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wwwafflewrites · 4 years

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Never Fear (The Winchesters Are Here)

Catch You Later

You wanted to scream in frustration.

You and Sam had been wrapping up a wendigo case. The wendigos had been twins, so you had split off. You and Sam taking on the first one, and Dean on the other side of the park taking the second.

Shortly after ganking the first wendigo twin, Dean called Sam for backup… which apparently didn't include you, because Sam hadn’t even blinked when he abandoned you with the Impala.

It was ten miles up this stretch of road. Course, it wouldn’t take Sam very long. But you? That was at least a two-hour walk, if not three. Running would be faster, but you were wiped after being out in the blistering sun all day.

The sky was dimming, too. Even if you had ganked the wendigo, walking alone in the woods at dark was a big hunter no-no. Your pistol was useless against a wendigo, and Sam had taken the flare gun.

You could take a shortcut through the woods to get to the campground. Less than a half a mile in, and you'd be right next to tents and RV’s. Surely you could hitch a ride from that point, if not, hot-wire a car.

With that, you veered off the trail. The terrain was muddy and covered with old, dead leaves. "Stupid Winchesters," you said, kicking at the tall grass and brooding. It was like you were a freaking balloon. Appealing, but easily forgotten. Replaceable. Dispensable.

You kicked again at a tree and a rock. And when that wasn't satisfying, you kicked a patch of grass.

Excruciating. Pain.

Your vision whited out, momentarily going numb, then refocusing entirely on your leg. Your scream echoed back into your ears.

You had fallen. You wheezed, trying and failing to collect yourself before finally sitting up. Carefully, you moved your leg in front of you to look at the injury. Your teeth tore at your lip to hold back a scream when the movement jolted your leg.

It was a bear trap. The muscle and fat had cushioned most of the blow, but it had cut deep enough to let blood seep into your jeans.

You could still wiggle your toes, which was a good sign. It wasn’t like the movies; they designed bear traps to catch the leg of a bear, not cut it off. But holy hell if it didn’t feel like it had.

You need to push down on the springs. Dean's voice bounced around in your head.

"Springs…" you muttered. "Okay, okay, springs." You pressed down on each of the springs with all your might and the trap pried open. You pulled your leg out, releasing the trap altogether and letting it snap onto itself.

With your leg free, you rolled your jeans up so you could assess the damage. You had multiple stabs from where the spikes drove into your skin, and each spike had made about a centimeter long incision into your calf. You had dry blood caked along your leg, so it was hard to see how bad it really was.

Wearing layers as a hunter always came in handy. You ripped a large strip of fabric from your shirt, wrapping it around your leg wound; zipped your jacket closed; and pulled your jeans down over the wound, thankful that they were dark enough to hide the blood stain.

Now, to get help. Sam took the flares, so you pulled out your phone. You could probably call emergency numbers. Except… the Winchesters didn’t need ambulances, cops, or authorities snooping around until this Wendigo thing blew over. You would just be putting more people in danger.

You scrolled through your contacts, muscle memory bringing you to Dean's number first, since it was alphabetical.

It rang for two beats before something clicked.

"Hey, what's up?"

You fell back with relief. "Dean, hey, could you pick me up? Your stupid brother left me stranded out here."

You could almost feel the glare Dean was giving his brother in his voice. "Course, where are you?"

It would probably be smarter if you had him pick you up on the trail, rather than search for you. "Sammy knows where it is. Same stretch of road."

You could walk back. It wasn’t too far.

"Alright. Be there in a few." And then he hung up.

You wiped the stray tears from your eyes and prepared yourself. You stood with the help of a tree, teetering. Your leg was painfully tender, and your knees rocked under your weight.

It was possible to walk, sure, and it wasn't far on two good legs, but you had largely underestimated the effort you were going to need to get there.

You were going to take a helluva long nap when this was all over.

///

When you made it to the road, you took it upon yourself to sit down at a large stump. The day had faded into night, and you could hear the raccoons shrieking.

Finally, the low rumble of the Impala could be heard over the cicadas. You stood, albeit a little wobbly, and somehow walked closer to the road without limping.

Headlights washed over the ground and made long shadows. Dean's window was rolled down, and his eyes drank you in. Satisfied that you didn't look too roughed up, he motioned to the back door.

