean shrugs slightly.

“Look, it’s terrible about her dad, but it kinda sounds like a standard car accident. I’m not seeing how it fits with what we do,” Sam reasons, “Which by the way, how does she know what we do?”

Dean doesn't answer again, silently shifting in his seat uncomfortably. The realization hits me like a brick, “Oh. My. God,” I lean forward in my seat almost getting choked out by my seatbelt, “You told her! You broke the number one hunting rule! You know, not telling anyone, ever!”

“More than that!” Sam adds, “It’s our big family rule. Number one. We do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half, I did nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a coupla times and you tell her everything?!” I try not to think about my own relationships both romantic and not that rarely ever made it past a couple of months before it ended, not only having to lie about being a hunter but a witch too. Dean stays silent, staring straight ahead, “Dean!” Sam yells.

“Yeah. Looks like,” he finally acknowledges. He continues to stare ahead, pressing his foot down harder on the gas pedal. Sam shakes his head, giving his brother his classic bitchface.

“Oh. He had it bad” I laugh leaning back in my seat, ignoring the sinking and stabbing feeling in my heart. I figured I’d have to keep doing so on this hunt.

The office was dark, the bright sunlight not able to stretch upon the large room not even with the help of glass doors. The place could really open a couple of blinds, let the light shine in.

An old white man with an interesting-looking tie, one of those Western ones with the jewel and black tether, talks to two people a man and a woman their backs towards us. And the way Dean pauses, staring at the woman it isn't hard to deduce she's Cassie. She and the older black gentlemen next to her seem to be having some sort of dispute with the old white guy.

Then suddenly both of the men walk away, clearly frustrated, leaving Cassie to stand there herself. She turns around swiftly, and almost like a perfectly curated romance movie she nearly hits Dean only inches separating the two. I didn't even realize he had moved forward in the time we've been standing here.

Just looking at her I could tell why Dean fell for her, she's beautiful more than that. She could be a model with her beautiful long dark curls framing her face, full lips colored red, and big brown eyes. She must have stepped out of a magazine, everything about her screamed perfect down to her perfectly shaped eyebrows and perfect nose. “Dean,” she says, her voice smooth despite the look of slight apprehension.

He nods and grins, “Hey Cassie.” And they just stare at each other. He's looking at her in a way I’ve never seen him look at anyone before even despite the tension that hung in the air, unspoken words from however long ago.

His eyes seem to glimmer, you’d have to be a fool not to see he still has feelings for her, that they never went away in the first place. And that it’s more than just any feelings, he loves her and that is a hard pill to swallow.

He clears his throat, breaking the trance they were both in, “This is my brother Sam. And my friend Y/N.” She smiles at each of us before her gaze reverts to Dean, not that I could blame her in the slightest.

“Sorry ‘bout your dad,” he says.

“Yeah. Me too,” she answers.

Her family home was beautiful and extraordinarily large, it was a bit disturbing. Though maybe that was because it reminded me of my home before moving to Kansas, or at least what I remember of it. We sat in the sitting room on vintage settees, another reminder of that home–my mother would quite like the look of this cozy room.

Cassie finally comes back adorning a tray of tea cups and a teapot along with the little bowl of sugar and a small pouring cup of milk, could she get any more perfect and wonderful? “My mothers in pretty bad shape. I’ve been staying with her. I wish she wouldn’t go off by herself. She’s been so nervous and frightened. She was worried about Dad,” she explains.

“Why?” Dean asks as she takes a seat across from us. He was watching her every move as if dedicating it to memory, I wonder if he’s thinking ‘She moves in the same manner she used to’ or maybe that it changed. Suddenly I was not so okay with sitting between the boys even though that's almost how we always sat when talking to someone on a hunt, as it made it harder for them to fight and made them slightly more comfortable with squishing into sofas with their large frames. But now, being in the middle I could easily watch how he looked at her, studied her.

She skillfully pours tea into each cup, “He was scared. He was seeing things.”

“Like what?” He asked.

“He swore he saw an awful-looking black truck following him,” she responds carefully.

“A truck, did he see a driver?” I ask, diligently accepting the beautiful teacup she handed me. I take a careful sip of the black tea, of course she would know and pick the perfect tea for guests. Does she have any flaws?

“He didn’t talk about a driver,” she answers, “Just the truck. He said it would appear and disappear. And, in the accident, Dad’s car was dented, like it had been slammed into by something big.”

Sam accepts his cup of tea, “Thanks. Now you’re sure this dent wasn’t there before?” And as predictable as Dean was he looked at his cup weirdly before depositing it back on the tray, that man was not a tea person he’d take a coffee or a beer any day. I think the only reason he drank the tea I gave him when he was sick was because he knew how desperate Sammy and I were.

“He sold cars. Always drove a new one. There wasn’t a scratch on that thing,” she explains, “It had rained hard that night. There was mud everywhere. There was a distinct set of muddy tracks leading from Dad’s car…leading right to the edge, where he went over.” She swallows harshly, bowing her head, “One set of tracks. His.”

Dean’s face softens, eyes filling with sympathy, “The first was a friend of your father's?” She nods, “Best friend. Clayton Soames. They owned the car dealership together. Same thing. Dent. No tracks. And the cops said exactly what they said about Dad. He ‘lost control of his car.’”

I force my brain to rid itself of any thoughts of Dean and Cassie's relationship. This was like any other hunt, something weird is going on and we are here to help, nothing more.

It was weird, cars don't just drive off the road like that and then have newly made dents that match another vehicle. “Is there any reason you can think of as to why your father and his partner might've been targets? Competition?” I ask. She shakes her head, radiating certainty, “No.”

“And you think this vanishing truck ran them off the road?” Sam points out.

“When you say it aloud like that…,” she sighs, “listen, I’m a little skeptical about this…ghost stuff…or whatever it is you guys are into.”

Dean huffs, “Skeptical. If I remember, I think you said I was nuts.”

“That was then,” she bites back. Then they fall back into that thing where they just stare at each other, “I just know that I can’t explain what happened up there. So I called you,” she adds, directing her words only to him. I clear my throat, weary of the bubble they seem to have put around themselves, “You were right in calling” I reasoned softly, “It is very strange and on the off chance it isn’t anything supernatural then it was certainly a cover-up.”

Her perfect eyebrows furrow but before she can respond the sound of the front door opening catches all of our attention, a middle-aged white woman enters through and I assume it's her mother. She shared her mother's eye shape and her nose, but the rest of her she must have gotten from her father.

As if we had gotten caught we all rise from the sofa. Cassie goes over to her mother, taking her arm, “Mom. Where have you been I was so…” her mother cuts her off looking at us, “I had no idea you'd invited friends over.”

“Mom, this Dean, a…friend of mine from…college. ‘His brother Sam and friend Y/N.”

“Well, I won’t interrupt you” her mother smiles nervously.

“Mrs Robinson,” Dean says suddenly, “We’re sorry for your loss. We’d like to talk to you for a minute if you don’t mind.” And as if offended she recoils, “I’m really not up for that right now.”

The morning sun is dimmer today, perfect for the scene we were walking upon. The man Cassie was standing with yesterday, Jimmy, was the newest victim. He died in the same way as the others sometime late last night. Cassie was again arguing with the old white man from yesterday. As we approached I could hear his condescending voice, “Close the man road. The only road in and out of town? Accidents do happen Cassie, and that’s what they are. Accidents.”

We stand beside her, Dean speaking up immediately, “Did the cops check for additional denting on Jimmy’s car, see if it was pushed?”

Without missing a beat and without looking away from Cassie the man asks, “Who’s this?”

“Dean and Sam Winchester, Y/N L/N. Family friends. This is Mayor Harold Todd” She replies smoothly. This man went from just any old white guy to a powerful old white guy, even worse. And he had two first names, you never trust someone with two first names. Reluctantly Mayor Old Guy answers Dean’s initial question, “There’s one set of tire tracks. One. ‘Doesn’t point to foul play.”

Cassie scuffs, “Mayor, the police, and town officials take their cues from you. If you’re indifferent about…”

He cuts her off, “Indifferent!”

“Would you close the road if the victims were white?” she counters.

Oh. Could she get any more iconic?!

“You suggesting I’m racist Cassie?” He spits, “I’m the last person you should talk to like that.”

“And why is that?” She counters, stepping closer to him.

“Why don’t you ask your mother” he answers before walking away. My jaw drops, what the hell is going on in this town?

I huff, blowing a piece of hair out of my face. I really didn’t want to get dressed, for as much as I’ve been trying to ignore the whole Dean and Cassie situation I was feeling horrible.

I sit on the soft motel bed in nothing but my underwear and a nice white button-down, haven given up on dressing. I feel stupid. Incredibly stupid.

Maybe Sam’s words had gotten to me, maybe I had gotten my hopes up without even realizing it.

He loves someone else, and he’s had for a while. I always thought when you love someone those feelings don’t ever truly go away, there's always a part of you with them. They wind up crossing your mind and you wonder where things went wrong. But I guess I never considered this would also apply to Dean, which is cruel to believe within itself. Which is funny too, all these years I’ve spent loving him…But Sam was right he didn’t date so I guess I assumed he never fell for anyone during his countless one-night stands.

I know death is cruel but maybe love is tied with it. Because I feel like someone took my heart and ran with it, leaving me with this void in my chest and an ache so intense that it throbs in its place. It was stupid to think I had a chance to begin with. I knew not to believe I had one in the first place, but somewhere along the line I had completely forgotten about any of that. So much for listening to my past self, if I had maybe I wouldn't be feeling so damn bad.

But I couldn't be mad. Cassie was wonderful in every possible way and you don't need to know her for long to realize that. They seemed perfect for each other really. She was feisty and had no issue putting someone in their place, which I quite admired, and I know Dean could use that every now and then. If she was a jerk I’m sure I’d have no issue disliking her, but she wasn’t! She was impossible to dislike, and it would be horrible of me to hate her just because she harbors feelings for someone that I love or the fact that he loves her back. That wasn't her fault, it was neither of their faults.

Loving someone has to be the hardest thing one could do.

I get up from the bed and put on my skirt. I couldn't sit here forever, the boys would come knocking and I wouldn't have a good excuse as to why I’m in a mood. Quickly I check myself in the mirror, at least I didn’t cry which means I don't gotta redo my makeup, even if it was minimal to begin with.

How do you stop loving someone? I could use that answer.

I knew I loved him for a long time, too long. But I suppose I didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten, how much it had flourished and I had never expected that to be possible. I love him.

I love him and it hurts so much.

How many times did I have the opportunity to tell him? It had to be in the hundreds. Maybe it was better that I didn’t, he loves someone else and I should be happy for them. I am happy for him. He deserves to be loved and be able to love. Yes, I am happy.

I approach the two older men having lunch, focusing on the wet ground and the wholesomeness that is them eating on a pier. “Hi, sorry. Are you Ron Stubbins?” I ask, taking the lead. I needed to throw myself into the work, I needed the distraction. The older man nods looking at us confused, his black cap bobbing with his head. “You were friends with Jimmy Anderson?” Dean follows up.

“Who are you?” Ron responds with, sitting up straighter. He was sizing us up, skeptical of us, which he had every right to be. “We’re Mr. Anderson’s insurance company. We’re just here to dot ‘I’s’ and cross ‘T’s’,” Dean explains, flashing his badge.

“And they needed to send three of you?” He counters. I giggle, tilting my head slightly, “Would you prefer me leaving?” I ask sweetly. And as predictable as men can be he drags his eyes across my body before shaking his head, “No. No. That won’t be necessary.” I ignore the dirty feeling that washes over me and sticks to my bones like a new layer of skin, it was necessary to do that because now he won’t bother questioning us anymore on that topic.

“We were just wondering, had the deceased mentioned any unusual recent experiences?” Sam questions, getting back on topic. Reluctantly Ron looks away from me to look at the man who questioned him, “What do you mean, unusual?”

“Well visions, hallucinations” He elaborates.

“We’re working with local psychologists to broaden our questioning and research,” I explain, trying to clear the confusion from his face, “It’s all very standard.”

“What company did you say you were with?” Ron counters. Maybe he was more on guard than I thought. “All National Mutual” Dean answers smoothly, “Tell me, did he ever mention seeing a truck? A big black truck?”

“What the hell ‘you talking about?” Ron exclaims, “‘You even speaking English?”

Wow, what a lovely guy.

“Son this truck, a big scary monster-looking thing?” Ron's friend suddenly says.

“Yeah actually, I think so” Dean answers. The man hums to himself in thought, please let this interaction be useful. “You’ve heard of something like that?” I ask the man. “I have,” he nods, not bothering to elaborate.

“You have. Where?” Sam pushes.

“Not where,” he finally answers, “When. Back in the ‘60s, there was a string of deaths. Black men. Story goes, they disappeared in a big, nasty, black truck.”

“They ever catch the guy?” I ask. He shrugs, “Never found him. Hell, not even sure they really looked. See there was a time, ‘this town wasn’t too friendly to all its citizens.”

“Thank you” Sam nods.

We walk away, heading back to the Impala. “Well, it seems like history is repeating itself,” I began, “From the lack of investigation and racism down to the–”

“Truck,” Dean says, finishing my sentence. “Keeps coming up doesn’t it?” Sam adds.

“You know, I was thinking. You heard of the Flying Dutchman?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, a ghost ship, infused with the Captian’s evil spirit. It was basically part of him” Sam answers, explaining the lore. Dean nods, “So what if we’re dealing with the same thing? You know, a phantom truck, an extension of some bastard’s ghost, re-enacting past crimes.”

“The victims have been black men” Sam continues the theory. I half-shrug, “I don't know. The town has to have more than a handful of black people, but it only seems to be going after specific people. It’s practically targeting those connected to Cassie and her family. I’m sure there’s some deeper link there.”

“That’s why I think it’s more than that,” Dean says.

“All right. Well, you work that angle, go talk to her,” Sam tells his brother specifically, clearly playing matchmaker. “Yeah, I will,” Dean agrees.

“Oh, and you might also wanna mention that other thing” Sam noted, a playful smile on his lips. Always the meddler. “What other thing?” Dean asks, either genuinely lost or faking it. “The serious, unfinished business?” Sam elaborates. I huff a laugh, “Yeah, seriously Dean it's so painfully obvious. Just talk to the girl.” It pained me to even suggest that, to motivate him in such a way but I want him to be happy, and if that means being with her then so be it.

Dean stops just as we reach the car, going obstinately silent. Sam huffs a laugh this time, “Dean, what is going on between you two?”

“All right, so maybe we were a little more involved than I said,” he finally admits. I give him a pointed look, “Yeah…that was obvious.”

He huffs, “A lot more. Maybe. And I told her our secret, about what we do. And I shouldn’t have.”

“Ah look man, everybody’s gotta open up to someone sometime,” Sam reasons, being a little too understanding compared to how we were only yesterday. “Yeah I don’t,” Dean argues, “It was stupid to get that close. I mean, look how it ended.”

I smile at him softly, hoping any sadness is concealed far behind my eyes, and I realize Sam is giving him the same look except he’s nearly beaming. “Would you both stop!” he shouts. But we don't because this is a side of Dean we’ve never seen before, and it is beautiful even if it's heartbreaking for me. “Someone blink or something!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up.

“You loved her,” I say softly, the gape in my chest deepening at the verbal declaration. Saying it aloud was so much worse. “Oh God,” he groans, turning to the Impala. “You still do!” I call after him.

“You were in love with her, but you dumped her,” Sam states, connecting the pieces. Dean goes silent, staring at the ground, then carefully glances at his brother before reverting his eyes. “Oh wow. She dumped you.”

I have to stop myself from taking in a sharp breath, there was a lot to this he wasn’t telling us. But why would she break up with him if she still has feelings?

“Get in the car” Dean demands, done being “emotional” and open, “Get in the car!”

Sam hands me my hot chocolate, but not even the sweet treat or the soft snow falling just outside can lift my mood. It makes me feel a little better but it does not fix my heart. Dean didn’t come back last night and I know it’s because he spent the night at Cassie’s. I’m happy they worked things out and hopefully had a wonderful night but again it does not fix my heart.

I held the cup tighter, welcoming the immense warmth it brought to my frozen hands as we stepped out of the small coffee shop. The air was crisp yet gentle as the light fluffy snowflakes descended onto us, the cold flakes collecting in my hair. A small smile graced my face, maybe it was making me feel better. I like the cold, preferred it even, I was cozy in my thick turtle neck and my favorite fleeced-lined jacket.

Sam and I walk in comfortable silence side by side, sipping from our cups and basking in the scenery of the unexpected snow. It was early May in Missouri, it really shouldn’t be snowing but I suppose if it could snow here a little in April then early May couldn't be that weird. Plus it was a light snow that likely wouldn't even stick. But the calming scenery is cut in half by an ambulance that speeds past us, sirens blaring. We share a questioning look but ultimately ignore it until two cop cars rush past us heading the same way. That we can’t ignore. With another shared look, we follow after the sirens.

I look out at the macabre scene, the yellow caution tape not having stopped me from investigating thanks to the use of a fake ID. The body had been bagged after countless photos were taken, but the blood of Mayor Todd still stains the streets. It was a gruesome scene, arguably worse than the others in this case his organs squished out like roadkill and, truthfully, that’s what he had become.

“L/N” Sam calls out from just a few feet behind me. I turned around swiftly, the snow whirling around me, Dean stood next to his brother. He came.

I walk over to the two boys, watching Dean’s clear expression of shock masked by annoyance, “‘You gonna ask me a bunch of questions too?” he asks. I look at him confused, “...no” I drag out slowly. His face seems to relax slightly, something unrecognizable passing in his eyes, “Good,” he nods.

“I already know you made up–made out” I add, his face drops, “Anyways, crime scene,” I point behind me.

“Every bone crushed. Internal organs turned to pudding,” Sam explains the case, catching his brother up, “The cops are all stumped, it’s like something ran him over.” The wind picks up again, swirling the snow in its own private storm, the cold will help with the case as it preserves the body longer. “Something like a truck?” Dean asks, gaining his footing in the case.

“Yeah, except of course there’s no tracks” I answer. He nods, rubbing a hand down his jaw and I have to force my eyes away from the movement, “What was the Mayor doing here anyway?”

“He owned the property. Bought it a few weeks ago” Sam says referring to the building site.

“But he’s white, doesn’t fit the pattern,” Dean points out. Sam nods, “Killings didn’t happen up on the road. That doesn’t fit either.”

I shove my hands into my pocket, taking a quick look back at the crime scene before turning back to the boys, “Then it seems like this case is one of revenge.”

I shuffle through the papers in front of me, glad that I was sent to do research at the town's main library rather than be at the newspaper office with the boys and Cassie. She was probably looking at him all sweetly and being a kind person, and I did not wish to see the loving way they looked at each other. And if avoiding that meant having my nose in dusty boxes of court records then that was okay.

I pull out my phone calling Sam directly instead of Dean, the phone rings a couple of times before he picks up, “Hi” I greet, “I got some info.”

The line goes quiet for a second before I hear his voice, “Alright you're on speaker.”

“Ok, so,” I start, balancing my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I look over the papers, “I have courthouse records here, and according to them Mr and Mrs Mayor bought an abandoned property. The previous owner was the Dorian family who owned it for, like, 150 years.”

“Dorian?” Dean repeats back. “Yes.”

His voice grows quieter but still in range enough for me to hear, “Didn’t you say the Dorian family used to own this paper?” he asks someone else in the room. “Along with everything else around here. Real pillars of the town,” Cassie answers. “Right, right” Dean responds followed by the clicking of keys.

“You got something there?” I ask, readjusting my phone.

“Think so” Sam mumbles, seemingly focused on whatever was happening over at the office.

“This Cyrus Dorian. He vanished in April of ‘63. The case was investigated but never solved. It was right around the time the string of murders was going on back then,” Dean informs, adding more information to what that man yesterday had told us.

“Well to add to that information, the Dorian place seemed to be in really bad shape when the Mayber bought it,” I add, “He bulldozed the place.”

“Mayor Todd knocked down the Dorian place?” Dean asks, presumably, Cassie. “It was a big deal” she answers, “One of the oldest houses left. He made the front page.” I huff a breath, everything connecting yet leaving so many questions at the same time. “You got a date, Y/N?” Dean calls back.

“Um,” I hum shuffling the papers around and reading over the words quickly, “‘3rd of last month.” The line goes quiet again the only sound ringing back being the sharp noise of fingers on a keyboard, “Mayor Todd bulldozed the Dorian family home on the 3rd,” Dean finally responds, “The first killing was the next day.”

Pouring the boiled water into the mug I take a quick look back, Dean kneels in front of the shaken-up Cassie rubbing her knee softly and looking at her with pure determination and adoration. I swallow roughly looking back at the mugs in front of me, nearly overspilling and burning myself.

This was not the time to grieve a love that never happened. Cassie called Dean afraid, having seen the black truck. We were here to help, I was making a soothing herbal tea for her and her mother to calm the nerves.

Finishing with the mugs I carefully carry them into the sitting room. Sam takes one from me, gently handing it to her mother. I hand the mug to Cassie, her shaky hands accepting and rattling the cup, Dean immediately moves to sit at her side but it does not stop his protectiveness if anything it amplifies it; he practically radiates it. “Maybe you should throw a couple of shots in here,” she says, half joking.

I huff a laugh, “Well while the effects of alcohol do have the capabilities of easing the central nervous system, when the effects wear off your body will be jolted back from its depressive state which would really only make you feel worse, more anxious as well as stressed.”

She gives me a half, almost awkward, smile before taking a sip from her mug. Did I say too much? Why didn’t someone stop me? Someone should’ve just cut me off, especially if I wasn’t helping.

“You didn’t see who was driving the truck,” Sam says suddenly, pulling the awkwardness out of the air. “It seemed to be no one. Everything was moving so fast. And then it was just gone,” she explains, “Why didn’t it kill us?”

“Whoever was controlling the truck wants you afraid first,” Dean answers. This would explain why at least one of the victims had seen it and truthfully thought they were going mad. “Mrs Robinson,” Sam began, “Cassie said that your husband saw the truck before he died.” Mrs Robinson doesn't answer, seemingly lost in her mind as she shakes. “Mom?” Cassie says carefully, worry laced in her voice.

The older Robinson shakes her head nervously, “Oh. Martin was under a lot of stress. You can’t be sure about what he was seeing.”

“Well after tonight I think we can be reasonably sure he was seeing a truck. What happened tonight, you and Cassie are marked. Ok?” Dean snaps, “Your daughter could die. So if you know something now would be a really good time to tell us about it.”

“Dean…” Cassie warns. But her mother's face contorts in emotion, something in her breaking, “Yes. Yes, he said he saw a truck.”

“Did he know who it belonged to?” Sam asks, taking a seat across from the woman. “He thought he did,” she answers cryptically. “Who was that?” Dean pushes. Her eyes get watery and she sinks into herself, “Cyrus. A man named Cyrus.”

My gaze flickers to the boys, we are all thinking the same thing, I look back at her, “By any chance was it Cyrus Dorian?” I ask carefully. Dean pulls out a newspaper from inside his coat, handing it to the woman. She doesn't shake her head or nod only replying with, “Cyrus Dorian died more than 40 years ago.”

“How do you know he died, Mrs Robinson?” Dean asks softly, “The papers said he went missing. How do you know he died?”

She hesitates, her mouth agape like a fish out of water or in reality that of a person who got caught, “We were all very young,” she says, “I dated Cyrus a while, I was also seeing Martin…in secret of course. Interracial couples didn’t go over too well back then. When I broke it off with Cyrus and when he found out about Martin, I don’t know, he, changed. His hatred. His hatred was frightening.”

“The murder,” Sam voices.

Her voice wobbles, “They were rumors. People of color disappearing into some kind of truck. Nothing ‘ever done,” she swallows shifting in her seat, “Martin and a…Martin and I, we were gonna be, uh, married in that little church near here, but last minute we decided to elope as we didn’t want the attention.” She pushes her short hair out of her face, stressed. “And what became of Cyrus?” I ask.

Endless tears fall down her cheeks, “The day we set for the wedding, was the day someone set fire to the church. There was a children’s choir practicing in there. They all died.” I suppress the gasp that wishes to leave my lips, the room seems to dim with the information. What was meant to be a beautiful day was soiled by the blood of innocents.

“Did the attacks stop after that?” Sam asks softly, careful of her fragile mindset.

A sob escapes from her chest, “No! There was one more. One night that truck came for Martin. Cyrus beat him terribly. But Martin, you see, Martin got loose. And he started hitting Cyrus and he just kept hitting him and hitting him.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops?” Dean pushes. She continues to cry, “This was forty years ago. He called on his friends, Clayton Soames and Jimmy Anderson, and they put Cyrus’ body into the truck and they rolled it into the swamp at the end of his land and all three of them kept that secret all of these years.”

“And now all three are gone,” Sam acknowledges. This all confirms the theory of a vengeful spirit. “And so is Mayor Todd,” Dean adds, “Now he said that you of all people would know he is not a racist. Why would he say that?”

“He was a good man,” Mrs Robinson answers, “He was a young deputy back then investigating Cyrus’ disappearance. Once he figured out what Martin and the others had done he…he did nothing, because he also knew what Cyrus had done.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cassie asks, her voice hard yet full of emotion. I couldn't imagine what was going on in her head, to find out something like this–“I thought I was protecting them. And now there’s no one left to protect,” her mother reasons.

“Yes, there is” Dean counters, fiercely. His green eyes harden with determination as he looks at Cassie.

I sit on the cold hood of the Impala, gently kicking my legs back and forth watching Dean pace in front of me. Sam leans against the car next to me, his arms crossed as he too watches his brother, “Ah, my life was so simple. Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms…”

I look at him with an amused smile, “I have no idea what that last part is but it sounds fun!” That stops Dean in his tracks for just a half of a second, he points at us, “No it doesn’t. I saved him from a boring existence.”

“Yeah, occasionally I miss boring” Sam reasons. I nod enthusiastically, “Honestly, we have not had a normal day in like months. Kinda miss it.”

Dean brushes our light complaining off, “So this killer truck–”

“I miss conversations that didn’t start with ‘this killer truck’” Sam quips with a dramatic sigh. I failed to hold back my laughter, Dean laughs lightly and for a brief moment, things feel how they used to, “Well this Cyrus guy. Evil on a level that infected even his truck. When he died, the swamp became his tomb, and his spirit was dormant for 40 years.”

“So what woke it up?” Sam asks.

“The construction on his house. Or the destruction,” Dean points out.

“Right. Demolition or remodeling can awaken spirits, make them restless” Sam recalls. His brother hums a ‘yes’, nodding.

“Like that theater in Illinois, ya know?” Sam references, and I in fact had no idea what he was talking about. “And the guy that tore down the family homestead, Harold Todd, is the same guy that kept Cyrus’ murder quiet and unsolved,” Dean adds, bringing it back to the case at hand.

“So now his spirit is awakened and out for blood,” Sam acknowledges.

“Yeah, I guess. Who knows what ghosts are thinking anyway” Dean shrugs.

“Wait, does this mean we have to go swimming in that swamp?” I ask. I mean if we had to salt and burn the bones then we would need said bones which are in a swamp, how nice. Dean smiles at me, I know that look. “No” I warn, pointing at him like an animal that did something wrong. “You said it” he rationalizes.

“Noooo” I whine a pout on my lips, “Do I have to do it alone?”

His wicked smile deepens, “‘Course not, Sammy’s gonna be with you.”

Sam’s shoulders drop, “Man,” he sighs.

Suddenly a familiar figure approaches, her hands tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. Dean stands up straighter, “Hey.” She smiles sadly, “Hey. She’s asleep. Now what?”

“Well, you should stay put, look after her…and we’ll be back. Don’t leave the house,” Dean explains, looking at her in that way that hurts my heart. But she smiles, any worry melting off her face, “Don’t go getting all authoritative on me. I hate it.”

Dean glances back at us, Sam looks down grinning acting as if neither of us could hear the conversation. He turns back to Cassie mumbling something I can't quite make out but whatever it was must have been good because he slowly leans in to kiss her. I drop my head and gaze at the very interesting ground, trying my best to ignore the sound of their intensifying making out. A pang of jealousy, longing, and pain shoots through my chest. If the ground wanted to just open up and consume me now I wouldn’t complain, I’d even help it and just throw myself in it wouldn’t have to work very hard. Sam clears his throat, I look up but Dean just holds out a finger to wait as he brings Cassie even closer.

I drop my eyes again.

Loving someone never hurt so bad. Loving him never hurt so bad.

Was it wrong to love him? Was this always going to be my fate? To see him evermore with other girls, loving them more than he could ever love me.

“You two comin’ or what?” Dean asks. I look up once more and this time his lips aren’t on Cassie.

I tug on the chain again, making sure it's secure, my hands getting wet in the process. I wipe my icky hands off on my jeans as I back away, “Alright he’s good,” I call out to Sam who stands feet away from me, closer to the butt of the pickup Dean was driving. He gives a thumbs up to his brother who begins to move the car forward, the pickup moving slowly in the weight of the heavy truck and water pressure.

We had already gotten it up a lot, but it had gotten stuck on the side of the swamp so we had to readjust its hold to get it the rest of the way up.

The years in the water had diminished it. The old black truck was now more like a rust bucket, remains of the swamp water spilling out from the seams. “All right. A little more…little more,” Sam leads, “All right, stop.”

The engine shuts off and Dean heads to the Impala, he pulls it open rummaging through the various weapons. “Now I know what she sees in you” Sam declares with a snap of his finger, meaning he finally understood what that look in her eyes meant. “What?” Dean asks.

“Come on man, you can admit it. You’re still in love with her” Sam clarifies. I nod even though the implications hurt, “Plus it’s not like no one else knows. So the only person you’re hiding from is yourself.”

Dean looks up from the trunk, “Uhh, can we focus please.”

I purse my lips, “Yeah…focusing has never really been our strong suit…” A container of salt is pressed into my chest, “Hold that” Dean says swiftly.

His expression hardens, all jokes put to rest as he dishes out items, “Gas” he says first, handing the large container to his brother, “Flashlights,” he lists out next filling my empty hand with one.

“Ok, let’s get this done,” he quips, closing the trunk.

We trudge back over to the rusty truck, our flashlights leading our way across the grass. Dean places his hand on the handle and I must wonder how he isn’t grossed out by just the feeling of the flaked paint and rotting metal. He glances at us in a silent ‘you ready?’ We give a nod and he opens the door.

A decaying wet corpse falls out the door and onto the soft grass, a small gush of water following its lead. I leap back like a scared cat, clasping a hand to my mouth and nose the decomposition of the body as well as its marinating in swamp water left a putrid smell. One perhaps worse than anything I've ever smelt before which was saying something considering what I’ve hunted.

“All right let’s get to it,” Dean says. Sam pours the gasoline all over the body, careful not to get it close to us and I jump in with the salt, opening the little latchet to sprinkle the small white crystals over the open-mouthed corpse. The satisfying scratch and flick of a match sounds softly beside me in the quiet night followed by the drop of the matchstick on the body. In mere seconds the remains go up in flames, the warm glow of the fire reflecting on the truck just beside it. I hoped no one would come looking over here with the whirl of smoke twirling above us, the heat powerful enough for me to take another step back.

“Think that’ll do it?” Sam voices, staring down at the burning corpse. But his question is followed by the revving of an engine and two blinding lights pointed at us. Without looking in the direction I knew it was the ghost truck. “I guess not,” Dean quips.

“So burning the body had no effect on that thing?” the younger Winchester asks. “Sure it did. Now it’s really pissed,” Dean responds. I glare at him, “I don't know if this is the time for cool jokes.”

“But Cyrus’ ghost is gone, right Dean?” Sam asks, a hint of panic in his voice as the tuck stares us down. But his brother doesn't answer right away, instead, he starts to walk away, “Apparently not the part that’s fused with the truck.”

I go on my tip toes trying to peak into the truck, maybe we missed something like a severed piece of him that didn’t spill out but before I can vocalize this Sam is calling out to his brother, “Where are you going?” I turn around, catching up to the boys, “Goin’ for a little ride,” Dean answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What?!” Sam and I exclaim in unison, “That’s a horrible idea!” I add. But he ignores our concern, “Gonna lead that thing away. That busted piece of crap, you gotta burn it.”

“How the hell are we supposed to burn a truck, Dean?” Sam asks, voice raising in volume. But being the determined man he is he shrugs, “I don’t know. Figure something out.” He rounds the car, opening the driver's door, “At least let one of us come with you, this is horribly dangerous,” I try to reason.

His eyes move up and down my face, before he settles on my eyes once more, “‘Exactly why you’re not comin’ with.” Before I can come up with a retort on how stubborn he is he settles himself into the car, closing the door behind him. I look to Sam for any support on this but he just stares at the car muttering, “Figure some–something–”

I rack my brain for ideas because Dean wasn’t going to listen and would rather be all hot and stubborn than be reasonable, “An explosion?” I suggest. Sam shakes his head, “No, that wouldn’t work. Parts would go everywhere and everything has to burn.”

I huff, frustrated, “I hate when you’re right.”

Dean reverses the Impala and takes off, the engine revering. As predictable as possible the ghost truck roars after him. I try to rack my brain for more ideas, even if we could suddenly light a truck on fire it would take too long for it to burn completely, “Sam, please tell me you got some idea rolling around in there.” He doesn't answer, lost in concentration with his bottom lip between his teeth.

My phone suddenly rings in my pocket, I pull it out swiftly seeing Dean’s name glowing. I flip it open bringing it to my ear, “You okay?” I say immediately. “Uh…yeah,” He says but I remain not convinced, “what are we doing?”

I look at Sam, panicking slightly, “Um, Sam what are we doing?”

He pulls out his phone, “You gotta give me a minute.” He presses his phone to his ear, “He says to give him a minute, I think he’s callin’ someone.”

“I don’t have a minute!” He half yells. “Dude, I don't know!” I panic, “Just…just don’t die, okay?”

“Trying here sweetheart.” I look back at Sam who has stepped away, I give him a hand motion of ‘please hurry up.’ He nods, coming closer to feed me info, “Ask him where he is.” I pull my phone away from my ear putting him on speaker instead, “Okay, Dean where the hell are you?”

“In the middle of nowhere with a killer truck on my ass!” he exclaims, “It’s like it knows I put the torch to Cyrus.”

“Listen to me, this is important” Sam orders, calmly, “I have to know exactly where you are.” Seemingly taking his advice he goes quiet for a beat, “Decatur Road, about two miles off the highway.”

“Ok. Headed East?” Sam follows up.

“Yes!”

A rattle and a bang followed by skitting noise sounds from the phone followed by cursing, “You son of a bitch!”

“Sam!” I yell, begging him to hurry up. “Ok, uhhh, turn right! Up ahead, turn right.” Again the line falls silent, “You make the turn?” Sam questions softly. My heart beats faster with each silent moment that passes. “Yeah, I made the turn!” Dean yells, “You need to move this thing along a little faster.”

“All right, you see a road up ahead?” Sam asks.

“No!... Wait. No, yes, I see it.”

“Ok turn left.”

“Wha..?” Dean half says before he goes quiet again the only sound coming from the line being more screeching and shuffled movement. “All right, now what? He finally responds.

“You need to go seven-tenths of a mile and then stop,” Sam explains. I looked at him strangely, noticing he wasn’t on the phone anymore, but what the hell was he talking about? “Stop?” Dean voices.

“Exactly seven-tenths Dean” Sam repeats.

“God, I hope you know what you’re talking about,” I tell the man beside me. “Me too” he mumbles over the sound of his brother repeating the words ‘seven-tenths.’ I look at him my mouth agape, “You wha–”

“Dean, you still there?” He cuts me off, focusing on his brother again. “Yeah,” Dean responds.

“What’s happening over there?” I ask, not knowing was killing me. “It’s just staring at me,” he answers carefully, “what do I do?”

“Just what you’re doing, bringing it to you,” Sam replies.

“Wha–” Dean began before cutting himself off, the line going quiet for the umpteenth time, “Come on. Come on,” he mumbled quietly but just loud enough for the phone to pick it up. My heart thumps in my chest, anticipation and fear running through my veins as well as something else from those two stupid words–something had to be wrong with me to find that hot now of all times.

The line is silent, for one beat, then another, then another…I grip my phone tighter, “Dean? Dean, are you there? ‘You okay?”

“Where’d it go?” he responds with a mix of shock and confusion. “Dean, you’re where the church was,” Sam explains. “What church!” he freaks.

“The place Cyrus burned down. Murdered all those kids,” Sam clarifies.

“There’s not a whole lot left,” Dean responds.

“Church ground is hallowed ground, whether the church is still there or not. Evil spirits cross over hallowed ground, and sometimes they’re destroyed, so I figured, maybe, that would get rid of it,” Sam explains. I hit his arm, “That was a hunch?!”

Dean adds in with the lecturing, “Maybe? Maybe!! What if you were wrong?!”

“Huh,” Sam hums, “Honestly, that thought hadn’t occurred to me.”

I glare at him sharply, hitting his arm again as I say, “You’re too sassy for your own good.” He laughs, a boyish grin on his face.

I wait in the back, Sam in the driver seat for Dean to say his goodbyes. I liked the back seat, more now than ever because being in the front would mean being able to see out the side mirror and watch Dean kiss the woman he loves and say a goodbye I was sure he didn’t want.

Life was being really unfair and uncool.

I bury my nose in my new book, it would be better to just escape into this world than have to deal with my feelings here in the real world. My feelings in the real world were not fun, they were depressing and hurt…a lot. But no amount of ink on paper formed into beautifully crafted words could fill the gaping hole in my heart, still, I tried as there was nothing else to do.

What is worse is knowing there will never be a chance for me to be loved by him, at least not in the way I do, because there will always be a place in his heart for her. He’ll think of her all the time, dream about her, and perhaps see her in the breeze. His heart belongs to her, and possibly always has.

I needed to accept that. The sooner I did the quicker the pain would go away. I couldn't go on believing I had a chance I needed to huff the flame out now.

No more hope. No more love. We’re friends, always have been, and always will be. That will have to be enough. I couldn’t love him anymore, not if it meant feeling this much pain. I wouldn’t accept his touches anymore for they gave me more hope than I’d like to admit.

No. I was wrong.

Worse of all is knowing that I can’t just stop loving him. Let it be the Gods' fault or the stars or whatever it is I’m meant to believe in but my heart has long been his and always will be. I could never love someone the way I love him, I wasn’t capable of that. Let it be that our love was written in the star's constellations that it was undecided by me or him for my love had to transcend the binds of that nonsense.

I loved him and he did not love me and maybe it was that which I had to accept because to stop loving him would mean to stop my heart from beating. Though even then I suspect not even the afterlife could keep me from my eternal love. And maybe that was pathetic or stupid, especially since he did not care for me in such a way, but it was the truth and no one has ever claimed truth to be a beautiful thing.

I’m brought back to reality with a bump. When did we leave and start driving? I look out the window, we had already made it to the highway…I look at the boys, but both seem fine. Ok then.

“I like her,” Sam says, and suddenly I wish to be lost back in the state I was in moments ago. I would love not to hear or be a part of this conversation. “Yeah,” Dean replies, seemingly just to get his brother to stop.

“You meet someone like her, doesn’t it make you wonder if it’s worth it? Putting everything else on hold, doing what we do?” Sam asks innocently perhaps trying to get him to understand what he had felt with his girlfriend. But something flickers in his face and suddenly he’s making eye contact with me in the rearview mirror, his eyes written in apology as if it just hit him now what all of this was doing to me. It was that puppy dog look.

I smile sadly at him, giving him a curt nod in a silent ‘it’s okay.’ His gaze flickers back to the road.

Dean leans forward pulling sunglasses from the glove box, he puts them on carefully ignoring his brothers' initial question, “Why don’t you wake me up when it’s my turn to drive?” He slouches down in his seat with a sigh. I shake my head, roll my eyes, and go back to my book.

We were leaving Missouri and all would be well, or as well as they could be.

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all-timelee · 1 year

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I'm So Sorry || D.W.

Warnings: mention of character death, bad language

Word Count: 1.0k

Masterlist

You couldn't help the tears pooling down your cheeks. You couldn't stop the loud cries that slipped past your lips. You'd never felt such immense pain before and for the first time in your life, you genuinely felt like you would never truly recover, at least not fully. The image of Charlie's lifeless body slumped in the hotel bathtub was burned in your brain, outside of the boys, she had been the closest thing you had to a family. You were so tired of losing people, so exhausted of constantly looking over your shoulder just to lose yet again.

It was all too much.

You barely heard the door to your room open as your curled into yourself, just this once, allowing yourself to break. A small scream made it's way out of your throat as Dean set a gentle hand on your shoulder, a look of grim understanding on his feautres. He didn't speak, he simply took a seat next to you, his arm easily pulling you into his chest. As soon as you were properly buried in his embrace, you broke down completely, sobbing into his shoulder as your fists dug into the fabric of his shirt. His grip around you tightened but his voice was soft and comforting as he began softly murmuring to you.

You were are that Dean was acting strong for your sake, he cared about Charlie just as much as you did and you hated yourself for not being able to hold yourself together when he needed you just as much as you needed him. Your cries slowly subsided, silent tears still falling out of your wet eyes, but you pulled back from Dean's embrace just enough to look him in the eye. He was crying, doing his best to stay strong for you, but his cheeks had trails of moisture running down them. You looked at the man sadly, moving your hands up to cup his face and gently run the pads of your thumbs under his eyes.

You gave a teary, encouraging smile as he allowed his facade to fall, letting out a shuddery breath before his head fell forward, resting in the crook of your neck. Dean was the best when it came to hiding how he was really feeling, most of the time turning his anguish or fear into anger, you rarely witnessed him crying and it hurt each and every time. You pressed a kiss to his temple, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders. Your heart felt heavy as Dean's shaky breaths filled your nose, his skin hot where it brushed against yours, reminding you of just how close you were. Dean didn't pull away, instead his arms shifted until they were wrapped firmly around your back as well.

And you cried, you sat there for god knows how long and let each other cry, holding one another. When you finally calmed down enough, both of your hands moved from his shoulders to his chin, tilting his face upwards so you could gaze deeply into his eyes. "I'm so sorry. Sam only got a hold of her cause he was trying to help-" You cut him off quickly, knowing what he was going to say.

"No, this is not on you. Neither is it on Sam. It's a shitty situation, but blaming ourselves isn't going to make it better, Dean." He opened his mouth to respond, most likely to argue with you, but he decided against it and simply nodded his head slightly, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. It wasn't enough, but neither of you said anything as you leaned further into his space and placed a sweet kiss of your own on his lips. It was tender, loving, a reminder that neither of you were alone tonight. And as you pulled apart and rested your foreheads together, you knew it was exactly what you both needed.

You stayed like that for a while longer; Dean sitting with his head tilted towards yours as he stroked your hair and you held him tightly. Once you started feeling somewhat more stable, you stood up and offered your hand out to Dean, helping him stand as well. After a few moments of silence between the two of you, Dean cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He glanced over at you and seemed to steel himself before speaking. "We should probably get some sleep, huh?" His tone was quiet, almost shy and the look in his eyes told you that he wanted desperately to keep this moment between the two of you.

You returned the gesture by nodding in agreement and he reached over, intertwining his fingers with yours. You smiled to yourself at the gesture. He always had trouble saying the right words, especially when he was trying to comfort someone else. This whole night had taken its toll on Dean. There wasn't anything you could do but support him however you could, even if it meant walking through hell and back tomorrow morning.

He reluctantly let your hand go, allowing you to rid yourself of you clothes in order to slip into something more comfortable. Dean did the same, not caring that his clothes laid messily on the floor of your room as he stood in just his boxers, climbing into the bed with you. His warmth enveloped you and you nestled your head into his chest, allowing the steady thump of his heartbeat to help your form relax into him. "I love you, Dean." You whispered quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his bare chest.

His hand moved across your body until his fingers found purchase on the hem of your tshirt and slid his hand underneath it, running his fingers alone the bare skin of your hip. "I love you too, sweetheart." He responded, his voice low and raspy from exhaustion.

With that final statement, you drifted off into a deep sleep, Dean's warm and strong arms wrapped around you to keep you safe and protected. Even in the midst of what must've felt like hell, you and your boyfriend were still together. You were still safe.

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

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Have a Holly Jolly Christmas

John Winchester x plus size reader

Christmas is just like any other day for John, but this year is different, his girlfriend has created a winter wonderland for him and his boys, but he won’t let her stay to celebrate

Warnings: john is a shitty ass parent and boyfriend, angst (honestly Lou can’t you write a fluffy fic for once), insecure!reader, alcohol, fluff

WC: 3.1k

Square Filled: Grumpy during the holidays @spnchristmasbingo

Minors DNI

SPN Christmas Bingo

The low budget motel room had been completely decked out in Christmas decorations. Tinsel over all the lamps and beds, a small tree on the coffee table decorated in cheap bobbles, poorly wrapped presents sitting around it, and fairy lights all around the room. There was even a piece of mistletoe hanging over the doorway to the tiny bathroom and three stockings tapped up under the tv.

Sam and Dean had gone feral when they walked in after school. Their little minds couldn’t comprehend all the lights and colours that you had hung up everywhere. They ran around, studying everything they could before their eyes landed on the arguably massive pile of presents. You had barely stopped the 8 and 4 year old in time before they ripped off the newspaper to get access to their goodies.

And now, after gorging themselves on eggnog and Christmas cookies, they were passed out in your arms, Dean on the left and Sam on the right, their little hands linked across your plump stomach, sleeping peacefully for the first time in a while. You had only been in the boys’ life for a few months, John was extremely protective of them, not letting you meet them until you had been dating for a couple years, but already you knew they were your boys and you would do anything for them. And apparently, that entailed spoiling the shit out of them every chance you could.

Sighing sadly, you looked up from where you had been watching them sleep, to the clock above the small kitchenette. It was well past midnight and yet, John still wasn’t home. You knew Christmas was a hard time for him though, so you just sucked it up and focused on the kids.

“Kitty?” It was the nickname the boys had given you because John insisted it was rude for them to call you by your first name. Glancing down, you were met with wide green eyes, still glazed over with sleep.

“What is it, Dean?” You whispered, mindful of the younger boy who was still dozing away, thumb tucked firmly between his lips. He sat up a bit so he could look you in the eye as a very serious expression came over his little face.

“Do you think dad is with Santa and that’s why he isn’t here?” Sometimes you forgot how truly young Dean was. He was forced to be so mature from such a young age, it was quite easy to not remember that he really was only eight. Cupping the back of his head, you gently guided him to lay down once more. He complied without a fight.

“Yeah that’s right. Your dad is helping Santa give out presents to all the little kids all over the world, but he’ll be back soon.”

“Do you promise?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I pinky promise.” His little pinky curled around your own before his eyes shut and he fell asleep once more.

It was around four in the morning that you were able to slip from the bed. Carefully, you pulled your duffle bag from under the bed and grabbed the last few presents from it. Each was wrapped in colourful (and expensive) paper with bows and neat little tags. Some said ‘from Santa’ but the largest of the bunch you had labeled ‘from Dad’ with your best attempt at emulating your boyfriend’s handwriting.

The sky was turning a light grey with an impending snowstorm when you heard the impala turn into the motel’s parking lot. Quickly, you threw your clothes and toiletries in the now empty bag before pulling on your boots and coat. You finished zipping it up just as the man himself walked through the door.

He had obviously been drinking if the stench of whiskey and smoke was anything to go by. But mostly, he just seemed tired. He was beat down, still fading bruises from his last hunt littered his arms and one of his eyes. “Thank you for staying with the boys.” He said it like you were just some babysitter and not his partner of the last three years.

You nodded at him. “It was no problem, you know how much I adore them.”

“Yeah.” He sighed in a way you knew he meant that he was done talking about it. “John?” He glanced at you but you could tell he wasn’t really looking at you or else he would have seen the heartbreak clearly written across your face.

“Just- just enjoy today. They need it, you need it. Forget the world for once and just be with your boys.” And with that, you kissed his scruffy cheek and walked away, planning on driving to Bobby’s to pick up another hunt. “Merry Christmas John.”

He didn’t even try to stop you.

Bobby handed you a beer as he walked back into his living room. Gratefully, you took it and downed half the bottle in one swig. “Woah, slow down there. Someone might think you were turning into me.”

“Har har.” You replied sarcastically and took another pull. Your legs were curled up under you on his couch as your eyes fixed on the small fire he had built up in the fireplace. He raised an eyebrow at you, taking his place in the worn recliner beside you.

“Thought you were with the Winchesters for Christmas?”

“You know John, he doesn’t want anyone close to his boys, especially not me.” Your voice wavered with barely concealed tears. The ache in your chest had grown with each mile you drove away from them until you felt like someone had ripped out your heart by the time you had gotten to the scrap yard.

“I don’t get why that idjit pushes you away. You’re good for all those boys, not just him.” You shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on the fire in some vain attempt to stop yourself from crying.

“I’m not his girlfriend, Bobby. I’m a distraction, a babysitter, a nurse sure, but never his girlfriend. I can’t live up to Mary and he knows it, the same as I do.” You shrugged and finished off the bottle. It had been like that since you started dating. John needed a partner, someone to watch his back and keep his bed warm and he never did anything to change that.

He kept you at arms length all the time and you just accepted it, knowing what he had gone through. But now, it was ripping you apart. You loved those two boys with your whole heart and seeing them but never able to be anything more than an occasional visitor in their lives hurt like a bitch.

“Maybe you should leave.” Bobby bluntly said. “Why stay with a man who can never see how truly incredible you are?” You couldn’t answer him.

The hunter sighed deeply. “Just think about it for a couple days. Figure out if he’s actually worth your heartbreak.” With a friendly squeeze to your shoulder, he left you alone with your thoughts.

——————

John hated Christmas for one simple reason: it had been Mary’s favourite holiday. She went all out, lights, decorations, the works. And it got even better when Dean was born.

After she died, he found it hard to tolerate the holiday. He knew the boys questioned why they couldn’t have a celebration like the other kids at school but it hurt his heart even just thinking about having a Christmas without her. He avoided the day as much as he could with hunts and booze, but otherwise treating it like any other day.

And now, walking into the hotel room they had been camped out in for the past few weeks, John wanted to cry. You put in so much work to make the place look nice, even if you weren’t sticking around (not that it was your choice). His frown deepened as he glanced at the presents by the tree.

Knowing you, you had bought the presents with the scant amount of money you earned from actual jobs instead of hustling or downright stealing. You were too kind for a business like this, too soft.

With a heavy heart, he collapsed on the ratty sofa after pulling a beer from the fridge. His brown eyes occasionally flicked over to his boys, unconsciously making sure they were still alive and well. They would be devastated when they woke up and you weren’t here but he could deal with that.

What he couldn’t deal with was how involved you were in their lives. You had consumed his heart, his soul, his mind and his body. He was terrified of how quickly he had fallen for you. It left him questioning his love for Mary and he hated you for that.

So, like the way he regarded Christmas, he treated you like he would any other woman he had taken to his bed. He knew it hurt you, he could see it in your eyes when he dismissed your feelings or when he shoved you away from the boys. But they were more important, they couldn’t lose another mother and he couldn’t lose another woman he loved.

“Daddy!” He was shaken from his thoughts by a small body landing firmly on his soft stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. Sam’s skinny arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hug. John quickly recovered, hugging his youngest back.

“Hey there Sammy.” He chuckled, holding him as close as he could.

“It’s Christmas!”

“I know it is buddy, why don’t you wake up Dean and you can open your presents.”

“Ok!” As Sam scrambled away, John put his beer down on the ground beside him, purposely keeping it out of their potential eye line. It would do them no good to see him drinking this early in the day. He watched as Dean’s eyes shot open and sprung from the bed.

Soon enough, the kids were surrounded by ripped up paper and brand new toys and books. This is how it should be, John suddenly thought. He had gone four years without giving these boys the joy they deserved, no the joy they needed and he felt like the shittiest person ever.

“Daddy?” Sam was looking up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen, clutching a gorgeous copy of the Wizard of Oz to his chest. “Where did kitty go?” Now that hurt even more. Dean’s gaze also settled on him and he could clearly see the questions in his green eyes.

“Well, kitty had to go see uncle Bobby for a while.” Both their faces fell.

“But why?”

“He needed her there.”

“But we need kitty here!” Sam insisted as he stomped his little feet as hard as he could. “It’s Christmas! She has to be here for Christmas!”

And then, he watched in slight horror as Dean stood up and hugged his little brother like a parent would hug a crying child. One hand on the back of his small head, the other arm across his shoulders and tugged him into his chest. “It’s ok Sammy, she’ll come back.”

“But what if she doesn’t? What if she doesn’t want us and then doesn’t come back!”

“She always comes back Sammy.”

“I want kitty right now!” And he descended into a truly heartbreaking fit of sobs. Moving quickly, John scooped him up and settled back down on the couch, doing his best to sooth his youngest. But Sam fought back, wiggling almost violently in his grasp. “I don’t want you! I want kitty!” With an all mighty jerk, he tumbled from John’s arms and made a mad dash to the bathroom.

The door slammed and locked shut before the hunter could react. “Sam!” He shouted after him, making a move to follow but a little hand on his forearm stopped him in his tracks.

Dean was crying too but they were silent tears, dripping quickly down his full cheeks. “Why does kitty always leave us?”

His knees creaked as he slowly dropped to his knees. Kneeling before his son, John looked him dead in the eyes. “Sometimes, it just has to be like that Dean. And we’ve got each other, that’s enough.”

“But we wouldn’t even have a Christmas without her.” Dean followed his brother into the small room, leaving John alone with his thoughts and a sinking feeling in his gut.

You would know what to do, you always seemed to have the answers when it came to the boys. The thought ripped through his chest like a bullet. In the seven months since you had known his sons, you had effortlessly become a better parent than he ever had been and yet, you never demanded recognition or love from any of them. You loved them because you could.

And they were right. It was Christmas, the first real Christmas that Sammy had ever had, a Christmas Dean could actually remember. But you weren’t here, because you knew John wouldn’t want you there.

Something came over the hunter then and suddenly he stood bolt upright. His mind was in a haze as he tore down the decorations littered about the room, stuffing them into spare trash bags. Presents were thrown into duffle bags, along with the boy’s clothes.

“Boys! We’re leaving!” The bathroom door opened a crack and both their little heads peaked out. John threw the last bag over his broad shoulder as he grabbed their winter boots from beside the front door. “Let’s go!”

They watched him curiously, confused as to why their father had pulled apart the room and was now in a rush to leave. “Where are we going?” Dean spoke up, slowly inching his way out of the bathroom.

John’s face remained stern but his brown eyes were sparkling with something the boys couldn’t quite figure out. “We’re going to save Christmas.”

——————

The fire had begun to burn out but you didn’t care to add any more wood. Your eyes were fixed on the dying flames as you absentmindedly sipped on the warm beer in your hands. Was being with John really worth it? Could you handle feeling like nothing but a burden or bed warmer any more?

You wanted to stay, you loved all three of the Winchesters so much. Yet, in the cold light of morning, after a night with John worshipping you and your body, when he would ignore your existence and dismiss you like just another one night stand, you felt lower than dirt.

You would give him Christmas, and then, you would be gone forever. The room glowed a dull orange with the sunset and your eyes drifted over to the window beside you. Snow was falling lazily from the sky, covering the junkyard in a layer of peaceful white.

“Kitty!” Your head snapped around and your breath caught in your throat as tears built up behind your eyes. Sam and Dean stood in the doorway, huge smiles on their faces, dressed up as little elves, complete with fake ears and hats with bells.

“Boys? What are you doing here?” Sam looked like he was about to sprint at you but a large hand suddenly appearing on his little shoulder stopped him. You laughed tearfully.

John stood behind his boys, dressed head to toe in a ridiculous red suit with matching hat. He was smiling brighter than you had ever seen him smile before. A full duffle bag was in his other hand, tinsel spilling from the open zipper.

“Now, what did we practice in the car?” He prompted, eyes falling to the children in front of him.

“Merry Christmas Kitty!” They shouted together before Dean took a step forward and held out a piece of paper.

“Santa says you’ve been very good this year so you get a very spectial present.”

“Special Dean.” John corrected.

“Special.” He nodded and then shuffled forward, holding the paper up even higher. Sam was visibly vibrating in his dad’s grip, eager to run at you. You slipped from the couch, landing painfully on your knees but you ignored the pain and instead took the paper from the 8 year old’s hands.

Dean smiled shyly as you turned it over. It was hard to make out at first like most drawings done by a child but as soon as the lines and colourful smudges became clear, the tears broke free.

There were four figures carefully doodled on top of various stickers, two of them significantly taller than the other two. One smaller figure had a book in their hands, obviously Sam. While the other was holding what appeared to be a pie or scrambled eggs, you couldn’t really tell. It was Dean.

The bigger people were holding hands with a sloppy heart over their heads. The slightly taller one had a beer beside his feet and a dark beard while the wider person had cat ears on their head. It was you and John.

Written at the top of the paper in very sloppy handwriting was: ‘We love you kitty!’

Suddenly, your arms were full as Sam and Dean launched themselves at you. You pulled them to your chest and cried, your heart feeling so full and yet so broken at the same time. How could you have even thought about leaving these perfect little boys?

Your chest shook with sobs as you held them as tight as you could. There was a thud and then another pair of arms wrapped around you. John’s chin rested on the top of your head, the boys nestled between you. “I love you, I’m sorry I never showed you the love you deserve.” His voice was thick with emotion.

“I love you too.” You murmured back, lifting your head to look him in the eyes. The edge of his lips turned up and he surged forward, capturing your own in a deep and passionate kiss that made you ache for more.

“Ewwwww.” Sam gagged, trying to pull away but you just laughed and yanked him closer. John laughed heartily.

“Get used to it Sammy, kitty is never leaving us again.” You glanced at him curiously but he just smiled mysteriously at you. “Kitty is staying for good.” He gently cupped your full cheek, his thumb tracing the peak.

“I am?” You questioned playfully.

“You are.” He answered definitively. “Because it’s Christmas and family is supposed to be together on Christmas.”

“Yeah!” Dean emphasised, excitedly wiggling against you. “And Santa needs Mrs. Claus! Everyone knows that!”

“Oh really?”

“Yes!” Sam spoke up this time. “And daddy is Santa so you have to be his wife!”

You grinned. “I guess I have to agree then.” The boys cheered and John tightened his grip, tugging you away from them so he could kiss you once more.

“Merry Christmas Mrs Claus.”

“Merry Christmas Santa.”

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laurel-finch · 2 months

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'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch10: Winds of Change

Summary: Returning to the Winchesters does not meet expectations... Referenced Episodes: S1 E16 "Shadow" CW: Alcohol. Arguing. Normal Supernatural things. Another ridiculously long chapter, my b. Word Count: 8209 Recommended Song: Winds of Change -- Scorpions Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

I gnawed on my lower lip as I jammed another number into my phone, praying that this time one of the brother’s would pick up. I had a handful of Dean’s phone numbers and only two of Sam’s, but I knew they had more that they hadn’t felt the need to share with me. It all came down to which phone they were actively using for the case they were on. There was no consistency with them.

I glared down at the number I knew to be linked to Dean’s ATF persona. There was a chance he would answer, but it was slim. I really needed a better way to get ahold of the brothers. I sighed and hoped I would have better luck with Sam as I dialed one of his numbers next.

After six long rings, the call dropped. No answer. I pinched the bridge of my nose and kicked at a pebble in the middle of the deserted motel parking lot. Apparently, I'd need to call all of their numbers.

Three numbers in I finally heard a receiving click on the other end and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hello?" came Sam's gruff voice on the other end. I was surprised to hear his voice instead of his older brother's.

"Sam? Hey, it’s me," I heard a lot of shuffling from the other end, like he had bolted upright from shock. “Where, um… where are you guys?”

Sam was silent for a beat before speaking again. "Is everything alright?" I flinched at the wariness in his tone.

"I'm fine, Sam. Better than fine actually," I answered quietly. I placed my other hand over the speaker of the phone and turned my back to the motel parking lot conspiratorially. My voice dropped to a soft tone. "Look, I… I know it’s been a while and you probably don’t want to see me, but-"

"I do," he interjected quickly and I clamped my mouth shut. "Believe me, I do- we do. But what about your pack? And, well… I mean, Dean’s pretty pissed. He’s been pissed. He’s been throwing himself into this hunt for dad."

I frowned at the worn pavement beneath my feet. I figured he would be mad at me, but facing the reality of the situation hurt regardless. Maybe I could just… ignore it all. Go back to my pack, forget it ever happened. Like I never met them. Would that be easier?

No. No, that would hurt more. I mentally cursed myself for getting so attached. "Did you tell him why?”

"Yeah, yeah I tried to explain it to him. But… well, look at it from his perspective. Dean’s spent his whole life killing, and the one time he decides not to…" he sounded distraught and I heard more shuffling from the other end.

He didn’t need to finish his thought for me to know what he meant. Dean had done me a favor by not killing me when we first met. At the time it hadn’t felt like much of a favor – maybe death would have been safer. But now, with how much our lives had changed… it was understandable that he was frustrated. The one different choice he made led to a human being killed and me running off without a word.

I fell silent, pondering what to say next. How was I supposed to explain to them why I left? I think Sam understood better than he was letting on. It wasn’t too dissimilar to why he left for college, although his reasoning wasn’t nearly as bloody. But Dean… it made sense that he would be hurt…

"I want to see you, Sam – both of you. I want to apologize to Dean, but I can't do that unless I see him."

Sam sighed from the other end. "OK. I'll… keep you updated on where we are.”

After a flood of profuse thank-yous and Sam's chuckles, the line finally went dead. He had given me a location amongst my gratitude and I was already slinging my backpack over my shoulder.

—

After half a day of travel, the sun was setting and I was thoroughly exhausted. Upon seeing the welcome sign that coaxed me into the small city I stretched my arms high above my head and allowed myself to slow to a steady walking pace.

Oddly enough, my heart felt heavy, like something severe was weighing on me. It was... an odd sensation that I hadn't felt in a very long time - not since my parents were still with me. Oddly enough, it was less of a weighing feeling and more of a tug. The tug itself was heavy, and it felt like it was pulling on a part of me that I didn't want to be released.

Something didn’t feel right.

I hummed and frowned slightly, my eyebrows creasing with worry. Maybe it was a mistake to come looking for the Winchesters before the pack? I had half a mind to turn back, but... I still didn't feel ready. If Sam and Dean were afraid of what I had done, how would my pack feel? They depended on the stability and different lifestyle my home provided. I kicked the occasional large stone out of my way as I traipsed down the road, headed toward whatever lay at the end of it. Hopefully a warm bed.

After another thirty minutes of walking, something I grumbled about to myself, I finally spotted dim lights behind a row of thick pine trees. My ears pricked at the sound of the engines roaring to life in the early night, something that oddly warmed my heart and made me want to prance. It wasn't long after that the stench of alcohol hit my nose.

The bar was a brick building on the edge of town, a neon sign glowing above the door and the building itself set into the corner of the block. The occasional car or motorcycle was parked out front. I smiled and brushed my hand affectionately over the front of an older motorcycle – I had always wanted to learn how to ride them. I wondered what it felt like to be on something so small, barrelling down a highway faster than I could run.

My eyes rose, scanning the line of cars until they settled on a sleek older model across the street. My eyes widened and a grin tore across my face. It was the Impala.

I whirled toward the door so fast that I nearly fell over, tripping over my own feet like a stumbling drunk. My senses dulled as the stench of alcohol hit my nose once again. The harsh smell practically threw me off my feet and made my eyes water. I couldn't place any other scent amongst the heavy, bourbon-filled air and that alone sunk anxious claws into my lungs, oxygen being stolen from them.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, grounding myself. The overwhelming scents and smells were driving my wolfish senses crazy, as they still hadn't calmed from my last escapade with the brothers. It had been weeks since I was in a room with this many people. I felt small and large at the same time. Small with worry and nerves. Large with fearsome hunger.

I rolled my shoulders and took a few more deep breaths, sifting through the heavily masked scents. My eyes flew open as a familiar scent hit my nose and I struggled to keep the rising gold color down.

Cherries.

I pushed my way through the crowd of drunkards and bikers. It was exactly the kind of scene Dean liked. Loud enough to quiet his own raging thoughts. Dark enough to dull the headache behind his eyes. Music he could get lost in, and a drink that burned just right.

"Hey," I spoke cautiously as I sat beside him and rested my forearms on the bar counter. Dean spared me a glance from the corner of his green eye and suddenly jumped. He did a double take out of shock and turned to me with wide eyes and parted lips. As suddenly as his surprise had come, it was gone and darkened with spite.

"What do you want?" he growled and took a long sip from his whiskey glass, failing to hide his frown.

I frowned, my brows knitted with frustration. I could already tell this wasn't going to be a good conversation. "I came to apologize."

Dean scoffed and tightened his grip on his glass. "Apologize for what? Abandoning us without a word?" he exhaled and glared at me. "That's not something I'll accept an apology for, sweetheart." I bristled. Although most of his nicknames were endearing, this one was spat out like it burned him.

"I had my reasons, Dean. You know I wouldn't leave without a good one-"

"Do I know that?" he snarled, spinning his stool to face me. "Cause it seems like you don't give a damn about Sam or me, or how we felt." I winced and opened my mouth to speak. He shushed me with a raised finger. "So what's your excuse? You got tired of us holding you back from going apeshit?"

Ow. I glowered at him. "You know I would never do that."

"Yeah? You seemed pretty content when you had your teeth sunk into Jared Bender's heart." I winced again, my glare cracking. "You didn't even know his name, did you?"

"He was trying to kill Sam," I growled, trying to justify my actions. "You would have done the same."

"Damn right I would have killed him. I would have shot his ass dead, would’ve been dead before he hit the dirt. But I certainly wouldn't have torn him apart and strung his organs around the room!" he growled between his teeth. He tried to keep his voice low, despite the uninterested roar of the bar occupants.

I balled my fists in my lap and glared at him as he twisted to face me. His jaw was set sternly, lips pressed into a thin line. It was the same look he gave Sam when the two argued. “You’re a hypocrite.” My tone caused my words to lose their bite.

"I'm a hypocrite? You fucking killed and nearly ate a man, and now you're trying to justify it to me!" he snapped, one corner of his mouth drawn up in a sneer. "You left Sam and me without a word! And now you're crawling back here to apologize and call me a hypocrite?"

My blood was boiling and once more my senses were raging. I couldn't quite grasp it, but it almost felt like a separation inside me, one side longing to beg for forgiveness and the other itching to sink its fangs into Dean's neck. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, struggling to ground myself again.

Maybe a few months as friends wasn’t enough to convince him I wasn’t worth the trouble. Maybe he should’ve aimed for the head when we first met.

Without missing a beat I snapped back at him. "Quit acting like a girl whose prom date stood her up. I had my reasons and if you'll shut up for a few minutes, I'll tell you what was going through my head," I exhaled shakily and glared, steeling myself for his own reproachful response. "I left to protect you, to protect Sam, and to protect everyone around you. I wasn't stable – you know that, you saw it. So stop talking like a self-righteous prick."

Despite the quick tongue-lashing, I still didn't feel better. I hadn't said half of what I wanted to. If I could have given Dean a glimpse inside my thoughts, I would have in a heartbeat.

His frown remained stalwart on his features, furrowed brows unyielding. His viridescent eyes surveyed my own with contempt and barely contained anger, an emotion I mirrored. Eventually, his gaze reluctantly dropped back to the beer I had passed him, which he took a swig of. I felt a small victory until he spoke up.

"Get out," he grumbled.

"What?" I demanded with equal, if not more, frustration.

"Get out," he ordered more firmly this time with rage coating his words. I blinked in confusion – not just at his harsh words, but at the gripping pain in my chest and the harsh scratching, I felt in the back of my mind, like something fighting to escape. It struck me that Dean was really, truly angry with me for leaving, despite my reasoning – and from what I knew of him, he wasn't just going to forgive and forget.

He swore under his breath and whipped his head toward me, eyes raging with rage and, to my amazement, pain. "Are you deaf?" he snarled lowly, "I don't want to hear your excuses. Fuck off." He gripped his beer tightly and guzzled it then slammed it onto the counter.

Wrath hit me like a semi-truck, and that familiar clawing sensation I kept hidden in the back of my thoughts lunged forward. Those nagging thoughts took the form of my wolf, black fur ruffled and fangs bared in anger.

Whatever wolfish instincts I had let escape were now clawing to take control. For the first time in a long time, I felt like two beings at once. As I had surmised earlier, I had the very human side that wanted nothing more than to avoid conflict, that just wanted to apologize to Dean and work things out. But my monster side...

I gulped and glared viciously at Dean.

I felt a rumble low in my chest, a familiar rumble that I had last felt with my father. My wolf wanted me to tear into Dean, a human that we had somehow bound to our pack. Now this pup was blatantly challenging me, as she put it. She snarled at him and I resisted the urge to follow suit.

She was pacing in my mind, stalking back and forth, her molten eyes fixated on Dean. My own eyes faded to match the warm gold of hers, whiskey-colored in the faded glow of the bar lights.

I hadn't even realized just how much I was shaking. My wolf wanted out, wanted to shred him for his disloyalty. It was an odd feeling to be separated from a piece of myself, although the more I focused on her, the more I realized that we had been separated for a long time. For years, I lacked the fluid mobility between myself and my instinct, not the mobility that I once had. I hadn't had it since I was fifteen. It felt like I was holding back a tidal wave of torrential emotions, a painful instinct that wanted me to embrace the monster I was and chow on some hearts. Not Dean though. She wanted him back in his place as my... pack member? Was that what she- I viewed him as?

Dean swore again, finally breaking eye contact. He reached for his beer with a shaky hand and took another final swig before wiping his mouth and standing. "Fuck this," he grumbled, "I'm out."

He hadn't even made it three steps before something in me snapped and I snarled. "Sit your ass down before I sink my teeth into you and drag you back."

Dean whirled on me, chest heaving with fury. I turned my blazing golden eyes on him, slowly, with my mouth set into a firm line and eyebrows slightly drawn together. It struck me that this was the same look my mother had given my father when she was pissed as all hell, a look that clearly said he needed to shut up if he wanted to keep his testicles intact.

Like my father, Dean responded with a slack jaw, opening and closing his mouth in surprise and confusion. His resolve, although still strong, was withering.

I nodded toward his vacated stool. He sat and shot me an angry glance, trying (and failing) to mask his nerves.

I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves. I stretched my fingers, feeling my joints pop after being balled into tight fists for god know how long. With a sigh, I locked eyes with Dean once more, his narrowed and wary.

"You know full well I had to leave, Dean." I snapped. "If I hadn't left, I guarantee you would have eventually sent me home, thinking my pack could help. Don't act pissy with me for doing what I felt was right."

Dean glowered and his nostrils flared. "Having a reason doesn't change that fact that you left without a word-"

"- If I had told you I was leaving, would you have asked me to stay?"

"Of course, I would have!" he hissed and leaned forward. "Whether you like it or not, you're part of this family now. I'm not going to just let my family walk out on me like that."

"That's the problem, Dean!" I argued. "I know that, if you had asked, I would have stayed! Sam wouldn't have asked, he would accept my decision and move past it, because he’s made that decision before for himself! You though, you would have gotten so caught up in your familial ideas that I wouldn't have been able to leave!"

"What's so wrong about staying with us!? About staying with me!?" he shouted back, a snarl set on his features. My eyes widened and he followed suit, realizing just what he had said.

"Dean, I had to leave," I uttered quietly. "For the second time in my life, I royally fucked up. I needed- need to get back on the same page. You know that feeling better than most."

"Why are you risking it?" he grumbled. I smiled weakly.

"Because you're my family too, Dean. Whether you like it or not, you're part of my pack now. You're family," I answered quietly. His own eyes softened. "Are you still mad at me?" I inquired with a nervous smile.

"Hell yeah, I'm still mad," he grunted. "But yeah... I get it. Wish I didn't, it would make staying mad at you a hell of a lot easier."

My nervous smile grew to a true grin, the gold fading from my eyes. My wolf scoffed and sat back on her haunches, melting into the background of my thoughts.

My human side had won yet again.

"Don't think you're off the hook," Dean huffed and stood from his stool. "You've got a lot of work to do to make it up to me, Scooby."

"Would pie be a good first step?" I teased, standing up with him.

His expression softened slightly. The harsh lines of his scowl faded and the corners of his mouth dipped down in a frown. His brows pinched inward, hiding slight surprise. “It’s a start.”

—

Unlike his brother, Sam was happy to see me. I practically threw myself at him when I saw him in the motel room. Dean sulked and ate his pie while Sam and I caught up, discussing hunts and my own journey.

"Wait, so what do you mean you can't change shape?" Sam said, raising a forkful of pie to his mouth. "Isn't that, like, literally part of being... you?"

"Kind of," I uttered through my own forkful. "It's a mental barrier. Sometimes I can get it… close, sometimes I can't. The times that I can take multiple tries and usually it's kind of painful. Hurts my joints."

"What kind of mental barrier? Like a trauma barrier or you just don't want to?"

I huffed and reached for another bite of my slice. "I don't know. It's... it's like my mind knows I won't always be able to control what I do in that form. It's like a piece of me is trying to keep that instinctive part of me tied down."

I heard a snort from behind me and spun to face Dean, who was sitting at a little table under the window next to the door. "Why're you talking like it's two separate people? It's still you, right?"

I exhaled softly, choosing my words carefully when I spoke up. "Yeah, it's still me, but it's a side of me that I'm not very... in touch with. I haven't been in a long time."

"So your wolf is that instinctive part of you that you're keeping 'tied down'?" Sam inquired. I nodded.

"I think so. And she's been a lot rowdier since Minnesota. Over the years I've just... made a habit of keeping her chained down so that I don't have any screw-ups."

"And yet," snapped Dean, "you still didn't have a strong enough grip on her." He shoved a large bite of pie into his mouth and chewed, his jaw tensing. I practically wilted and stared down at my feet that were stretched out in front of me. His opinion on the matter had changed so drastically since before I left.

"Dean!" Sam hissed. "I know you're pissed, but you don't need to be an ass-"

"It's fine, Sam," I uttered. "He's not wrong." I huffed and brushed a hair out of my face. "I know it's not an excuse but... when my pack is involved, I just lose control. I'm going to keep working on it," I sighed. "I've never had a pack before – never wanted one – so, it's all so new to me. And now I have to worry about six skinwalkers and two humans that have somehow wormed their way into my family-" Dean winced. "- I've got to worry about my self-control and make sure I don't kill anyone, I have to figure out these damn whispers, and-"

"Hold up," said Sam, throwing up a halting hand. "What whispers?"

I paled. I hadn't meant to let that slip out. I didn't want the brothers to worry about whatever weird-ass whispers I had been hearing - I knew that they'd get fixated on figuring it out and potentially killing whatever it was. They didn't have the time or resources to help me with that -- hell, I didn't even know if it was actually a living thing talking to me. For all I knew, some celestial entity was trying to give me advice. At worst, I was going nuts.

"I- uh," I stuttered over my words. I jumped as Dean stood, tossing his paper plate in a trash can and sitting on the bed beside Sam. I refused to turn to him and continued staring at my feet and my place on the floor. "I've just been hearing these weird whispers. It's nothing too crazy-"

"Whispers are pretty frickin’ crazy,” Dean remarked firmly. I frowned. "Keep talking."

"There's not much to tell, Dean," I snapped, twisting to face him with a scowl. "I just hear this whisper. When I try to follow it, it... it shows me things."

"It shows you things?" Sam asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Like, I was chasing it when I met Marcus and Caeden. I just... followed the whisper and it led me to them. And with Calliope, it was... it wasn't whispering. It was screaming, frantic. It made me frantic. It knew she was in danger and it took me to her."

Dean swore under his breath. "How long have you been hearing these things? What are they saying to you?"

I scrunched my brows in thought. "It's been about three months I think? Maybe a little more?" Dean scoffed.

"And you're only telling us about this now?"

"Well, what was I supposed to say!?" I snarled back. "'Oh hey Dean, just wanted to let you know that I might be going a bit crazy, cause this voice I know literally nothing about it talking to me'!?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. "That is exactly what you tell us! And then we help you figure out whatever the hell it is and maybe kill it!"

I huffed and turned away from him, crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't think it needs to be killed."

"What?" Dean growled and leaned forward, "What if it leads you into danger huh? What if it drags you into something you can't handle!?"

I whipped around to glare at him. "Would you even care, Dean? Last I checked, you didn't want me around anyway."

"Guys," Sam silenced us with a warning tone, snapping out of his deep thoughts. "Quit going at each other's throats, it's pointless."

"She wouldn't go for the throat, Sammy," Dean growled, balling his hands into fists, "She'd go for the heart."

"If you don't shut the hell up I will beat the shit out of you," I hissed back.

"I'd like to see you try," he snapped back.

"Would you two just shut up!" Sam snapped and glared at the both of us like he was ready to maim. "We've got bigger problems than you dumbasses not getting along." Dean and I fell silent, dropping our harsh gazes from one another and onto the floor. I could practically feel Dean's blood boiling - he was seething. I was too. I hated the way he was talking to me, treating me. Sam placed his hands on his face, dragging them down languorously, and sighed out of frustration. I perked up as he said my name. "What are the whispers saying to you?"

I hummed in thought. "Things like 'come', mostly," Dean snorted and I glared at him. "Last time it said 'see' and 'go'. Pretty much as soon as I realized something was wrong it changed what it was saying."

"Is it always only one word?"

"Yeah, one word at a time. Usually, there's a long pause and then it says something else. Last time... last time it was screaming so loud that it felt like it was clawing inside my skull," I mused for a second, mulling it over. "Pretty much every other time it's been like an existential thing like I was chasing someone just ahead of me. That time it felt like it was... pushing me, almost. Like it was urging me forward instead of urging me to chase."

Sam ruminated for a few moments, looking puzzled. Finally, he turned to Dean and muttered, "What do you think? Have you seen anything like that in dad's journal?"

Dean shook his head and fiddled with the odd-looking charm hanging around his neck. "No, I haven't. Honestly, sounds like a possession of some sort," his words faded into deep thought. His eyes rose to meet mine. "Can skinwalkers even get possessed?"

"Not that I know of. To my knowledge, you have to have a soul to get possessed."

Sam's eyes widened and he leaned forward with interest. "You don't have a soul?"

I shook my head. "Don’t think so. My dad told me it's why we don't go to heaven or hell when we die."

Dean quirked a brow. "Then where do you go? And how did he know?"

I shrugged. "For all I know there's nothing after death for monsters. It's just... over..." my shoulders slumped. I had always hoped that my father was wrong, that maybe there was something, anything after death. I didn't want it to just be over.

"Well, if it's not possession," Dean grumbled and leaned back on his hands, "maybe it's a demon?"

"Dean, why would a demon be talking to her?" Sam countered. "It's not like she can sell her soul."

I frowned. "What if it's not anything bad? What if it's, like, her? Instinct? Maybe I just subconsciously know when something is wrong with the pack?"

"No," Sam stated. "It can't be that. You said it led you to Marcus and Caeden? They weren't part of your pack at the time. Unless your instinct latches on to potential pack members nearby, I don't think that's it."

“Well if it were that, it would have led me to Sasha, Booth, and Andrew long before you guys rolled into town.”

“Unless they were the catalyst that sent your… pack honing abilities into overdrive?” Dean offered.

"Whatever the reason is for it talking to me-" I started, referring back to Sam's previous statement, "- as long as the thing stays out of my way, I don't care what it says or leads me to."

Sam chuckled. "Fair enough. We can figure out our game plan for dealing with this thing later." The younger brother yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.

"We?" I questioned teasingly. "I don't remember agreeing to that."

Dean huffed and stood from Sam's bed and marched toward his own. He flopped onto the bed, landing on his back and locking his eyes with the ceiling. "Damn right this is a 'we' operation. No way in hell are we letting you figure this out on your own."

I chuckled dryly. “Doesn’t sound like you’re mad at me anymore.”

He scoffed. "Sure, soon we'll be frolicking in a meadow full of flowers together."

Sam chuckled with me as he rummaged through his bag, hunting for a toothbrush within it and setting out a set of clothes for the following day. "Alright, you two," he said, "we've got a hunt tomorrow, so enough talking."

I quirked a brow, my grin falling away. "We've got a hunt?"

Sam nodded and hummed in response. "Murder in Chicago."

I barked out a laugh. "Yeah, like that's uncommon for Chicago." A rustling caught my attention and I turned to see Dean rummaging through his own luggage.

Sam smirked down at his bag and turned to face me, toothbrush in hand. "This is the second one in two months. Two people found dead in their apartments, no sign of forced entry."

My brows rose in surprise. "Spirit maybe?"

Dean huffed. "We were thinking a cursed object. No way a spirit could move between houses like that." I nodded in agreement. I wasn't exactly knowledgeable on all the spiritual aspects of the supernatural world – ask me anything about certain monsters, and I could answer more than most hunters. But ghosts, psychics, witches... those were all foreign. Hell, I had only heard stories about psychics before meeting Missouri Moseley.

"We'll find out what it is soon," interjected Sam, always the mother of the group. "Just get to sleep - especially you, Dean, since you'll be driving tomorrow."

Dean grumbled something under his breath and flopped back onto his bed, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. I grinned and made my way toward a rather large armchair in the corner of the room. I dragged a cushion off the chair and motioned for Sam to toss me a pillow. To my delight, he tossed two and a heavy blanket that had been folded and lain across the end of the bed.

After putting together my relatively comfortable nest, Sam turned out the light and the sound of peaceful snores filled the room.

—

The Impala rolled to a halt on the side of the packed road and Dean expertly parked against the curb. Sam sighed and ruffled his hair, scanning the newspaper seated in his lap.

I leaned forward and gazed out the front window at the apartment building before us. The room was somewhere on the third floor. I fiddled with the hem of my costume and followed the brothers out of the car, my eyes following Dean as he moved toward the trunk and withdrew a toolbox. He had hardly said anything to me since the night I got back. The most he would do is give me the necessary information for the case or give me a clipped answer to a question.

I missed bantering with him. I didn't like this odd silent treatment I was receiving from him. It put me in a bad mood every time he gave me a brief answer or even none at all. I wanted nothing more than to scream at him to get over himself and just forgive me already.

"You know," Dean started as he paced down the sidewalk toward where Sam and I were standing, "I've gotta say, dad and me did just fine without these stupid costumes. I feel like a high school drama dork." He grinned and swung his toolbox lazily at his side. "What was that play you did?" he asked Sam, a smirk dawning on his features. He stumbled for a moment, struggling to remember the name. "What was it - ‘Our Town’? Yeah, you were good, it was cute."

Sam scoffed and a blush tinged his ears and cheeks. I chuckled, punching him teasingly in the shoulder. "You never told me you were in a play, Sam."

He chuckled nervously and turned his head to me. "It was a long time ago, and I really didn't have a big part. I was a background character."

"Main character in my heart," Dean teased. Sam rolled his eyes.

"But honestly, Dean. This getup helps us look the part. Do you want to pull this off or not?" Sam quickly changed the subject.

"I'm just saying, these outfits cost hard-earned money."

"Whose?" I countered and glared teasingly.

"Ours. You think credit card fraud is easy?"

It didn't take us long to reach the third floor and the door of the victim. The landlady grumbled and fumbled with the keys before pushing the white door open to let us in.

"Thanks for letting us look around," Sam said to her politely. Dean and I paced around the hallway, him fumbling with the alarm system while I checked for any signs of forced entry on the door.

"Well, the police said they were done with the place, so..." she trailed off and sauntered into the room with Sam close behind. I shut the door and quirked an eyebrow at the severed chain lock. I caught Dean's attention and nodded toward it, holding the two ends of the golden chain delicately. Dean frowned and turned to follow the landlady and his brother. "You said you're with the alarm company, right?" the older woman asked and spun to face the brothers.

"That's right," answered Dean, flashing his most sincere smile. It looked more like a grimace, in all honesty. He really wasn't that good at the acting part of this job.

The woman huffed wearily in response. "Well, no offense, but your alarm's about as useful as boobs on a man." I choked down laughter and covered my mouth with a hand. She leaned around the boys to cast me a sly grin.

Dean cleared his throat and flashed his own tentative grin. "Well, that's why we're here. To make sure it never happens again." The woman nodded and stepped aside to allow us to peruse the apartment.

"You found the body, right?" I asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She nodded and swallowed dryly. "Were there any signs of a forced entry?"

"Any windows open?" Sam asked. "Was the alarm still active?"

"Windows were locked, front door was bolted. We had to cut the chain to get in here," she grouched in response. Dean frowned – that chain was the only lead we had. We were back to square one.

"Did you find her right after it happened?" Dean asked, referencing the girl who had been killed. The landlady shook her head.

"No, a few days later. Her work called and said they hadn't seen her in a while. I knocked on her door. That's when I noticed... the smell," she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the memory.

"And what condition was she in?" Dean pressed. The landlady huffed and glared at him.

"Meredith was all over the place, in pieces. I tell you, the guy who did it must have been a whack job. If I didn't know any better, I would have said it was an animal attack." The brothers looked first at each other and then Sam's eyes met mine. My brows furrowed. What could possibly have shredded her like that?

Sam's eyes flitted toward the woman. "Ma'am, do you mind if we take some time and give this place a once over?"

The landlady shrugged in response. "Go right ahead, knock yourself out." My eyes followed her as she walked out of the apartment, waiting for the door to latch before giving the go-ahead to speak.

"So a killer walks in and out of the apartment, no weapons, no prints, nothing..." Dean grumbled, trailing off as he rifled through his toolbox. I hummed quietly in response.

"There's got to be a trace of something here, some sort of clue. There's no way something could have killed her and not left a trail," I said, tracing a few fingers lazily over the large spots of blood.

"I'm telling you, the minute I saw the article I knew this was our kind of gig," Sam said, inspecting the windows. He jumped when Dean's EMF meter went off.

"I think I agree with you," Dean answered as he held up the box to show off the number of lights indicating supernatural presence.

"Did you ever talk to the cops yesterday?" I asked him.

Dean nodded and stood from his crouch position on the once white carpet. "Oh, yeah," he said, smirking. "I talked to Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law." I rolled my eyes.

"What'd you find out?" Sam pressed. I flashed him a quick glare which he looked rather confused by.

"Well, she's a Sagittarius, loves tequila - I mean, wow," Dean sighed almost wistfully, "Oh! And she's got this little tattoo-"

"Jesus, Dean!" I snapped. "Not about your hook-up, about the case!"

Dean grumbled something I didn't catch. I glared at the back of his head, almost wishing I could bore holes into it. "Nothing we don't already know," he carped. "Except for one thing they're keeping out of the papers."

"Enough with the suspense, Dean," I said. At this point, I just wanted this case to be over. I already was not a fan of Chicago.

"You're no fun," he sighed. "Meredith's heart was missing."

Sam and I both jumped to attention, whirling on Dean with twin, wide-eyed stares.

"Her heart? What do you think did it to her?" Sam inquired.

"Landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe a werewolf?"

I barked out a laugh. "No way it was a werewolf. Moon cycle isn't right, and even if it was, I'd smell it. They reek, like the worst combination of rotten meat and cigarettes." I scrunched my nose at the thought. "My money's on a spirit. If it was a monster, I guarantee they would have left some trace other than blood."

"Yeah..." Dean mused thoughtfully. His eyes scanned the patches of blood, drawing a pattern in his mind. "Sammy, see if you can find a roll of tape."

Sam dug through his brother's toolbox as I went to stand beside Dean. "Notice something?"

"Maybe," he offered, holding his hands up to catch the roll of tape Sam had tossed his way. "We'll see in just a minute."

Dean got to work, connecting the patches of blood in a pattern I had never seen before. Hell, I wouldn't have even thought it would make a pattern like that. I chuckled morbidly, thinking that whatever killed Meredith must have been some sort of abstract artist - first the body, now the blood.

Dean stood and surveyed his work, crossing his arms. Sam moved to stand beside him, a puzzled look on his features.

"You ever seen a symbol like that?" Sam inquired, eyes following the sharp corners of the z-like symbol.

"Never," Dean responded curtly.

"Me neither."

—

"He could at least be helping us, Sam," I grumbled, flipping through the worn pages of their father's journal. "Instead of off doing- whatever it is with that poor bartender."

Sam snickered. "He is helping. Meredith worked here, so the bartenders are bound to know her."

"There's a distinct difference between helping us with the case and flirting with some painted bimbo, who we all know he is never going to call," I muttered, resting my chin in the palm of my hand as my eyes lazily scanned the page.

Sam opened his mouth to retort and quickly shut it, seeing Dean make his way back over. My gaze moved quickly toward him and fell right back to the paper. Honestly, the journal was a hell of a lot more interesting than anything Dean had to say.

John was incredibly thorough – he rivaled my uncle, who had always been compulsive and meticulous about his case notes. The journal might look like a mess of pages and hastily scrawled notations, but to me, it showed his dedication.

I flipped another page slowly, tuning out the brothers' conversation. My finger dragged along each line of writing with my eye following closely behind. My eyes fell on a string of numbers and my finger stopped its movement. I exhaled shakily.

I knew those numbers.

"Hey, Sam!" Dean called out, a tight grip on his beer. "Where are you going?"

I lifted my head, staring with a glazed look after Sam as he marched away from the table. Dean turned his confused eyes on me before standing and following his brother.

I looked back at the page, my finger running haphazardly over the string of digits. Why would John have his number..? I tightened my jaw and marked the page so I could find it later and shut the little book, tucking it under my arm and following the brothers. My eyes widened as I noticed Sam talking to a blonde girl, giving her a tense hug. My ears tuned in to their conversation as I stalked up behind Dean.

"Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while," the girl said, fluttering her lashes at Sam. I took a deep breath, ready to interject, and coughed, gagging on air. God, this girl was drenched in perfume, it was blocking all of my other senses.

Dean cleared his throat and patted me lightly on the back. I brushed his hand away and took shallow breaths.

"You're from Chicago?" Sam asked.

"No, Massachusetts – Andover," the girl said with a giggle. "Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we'd run into each other?"

"Yeah, I know, I thought I'd never see you again." Although his back was turned to me, I could tell he was puzzled. It must have been written all over his features.

"Well, I'm glad you were wrong..." she trailed off and gazed up at Sam from under her lashes. I rolled my eyes. Dean cleared his throat and the girl's eyes snapped to his, a disgusted glare rising on her features. "Dude, cover your mouth."

Dean looked shocked and I suppressed a laugh, for fear of inhaling more of her sharp perfume. God, the girl must have bathed in the stuff. Did the boys really not smell it?

"Yeah, um, I'm sorry, Meg. This is, uh—this is my brother, Dean," Sam said, scratching the back of his head. The girl, Meg, looked surprised.

"Oh! This is Dean?" she confirmed. Sam nodded and Dean smirked at her.

"So you've heard of me," Dean mused, attempting to be smooth. Now it was Meg's turn to roll her eyes.

"Yeah, I've heard of you," she snapped. "Real nice, how you treat your brother like luggage." Dean’s eyes widened and I stared at Meg in shock. When did Sam even have time to meet this girl without Dean knowing? "Why don't you let him do what he wants?" she continued, spite lacing her words. "Quit dragging him all over God's green earth-"

Sam held up his hands in a silent plea to make her stop. "Meg, it's fine, really, we're fine." The three of them stood there awkwardly, Meg surveying the two, glaring at Dean with contempt and at Sam with an almost overprotective gaze. Her eyes skirted over me, likely because I hadn't been introduced.

I cleared my throat. "I'm, uh- I'm going to get a drink. You want to come with me, Dean?"

"Yeah- yeah," he said, already moving toward the bar. I flashed a sheepish grin toward Sam and Meg, waving goodbye and running to catch up with the elder Winchester. "Damn, that was awkward."

I sat on one of the bar stools, placing John's journal on the counter and running a finger over the spine. "So... when did she and Sam first meet."

Dean scoffed. "Probably after our first real hunt with you, in Kansas. He and I got into a spat and he left for a few days."

I glared at him, clenching my fist and resting it on the counter. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Well, we weren't exactly super close then. It was kind of a family matter, not something for you to stick your snout into."

"You are family, Dean," I hissed. "I have a right to know when these things happen."

He frowned and rested his hands on his lap. We sat in silence for a few minutes, long enough for Dean to get another beer from the bartender and have about a third of it.

"Listen, I-" he started. I cut him off, flipping open his father's journal to my marked page.

"Dean, I found something in the journal earlier, when you first came back to the table." He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something and shut it when I cast him a warning glare. Whatever he wanted to say, I really wasn't in the mood for it. He looked toward his lap bashfully and then his eyes rose to face mine, his jaw tightening.

"Anything relevant to the case?" he asked.

"No," I answered quickly. "But look at this," I slid the journal toward him, highlighting the phone number at the bottom of the page. His eyes flickered toward mine and he raised a brow in confusion. "I recognize this number, Dean. It's-"

"Hey!" called Sam, sauntering back toward us with his cell phone in hand. "You guys ready to head out."

Dean turned to face me, a promise being held in his green eyes. "We'll get back to this later." He stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and following Sam toward the door.

I groaned and dropped my head dramatically on the open journal. "Sure we will..." I muttered to myself. I stood, slamming the journal shut a little more roughly than I intended, and followed the brothers out the door.

"No, man, I mean like our kind of strange," I heard Sam say as I rushed to catch up with the brothers. "Like, maybe even a lead."

"What makes you say that?" Dean probed, sparing me a glance as I jogged up to him.

"I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don't think that's a little weird?"

Oh. They were still talking about her.

"I don't know," Dean said with a dramatic sigh. "Random coincidence? It happens."

"Yeah, it happens, but not to us. Look, I could be wrong-"

"Dean," I interrupted Sam. "I think maybe Sam's right. There's something off about her. I mean, did you not smell the buckets of perfume on her? Had me gagging within ten feet of her."

"Perfume doesn't make someone a murder suspect," Dean countered.

"It does if it causes me to choke and die."

"Well, then it's a good thing you're not dead, right?"

"-I'm just saying that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on," Sam added to his unfinished sentence.

"I bet you'd like to. I mean, maybe she's not a suspect, maybe you've got a thing for her, huh?" he chuckled and nudged Sam with his shoulder. "Maybe you're thinkin' a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?"

Sam rolled his eyes as we stopped on the side of the road, waiting for the go-ahead to walk. "Do me a favor. Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor." Sam marched away from Dean and I before his brother could protest.

"What are you going to do?" Dean asked as he ran to catch up.

"I'm going to watch Meg."

Dean laughed and clapped Sam on the back. "Yeah, you are!"

Sam grimaced and shrugged Dean's hand off his shoulder. "I just want to see what's what. Better safe than sorry."

The two bickered, Dean teasing Sam, and Sam arguing. I stopped on the sidewalk, watching the brothers make their way toward the Impala, Sam fishing the keys out of his pocket.

I glanced down at the heavy, leather-bound journal in my hands. Something about this case didn't add up. First the weird symbol, and now Meg showing up? Something was wrong, I could feel it. She was hiding something.

Dean called my name from his spot beside the passenger door and I perked up immediately. "You coming or not?"

I nodded and shoved the journal under my arm and crossed the street to where the boys were waiting.

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

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nicksalchemy1 · 19 days

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Thanks for visiting the universe of a mind I have!! All my works and fandom I write for are listed below.

Here are the fandoms I currently write for:

Supernatural

Big Sky

Supernatural Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

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samdeancass · 1 year

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Standing on the Side lines

Requested by: @cokecola4211

Pairing: Dean x sister!reader, Sam x sister!reader, John x daughter!reader

Genre: Slight Angst, Fluff

Characters: Dean, Sam, John, Y/N

T/W: Reader has autism, Meltdown.

A/N: I have a younger brother who has autism. If you need any support or just need somebody to talk to, don't hesitate to drop me a message.

Description: When Y/N has a meltdown after things around her become too much to handle, Sam and Dean come to her rescue and help her through it. John, however, stands on the sidelines not knowing what to do.

Being a hunter is hard enough, but being a hunter with autism is a completely different story. Most of the situations you had been in, you were able to handle, but there are one or two times where you just had to let everything out, with your brothers there to help you through it.

You, Sam, Dean and your dad were all on a family hunting trip to gank a very powerful ghost. You were already feeling a little weary of the bar you had just entered, seeing a bunch of off-putting people outside but the new sounds invading your ears and the irritating smells making their way into your nose, you were finding it harder and harder to keep yourself calm.

Sam and Dean noticed that your breathing was beginning to quicken so they thought it best to grab a table at the very back of the bar, completely out of everyone’s way. John made his way to the bar to order the drinks as you took your seat at the table, holding your head in your hands, trying to shield away from the world.

You could feel a squeezing on your knee and you immediately knew that it was Sam trying to calm you down, it was yours and his thing whenever anything gets too much. You could feel your heartbeat slow a little as your body began to calm down.

John walked back over to the table with four drinks in hand, sliding yours over to you but you slid it right back. “That’s not what I have.” John furrowed his eyebrows at you. “Yes it is, a plain orange juice. What you always have.” Tears began to prickle in your eyes as the anxiety began to build up again. “No, it’s not.” “C’mon Y/N, just drink the damn thing.”

You stood up, slamming your fists on the table. “NO, IT’S NOT THE SAME! THERE’S ICE AND I DON’T LIKE ICE!” Sam and Dean immediately stood up by you and wrapped their arms around you, trying to create as much pressure as possible to calm you down. They whispered calming thoughts in your ears and eventually managed to sit you back down but you wouldn’t look your dad in the eye.

John stood at the other end of the table, completely dumbfounded. He didn’t know what to do in a situation like that. Watching his daughter scream at him, then his sons calming her down. He felt completely useless standing on the side lines. Dean turned to his father with a disappointed look on his face. “You should know better than that dad. She has autism, remember? She has to have the same exact thing every time, otherwise well, that’ll happen. It’s hard for her to come into new places like this, with new noises and smells but she does it for you, even though it stresses her out to high heaven.”

Sam wrapped his arm around your shoulders and stood you up with him. “We’re going to take her back to the motel so she can get some rest. From now on, Y/N gets to choose where we stop off. She doesn’t need the added stress of everything.” Sam guided you out of the bar and helped you into the back seat of the Impala before slipping into the passenger seat.

Dean stood up and began to make his way towards the door before turning back around to face his father. “Spend a little more time with Y/N, then you’ll get to understand her better. How to help her when things become too much for her, that’s how you become useful. I’ll be back to pick you up when she’s asleep.”

He patted his fathers shoulder before heading out of the door towards the car, leaving John to mellow in his thoughts and to work through the event that has just played out in front of him.

Supernatural Tags:

@akshi8278 @bxoken-heartss @deascheck @desimarie12

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

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Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

♡ 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 ➳ 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 ❥ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 ❦ 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐲 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐥

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

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1000roughdrafts · 2 months

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Supporting Characters x Reader Master List

Lots of stuff in here - Gabriel x Reader, John Winchester x Reader, Rowena x Reader, Charlie x Reader, Donna x Reader, Crowley x Reader, and more (general/no pairings)

Remember that there are some 18+ explicit works, so please heed all warnings!

Gabriel X Reader

💘Coffee Shop ~ fluff, Gabriel is very much alive and just full of surprises, isn’t he?

John Winchester x Reader

Mini Series xx

💚Stop Asking Me To Come Back ~ flangst, kissing; Y/N and John have always had a cat and mouse chase type of relationship, where one runs and the other chases, and vice versa, but typically fall into a Dom/Sub type of relationship. John is tired of the games and when Y/N realizes she wants something more she’s too little too late.

💚Stop Asking Me To Come Back (2) ~ 18+, smut

Wayward Women x Reader

Charlie x Reader

💖Confessions ~ one shot, flangst, heavy topics; You were best friends with Charlie since elementary school. One day, she just vanished. During the years you spent without her, you went down a dark path that brought you onto a road of addiction. Now she has returned to spend a day with you and talk about all the years that have passed without each other.

Rowena x Reader

💖What Happens During Research ~ fluff; no plot, just silliness

💖 You Look Yummy ~ 18+ 100% smut literally nothing but sex

Donna X Reader

💖Don’t Leave Me, Not Again ~ flangst; When a hunt in Minnesota goes awry and the Winchester’s go silent, you ask your ex-girlfriend, Donna, for help

Crowley x Reader

One Shots xx Both 18+ / Explicit

Hush - unprotected vaginal penetration, oral sex (female receiving), BDSM, this isnt ddlg but it kinda has that vibe, a bit of an OOC Crowley,

A Night With The King - Request from Anon: Can I have Crowley flirting with a v nervous and quiet reader? Maybe w a splash of Dean jealousy because he’s been pining after her forever?

General:Supernatual x Reader (no pairings)

💛Cop Car ~ (Dean, Sam, Reader) Drabble; reader stole a cop car and Dean wants to drive it.

💛Saving Dean ~(Dean, Reader, Sam) imagine

💛Live and Let Die ~(Sam, Dean, LittleSister!Reader) angstish,fluff; After years of arguing with your older brothers, they finally let you go out and hunt on your own, but it was nothing like what you expected. After killing your first demon, you call them up for some comfort.

💛Cherry Pie ~ Drabble; Dean loves pie, what else can I say?

💛It’s Time to Let Me Go ~ angst; Raphael has started a war with only one request to end it all: you. Are Sam and Dean willing to let you go to save the world?

💛Hi Dad ~ Drabble; based off of this prompt - ��She stared at him, holding her favorite teddy bear in one hand and his pistol in the other. “Hi dad,” she whispered.

💛Little Tree Part One | Part Two ~ Being a sheriff in a small town, you were surprised when a body was found, making it the first murder in over 50 years. The alarm bells really went off when the FBI showed up as quick as they did. Despite your initial thoughts, you were lucky that they had. (completed)

💛 Coming Out - Request from @the-nb-florist "I was wondering if you could make a brotherly sam and dean where the reader comes out as Non Binary? The Reader is like Fem but they identify more with mass stuff. I just want supper fluff and sweet. Thank you so much!!"

#supernatural fan fiction #sam winchester #dean winchester #gabriel x reader #crowley x reader smut #john winchester #john winchester x reader #fluff #angst #charlie x reader supernatural #rowena x reader #donna x reader supernatural #wlw #supernatural fandom #spn #supernatural #supernatural fan fic #fanfic

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kittenofdoomage · 1 year

Text

Heavy

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: John Winchester x female!reader

Prompt: getting cleaned up after a rough hunt for him

Word Count: 794

Warnings: angst, loss, witnessing murders by monsters, comfort, fluff, smut

She hadn’t felt this way after a hunt in a long time. It hadn’t been a good case; they’d stumbled in after eight people were already dead, and they’d lose another six before they found the rugaru and killed it. John had been sullen and silent the whole way back to the motel, and Y/N had never seen the sort of damage a rugaru could do.

The sun was beginning to come over the horizon when John pulled his truck into the motel, not sparing her so much as a glance as she climbed out before him. Her footsteps felt heavy as she trudged to their shared room, unlocking the door and leaving it open for him. He followed, closing the door with a low sigh, watching her back while she rummaged through her duffel bag and disappeared into the bathroom. The water started to run a moment later, and John sank down onto the edge of one of the beds, covering his face with his hands.

Only a moment later, he heard it. A soft sob, echoing in the bathroom. Concern knitted his brow and he got to his feet, striding across the room to press one hand to the door.

It opened; Y/N hadn’t locked it.

John slipped inside, seeing the blurred shadow of her body on the glass. She had her hands over her face, shoulders tense and drawn up as she cried, and the sound of it was like a knife through his heart. He stripped, discarding his dirty and bloodied clothes before reaching to pull the door open. For a second, he thought she might reject him, but as soon as he was in the stall with her, she was clinging to him, sobbing into his shoulder as he maneuvered them both underneath the warm spray.

��It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m here.”

She didn’t say a word, continuing to sob into his shoulder, obviously disturbed by the things she’d seen. John had seen them before, not that it made it any easier, so he knew the pain she was feeling. He hadn’t been so affected by the violence and blood… he knew he wouldn’t find easy rest with fourteen souls on his conscience that night.

Slowly, Y/N began to calm and John continued to hold her, stroking one large hand over her hair as she pressed her cheek to his shoulder. His body’s reaction to her proximity was hard to ignore, and eventually she pulled back an inch or two, tilting her head to avoid getting water in her eyes.

“Want me to wash your hair?” he offered to distract her from his unwitting erection.

She nodded and turned, and John tried not to catalog the bruises scattered across her skin. It had been a long and rough couple of days for them both - seeing the evidence of what she endured to be with him was enough to add another layer of self-loathing to his psyche.

He knew she would be better off without him but he was selfish with her, selfish with the love he had never deserved.

“Tip your head back, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, picking up the motel brand shampoo to squeeze some into his hands. Y/N obeyed, standing still and quietly as he lathered the soap into her hair, making sure to get all the dirt and grime out. His cock stayed to attention, and he ground his teeth together to concentrate as he grabbed the shower hose to rinse her off.

He wasn’t expecting her hand to wind around his manhood, stroking him coyly at first before she closed the gap between them, rubbing her whole body against him. A groan spilled out of him, and he replaced the shower, looking down at her as she turned just enough to see him.

“You don’t have to -”

His comment was cut off with a slight squeeze around his dick. Her shining eyes met his, her lips twitching in a hesitant smile. “Please?” she whispered, and his defenses dropped instantly.

“Okay,” he murmured, pulling her into a kiss, gently easing her up against the wall until her chest was crushed against his. She panted heavily, weaving her arms around his neck as he lifted her right leg, hooking her knee over his elbow. “You’re sure?” he asked, nuzzling his nose against her jaw.

“I’m sure,” she moaned. “Need you inside me, John.”

He groaned, completely surrendering to what she wanted, sinking into her with one hard stroke. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders and he held himself deep for a moment, breathing in the scent of her clean skin. “I got you,” he promised. “Won’t ever let you go.”

Y/N sighed happily, nodding as he sought out a kiss. “I know.”

#john winchester x reader #john winchester #smut #spn #supernatural #angst #fluff #sinful sunday #drabble #fanfic #fanfiction

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winchesterfanatic1967 · 2 years

Text

Falling In Love Slowly, And Then All At Once Part 5

Pairings: Dean AU x reader

Word Count: 2,804

Warnings- A bit of angst, a bit of tears, mentions of cancer, mentions of chemotherapy, tons of fluffiness.

Eventually your lunches came and you continued to talk and laugh throughout the entire thing. Dean was such an easy person to talk to. He told you little stories about his childhood, his favorite things and you told him your favorite things, you told him little things that happened in your life and during school.

You decided to share a piece of apple pie with vanilla ice cream. “Mmmm, I love me some pie.” He mumbled and you smiled.

“Me too.”

“After this, do you want to go to my apartment? I want to get new things, but I need a woman’s opinion.”

“Okay! I love dong decor and all things like that. I’m excited.”

He nodded with a smile and you took out your wallet but he placed his hand on top of yours. “I got it.”

“No, I can’t let you pay for everything De.”

“Please, my pleasure.”

“Alright.” You sighed and put your wallet away. Dean placed some bills on the table along with a generous tip before leading you to the car, opening up the passenger door for you. “Thank you De.”

“You’re welcome sweetheart.”

He drove to his apartment and you couldn’t help but smile at his mannerisms. He lightly drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as classic rock played on the speakers. The next song that came on the radio made excitement fill your body. “I LOVE THIS SONG!” You yelled out and turned the volume up making him smile and look at you.

“I was a little too tall, could’ve used a few pounds. Tight pants points, hardly renown. She was a black haired beauty with big dark eyes. And points all her own sitting way up high.” You belted out.

He looked at you in adoration. He already thought you were beautiful. You had the same taste in the same things, now you liked the same music as him? He already had a little crush, it’s turning into something more on his side already.

“Way up firm and high. Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy. Out in the backseat of my 60’ chevy. Workin’ on mysteries without any clues.”

“C’mon De! Let’s go!” You gently nudged his shoulder and he let out a laugh.

“Workin’ on our night moves.” Both of you sang together with a smile. “Trying to make some front page drive-in news. Workin’ on our night moves.”

You continued to sing the song together and the car was filled with lots of laughter. You felt like you could be yourself around Dean. He was a lot of fun to be around. He pulled into his apartment complex, and it was a really nice one. It was definitely well taken care of.

“Welcome to my home.” He said as you both walked inside. It was neat and clean for a guy. Everything was organized and there was maybe one dish in the sink. “It’s nice Dean. Everything is clean. What do you need my help with?”

“I, uh.” He played with the ends of his hair sheepishly. “I kind of wanted to hangout with you some more. I needed an excuse.”

You giggled as he became shy, and the color rose to his freckled cheeks. “Hey, don’t make fun of me.” He chuckled shyly.

“I’m not. I just keep thinking of reasons to not be attracted to you and every time I try not to, you become more perfect.”

“Eh, I’m not perfect.” He says while plopping on his couch and patting the seat next to him.

“Are you kidding me? You’re a gentleman. You’ve held open the car door for me. You paid for lunch, you don’t judge. You’re goofy. I have a lot of fun with you. You’re sweet.”

“You don’t know me yet. Most people don’t stick around long enough.”

“Well, I’m not like most people.”

He just looked up at you and could tell you were serious. “I have many faults. You’ll see.”

“I hope so.” You said seriously and he gave you a small smile, his lip curling up.

“Well what about you, huh? You have to have a flaw.”

“What do you mean? I have plenty of them.”

“I haven’t seen any yet. You’re beautiful, smart, and you have a good head on your shoulders.”

“You’ll see.”

“I hope so.” He said seriously and it made you smile and look at your lap.

“So how long are we going to keep up this, “just friends”, facade?” He smiled at you and you felt yourself blush.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged shyly. “I mean, I’ve only been here for a couple of months. I guess my answer is…friends for right now, but we flirt?” You say and he deeply chuckles.

“As long as another guy doesn’t swoop you up, I guess I can handle that.” He says with a grin and it makes you smile.

“Okay.”

“But don’t think a day won’t go by where I don’t tell you how beautiful, stunning, and cute you are.” He says.

“Dean.” You giggled out with your cheeks turning red and you gently gave him a shove.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, and Dean made you laugh more times than you could count. When it was time to go home you were devastated. But the weekend was coming up, and you were looking forward to it. Looking forward to spending more time with Dean.

After your first quote on quote date but not a date with Dean, you’ve spent a lot more time together over the course of the next two weeks. Your feelings were growing more and more every time you saw him. Every time your phone lit up with a text, you were hoping it was from him. Butterflies grew in your stomach when he appeared at Harvelle’s, and it’s been a while since that’s happened to you.

He made it no secret that he had a crush on you, and you were really starting to develop feelings for him too. He was just so sweet and charming. You were learning very quickly that he had one of the biggest hearts out of everyone you’ve met.

You were watching a movie with him while he had you lay across his lap, and his fingers were running themselves through your locks. You hummed in approval and he couldn’t help but smile as he stared down at you. You were so beautiful to him, and so sweet.

He loved getting to know you over the past couple of months. During the short time you’ve spent together he’s learned about your likes and dislikes, and he couldn’t deny the fact that he fell for you. Quickly, and it was honestly scary to him.

He had a couple of serious girlfriends in his lifetime and both of them broke his heart. Other than that he knew he had a reputation in this town but he was content with it now. All the rumors circulating around used to bother him but he let it go. He knew the truth and the closest to him did as well.

It wasn’t a lie that he’s a huge flirt, but he didn’t sleep with every girl he laid eyes on like most people claimed. He actually treated women like gold and with respect. His parents raised him right and he would never disrespect or use women and throw them away.

“De?”

“Hmm?” His train of thought was interrupted and he jumped as he realized you were looking up at him with your beautiful eyes. He felt the color rise in his cheeks. He’s been staring at you and he didn’t want you to think he was being creepy, but you seemed unfazed.

“I’m hungry, let’s order a pizza.” He chuckled.

“Let’s do it.”

The both of you were eating in silence while another movie was playing on tv.

“Tomorrow my dad finds out if the chemo is working or not.” You breathe out after a while and Dean looks at you with a hopeful face.

You haven’t really talked about your dad's sickness that much since the two of you had grown closer, and he didn’t push you to talk.

“He finished six rounds of chemotherapy, and now they want to check to see what’s going on. If it’s working, then they’re going to continue it. If not then, well I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“Well, your dad is a fighter, and I’ve known that about him for years now.”

You nodded softly while playing with your hands. “Hey..he’s going to be okay.” He says softly.

“You don’t know that.” You say while shaking your head and you could feel the tears entering your eyes. You never talked about your dad with Dean because you didn’t want to cry and break down in front of him. You wanted to show that you were strong.

Before you knew it your plate was taken out of your hands and Dean’s soft hands were cupping your cheeks, wiping away the tears that you didn’t even realize were falling. “I-I, I’m sorry.” You sniffled and quickly slid away from Dean.

“Hey hey hey. C’mere, it’s okay.” He says softly and you couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, it’s my job to be strong and I lost control for a second.”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” He says softly while grabbing your hand. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s good if you want to show strength for your mom and dad, but it’s okay to break down sometimes. I’m never going to judge you. You never have to worry about breaking down in front of me.”

You nodded and wiped your eyes. “I don’t want to cry anymore right now. Let’s see what happens after my dad's appointment tomorrow and we’ll go from there. Um..my mom and dad usually go to the appointments to see the oncologist together while I wait at home. Will…um..will you come over tomorrow and wait with me? I really don’t want to be by myself.”

“I was already planning on coming over. I will never leave you alone. I’ve got you.” He says while giving your hand a gentle squeeze and you couldn’t help but smile.

September 22nd

Your knee was bouncing up and down as you were waiting for your parents to come home. You were so nervous, and you got no sleep last night. You stood up, and began to pace around your living room. You jumped out of your skin as Dean’s arms wrapped around your middle. “Sweetheart, you're making me dizzy.” He chuckled lovingly.

“I-I,” You sigh, “I just need a distraction.”

“Oh really?” You could hear the smirk in Dean’s voice and you didn’t even have time to ask him what he was doing before you were lifted over his shoulder. You let out a squeal and giggles escaped your lips as he began to spin you around. “D-Dean! Put me down!” You say in between giggles.

“Never!” He said playfully as he spun you around faster, and your laughter was getting louder and louder.

Your laughter and squeals were making his heart swell up. It was the most adorable sound he’s ever heard. He wanted to distract you, even if it was just for a little while. You deserve to have happiness in your life and all he wanted was to see you smile.

“D-Dean! I’m going to throw up! Enough!” You squeal out and he laughs as he puts you down. You held onto his shoulders as you were getting your breath back and the room was finally beginning to stop spinning. When you locked eyes with him you couldn’t help but giggle some more. “You’re a jerk.”

He chuckled, “Ready for round two?”

“What? No no no, De,-” You were cut off as he hoisted you up into his arms for a second time, this time holding you like a baby. He began to spin you around once more, and he was smiling so hard his cheeks were hurting as your laughter filled the living room again.

The sound of your parents car pulling into the driveway interrupted the laughter, and Dean immediately placed you down. Your heart began to pound inside your chest, and light sweat coated your forehead.

Your parents walked inside, and it looked like they were both crying. Your heart dropped into your stomach until they both began to smile. “The chemo is working.” Your dad says. “The nodules on my stomach shrunk so much the doctors could barely see them on the scans. The liver ones are still there but the doctor is optimistic.”

Happy tears instantly filled your eyes, and you immediately let out a small sob of relief. You felt arms wrap themselves around you, and you cried into their chest. You knew it was Dean, you didn’t even have to look up. His hands rubbed up and down your back, and you pulled away after a minute.

You walked over to your dad and wrapped your arms snugly around him, and he did the same to you. Your dad was not an emotional person by any means, but he was letting out sobs of relief.

“I told you that it was worth it daddy.” You sob out and he cried harder.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy before in my entire life.” He choked out.

After exchanging an emotional hug with your mother, you were surprised to see Dean wrap your father up into his arms and even more shocked to see his eyes well up with tears. They cried into each other's arms and after some time they pulled away, “We have to celebrate. Let’s all go out for dinner, my treat!” Dean says.

“Oh Dean, you don’t have to do that hun,” Your mother says but Dean kindly puts his hand up. “I insist.”

“Well, okay. Thank you Dean.”

“Hey Dean, invite your folks and that little brother of yours. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him!” Your dad says and Dean nods with a smile.

“I’ll do that. Give me a minute.” He says while stepping outside.

It was quiet for a moment before your mom spoke up. “I was wrong about him honey. I’m really sorry for my doubts. He’s a good kid.”

“Hell yeah he’s a good kid. Why is he not your boyfriend yet?” Your dad asks and it makes you giggle shyly.

“Dad,-”

“We’re friends that flirt. But I’m working on it Bobby.” Dean says while reentering the house, and you felt your cheeks flush.

“Just don’t hurt her kid. That’s all I ask.”

“I don’t plan on it sir. Despite my reputation in this town I treat women like gold.”

“I’m not going to lie to you Dean, I was worried about you and Y/n getting so close. I’m ashamed to say I believed all the rumors but I can see differently.”

“Hey, all is okay. I don’t plan to ever hurt your daughter. I really like her, and we’re taking things slow.”

Your heart swelled inside of your chest as you heard Dean say those words. You flirted shamelessly back and forth but you didn’t know he liked you the same way you like him.

“Well, what did your parents say Dean?”

“They said yes. So did Sammy. We’re all going to meet up by six, is that alright?”

“6 is perfect.”

You all sat around the table at your dad's favorite restaurant. John and Mary, Sam and his girlfriend Jessica, your parents, and Dean.

Jessica is a very sweet girl, and you found out that you had a lot in common. Maybe you found another friend besides Dean in this town. Not that you didn’t love Dean, but sometimes all a girl needed was another female to talk to for advice and it’s honestly been difficult not to have that.

“Here’s to my best friend Bobby being a fighter, and kicking cancer's ass!” John says with his glass raised, and all of you clink your glasses together.

“Since we’re all here, me and Jess have something to tell you all.” Sam says with a smile playing on his lips as he looks at Jess. “You want to tell them?”

“They’re your family.” She says shyly with a smile.

Everyone was confused, but then Jess lifted her left hand and showed off her beautiful engagement ring to everyone at the table. Mary squealed in excitement and Dean and John stood up to hug Sam.

After everyone shared hugs and congratulations, it was time to go home. “Hey sweetheart, do you want to spend the night and have a sleepover? Just to watch movies and things like that, I promise.” He reassured you and you smiled.

“I would love to.”

Dean Taglist- @agirlwithdemonblood, @akshi8278, @penguinlover0318, @lyarr24, @deanandsamsbitch, @katbratsupernaturalwhore, @flamencodiva, @avanatural, @seeingstarks, @nyotamalfoy, @agirlwithanangelheart, @fiftyshadesgrl, @jensenslady79, @Sensitiveorange, @winterreader-nowwriter, @nancymcl, @foxyjwls007, @stoneyggirl2, @sexyvixen7, @taylor-munson, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @this-is-me19, @gh0stgurl, @edwardsfangirl1712, @globetrotter28, @dragonprincelovr, @mimaria420, @hobby27, @leigh70, @kayyay12-blog, @parinarain, @caritobbg, @leigh70

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underground-secret · 3 months

Text

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean

Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam is haunted by a vision of a woman trapped in his childhood house

Warning: cannon violence, tension/ minor flirting, slight angst and comfort, mentions of death, mentions of a dead parent, the use of witchcraft that isn't exactly apart of Supernatural lore but does have ties to many folklore's interpretations of a witches capability from European Folklore to Appalachian Folk Magic and many more (i used a mix of different lore to create my own interpretation) this took so long to research, l also was testing things out in my apartment so i'd be able to write it properly- literally rearranging furniture for it

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld ,

@okayiamkassandra, @fablerose , @ada--44

Word Count: 12,947

Home

(Master list, Previous Ch., Next Ch.)

I stumble into the boys motel room, stifling a yawn from passing through my lips. Did I wake up two hours ago and refuse to get out of the stiff motel bed instead of coming to meet my lovely friends in their room?

Yes!

“Good morning my little stabby hunters” I greet cheerfully, closing and locking the door behind me. Sam mumbles some incoherent version of a greeting from where he sat on his bed while Dean looks up from Sam’s laptop, “Mornin’ sweetheart”

I walk up to each boy individually giving their hair a nice ruffle before shuffling my way to sit criss-cross applesauce on the unoccupied bed. “You had perfect timing ‘cause I think I found a few candidates for our next gig.”

“Oooh how fun” I half sarcastically say, “read ‘em out!”

“Alright we got a fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali” I nod pretending to know what a ‘trawler’ is, “ –-its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.” Dean lists out looking up every now and then for a reaction, “Hey. Sammy.” He calls out to his brother who’s sat drawing something on a little notepad.

Sam looks up, giving Dean an annoyed look waiting for what he has to say. Dean leans back in his chair, “Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”

“No. I’m listening. Keep going.” Sam declares, going right back to his drawing. He was in fact not paying attention.

“And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times.” He stops speaking again, waving his hand in the air intended to get his brother's attention, “Any of these things blowin’ up your skirt, pal?”

Sam suddenly sits up fully, “Wait. I’ve seen this.”

“Seen what?” I ask, Dean and I sharing a confused look. But Sam doesn't answer, he just crosses the room towards his duffel bag, searching for something. “What are you doing?” Dean asks. Again Sam doesn't answer, finally finding whatever he was looking for he pauses studying the two things in his hands, he swiftly turns around “I know where we have to go next.”

“Where?” Dean muses, asking the question were both thinking.

“Back home –- back to Kansas” Sam breathes, a hint of panic in his eyes.

“Okay, random. Where’d that come from?”

Sam shows the thing he took out of his bag, a photo, to his brother, I get up to view it too. “All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?” Sam asks, looking between the sort of family photo taken in front of their house and his brother.

“Yeah.” Dean answers plainly.

“And it didn’t burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?” Sam asks further.

“Yeah it took ‘em a while to, I think it was mostly out of respect because no one ever moved in after you either, as far as I know.” I answer only knowing because I lived in town even after they moved away.

“Okay, well, someone lives there now…and, I, uh, look, this is gonna sound crazy but….the people who live in our old house –- I think they might be in danger.” Sam stammers

“Why would you think that?” Dean asks the obvious question. “Uh…it’s just, um….look, just trust me on this, okay?” He starts to walk away to the other side of the room, Dean following suit, “Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?”

The fighting begins, I think to myself as I chew on the inside of my cheek. I knew Dean would probably act harsher then he meant to, his mom—his old house being a very rough topic for him.

Now it’s Sam’s turn to answer simply, “Yeah.”

“Come on, man, that’s weak. You gotta give me a little bit more than that.” Dean raises his voice slightly.

“I can’t really explain it is all” Sam says looking around the room instead of making eye contact.

“Well, tough. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you do” Dean crosses his arms waiting expectantly.

Sam sighs, “I have these nightmares.”

“I’ve noticed” Dean says while nodding and I want to step in and lecture him for coming off so mean, but I bite my tongue.

“And sometimes…” Sam pauses for a while before continuing, “…they come true.” This time I don’t bite my tongue, the word slipping out of my lips out of pure shock, “Sam” I gasp. “Come again?” Dean says almost at the same time as my gasp.

“Look….I dreamt about Jessica’s death –- for days before it happened.” Sam tries to explain further, nearly getting cut off by his brother, “Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” I know Dean doesn't want to believe it, I know he’s scared of what this could mean. But I can’t help but feel this is like the argument Dean had started on my twelfth birthday, all those years ago. It felt especially silly to feel this way now, not when I never held a grudge against him because of it. Maybe I should have but I could never find it within myself to do so.

Dean sits down on one of the beds and it’s clear he doesn't know what to do with himself. Sam begins to explain himself more, which I hate the fact he has to, “No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it. And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”

“I don’t know.” Dean huffs out. It’s clear he’s overwhelmed, which is a significantly better reaction than what I got to his whole realization of what I really was—a witch—despite the fact he already knew that. I want to respect their relationship and not speak when it’s not my right to, and yet if it comes down to it I know I will. I won’t let their relationship fall apart because of this, I won’t let a hatred form between them. Let alone like how Dean had hated me for months and I had hated myself too.

“I-it can mean something. There's a lot of cultures that believe that dreams are capable of showing the future as a guidance or even as a warning. Egyptians, Romans, and Greeks, they all believed in this; it's,um, called oneiromancy.” I pipe in quietly as if scared that saying it too loud would shatter the delicate atmosphere. Sam was looking at me with big eyes like he was hanging on to each word I spoke, nodding along.

“All right, just slow down, would ya?” Dean stands abruptly beginning to pace the carpeted floor, “I mean, first you tell me that you’ve got the Shining? And then you tell me that I’ve gotta go back home? Especially when….”

“When what?” Sam asks carefully.

Dean sounds on the verge of tears, probably the most vulnerable he’s been in a long time, “When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?” The air, the atmosphere itself, felt fragile then too as if something so palpable had to be careful of where it stood

Sam begins softly, his eyes scrunched in a mix of worry and sympathy, “Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure.”

“I know we do.” Dean nods, his head hung low.

The Impala pulls up in front of the old Winchester house, the cute little two story green house standing there simply. I can’t help but wonder if in a hundred years these people who lived in Lawrence would know what happened here? The family that was lost here? Maybe not physically but you can trace everything back to this simple house, where these boys lost a piece of themselves no matter how young they were. You can still feel it in the air now, in this car with Dean's head hung low as he peers up at his old house, the only and last house he’s ever had.

“You gonna be all right, man?” Sam asks, trying to catch his brother's eyes. Dean swallow’s thickly, “Let me get back to you on that.” We exit the safety of the car and with each step forward the weight of this settles on our shoulders, the realness of this all. I know this isn’t about me, but if I let my mind stop focusing on the task at hand I know that it will wisp away to my old house. Just on the other side of town, to every moment I spent wandering the streets with no where particular in mind-

A sharp knocking on the front door snaps me out of my mind. A pretty blonde opens the door, her eyebrows scrunched in what seems like stress, “Yes?” she answers.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal—“ Dean begins his lie getting cut off by his brother, “I’m Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Dean, and our friend Y/N. My brother and I, uh, we used to live here. You know, we were just drivin’ by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.”

“Winchester. Yeah, that’s so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night.” She laughs lightly. Dean's face drops a little, a mix of curiosity and longing on his face that if I hadn’t seen it before, hadn’t known him so well I wouldn’t have recognized it. “You did?” he asks, and I'd have to think it was a look of longing for his life back then, before he lost his mom, to a life that was so simple and child-like because that might have been the only time he really was a child.

She nods and steps aside, “Come on in.” The inside of the house wasn’t so much different from what I’ve been told about it, she shuts and locks the door behind us and we wait for her to lead us further in before moving. “I’m Jenny by the way” she says moving past us. She leads us into the big kitchen, a young girl doing homework at the table while an adorable jumpy toddler bounces in his little playpen, I can’t help the smile that creeps up on my face at the sight.

“Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!” The toddler chants, bouncing as he speaks.

“That’s Ritchie. He’s kind of a juice junkie.” She introduces going over to the fridge, taking out a sippy cup and handing it to the bouncy baby. “He has good taste” I laugh, the kid being just so freaking adorable.

Jenny walks over to her daughter, “Sari, this is Sam and Dean, they used to live here. And that’s their friend Y/n.” I smile at the girl who greets us with a small “Hi.” Dean for some reason waved awkwardly at the child, as if he doesn't know how to act around kids when that’s so far from the truth.

“Hey, Sari.” Sam smiles before allowing her to get back to her homework.

“So, you just moved in?” Dean asks, jumping right to it. “Yeah, from Wichita.” Jenny answers, referring to a different part of Kansas.

“You got family here, or….?” Dean continues to ask, and honestly it’s kind of a creepy question. She answers a little hesitantly, “No. I just, uh….needed a fresh start, that’s all. So, new town, new job –- I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.”

“Do you like it here?” I ask genuinely. “Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home” She starts looking at the boys as she speaks, “…I mean, I’m sure you had lots of happy memories here…but this place has its issues.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks almost a little too quickly.

Jenny sighs, “Well, it’s just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly.”

“I think that’s an easy fix” I try to remain hopeful, it’s not like we can just tell her ‘oh yeah that’s ‘cause your house is probably haunted by a demon or something.’ And under the assumption that it was just faulty wiring, I really wasn’t sure if it was an easy fix. I mean I am no electrician.

“Anything else?” Dean adds in.

“Um…sink’s backed up, there’s rats in the basement.” She lists off before pausing for a beat, looking between us nervously, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.” Dean looks a little taken back by this concern, because what was written on his face was far from offense, “No. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?”

“It’s just the scratching, actually.” She answers.

“Mom?” Sari calls out lightly, Jenny kneels down to her daughter waiting for her to continue, “Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”

“What, Sari?” Sam asks, confused.

“The thing in my closet.” She answers weakly, and I swear my heart broke a little at the way in which she said it.

“Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets.” Jenny answers softly, reminding me of my mothers soft tone when she spoke to us. Jenny looks up at the boys, “Right?”

Sam stumbles over his words as he answers, “Right. No, no, of course not.”

“She had a nightmare the other night.” Jenny explains, a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

Sari shakes her head, “I wasn’t dreaming. It came into my bedroom –- and it was on fire.”

Uh oh.

~~~~~~~~

“You hear that? A figure on fire.” Sam whisper-shouts, mainly to his brother who was walking a little too quickly then necessary to his car. The man in question turns around swiftly, “And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?”

“Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit.” Sam bites back.

“Yeah, well, I’m just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin’ true.” Dean snaps.

Sam’s eyes were wide with panic, “Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it’s the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?”

“I don’t know!” Dean snaps.

Back and forth they fight like two dogs having a barking match from just over the fence. “Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?” Sam starts again.

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely, Sam, we don’t know yet.”

“Well, those people are in danger, Dean. We have to get ‘em out of that house.”

“And we will.”

“No, I mean now.”

“And how you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she’s gonna believe?”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“Both of you, stop!” I nearly shout, both boys going quiet, “Look” I sigh. “I get this is scary and all but you two bickering isn’t going to get us anywhere! And if we want to help that nice family we have to think logically. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, maybe it’s something else or maybe we have to prepare ourselves for the fact that it is that monster.

Either way we can’t just run into this with assumptions or lead on feeling alone, okay? ‘Cause that’s how we mess up and wind up dead and I don’t know ‘bout you boys but i’m not quite craving the taste of death just yet.” I take a deep breath before continuing, “So, let’s pretend this is any ol’ case, any other hunt. What do we do first?”

“Research” Dean mumbles as if he was a kid who got caught doing something wrong, which arguably isn’t so far from the truth.

“Check our bases, dig into the history” Sam adds.

“Exactly” I smile, “Good job”

Dean opens the driver seat door, getting in as he speaks, “Except this time, we already know what happened.”

Sam and I followed suit, “Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?” he asks. Dean looks around a little uncomfortable, “About that night, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Not much. I remember the fire…the heat.” He pauses, “And then I carried you out the front door.”

“You did?” Sam asks surprised.

Dean scuffs, starting the car and pulling out of the spot, “Yeah, what, you never knew that?”

Sam shakes his head, “No.”

Dean continues, “And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do. Mom was….was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?” Sam questions further, and up until now I didn’t realize how much he was kept in the dark about such a significant moment in his life.

Dean shrugs, “If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.” Sam starts again, “Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s goin’ on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing.”

Dean again looks around uncomfortably, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, “Yeah. We’ll talk to Dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

Sam notices this obvious movement like I did and pauses for a moment, you could see the gears turning in his head, “Does this feel like just another job to you?” Dean clears his throat, suddenly jerking the car off to the left side of the road right up to the curb, the car poorly parked, “I’ll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom.” The second he finishes his sentence he’s out of the car and walking away into some local business that I couldn’t quite see the name of.

“I- I don’t understand him” Sam suddenly says as he watches his brother leave, turning in the passenger seat to talk to me properly, “It would be so much easier if he just…” He sighs, “talked to me.”

“I… don’t want to excuse his actions because you are right, but at the same time you know he was never taught how to be vulnerable.” I try to explain, carefully choosing my words knowing there were eggshells surrounding our feet. He then mumbles something incoherently about their childhood, he looks back up at me, “you know, you don’t really talk about your childhood either.”

“Maybe it’s just something about Kansas” I joke, he laughs lowly, “But I ,uh, I would like to tell you about it…someday…” I offer shyly, trying to offer him something in a moment where he has nothing

“I’d like that, at least I could get closer to one of you” Sam smiles, sadly.

“Hey and maybe it will open the door to encourage Dean to speak up” I say.

“Yeah you know that’s not gonna happen” He scuffs.

“Well, I was trying to be a little optimistic.”

When Dean came back to the car he was dead quiet, his eyes were glossy but he refused to talk. It wasn’t uncommon for him, not one bit.

Sitting in the back of the Impala, I watched the buildings and trees pass by. All blocks I was familiar with even if it was far from where I had actually lived, but when you're lonely you tend to find walking for an eternity isn’t so bad. Funnily enough, sitting in the back of this car felt eerily similar to when I was a child, my dad as quiet as an owl, a then changed man having lost his world. Only, he had forgotten my brother and I had lost her too, and that we were still around to begin with.

Dean stared at the road like my dad had all those years ago, so deeply as if they were to look away it would disappear right beneath them. Then Sam sat in the passenger seat looking between his brother and out the window not knowing what to say, like my brother always did. And I of course still played the same role because some things never change, some feelings never do fully leave.

Dean suddenly clears his throat, “Alright, up ahead is an old pal of dads.” Just as suddenly as he said it, he also hadn’t given us time to say anything before pulling over once more, this time in front of a mechanic's place. A sign reading “Guenther’s Auto Repair” in big red letters hung above a large garage unit. The smell of metal and grease breeze by my nose as I exit the car, following after the two taller men with what I thought was a forgotten sadness now back. I can’t imagine how they must feel, how Dean must feel.

They effortlessly found and began a discussion with the owner, easily lying about being cops which felt especially wrong today. It felt wrong to lie to anyone from the town I pretty much grew up in, even if I never knew any of them.

“So you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?” Dean asks the older man. I knew their father was a mechanic but hadn’t known he had his own garage and partner.

“Yeah, we used to, a long time ago. Matter of fact, it must be, uh…twenty years since John disappeared. So why the cops interested all of a sudden?” He says, whipping his dirty hands on a rag stained with car grease.

“Oh, we’re re-opening some of our unsolved cases, and the Winchester disappearance is one of ‘em.” Dean answers smoothly, and I guess it isn’t technically a lie either. He accepts the answer with no further, visible, speculation, “Oh, well, what do you wanna know about John?”

“Well, whatever you remember, you know, whatever sticks out in your mind.” Dean suggests.

“Well…he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that.” He laughs. “And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It’s that whole Marine thing. But, oh, he sure loved Mary. And he doted on those kids.” To that I have to stop myself from reacting, for some reason I can’t picture John being anything less of what he is now, in terms of strictness and toughness.

“But that was before the fire?” Sam points out.

He nods, “That’s right.”

“He ever talk about that night?” Sam adds. He seems to think for a moment, “No, not at first. I think he was in shock.”

“Right. But eventually? What did he say about it?” Sam clarifies.

“Oh, he wasn’t thinkin’ straight. He said somethin’ caused that fire and killed Mary.”

“He ever say what did it?” Dean asks this time.

“Nothin’ did it. It was an accident –- an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or somethin’. I begged him to get some help, but….” He explains.

“But what?”

“Oh, he just got worse and worse.” He answered, sympathy written all over his face.

“How?” Dean asks carefully.

“He started readin’ these strange ol’ books. He started goin’ to see this palm reader in town.” He says, suddenly catching my attention, an air of familiarity surrounding it.

“Palm reader? Uh, do you have a name?” Dean questions. I scrunch my eyebrows together trying to remember why this was familiar.

He responds at the same time it suddenly hits me, “No” he scuffs.

The name leaves my mouth in quiet thought, “Missouri Moseley.”

All three of them look at me strangely, before Dean grabs hold of my upper arm, throwing the man a smile and a “Excuse us.” He begins pulling me away from the garage and back to the car, his brother following after us after he had thanked the man.

“Where’d you get that name from?” Dean asks me sternly, looking down at me with sharp curious eyes, his grip on my arm never faulting.

I look up at him, his green eyes piercing mine, expectantly, but I find myself at a loss for words. Each syllable ready to be spoken but dying on my tongue, all in the fault of once more feeling like my younger self. Sam reaches for his brother's shoulder, almost pulling him away from me, “Ease up, Dean.” He shakes his brother off, but listens, releasing my arm and swallowing thickly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay” I cut him off quickly. I wasn’t scared of him at that moment, but of the past and I knew he was too. We all were.

“I remember your dad came over and mentioned that name, along with her being the real deal. I just don’t remember what the conversation was about, I mean it had to be years ago…” I feel my eyebrows scrunch together again as I try to recall more, glimpses of the memory popping up. Our dads sitting on the long vintage couches my mom had bought for the house while me and my brother ran outside to play, “It was at the original house, m-maybe a year before we moved to Kansas.”

“So three years after mom died” Sam nods.

“Yeah that seems about right, but I’m not sure if that encounter was like right after your dad met this Missouri or some time after.” I add

“It sounds familiar. '' Dean breathed out before rounding the car to the trunk, digging through it before pulling out the journal. “In Dad’s journal…here, look at this.” He flips it open, handing it off to his brother, “First page, first sentence, read that.”

Sam takes the book, reading the sentence out loud, “I went to Missouri and I learned the truth.”

“I always thought he meant the state.” Deans shrugs.

Missouri’s house was a cute little two story place. I admire the light brown wood paneling and stained glass windows, something I knew my mom would have loved. Dean and Sam sat squished together on a small couch, all of us waiting for her to be finished with her client. I choose to stand, not only to see them both quietly fight to sit on the couch but also to slightly look around the place without wandering around.

A round faced, warm brown skinned lady with big curly hair tied back in a ponytail escorts a man out of her house, “All right, there. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.” She tells him, her voice a natural soft and sweet tone, accompanied with a southern accent.

She closes the front door behind him, turning to face us, “Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.” Her sweet voice does nothing to soften her blunt statement, my eyes go wide with the comment.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Dean asks her,

“People don’t come here for the truth. They come for good news.” She answers simply, causing the room to fall quiet for a beat, “Well? Y/n, Sam and Dean, come on already, I ain’t got all day.” She leaves the room, I follow after her only pausing when I realize the boys weren’t following. I turn back towards them waving them over, they share a look before getting up and following.

“Well, lemme look at ya.” She laughs, “Oh, you boys grew up handsome.” She points a finger at Dean, “And you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.” A burst of laughter slips through my lips before I can control myself, his face falls and he glares at her.

Her gaze turns to me, my laughter dying out but a permanent smile left on my face, “Oh, you never lost your beauty” She smiles.

“You knew me when I was younger?” I ask, confused.

“Well of course, I knew your mother. Bless her soul” She answers, only leaving me more confused ‘cause my mom never mentioned her and I would sure remember such a sweet and funny woman.

“We helped each other out back then”, she explains, “She would always show me pictures of you and your brother. You were always a smiley girl, it’s good to see you didn’t lose that. Your mother would be glad too.” A warmth blossoms in my heart at that, my smile softens with me and it was like something I didn’t even know was within was fulfilled. It was hard to find new memories of my mom when I really didn’t know anyone who had known her, other than our family, to ask. Missouri hadn’t given me a full in depth memory and yet, it was enough. Enough to know someone else clearly adored my mom and had seen her in the same light I did. I don’t know why my mom never told us about her, but for some reason I didn’t feel the need to ask.

She gives me one last smile before giving her attention to Sam, she grabs his hand, her face falling, “Oh, honey…I’m sorry about your girlfriend.” A wave of shock clearly passes over the boys face, “And your father –- he’s missin’?” she continued.

“How’d you know all that?” Sam asks, clearly forgetting she is a psychic.

“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now.” She explains.

“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean rapidly spews out.

She half shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know? Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?” He snaps back, far too hostile.

She gives him a weird look, “Boy, you see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air.” A laugh passes through my lips before I could stop myself, I nudge Dean's shoulder who glares sharply at me before turning that look to Missouri, only furthering my spits of giggles that I try to bite back.

Her demeanor changes back to gentle, “Sit, please.” We listen to her, I took a seat beside Sam so that I wasn’t squished between both boys. Missouri suddenly snaps at Dean, “Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon!”

“I didn’t do anything.” Dean argues, his voice seemingly an octave higher- like a child.

“But you were thinkin’ about it.” She answers.

“Oh, I like you” I say through my laughter, it was quite the breath of fresh air to see someone put gruff ‘macho man’ Dean in his place.

Sam gets back on topic, whipping the smile that formed on his face, “Okay. So, our dad –- when did you first meet him?”

“He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say…I drew back the curtains for him.” She responds.

“What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?” Dean asks.

“A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin’ I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing” She explains.

“And could you?” Sam asks

She shakes her head, “I…”

“What was it?”

She answers softly, “I don’t know. Oh, but it was evil.”, She pauses for a beat, “So…you think somethin’ is back in that house?”

“Definitely” Sam breathes.

She shakes her head again, “I don’t understand.”

“What?” Sam asks.

“I haven’t been back inside, but I’ve been keepin’ an eye on the place, and it’s been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin’ up now?” She explains.

“I don’t know. But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once –- it just feels like something’s starting.” Sam says, eyebrows scrunched in worry.

“That’s a comforting thought.” Dean mumbles.

~~~~~~~~~

The ride back to the Winchesters house was the light in this complex time. The entire ride Missouri lectured Dean on his driving saying he was just a little too reckless and was gonna get us all killed despite it being a generally short one. They bickered back and forth a while until Dean gave up grumbling something below his breath, causing another snap response from the woman herself.

When we finally arrived Dean quickly got out of the car before anyone else could even register being parked, I genuinely don’t think I've ever seen him happy to be out of Baby. He had very obviously, and purposefully, positioned himself so that he was standing next to me away from Missouri, in fact two people away as she stood on the other side of Sammy. I searched for Dean's hand, my fingers brushed against his larger rougher hand. I clasped it gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze to hopefully ease his tension, caused by the beef he had with the nice lady that was helping us to begin with, even though I most definitely found the whole thing hilarious. Just as Sam knocked on the door I released Dean's hand, bringing both my hands to clasp in front of me. A peak of nervousness rests in my gut as I feel his gaze on me, I ignore it, focusing my eyes forward while I rock on the balls of my feet.

Jenny answers the door, her blond hair messy and clear stress present in the crinkled corner of her eyes and worry etched into her pupils. She holds her baby, Ritchie, close to her chest, “Sam, Dean, Y/N. What are you doing here?”

Sam smiles at the blond, “Hey, Jenny. This is our friend, Missouri.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house. You know, for old time’s sake” Dean chimes in.

She scrunches her nose, “You know, this isn’t a good time. I’m kind of busy.”

“Listen, Jenny, it’s important.” Dean tries to explain before Missouri smacks him hard on the back of the head, far harder than I ever do, “Ow!” He yelps, turning around swiftly towards the shorter woman, “How did you-!” He nearly yells holding the back of his head. He looks at her with big wild eyes, his yelling coming from the fact she was able to quietly get behind Sam and I to hit him.

Missouri cuts him off, “Give the poor girl a break, can’t you see she’s upset?” She then turns to Jenny, “Forgive this boy, he means well, he’s just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out.” Dean looks further stunned.

“About what?” Jenny asks, adjusting her hold on her kid.

“About this house.” Missouri answers.

“What are you talking about?” Jenny looks between us all, nervously.

“I think you know what I’m talking about. You think there’s something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?” Missouri says.

“Who are you?” Jenny asks just above a whisper.

“We’re people who can help, who can stop this thing. But you’re gonna have to trust us, just a little.” Missouri smiles comfortingly but even so Jenny looks unsure.

She seems to go over it in her head before finally sighing, “Alright.”

The four of us stand in Sari’s bedroom, Jenny having given us room to do what we need to while she waits downstairs with her kids. Sari’s room was a dark blue, a contrast to her pink and white furniture and toys.

“If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it.” Missouri states, looking around the room carefully from where she stood.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.” She answers, looking around the room. Dean pulls out his DIY EMF from the inside of his coat pocket, “That an EMF?” Missouri asks.

“Yeah.” Dean smiles smugly.

“Amateur.” Missouri says lowly, I don’t know why she was targeting Dean specifically but his reaction to her was too amusing to really ponder it.

The EMF beeps frantically, “I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain’t the thing that took your mom.” Missouri announces.

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam asks frantically, getting a confident nod, “How do you know?”

“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s somethin’ different.” She answers, pausing for a beat before adding, “Can you feel it Y/N?”

My eyes widened in shock, “I’m sorry what?”

“You still got a lot to learn ‘bout your abilities'' She responds waving me over, “c’mere, you might be able to sense the energy.”

I hesitantly place my bag down before slowly walking over to her, she either senses my nervousness or reads my mind because she explains what she means, “Witches tend to have the best intuition and connection to the natural world, you should be able to sense energies especially spiritual ones with a second sight.”

She situates me in front of her with my back towards her, her hands clasp my arms tightly as they rest at my side. “Close your eyes, and just like meditation let everythin’ else fall away.”

I follow her instructions, my eyes fluttering shut reluctantly. I feel incredibly silly as I take a deep breath, the sage-y perfume of the woman behind me filling my nose. I breathe out slowly, forcing my mind to shut out the real world, which isn’t as hard as it should be with the quiet room and my nearly regular meditating. Complete darkness surrounds me as if the room itself had fallen away with all the people in it too, just me floating in an abyss.

I focused more closely on the house itself, extending my awareness far out to the block and then as if a dark fog hugged it I zeroed in on the house. Using my conscious self I pictured what it was like to walk through the house this time with a deep focus and new eyes.

With each step I ventured further into the house cautiously, a buzzing feeling rang through the house like when two strong magnets fight for equilibrium with a clatter. But despite the buzzing a physical warm glow emitted from the home's edges and like a hand reaching out it tried to conquer more of the house, yet it couldn’t. A force I couldn't quite tell held it back. The hair on the back of my neck stood tall, a cold chill running down my spine, I shrugged it off as I walked back up the stairs and down the hall to my physical self.

My foot only breached the doorway when a dreadful feeling filled the halls as if rooted beneath the wallpaper, a twinge of fear made its home in my stomach. I had never done this before, never went into my mind to feel the very things I hunt. I have no experience here, this is not my domain. They must know that as hushed murmurs fluttered around me with voices I couldn’t detect but knew they didn’t belong to anyone in the room. They wouldn’t be able to talk to me here so normally, maybe Missouri but certainly not Sam or Dean.

The murmurs became louder, each whisper jumbled over the next, talking over each other to the point of no recognition. My back hits the hard archway of the door's entrance, the sheer loudness of combined voices knocking me off balance. I braced myself against the door, nails biting into wood, my eyes shut tightly in effort to focus even further.

An unfamiliar cold hand brushes my forearm dragging its fingers up to my elbow as if standing beside me, I swiftly turn around backing up a few feet to see nothing near me. Another brush touches me, this time the back of my neck accompanied by a hot breath fanning by my ear. I don’t move away. this is not my domain, but it will be, and I will not show fear now. Latin spews from its mouth flowing right into my ear, a simple teasing statement, “Another toy.”

My eyes shoot open, pupils blown wide as my eyes adjust to the lighting as well as my mind being back in focus of the physical realm. My heart beats harshly against my chest, my lungs heaving with adrenaline.

A large hand clasps around my upper arm tightly, I nearly stumble back a step before my mind finally catches up with the present. “What is it?” Dean spews out quickly, his green eyes nearly crazed with worry.

I open my mouth to answer only to have Missouri answer for me instead, “You saw them.”

“F-felt more like” I stammer the feeling of its touch still lingering.

“What are they doing here?” Dean asks, looking between Missouri and I for answers, his hand still on my arm. Thing is I don’t have an answer, all that creepy spirit touching and I still don’t know everything.

But of course Missouri does, “They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected.”

“This house buzzes with energy, literally you can feel it attracting paranormal energy. There’s two here right now…ones in the room. My head turns towards the closet, “A poltergeist. I’m not sure if it sees it as a game or what but I think it wants Jenny and her kids dead.” I know I’m right when Missouri nods her head.

“You both said there was more than one spirit.”

“There is. I just can’t quite make out the second one.” Missouri answers before adding, “You pick up anythin’”

“Only that it felt…good, if that makes sense. It was very different from the other. It was like this warmth trying to consume the house or really rid the house of its evil.” I answer by trying to make sense of everything that I have experienced.

“You’re sure of this?” Dean asks me, gaining my attention again by squeezing my arm before finally letting go.

“Yes.” I breathe simply, failing to explain that my only other hunch was the fact that it hadn’t been bothering me or I suppose terrorizing me like the poltergeist had with its touching.

A hard determined look sharpens on Dean's face, “Well, one thing’s for damn sure –- nobody’s dyin’ in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

“We’re gonna cleanse the house” Missouri answers simply, “Y/N, what you have in that bag of yours?”

A devilish smirk stretches itself on my face, “You wanna do purifying bags?” I ask back instead of answering. I walk back over to my discarded bag picking it up and swinging it over my shoulder, “Let’s do this downstairs, don’t want to make a mess in the kids room” Missouri says, answering my question without really answering it.

“Copy” I smile, taking the lead as we exit the room. With a sudden need for my specialty I found a new pep in my step as I quickly descended the stairs beelining for the nearest table. I carefully placed my bag down on the dining room table, pulling out my spell book marked and written in along with small corked glass bottles of different roots and herbs I carry. “When did you put all of this in your bag?” Sam asks, picking up a vial of crossroad dirt.

“Before I left with Dean to come get you, ‘cause you never know when you're gonna have to put together a spell or a potion of sorts” I answer, pulling out a couple empty small brown pouches.

“So you’ve been carrying this ‘round with you this whole time?” Dean asks this time.

“Mhm” I hum as I sit getting right to work.

With a little bag in front of me I put in each ‘ingredient’, for lack of a better word, not needing to look at my book for the right amount in each.

“Well don’t be lazy, help the girl!” Missouri lectures hitting Dean on the back of the head again. He grumbles no longer snapping back with something, he sits down next to me looking for direction.

With the feeling of his gaze on the side of my face I swirl my finger towards my spell book, a purple haze floating through the air turning the pages of my book to the right section for him to follow without me having to stop my work. He doesn't say anything as he takes off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, putting his forearms on display as he picks up bits of root, unfortunately catching my attention enough to pause my work and stare at him.

His eyes move from my book to the bag he was working on, his eyes sharp and focus as it passes across the words on the page. He moves his hand to the book using a finger to drag across the page underneath each word, the veins in his hand bulging as he does so. His eyebrows scrunch and his jaw ticks as he asks, “What is this stuff anyway?”

“That’s angelica root your holding” I mentioned first, referring to the fuzzy green plant in his hand. “And that’s van van oil, crossroad dirt, sage” I point to each bottle, naming off each ingredient we’re using.

He nods as I speak, his eyes still holding the same level of focus. From his listening to the gentle touch he used as he handled each bottle, all I could feel was pure endearment. The sudden quietness in the room made me painfully aware of the fact that we were the only ones left in said room and that Missouri along with Sam had left at some point, most likely to talk to Jenny.

“What are we supposed to do with it?” Dean questioned, knocking his knee into mine to get my attention once more. A bashful smile breaks its way onto my face at his touch, “We put them inside the walls of each corner of each floor of the house, north, south, east, west.”

“We’ll be punchin’ holes in the dry wall. Jenny’s gonna love that.” Dean points out.

My lips formed a tight line, cringing, “Yeah…this is just how this goes but to be fair some holes in the walls are better than evil spirits.”

He huffed a laugh, “And this will destroy the spirits?”

“It should, it's supposed to purify the house completely, we’ll probably each take a floor but we do have to work quickly because when they catch on to what we’re doing, they get seriously pissed.” I answered

“Won’t they catch on with us doing it here?”

“You would think that but spirits don’t always know until it’s actually happening like when we make the holes then it’s a big deal.” I inform, tying off another bag.

“Huh” He replies as he continues to work.

Soon silence falls upon us while we work, our arms brushing against each other every now and then.

“Are holes in drywall a hard fix?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence, worried that the spirits won’t be the only pissed ones.

A deep chuckle passes through his lips, “That depends, sweetheart, but it should be.” He went on to explain the logistics of it, and while it wasn’t something I really cared to know about I didn’t stop him from explaining.

By the time his explanation of spackles and walls was over our purifying bags were done too.

Missouri and Sam walk back into the room, the floor creaking slightly underneath them. “You guys almost done?” Sam asked

“Yup” I hummed, “The bags are all done just gotta finish cleaning up”

“Good. Jenny and her kids just left, they’ll be back in an hour or two” Sam explained, placing a bunch of heavy items on the table. “I brought these in from the car, take your pick.”

I look up at the heavy mass, a hammer, a small ax, and two crowbars lay on the table. Though it is an odd collection of weapons as long as it is capable of making a hole in the wall it doesn't really matter, Sam picks up the hammer testing the weight of it in his hand.

With every part of the plan settled I throw the rest of the vials and leftover bags in my bag worrying about organization later, gently tucking my thick spell book into my bag I turn swiftly around, “Let’s get it done.”

“I’ll take this floor” Dean says, picking up his four bags, “Sammy you take upstairs, and you two can take the basement.”

“And remember you need to put a bag in each corner, north, south, east, west.” I order as everyone has the right amount of bags and a weapon of choice.

A collective nod was all we needed to spring into action, with the cold heavy crowbar in my hand I took the lead down the basement Missouri following closely after me. Without any words needed, we split up her heading to the west side of the floor and me to the east.

A chill runs up my spine, an uncomfortable feeling floating in the air, I roll my shoulders trying to rid myself of the feeling. My knees hit the floor, the coldness seeping through my pants. I knock on the wall in an attempt to hear a hollow part, Dean having mentioned before that would be the easiest way to make a hole. My knuckles hit the wall in at least ten separate spots before it no longer sounds solid. I stand back up for better leverage before changing my hold on the crowbar to be horizontal, bashing the end of it into the wall repeatedly until it cracks.

A heavy sliding noise shuffles behind me, I snap my head to the sound of a large dark table moving across the floor right into Missouri. My mouth opens to scream her name in warning but just as the first syllable leaves my mouth a nail comes flying at my face. Out of reflex alone I send the nail flying to the left, the invisible force of my power altering its trajectory. My eyes follow where the nail came from, an open red tool box, more nails come flying my way and each time I knock them away. Knowing it wouldn’t stop I gripped the crowbar harder using only a glimpse back at the wall to know where I was aiming for. While I used one hand and half my focus on changing the direction of the nails I used my other to slam the crowbars end into the already cracked wall but only when it sounded like it broke through enough did I glimpse back again. With another look forward at the coming nails, only one more left, I waited until it got closer, the old nail zooming toward my eye. Just as it got but an inch away I dropped to the floor, turning my body as I went, throwing the purification bag in.

I got up quickly, dropping my crowbar, almost tripping over my other foot as I ran to Missouri, pushing the table away from her, throwing another bag into the hole she had already made before she got attacked. She breathes heavily, a hand on her chest. “You okay?” I ask, putting a hand on her shoulder and leading her away from the table. She nods her head, handing me her two bags, wordlessly telling me to finish the floor.

I grip the bags in one hand as I pick up my discarded crowbar, seeing the nails that flew at me sticking out of the walls. I head over to the undisturbed wall slamming the crowbar into the wall, not even attempting to do the knocking at this point. While I threw in the third bag, worry consumed me at the realization that the spirits must be attacking the boys too. Without wasting any more time I go to the last undisturbed wall, again slamming the crowbar into it. Call it paranoia or instinct that made me turn so that my shoulder was facing the wall instead of my face to see if another attack would be coming. Either way it was that alone that saved me from the poltergeist throwing a wooden chair at my head. I duck again just in time for the chair to smash into pieces above me, wood undoubtedly falling into my hair.

“Stop throwing stuff!” I yell at the air itself or really the incredibly annoying poltergeist. With a huff I throw in the last bag, all the activity silencing on this floor. I get up walking over to Missouri as I pick out chunks of wood from my hair, as soon as I get close enough she reaches up and takes a particularly large piece of chair out of my hair showing it to me with a laugh before tossing it somewhere on the floor.

“Y/N!” A voice yells with a strain, clearly coming from a distance away. Right away I recognize the voice, Deans, I go running climbing up the stairs two at a time. Forget about my hair, forget about leaving Missouri behind (no offense).

The ground floor is practically untouched other than the clear mess that is peeking out from the kitchen, I look around quickly and see no one, “Dean?!” I shout back evident fear in my voice, getting an immediate “Up here.” Slight relief hits me as I again sprint up the stairs, twirling around the banister the second I reach the second floor seeing the closest open door. Forgetting about precautions I immediately approach the door, my hand on the archway when I see Dean on the floor cradling a hurt-limp Sam.

“Wha-“ I begin saying only to lose my train of thought.

“Let’s get him up” Missouri suddenly says from behind me, very calmly. She nudges past me heading straight for the boys, but neither of them move. She leans down beside Sam pressing two fingers to the side of his neck, “He’s still alive, he’ll be just fine.”

He gives her a curt nod before leaning back on his feet and standing, dragging his brother up with him, just as he does so Sam comes to. His eyes fluttering open and close, “It’s okay Sammy, just gonna bring you downstairs” Dean tells him, putting his brother's arm around his shoulder.

Carefully he walks his brother downstairs, Sam grumbling something halfway through before going limp again. Finally they reach the living room, Dean carefully lays his brother on the couch then moves to sit on the coffee table right across from him.

“He’ll be alright” I say softly, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder.

“I know” he replies.

“Were you able to finish the floor?” I ask even though maybe it wasn’t the proper time to.

“No. I was hurled with knives the second I made the hole, then I heard something upstairs and ran to see if Sammy was okay…I don’t think he finished either” He explains, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“It’s okay, i’ll go finish it and you guys can stay here, watch over him” I say, giving his shoulder a little squeeze before moving my hand away.

“Are you crazy?! That’s dangerous. Did you not just see what happened to Sam?!” Dean shoots back, not quite yelling but his voice is definitely louder than needed.

I smiled at him sweetly knowing this was coming from a place of worry and not an incompetent sort of deal, “Don’t worry I can take care of myself just fine, I did so down stairs when we finished up. Got some nails thrown at me, a chair and a table, you know just the usual playing house with the ghost.”

“That’s not the point. I’m coming with you.” He stands up abruptly and I swear I saw his jaw tick.

“Okay. I’m not gonna argue with you” I respond with humor in my voice. “But. If you did want to stay behind to watch your brother I wouldn't fault you for it either.”

He looks at me strangely with those beautiful green eyes before diverting them just past me, “I’m coming with you.”

“Right.” I smile “‘You got the bags?”

He answers by shuffling through his jacket pockets and pulling out a bag from each, he holds them up in an almost teasing way. I take a half step forward, grabbing a bag right out of his hand, only then realizing how close my small step puts us, having to lean my head back far enough to look up at him comfortably. But I don’t move away as I ask him, “What about your axe?”

He tilts his head down slightly towards me, his breathe hot on my face, “Dropped it in the kitchen”

“Good.” I say, nearly and pathetically getting distracted by our closeness…and his eyes… and his lips. “ ‘Cause I have no idea where I left that crowbar”

He laughs and steps away, his shoulder brushing mine as he walks away to the kitchen. Before I can turn to follow him Missouri meets my eyes, giving me a pointed-knowing look about what just happened. ‘Shut up’ I playfully mouth.

Finally I turn around following after the man in question. He comes out of the kitchen holding the small axe but just behind him is a mess. The kitchen looks like a tornado went through it with draws and cabinets open, utensils on the floor, broken dishes scattered around, the table turned over with knives sticking out of it (a tornado could not do that but the point of the mess still stands.) I look back at Dean then behind him repeatedly, “Did you have fun?” I remark sarcastically.

“Oh, not as much fun as you had” He replies gruffly, reaching up to my hair, his fingers sinking in as he ruffles out small chips of wood. My cheeks feel warm at the small contact and even more so when he pulls away and gives me that smirk. Then he walks away towards the back of the house with a cocky look in his eye like he knew exactly what he had done. I take a short deep breath before following him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later every purifying bag is put in place and Sammy is conscious and now we stand in the disaster that is the kitchen, broken cabinets and chair bits on the floor as well as a collection of utensils, all just to see the bunt of the fight.

“‘You sure this is over?” Sam questions, his voice a little rough.

“I’m sure. Why? Why do you ask?” Missouri answers.

“Never mind.” He sighs, “It’s nothin’, I guess.”

The front door opens followed by footsteps, “Hello? We’re home.” Jenny calls out before finding us in the kitchen pure shock written on her face, “What happened?”

“Hi, sorry. Um, we’ll pay for all of this.” Sam word vomits, the words spilling out quickly and anxiously. Both Dean and I’s heads snap towards him, I seriously want to ask him ‘with what money???’ But before anyone can fathom a word Missouri beat us to it, “Don’t you worry. Dean’s gonna clean up this mess.” Again with her (maybe) uncalled targeting I have to bite back a smirk, meanwhile Dean stands unmoving his eyebrows scrunched looking at the shorter woman with a total bewildered expression.

“Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop.” She adds, and I don’t know how she has this much power but he listens and begins to walk away or really shuffle away, “And don’t cuss at me!” She lectures.

Laughter slips through my lips as he mutters under his breath, Sam joining in on the hilarious nature that is his brother being bossed around.

Wiping a tear out of the corner of my eye I touch Sam’s shoulder, “I’m gonna go get him and fix this up…” I twirl my finger slightly to signal I mean magically, “Bring Jenny inside somewhere.” He nods, “Okay but you should really let him suffer”

I laugh again, rolling my eyes as I move away.

I find Dean standing in front of a broom closet trying to balance several cleaning objects in his hands at once. I admire his effort but there’s just no way anyone could clean that kitchen when it’s quite literally just destroyed. I grabbed a broom from him that was seconds away from falling, “Not to ruin your fun but I figured it would be easier to use magic on the kitchen than a mop.”

“Thank god” He sighs, shoving everything back in the closet including the broom I held.

Back in the kitchen I try not to get stressed at just how bad it is. Taking a calming breath I walk over to the kitchen counters, closing my eyes, I feel my hair move around me slightly from a small drift in the room, my body stands completely still as I let my hands feel the cool counter below me and the steadiness of it all. As my body relaxes and my shoulders drop, relieving its tension I become a conduit for magic, a dance of ethereal threads weaving through me. The energy flowed from my core to my fingertips, the flow gracefully extending to every nook and cranny. As if tracing an intricate pattern, it embraced the room, coaxing broken shards and scattered pieces back into harmony. The air felt electric with the essence of restoration, and the kitchen hummed with the soothing melody of enchantment.

When I open my eyes again, I feel a gaze on me. I turn my whole body, so that I was standing sideways, to it and of course it’s Dean, he meets my eyes, his mouth just slightly agape and I can only imagine what the swirling of purple energy around the room fixing items must have looked like. His green eyes are slightly glossy with what is maybe curiousity or amazement, either way it was a weird look. Before I could question him I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a tall familiar figure. Sam stands by the kitchen archway waving his hand, signaling it was time to go.

Hours later darkness consumes the Impala. After dropping Missouri back home Sam insisted we came back to the house for a stakeout. It was hard to argue with someone who had a bad feeling over something that is quite literally life or death, so we stayed. We’d been in here so long in fact that I’d taken to lying down flat in the backseat, my legs propped up on the seats (shoes off so Dean wouldn’t complain but at least I got to showcase my cute dragonfly socks).

I stare up at the beige-ish interior roof, my hands laying across my chest. I breathe in and out evenly, but with the prospect of being bored, memories of my life here swarm my head and suddenly I miss my mom more than I've had in a long time. If I focus hard enough on the roof I can still hear the remnants of her laughter and I could see her smile, the one I inherited, on her soft face. That old longing, that old sadness that I thought I was over fills my heart, its hands creep up on it clasping it tightly. It’s been years. So many years since she’s been gone and yet still this feeling—this rawness in my chest, this endless longing is home in my body just as it was the first time around.

I miss my mom.

I want to cry and I want her back, tears threaten my eyes and that stupid tightness in my throat prevails almost like it’s choking me, a tightness that’s so painful I want to rip my throat out. I swallow forcefully, I hate this feeling and I hate death and I hate that I'm feeling this in the back of the car with my best friends just right up front. It’s too vulnerable, it’s too open, too close to home…I want to go home.

I want to go home.

I shut my eyes tightly trying to erase these feelings to move them back in the dusty box they had sat in. But it isn’t that easy and I know it isn’t so instead I breathe deeply and choose to listen to Dean and Sam talk, focusing on the up and down of their words and the softness of each syllable.

“All right, so, tell me again, what are we still doin’ here?” Dean asks, impatience clear on his tongue.

“I don’t know. I just…” Sam sighs, “…still have a bad feeling.”

“Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.” Dean explains.

“Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that’s all.” Sam answers.

“Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now.” Dean responds and I hear him slide down his seat, probably closing his eyes in the process, “Like Y/N back there” he adds, softer, and even with my eyes closed a smile produces itself on my face. The small warmth that spreads in my chest fends off the grief, at least enough for it not to be at the forefront of my mind.

The quiet peace that falls over the Impala is short lived, Sam suddenly yelling, “Guys. Look” My eyes shoot open, “Dean!” He hits his brother's shoulder.

I sit up quickly catching a glimpse of Jenny yelling by her window, with nothing more to be said- we jump out of the car. I shuffled to the car door, leaving my shoes behind, the second I’m out and the door is slammed shut I run after the boys who were only two paces ahead. “You two grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny.” Dean commands as Sam tries the door which of course is locked. Dean pushes him slightly to the side, he takes a step back lifting his leg and kicking in the door. Broken pieces of wood stick out from the side of it.

The dark wooden floors are cold beneath my sock-covered feet, each step up the staircase seems far too long even as we reach the top. At the top Dean stops at a door close to the stairs but I don’t use any more focus to take anything else as Sam and I run down the hall, “Get Sari! I’ll get the baby!” I yell after him. Stopping at the closest door I swing it open only to reveal a bathroom, I curse underneath my breath before spinning around to the door right across the hall. Once more I swing it open, this time revealing a baby room with a white crib in the middle of it. I rush over only slowing to not scare Richie as I approach, somehow he’s still asleep wrapped up in his little blanket.

Carefully I reach in the crib scooping him up from underneath his upper back, my other arm going for his legs. Once in my arms I rearrange him so my dominant hand rests on his lower back while the crook of my other arm cradles his little head, just like holding a baby doll except this one is way cuter and also very alive. Standing back at my full height I fix his blanket around him before exiting the room. I know Sam can handle himself so I head towards the stairs, the baby had to be the priority right now. I quickly descend the stairs, only half way down when I feel Sam close behind, a relief hitting me.

My feet only just hit the ground level when Sam calls my name, swiftly I turn towards him Sari in his arms.

“Y/N, you need to take the kids and go outside.” He orders, placing Sari on the floor.

“Okay, what about you aren’t you coming?” I rushed out, cradling Richie in one arm so I could take hold of Sari’s hand.

Panic is written all over his face and something else lies in his eyes, “Take them. Don’t look back” And before I can argue any further he’s nudging me forward, reluctantly I go only because I know I can’t help with two kids in my arms. I run towards the door at this point, pulling Sari along with me, just behind me I hear a slam to the floor and I know it’s Sam- relief gone. But even so I rush forward.

The chill breeze of the night hits me hard. Jenny and Dean stand on the edge of the grass line. Only a few paces from them Sari lets go of my hand and runs to her mom, Jenny leaning down to catch her and hold her tightly. “Sam’s inside you have to go now” I speak quickly, my words jumbling over itself. Dean's eyes widen and pure fear fills them, on top of being scared guilt fills me now too. He runs to the front door and I hear it slam loudly. I hand Richie back over to his mom who is very obviously relieved to have him again.

Dean runs back to the Impala pulling out a shotgun and an ax, going right back to the door. I know I could open the door for him, it would be easy and I wouldn’t even break a sweat. Yet, my feet remain planted to the grown, the chaos of it all—the guilt. My purifying bags didn’t work, it nearly got a whole family killed and Sam’s now in trouble too. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.

My feet won’t move, my body won’t react, I can't even redeem myself. I don’t want to lose anyone else, I don’t want to. I can’t.

Move.

Move. Please move, I beg myself— my very being to do something anything but be helpless. I hate being helpless and yet I’m here doing nothing, anxiety and fear encasing me to this spot. I hear Dean hacking away at the door, faint grunts leaving his mouth as he does so but still I can’t move. Sari begins to cry latching on to her moms legs only waking up Ritchie in the process who then begins to cry too. The loud crying rings in my ears, only making my heart beat faster.

Jenny, visibly overwhelmed, wrestles with the challenge of consoling both kids, her distress mirrored in her eyes. Without conscious thought, my arms extend, offering to hold Ritchie. To my surprise, she entrusts the baby to me, planting a tender kiss on his forehead before gathering Sari into her embrace. Sari's legs encircle her mother's waist, a protective hand cradling the back of her head.

Richie moving in my arms breaks me out of my panic, if only because someone in need was right there, someone who surely couldn’t help themselves. I begin to rock him, moving my weight from one foot to another but my stress and worry is still there and he must feel it too because it does barely anything to help. I look back up, Dean is still hacking away at the door, not enough progress has been made. I rearrange the baby, using my free arm I lift up a hand my palm facing towards the direction of the door, with barely any thought needed the door slams open. Dean looks back at me for only a second before running in.

Richie's cries persist as I rock him, murmuring reassurances, "It's okay, everything will be okay." I desperately rack my mind for any calming measures, when I suddenly recall my mother singing me lullabies. But still I struggle to remember any of them, the memory too distant to be anything more than a hymn, instead I decide to softly sing "A Lullaby" by Dear Nora – even though it came out way after my mothers passing it always reminded me of her. And I had always kept a small hope that one day if I were to have kids that I would sing it to them too.

As I move a strand of hair from Richie's face, he begins to settle. My voice trembles with fear, but it seems to have a soothing effect anyways. Richie stops crying, and I meet Jenny's gaze. She offers a sad smile while holding her daughter close.

Both boys came out of that house. Relief had hit me like a ton of bricks, my knees felt wobbly with it. At first they could barely speak, shocked at what they saw but then the police and firefighters came and it was all the usual.

It was hours later until everything was resolved, and it wasn’t until Missouri came over that they actually spilt what happened. Their mom was there, she was the good spirit that I had felt, the one that was fighting off the evil and she did exactly that when it had attacked Sam. Somehow, she was still at the house after all these years protecting it. She had used the last of her abilities to say…sorry.

It’s morning now, Missouri cleared the house for real this time no spirit was left in there. The kids were sleeping still, Jenny was giving the photos she found to Dean and Sam sat with Missouri on the steps talking.

I had nothing to say to anyone in particular so I sat in the Impala, my legs outside the car, digging through my bag, when I finally pulled out my spell book I turned to the purifying page, I looked it over again trying to see if we did something wrong and messed up the amounts. But no. We did it right, but for some reason it didn’t work—it didn’t work and people could have died. Holding the book on my lap I reach up to the top of it, my hand holding the single page ready to tear it out when it’s suddenly taken from my grasp “Hey, what are you doing?!” Dean yells, holding it out of reach.

“It didn’t work. It needs to go, please give it back.” I answered, my jaw clenched.

“This was your moms, you’d hate yourself if you ripped it up.” Dean lectures.

“No I wouldn't, give it back. I need to make sure this never happens again.” I shoot up from my seat reaching up to grab it back but his arm shoots down behind his back.

“Yeah, you would. Sorry to break it to you sweetheart but I know you pretty damn well.”

I don’t care if he’s right. I don’t. That page needs to go, I can’t make this mistake again. I won’t. I reach for it again behind his back but again he moves it, “Dean. I’m not joking around give it back.” I don’t often get angry, but I am.

He looks down at me, his eyes scrunched in confusion and concern, “What’s going on with you?”

I huff, frustrated, “What’s going on is I messed up. Badly. They could have died and don’t try to say I don’t know that for sure because I do. And I know you do too, so I don’t need any comforting lies”

"We screw up, sweetheart. It's part of the gig. But we fixed it. They're alive and kickin', okay?" His words carried that gruff reassurance he always had, even when he was being a bit of a hypocrite. Book at his side, guard lowered just a bit, it was my chance to snag it back. "Not this," I jabbed a finger at the book. "I'm good at this. I don't mess up on this."

"I don't care that you're all emotional right now. You're not trashing your spell book." Arms crossed in front of his chest, he held his ground.

My chest heaved, my eyes scrunched in frustration as I looked up at him, my free hand in a tight fist my nails digging into my palm. “But, it needs to—“ I say back, weakly, already my fight was crumbling, being replaced with something else. Suddenly his arms were around me and my face was buried in his chest. His arms held my upper back tightly, his hands going up to cup my head, his fingers entangled into my hair a little while his chin rested on top of my head. With each breath I took, inhaling his smell of something woody and some sort of spice mixed into one, any resolve I had left was gone.

I wanted to keep fighting, I wanted to tell him he was wrong but he held me so close and so gentle that I couldn’t. If that in itself had made me weak then so be it. I wrap my arms around his center, even with my book in my hand. It had to be seconds later when he must have felt the tension leaving my shoulders when he pulled away, his hands dropped down to the crook of my arm holding me a short distance away. His green eyes locked with mine in a silent agreement.

I pull away fully when Sam and Missouri approach, quickly whipping my eyes just in case and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. We each exchange hugs with her, even Dean who surprisingly gets no comment this time.

Missouri smiles, “Don’t you be strangers.”

“We won’t.” Dean nods as he rounds the car.

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prettybillycore · 2 years

Text

Stranger Things Have Happened In Hawkins || Harringrove x Reader (2/4)

Pairing(s) in this Part:

Billy Hargrove x Winchester!reader x Steve Harrington

Minor Dean Winchester x Castiel

[ Later Installment: Billy Hargrove x Winchester!reader x Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson ]

Universe: crossover supernatural universe x stranger things universe

Summary: Billy finally gets the courage to ask Reader out, but bliss never lasts long in Hawkins

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Mentions of Neil Hargrove’s Abuse of Billy and Max, Mentions of John Winchester’s Abuse of Sam and Dean, Smoking, Language, Canon Typical Violence, Slight Canon Timeline Divergence

Read it on AO3 or right here on Tumblr (under the cut on this post)

The sun was almost completely in the sky by the time things were settled. You were in the living room of the Byers’ house. Some of the kids had gone off to the bedrooms to rest, but a lot of the members of the group were with you. Steve, Billy, and Hopper were sitting on the couch. Dustin and Max were on either end, more leaning than sitting really. Joyce was tending to Will’s wounds in the kitchen, Mike was sitting at the table with him. Eleven, Jonathan, and Lucas were all asleep in other rooms of the house. You were feeling anxiety rise in your throat as everyone watched you. You were pacing a bit, trying to decide what the best story was. You weren’t too worried about any angels or demons feeling your presence. The power of the upside down and Eleven should have been enough to keep you hidden. You just didn’t know how much of the truth you should tell. How much was too far? At the same time, you didn’t know if you could lie to them now. They were all waiting so patiently to hear you tell the truth about your identity. They had all seen you use your powers, so they knew something was different about you. The skin on your lips was chewed raw and you felt your body shaking. You weren’t sure if you were shaking enough for anyone else to notice, but it was clear to you. This wasn’t like your childhood; you didn’t have your dad around to find you a new hiding place anymore. Cas and Dean weren’t around to protect you either. You were going to have to make your choice; run away from Hawkins without answering any questions, but risk Cas not being able to find you or telling them the truth and risking rejection/an unsafe situation. “Are you from the lab?” Dustin blurted out. Everyone else on the couch gave him glares in response. He shrugged. “What? I thought that might be a good starting point. She’s clearly nervous.”

“A little forward, don’t you think, dork?” Max asked.

“It’s alright,” you replied. The attention was instantly back on you. “No, I’m not from the lab or the upside down… I have never seen anything like those monsters before in my life, the closest thing I’ve seen is hellhounds… and hellhounds are not nearly that powerful.”

“Is that why you asked about demons earlier? Is the upside down some weird version of hell?” Max questioned.

“What? Demons?” Hopper asked.

Max nodded. “Yeah, she said ‘Demons? Angels? Leviathans? Pagan Gods?’ when she first got to the house with Billy.”

You shook your head. “Trust me, that is nothing like hell. Hell has an order; a king, guards, rivalries, betrayals– the energy of the upside down is much more chaotic than that. The truth is I have no idea where to even begin filling you all in. You all have dealt with enough do to the gate, I don’t want to burden you with more supernatural shit than you’ve already been exposed to.”

“You’re not a burden to us, Y/n,” Steve cut in. “You’re one of us at this point, hell, I don’t know if we would have gotten through this whole thing without you here. Whatever you are going through; wherever you’re from– we can handle it.”

You smiled gently at Steve. General expressions of agreement came from the others. Billy’s effect was the flattest, but he still was focusing on you. You didn’t know how to feel about him right now, but if he and the others were all in agreement, you could continue to try to give them an explanation. “I’m sort of like Eleven,” you started, “I can locate people by feeling their energies through their belongings or pictures; like I did with Max. It’s how Billy and I found you all… I can move things with my mind as I did with Billy to stop him from attacking Lucas… but I can do a lot of things that Eleven, I don’t think, can do. I can sense souls, teleport, and kill monsters with just a snap of my fingers; among other things… all of this is built into my blood. My mother is an incredible magic user; my father… my father was an angel.”

“Is Cas dead?” Hopper asked.

“Cas is alive, I think.” You bit your tongue to keep from crying. “Cas and his partner aren’t my biological parents, but when my father died he left me to them. You could say he doesn’t trust my mother with me, but that would be a drastic understatement. I don’t know why he chose Hawkins, the house I live in, or anything else for that matter, but he had no other choice. Due to my nature, a lot of people where I’m from want me dead.” You wiped a few falling tears away from your eyes and lifted the edge of your shirt just enough for your audience to see the faint stab wound on your side. “I was almost murdered the day I arrived in Hawkins. A family friend patched me up, Cas had me say goodbye to everyone, and he brought me here. He said it would only be a few days; he said it would only be until he found the angel who was trying to kill me, but clearly, it’s been more than a few days. I don’t know if he’s coming back for me, or if he’s even alive at this point.”

“Can you still feel his soul?” Max asked.

You shook your head again. “Hawkins is too far away from my home to feel them. I haven’t felt any of my family’s presence since I’ve been here. Only Cas knows where I am. He didn’t tell anyone because he was afraid of his partner and our other family being tortured for information. I can, as well as angels, see people’s memories through physical contact. He was concerned that an angel would find me if anyone else knew. That also means if Cas is gone–”

“There’s no one to come back for you…” Dustin finished. You nodded and covered your mouth with your hand. A sob made its way out of your mouth and Steve was instantly on his feet. He pulled you into another hug and you welcomed it; sobbing into his chest. “I miss them so much, I miss home.”

Steve sighed, “I’m sorry Y/n. Is there any way for us to get you there?”

Another sob erupted from the pit of your stomach. “No… Unless you know how to open interdimensional portals at will, I don’t think any of you can help.”

“Do you have a brother?” Dustin piped up.

You pulled away from Steve a bit to look at him. “What?”

“In your family, back home, did you have a brother?”

“Uh…” Kevin flashed across your vision. You smiled a small bit. “Yeah, I guess you could say I had a brother.”

Dustin grinned. “Well, until we figure out how to get you home, I’m your brother! And– I have a lot of friends how many siblings do you have?”

You and Steve both laughed a bit, but his offer did warm your heart. “Thank you, Dustin. I appreciate it. You are all like a family to me now; we saved the world together, that’s the main requirement in my book.”

| < ♥️ > |

The Snow Ball was just around the corner for the Hawkins Middle Schoolers– and a similar dance, prom, wasn’t far behind for the Hawkins High Schoolers; it was only a few months away and it was on everyone’s minds. Hopper had secured paperwork for both you and Eleven, so you would be able to attend school after winter break and she would be able to feel safe going outside. You were officially registered as Y/n Winchester at Hawkins High and you were nervous, but excited. Eleven was happily spending days at your house or at Hopper’s place. She was dating Mike and her friendships with the others were blooming. You didn’t get your paperwork in time to be a chaperone for the Snow Ball, but you knew that Nancy was going to be there, which gave you some comfort. You all had saved the world and the gate was closed– the Party deserved to have some fun. Eleven was getting ready in your bathroom and asked you to help her with her hair. You never had a younger sister before, but you wanted to give her the world. She opened the drawers and started carelessly looking through your makeup. There wasn’t much, but you had picked up a few things on shopping trips with Nancy. She asked if she could use some of it, and of course, you accepted. You even pulled out your favorite dark lipstick and showed her how to apply lip products by using yourself as an example. You felt a little silly just wearing lipstick, but at the same time, it made you feel sort of powerful. You were helping her with her hair as she stretched the phone cord into the bathroom so she could talk to Max. “You’re gonna look great tonight, El! Y/n’s got such cool style. I bet she’s gonna make you look bitchin’!”

Max was so happy to have a friend like El in Hawkins and chat on the phone like this, but she needed to go finish getting ready. “I’ll see you there El, I’ve gotta go finish getting ready!”

El exclaimed a ‘goodbye Max’ and the ginger hung up the phone. She rushed to her mom and asked for help with her hair. It was pretty and usually easy to style, but she wanted to make sure it looked extra good for the Snow Ball. It was her first real school dance, after all. Her mom was pulling on her hair, but she promised that it would be worth it. Billy briefly looked at the pair, but soon started to head out the door. Max overheard him talking to a random girl earlier, but that wasn’t going to cut it for her. She had an idea and she knew she couldn’t let him go on that date. “Billy!” she called.

He turned to look at her, quirking his eyebrow. The cigarette in his mouth was lazy hanging between his lips and his face looked almost entirely dull. “Stop by a store, pick up some flowers, and go apologize to Y/n. You’ve been moping for days and going on a date with some other girl isn’t gonna fix that.”

Both Billy and Max’s mom were surprised by her outburst, but her mom was even more shocked by his reaction. “She’s not going to be chaperoning your dance? That sounds like something she would do.”

“No she’s not, she didn’t get the paperwork ready in time. Go ask her to your dance. She’ll say yes, you know.”

Billy looked away from her and took a long drag from his cigarette. “Thanks for the pep talk, shithead.” She was disappointed for a moment, but he sighed and she could tell what he was thinking by the look on his face. “I’ll go.”

| < ♥️ > |

You were about to head to your car with El, but you heard the Camaro pull up. “What the hell?” You mumbled. You looked briefly at El before heading to the window to check. It was indeed Billy. He was sitting in the driver’s seat of his car. “Stay here for just a second, El, I’ll be right back. Help yourself to some water or anything you want out of the fridge.”

She looked concerned, but she just nodded and walked toward your kitchen. Billy started to get out of the Camaro as you walked out the front door. “What are you doing here, Hargrove?”

He looked at you for a moment before turning back to his car, rummaging inside of it for a moment. He pulled out a bouquet. The flowers were slightly crumpled, but that didn’t bother you. He shrugged. “I needed to come talk to you and Max said I should bring you some flowers.”

You approached him cautiously, but a small smile did make its way onto your face. “Oh yeah? That’s very nice of Max, I’ll be sure to thank her.”

He chuckled. “Hey, I picked them out.”

You grabbed the flowers from his hands, letting your fingers brush his as you did so, “I’ll thank you after you tell me what you needed to talk to me about.”

He placed his tongue between his teeth and rocked on his heels. “I came to say I’m sorry.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been wanting to since the night where all that shit happened. I never ever should have called you a freak. You or the kid; I was just afraid. I’d never seen anything like that before, not that that’s an excuse. All this to say, I am sorry. I really really like you and don’t want this to be the end of us; if you’re still willing to take me for a drive in that sexy impala of yours I would go anytime.” He held your hand that was wrapped around the bouquet. You could feel him shaking. You could see how nervous he was, even though he was trying to play it off.

“I forgive you, Billy. I would be happy to take you for a drive in the Impala sometime, as long as you promise to apologize to Max and her friends for that night too. I really really like you too and I don’t know how long I’m going to be in Hawkins, but I would love to spend my time left getting to know you.”

“For you, Doll, I’d do anything. I’ll work on something for the kids, promise.” He gently set his hand on your cheek and you couldn’t help, but lean into his touch. You couldn’t deny that you felt a spark with Billy. He was battered and broken, but something about his soul’s energy made you feel safe. “There’s one more thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What’s that?” you asked.

“I know it’s still a little far away, but I was wondering, if you’re still in Hawkins– would you like to go to prom with me?”

You broke out into a grin. “If it gets here and you still want to go with me, I think that it could be fun.”

His eyes looked between yours and your lips. The quick glances made your heart pound. “Trust me, Doll. I’ll still want to go with you.” His hand moved from your cheek to your neck and your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips against yours.

You pulled away after a few seconds, “if I could stand here all night kissing you I would, but I promised Hopper I would give El a ride to the dance tonight. How about we go for that joyride tomorrow night?”

His grin was large and undeniable. He was a little sad that he couldn’t be with you more now, but he wasn’t going to push it. “Sounds perfect to me, Darlin’. Before you go, though, I want to give you one more thing.” He reached around the back of his neck and unclasped his necklace. It was small, but it was immediately recognizable as his. He knew anyone that attended Hawkins High would know you had gotten it from him. “Can I put this on you?”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I’ve never seen you without it.”

“Exactly, Doll. When you come to school after break, everyone will know you’re already mine.”

“I’ll play your game, you can put it on me,” you replied. He tucked his tongue between his teeth again as he closed the clasp around your neck. “Though, you are the devil, Billy Hargrove.”

| < ♥️ > |

Billy was leaning on his car, waiting for the Impala to appear in the parking lot. Max was watching him closely as she gathered all of her belongings from the car. She giggled and shook her head. Billy pulled the cigarette from between his teeth, but he didn’t look away from the road. “What’s so funny, Ginger?”

Max closed her door and walked over to his side of the car. She watched him spend all of his winter break with you. You hosted DnD for the party at your house and movie nights for you, Steve, Billy, and whoever was willing to put up with their rivalry. Billy kept his eyes on you and only you if you were in the room and he hated going more than a day without seeing you. She smiled at her stepbrother. “You, jerk, are completely in love. It’s so endearing that I want to puke.” She dropped her skateboard to the ground as his jaw hung open. The step-siblings were starting to get along better and Max had gotten comfortable enough to start teasing Billy back. He wasn’t sure if it was fun or insulting sometimes. “Enjoy your first day back, lovebird.”

With that, she was gone. Billy made a ‘tsk’ sound with his tongue as he watched your car pull up next to his. You smiled at him as you got out of your car. “Well hello there, loverboy.”

He smiled brightly at you and stomped his cigarette out under his boot. “Doll, you took so long to get here that I thought you might have decided to skip.”

“And miss a chance to hang out with you, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan all day? Never, in a million lifetimes.” He grabbed your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss. You could feel eyes watching you, but you just dug your hands into his hair. It was soft under your fingertips. “Are the girls at this school gonna watch us make out all the time?” You mumbled, your lips barely apart.

He looked away from you briefly to see that you two were attracting some attention. “Let them stare, Darlin’. None of them come close to you. Besides, isn’t it fun to be the center of attention?” He smirked, already knowing your answer.

“Sweet, but that sounds like my worst nightmare actually.”

“Somehow I knew you were gonna say that.”

“Hey! Shitheads!” Steve called as he hopped out of his car. “Are you coming in with me or what? You don’t want to be late. You have Mr. Chapman for homeroom now and he’ll have your heads if you’re late.”

Billy rolled his eyes and you laughed. You grabbed Billy’s hand and started dragging him toward your now, mutual friend, Steve. “We’re coming!”

| < ♥️ > |

The summer in Hawkins was way hotter than you thought it would be. You dated Billy through prom season and all the way into the off-school months. He and Max were sleeping at your house pretty much all the time, you were hosting DnD night for the party, and you felt entirely in love. Billy wasn’t perfect, but he kept his promise to get better. He worked on his mental health and did his best to keep his temper under control. It all meant the world to you. His presence in your little Hawkins life made you feel whole. You were starting to accept that Cas probably wasn’t coming back for you. It was okay though; Steve gave you free ice cream every time you went to visit him at Scoops and Billy told you every night all the events of his day at the pool. You missed Cas, Kevin, and Dean dearly. However, the longer you were in Hawkins, the more you grieved your losses and started to move on. The Party had become your own little family and you were, for the first time since Gabriel’s death, happy. Billy was gently playing with your fingers as you rested together in your bed. “I swear Y/n, these fucking moms spend their days staring at me. I’m polite to them, but Jesus, don’t they have anything better to do?”

You chuckled, “Probably not. I’ve met some of them before. They have mediocre husbands at best. They are just bored of the lives they’ve created for themselves and are passing their fantasies onto you. It’s gross.”

“Now why would they be trying to use me for their weird fantasies?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re young, hot, and work at a job where you never have a shirt on. Even so, it’s nasty, Billy. They are creepy for doing all that shit.”

He could feel you becoming tenser. He squeezed your hand for reassurance. “It’s alright, Doll. You know I feel nothing toward them.”

You turned toward him. His features looked soft yet slightly worried. You rested your free hand on his cheek. “They shouldn’t be feeling anything toward you, my love. That’s my point. On the other hand, I wish we could get Steve to notice us.”

He laughed, but nodded slightly in agreement. “Right? You’d think it would be easier to get the attention of a walking bisexual crisis, but no.”

“You’re off tomorrow, right? Steve’s working, we should go visit him. He and his coworker Robin have started a game. I think we could help Steve score his first few points.” The look in your eye was devilish.

Billy and you had all late-night conversations. Max would be asleep in the would-be-sam room and the two of you would gaze at your ceiling while chatting, much like you were doing right now. One of these conversations led to a sexuality and crushes talk; where you both learned that the other was queer and polyamorous– and you both had crushes on Steve. The sailor boy had admitted to you two earlier that day that he was bi-curious and poly. It made you both panic in the absolute best way.

You and Billy had been plotting all summer about asking Steve to join your relationship, or at least inquire about his interest in the idea. You were both too nervous to act on the idea though. You would flirt with him all the time, but he never quite seemed to get the hint. However, Billy was off duty tomorrow and Steve was working at Scoops. He spilled to you earlier about his game with Robin– “she is tracking how many people he successfully asks out.”

That sentence piqued Billy’s interest. “Interesting… how can we use this information?”

“Well, you and I were supposed to have a mall date tomorrow, right? Why don’t we just… stop for some ice cream and see if we can lead Steve into asking us out instead? Since he hasn’t been catching on it our hints and all. I mean when he came out to us I literally said we’re both open to dating other people and he still didn’t react. If this plan doesn’t work we can flat out ask him about it when he gets off tomorrow, but I’d like to try this. It could be fun, besides, he’s adorable in that sailor suit.”

The glimmer in Billy’s eyes was one of excitement and adoration. “Either way, we find out what Steve’s thoughts are tomorrow.”

“Yeah, we do. Either way, no matter what he says, I love you and want to be with you, Billy. I hope Steve will be open to the idea, but if he’s not, we can still continue just the way we are.”

Billy leaned forward and your hand slipped from his cheek into his hair. “I love you too. Nothing about us is changing; I wouldn’t change what we have for anything. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You felt your eyes becoming watery, but you did your best to hold back the tears. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me too.”

“I would walk to the end of the universe if it meant I got to be with you even for just one more minute. I know I’m not a good person and I don’t always feel like I deserve being in the constant presence of a literal angel, but I am so glad you are here.”

You threw your arms around him without saying another word. “You are worthy of my love, Billy,” you whispered. The tears and general throat tightness made your words sound a little raspy. This didn’t go unnoticed and Billy hugged you back tightly. He didn’t let himself cry much, but in the quiet moment, he felt a few tears slip.

“I love you, so much, Y/n.”

| < ♥️ > |

Even in the chaotic Starcourt Mall parking lot, your car attracted a lot of attention. Many of the girls from Hawkins High were watching Billy closely as you both got out of the Impala. You couldn’t contain your glare. Billy chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “It’s a good thing your powers don’t extend to murderous stares.”

You stuck your tongue out in response as you both started walking toward the mall entrance. “You’d be annoyed if guys were constantly looking at me.”

He briefly glanced in your direction before shaking his head. “You are absolutely oblivious, aren’t you, Doll?”

“About what?” you asked as you entered the mall. The sounds of the food court were completely overwhelming.

“The number of guys that stared at you all day at school.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh please, all the girls were looking at you, but there weren’t any boys looking at me.”

“That, is a lie, trust me. I had to tell so many guys off. Listen, if I thought you might like them, I would have let it go, but it was pretty much all guys who are not your type.”

“Who did you threaten?” Your tone was serious, but you were grinning. Billy knew that you were completely capable of handling your own boy problems, but the fact that he was protective was endearing.

“Mostly Jason and Tommy. They were the only ones who were… persistent, even though they both have girlfriends and I doubt their relationships are polyamorous.”

“Yeah, me too. Fuck jocks; they give me the creeps most of the time.”

He chuckled and bit his lip. “Oh trust me, Darlin, I am well aware of your disdain for jocks. You scowl at anyone wearing a letterman jacket.”

“Letterman jackets are boring. I’m more into rockers, emos, and metalheads.”

He leaned over and kissed your forehead. “That’s how you ended up with me. I thank every star in the sky that I didn’t join the basketball team.”

You scrunched up your nose in disgust as you reached the entrance of Scoops Ahoy. “Only exception is currently scooping ice cream for your step sister and… is that Eleven?”

The two girls were giggling as Steve scooped their ice cream. You were about to interrupt, but Billy kept you next to him by holding his grip on your shoulders. “Let them be kids. They don’t get to do that much.”

You snorted. “Wow, you sound like me when I’m scolding Hopper.”

“I’ve learned a thing or two about being an older sibling this year.”

“Oh yeah?” You questioned. Another smirk adorned your features. “Why don’t you show me these things you’ve learned.”

He looked toward the kids and moved away from you. “Gladly.”

You watched carefully as he headed inside of the shop. “Ahoy Harrington!” Steve’s head shot up so quickly at the sound of Billy’s voice that he almost hit his head on the ice cream display. Max and El both turned as well, but they had less of a drastic reaction.

“Ahoy Hargrove. What are you doing here?”

Billy pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and tossed some money onto the counter. “Their ice cream is on me.”

Steve handed the two girls their cones and grabbed the money off the counter, “You two are all set then.”

The girls looked at each other and smiled. “Thanks, asshole,” Max teased.

“Yeah, thanks, Billy!” El said. The girls clasped their free hands together and ran out of the shop. Max spotted you and smiled before turning her attention back to Eleven. You eyed them curiously for a moment and tucked away your questions for another time.

“So… do girls like the sailor get up?” Billy pestered. He was leaning his elbows on the counter and had his chin resting in his palms. Steve seemed curious and slightly annoyed by Billy’s question.

“So far, no,” Robin answered. She was wiping off tables nearby. “No dates for Steve yet this summer.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Robin.”

“No problem, Dork.”

The boy closed the ice cream display doors and eyed Billy closely. “She’s right though, so far, it hasn’t exactly been a hit.”

Billy looked Steve over. Steve could feel his cheeks flushing. You noticed Robin watching the interaction. She was looking toward the boys rather than the table she was cleaning. “Can’t imagine why the uniform isn’t just… reeling them in.”

Steve rolled his eyes again and was going to spout off about the unfortunate pun, but you decided it was the right time to cut in. “Play nice, Billy. I think Steve looks nice.”

Steve’s expression lit up when he heard your voice. “Thank you, Y/n.”

“Although,” you mused as you approached the counter, “I think you’d look better without the hat.” You reach over the edge of the counter and snatched the hat off of his head. You placed it on your own; it slumped a little bit into your vision, but based on the looks Billy and Steve were giving you– you guessed it looked cute. “Your hair is fantastic. The other girls are probably rating your hotness level lower than usual because they couldn’t see the fluff.” You reached forward again and messed up Steve’s hair. You and Billy made quick eye contact; Steve looked hot and you were both thinking just that. “There, perfect.”

Steve’s cheeks were bright red, though he was trying to play the whole thing off. “It’s uh– company policy to wear the hat, though, I think you suit it more than I do.��

You glanced toward the board behind him. He followed your gaze and shot a confused look between you and Billy. “His hotness is off the charts now, don’t you think Billy?” You said quietly. Even Robin wouldn’t have been able to hear it, but Billy and Steve sure did.

Billy smirked at you before looking toward Steve. “Definitely. What would you say to gaining a few points, Harrington?” Billy nodded toward the board. His voice was low just like yours.

Steve continued to look at you both with a confused expression. “You know, adding two points to the ‘you rule’ side?”

Steve looked back toward the board quickly before his face completely contorted. Even though you and Billy had been flirting with him all summer– it was just in this moment clicking. “You– You two?” he whispered. You both nodded. “Movie night, Tonight? But like… not as friends.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” you answered, “My place, 9 pm.”

“I’ll be there.”

You and Billy both pulled away slightly. “See you then, Harrington,” Billy said with a wink before walking toward the exit of the store.

You took the hat off your head and handed it back to him. “Only took you all summer–” you teased.

“Listen– you two are intimidating.”

You laughed. “Us? Intimidating? We could never?”

Steve rolled his eyes yet again at your sarcasm and put his hat back on. “Are we actually gonna watch movies?”

You shrugged playfully. “I dunno, we’ll see. Have a nice afternoon, Stevie.”

| < ♥️ > |

You were putting a little bit of makeup on, staring at the details of your face to a point that you started to feel like you weren’t real anymore. No matter what you tried, nothing quite looked right. You sighed and put the lipstick tube you were holding back down on the counter. You were wearing a big T-shirt that Cas had left in your room. It was clearly meant for you– he knew you loved wearing oversized closed to bed. You let the shirt hang down to your mid-thigh, and a pair of soft shorts were peaking out from underneath. It was just a normal, comfy outfit for movie night, but something about this particular Motörhead shirt made you feel confident. It was black and distressed and pretty cute, all things considered. You decided to put on a bit of makeup because it was your first date with Steve, but the more you fiddled with your face, the less you felt good. The only person you had ever really been on dates with was Billy. Even though you three were just going to be at your house and probably talking things out, you still felt like you needed to look nice. You didn’t often feel insecure– you weren’t the world’s most confident person by any means, but you didn’t encounter these feelings often with Billy around. He was always trying to boost your confidence. You lightly slapped your cheeks a few times and pulled the skin down a bit before letting go. “Get it together Y/n. You–”

Your pep talk was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Steve and you both enjoyed secret handshakes and such, so it was a specific knock. Your heart fluttered at the sound. Billy had gone back to his house to freshen up for the date and you were surprised that Steve beat him to your house. It made you worry a bit, but you tried to put it out of your mind. You smiled brightly at Steve as you opened the door. He was wearing his pajamas with his simple gray jacket over them. The only thing that made this different from the usual movie night was the fact that he had a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “Hey, Y/n.”

“Hey, Steve! Are those for us?”

He smiled lightly. “Yeah, is Billy here yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet, but I’m sure he’ll be here soon. He probably is singing into his hairbrush handle as we speak.”

Steve laughed and handed you the flowers. You both headed inside the house. “Does he really do that? Sing into his hairbrush, I mean.”

You chuckled. “Oh yeah. Every fucking day. It’s honestly adorable. I have a video of it on my camera. If you remind me later, I’ll show it to you.”

“I’d like that.” Steve leaned himself against the counter as you worked to get the flowers set up. “Can I ask you something, Y/n?”

“Yeah, of course, you can, Steve.”

“Do you and Billy both really like me, or did you just want to help me score in Robin’s game?”

You tossed him a confused look before turning your attention back to the vase in front of you. “Genuinely Steve, we both really like you. We had a conversation about it earlier this summer. We’ve both been flirting with you for like the last month while Dustin’s been gone, but I don’t think you’ve been picking up on it. When you told me about Robin’s game, it gave us an opportunity for us to be more forward without just straight up asking you. You’ve made Billy nervous since the day he first moved here, and I’ve had a crush on you for like, uhm… probably a few months now? Once Billy and I realized we are both poly and into you, it wasn’t a hard decision. We knew we wanted to ask you out, we just didn’t know how.”

Steve smiled as you turned around to face him again. The flowers were resting in a medium-sized vase on the counter. He hugged you tightly, resting his chin on top of your head. You hugged him back with the same amount of force. “I really really like both of you,” he said quietly.

Your heart felt like it was going to explode. “We really like you too, Steve.” You pulled back slightly from the hug. “Speaking of ‘we’ let me check on Billy.”

Steve nodded. “Okay. Are you gonna do the mind thing?”

You giggled and rubbed his arm softly. “Yeah, the mind thing,” you replied before closing your eyes. Normally, all you had to do was think about Billy and a clear image of what he was doing would come to your mind. You frowned slightly when nothing came up. You could feel his energy was somewhere in Hawkins, but it wasn’t at his house and it was incredibly distorted. “Billy?” you questioned. “Billy, where are you?”

Everything remained dark. You got no immediate response. Your connection to him was usually so strong; this was completely freaking you out. “I’m sure he’s okay, Y/n,” Steve soothed.

You were suddenly hit with overwhelming fear. It wasn’t your fear though, it was Billy’s. You just saw him around 4. That was only 5 and a half hours ago. Sure, it was a decent chunk of time, but it wasn’t that long. “Baby, can you tell me where you are? What’s happening? Why are you scared?”

“He’s got me. He’s fucking got me. I’m so sorry Y/n. I can’t come near you. He wants to kill you.” The message was faint, but you were sure of what he said. Images came in flashes; crashed Camaro, dark street, Billy screaming, him being dragged, and some kind of terrible monster.

Your eyes flew open and you screamed bloody murder. Steve wrapped his arms tightly around you again as you cried. “Y/n? Y/n what happened? What did you see?”

“It’s the upside down, again. They’ve got Billy.”

| < ♥️ > |

You and Steve parted ways as he received a red alert from Robin, who cracked some sort of code. You weren’t really sure what was going on, but he promised he would explain everything to you after he made sure it was okay. He insisted that it would all be okay and gave you a kiss on the forehead before taking off in his truck. You set off, on a mission to find Billy. You had no idea what was going on there either– all you really knew is that he was under someone else’s control and he was deeply scared. Your heart was absolutely broken; you couldn’t bare the thought of anything bad happening to Billy. He was by no means perfect, but he meant everything to you at his point. You would kill any monster that stood between you and him.

You teleported yourself to his house because you figured it was the best place to start. You hated the place with a passion, but much like when you went to Jonathan’s house for the first time– you could feel the essence of his soul in the soil. You kept yourself out of the window sight lines. The last thing you wanted to do was attract the attention of his father. Neil Hargrove reminded you a lot of the stories Dean had told you about John, his father. You did everything you could to make sure Max and Billy both felt welcome to stay at your house anytime they felt unsafe. You made Hopper aware of the things going on in the house and you knew that if anything happened again with Neil, Billy and Max were both comfortable enough with Hopper to call his personal number. Unfortunately, you knew that this was no Neil situation. This was something much, much more demonic.

There was no Camaro in the driveway and there was no skateboard resting on the stairs. Max was probably still with Eleven if you had to guess, but you were incredibly anxious to find Billy. You knew he was trying to keep you away. Whatever monster had him, he thought could hurt you. You appreciated the concern, but you were much more worried for his safety than your own. You followed the road for a while, down the route Billy always took from his house to yours. There were fresh traces of his energy in the gravel– he had definitely started on the way to your house. Your tracing brought you to a crossroads and you felt a shiver go down your spine. You had visited crossroads demons a number of times before; pleading for Dean’s soul from purgatory and looking for information about your father, Gabriel. Working with crossroads demons never seemed to get you anything though; they couldn’t collect your soul and they knew that. You didn’t have much to offer them as a trade for their services. Though, both Ruby and Crowley bargained with you prior to you meeting the Winchester boys. You didn’t trust either of them, but they were willing to bend the rules of their usual contracts to give you information, so you appreciated them. Crowley used you to work his way up the chain of command in Hell, demons were very afraid of you, for the most part. Ruby, tricked you into helping her release Lucifer from his cage. While you weren’t proud of the things that you did in relation to your deals, you didn’t regret them. In fact, in this moment, where your powers were completely failing you, you wished you had some demonic guidance.

You knew you couldn’t get help from demons in this case, though. You didn’t have any allies in 1985 Hell and you didn’t want to risk the angels in Heaven finding your hiding place. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It was difficult to feel Billy’s presence, but you felt a pull toward the edge of town, so you started off down the left path. It was raining by this point, but you didn’t care. Your biggest concern was still finding Billy and getting rained on wasn’t going to deter you from your goal. The farther away you got from the crossroads, the stranger the energy around you became. Before you knew it, you found yourself at the Wheeler household. You had only been there a few times to pick up Nancy. The energy around the house was tense and heavy. Something was wrong here too, just like it was at Billy’s house. You jogged up to the door and rang the doorbell. Thunder and dark clouds loomed overhead. Nancy opened the door and you could immediately tell that she had been crying. “What happened, Nancy?”

She gave you a confused look. “What are you doing here, Y/n?”

“Why were you crying?”

“Have you been walking in the rain?” she asked.

“Something is deeply wrong and I was lead here. Did something happen today?”

“Aside from Jonathan and I getting fired, nothing much happened today. Though, last night one of the elderly ladies I met through work had to go to the hospital. Jonathan and I found her eating fertilizer.”

You nearly gagged at the thought. “I don’t think that explains what I saw, though that is incredibly odd. I saw visions of Billy being terrified and some huge upside-down-looking monster. Have you heard from Will or Jonathan?”

| < ♥️ > |

Between the machines under the mall interfering with your powers and the Mind Flayer’s abilities fogging up your brain space, you felt completely helpless. Nothing felt right anymore and you were absolutely terrified about what was happening to Billy. You split from the group when they went to the hospital. You were set on looking for your boyfriend. Max gave you a long hug before she agreed to leave with her friends. You promised her that you would be safe even though you didn’t know if you would be able to keep that promise. That wasn’t like you at all, but you didn’t want her to worry about you.

You were horrified when Dustin found you wandering the mall (looking for Steve) and told you where he and Robin were. You couldn’t teleport anymore; you felt like your body was made of weights. You had been out all night and the rest of the next day looking for Billy. You had come up with very little information and you could tell whatever was going on with the town was affecting your abilities. You didn’t know why, but it was limiting you to the simpler things– moving objects, fast healing, and such. Dustin was disappointed when he realized you couldn’t just teleport yourself down into the secret base and solve the problem instantly, but he was glad that you were there to help nonetheless. You were able to bypass all the locks and knock out the guards with a snap of your fingers.

You, Dustin, and Lucas’s sister Erica were able to get Steve and Robin out of the facility. You all tried to sneak out of the mall, but more guards were flooding the place with every minute that passed. You set Eleven a message for help, but until the younger girl appeared you had no idea if it had worked. You were thrilled when she appeared and even more excited when Joyce, Hopper, and a man you didn’t recognize came a few minutes later.

The adults were all getting ready for battle now– you were curled up in a ball. Eleven told you what she saw when Billy came looking for her. You had your knees pulled up to your chest and your head down. Your body was wracked with sobs and you couldn’t control them at all. It was the first time, since the Leviathans, that you truly felt like there was nothing you could do to help. You and El both were absolutely exhausted. Her powers were almost completely drained and yours were working at around 30% of what they usually were. You felt someone sit down next to you. “We’re gonna get out of this, Y/n.” It was Steve. His voice was quiet. He gently set a hand on the small of your back.

“What if Billy doesn’t?” You asked.

Steve didn’t respond for a minute. You had no idea what he was doing, but you guessed that he was thinking about the best way to respond. “I don’t know where Billy is, but I promise you we’ll find him and we’ll do whatever we can to save him. If anyone can save him, it’s you, Y/n.”

“No… I can’t, Steve. I’m too weak to force the Mind Flayer out of him.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

You lifted your head up and looked toward him. You watched his expression soften at the sight of your tear-stained face. “What do you mean, Steve?”

“I mean… you’re the most connected to him. If anyone can get past the Mind Flayer, if anyone can get to Billy, it’s gonna be you. We can’t save everyone who’s been captured by the monster, but I think we have a good shot at saving Billy. After we stop the people downstairs from opening the upside-down again, I’m sure we’ll find him.”

You nodded and wiped your eyes. “We can do this, right? Together?”

Steve kissed your forehead again, just like he did when you said goodbye at your house. “Yeah, together.”

| < ♥️ > |

To Be Continued... :)

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