Sam had a tight smile. "Hey, I'm sorry about—"

"It's cool," you said. "Seriously. No harm done, I just wanna get back to the motel and shower." Well, yes harm done, but the shower is the escape. I just need to escape for a little while. The last thing you wanted was the Winchesters getting all freaked.

Dean looked at you a little skeptical. "Forgiven that easy? Dude, if he had done that to me I'd've punched him."

Sam scowled at his brother.

You laughed. "Yeah, well, I'm not one for grudges. I know he didn’t mean it." Or did he? Then, you went quiet.

Dean was giving you ‘the look’ in the rearview mirror, and you tried not to acknowledge it, but you could tell that he knew something was off. Did you leave blood somewhere?

"You sure you're okay? You're kinda pale," he questioned.

You wanted to retaliate, to shout, Dean, shut up, I'm literally fine. But then he would know. So you shrugged instead. "I'm cool." You stretched, careful to set your leg somewhere comfortable before resting your head on the window.

The peace didn't last long. The Impala went over a pothole, jostling your leg and you cursed out loud before you could bite your tongue.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"I'm trying to nap back here," you snapped. "You’re shakin' the whole car."

"My bad."

You rolled your eyes.

The rest of the ride went fine. Until you had to get out of the car. You swung your leg around, but when you put pressure on it, you nearly fell on your face. Fortunately, you caught yourself, gingerly shifting your weight onto your other leg.

"I knew it. I knew you were hurt," Dean growled, coming over to haul you up by the shoulder. "Why do you insist on hiding this stuff from us?"

You let him shoulder most of your weight, leaning on him. "Because you baby me!"

"We don't baby you, we make sure you're freaking okay, so we don't screw your injuries up even more. And you're not really the reliable type," Dean said, scowling.

He pulled you into the motel a little roughly. He was irate—the upturn of his lips were not a smile, rather, a sneer. Yeah, he was sick of your crap. You didn’t blame him.

He sat himself on the bed across from you, clapping his hands together. "Let’s see it."

You didn’t move. You needed to explain first. "Dean, before you—"

"No. I don’t want to hear it."

"I was—"

He said you name in a low, warning tone.

Welp. You let your shoulders drop, sulking. "You’re not gonna like it."

"I figured, when you decided not to tell me about it. Show me the damn wound, or so help me—"

"Promise you won’t yell."

"I’m not making promises I can’t keep."

That shut you up. You reached down reluctantly. Rolling up your jeans, you brought your eyes to the wall. You didn’t want to see his face. When he was silent for longer than you were comfortable with, you mumbled, "It was a bear trap."

"Yeah, I’m seeing that," he snapped.

That's when Sam walked in with the bags. His expression crumpled. He murmured your name in alarm, tossing the bags on the adjacent desk. He looked so disappointed in you. "What the hell? You said you were—"

"I was fine. Cool. Yeah, I know. I lied, okay?" you admitted uncomfortably. "You two are just a bit overwhelming sometimes. I was going to tell you—"

"When? When were you going to tell us?" Dean barked.

You knew Dean loved you and was protective, but sometimes he was so pushy. "I don’t—I was handling it, okay?"

Sam’s expressions shifted into realization. "Hold up, did you walk back to the road?"

Dean analyzed you, and did not like his findings. "She did," he announced. "She freaking—" he stood up and disappeared into the bathroom.

You sighed, pulling your head into your hands.

Sam shook his head. "The bear trap would have been in the woods, and we picked you up at the road."

"I took a brief detour, which never would have happened if you hadn’t ditched me!"

Sam snapped his mouth shut.

Dean came out of the bathroom with a med kit. "Lets see how bad this thing is." You stuck your leg out on display, wincing as you placed it on the bed.

Dean dug out the alcohol and cotton balls. Right. He had to sterilize the wound.

Not much missed Dean Winchester. He could read your body language pretty dang well. He watched as you stiffened, and his expression softened. He nodded to Sam, who moved to sit beside you on the bed.

You breathed deep, a slow panic setting in, and it hitched as Sam’s hands fell onto your shoulders. "Relax your shoulders", he said. "It’s going to sting a little, but it's nothing you can’t handle."

Winchesters. In all irony, as much as they left you in the worst freaking moments, they were also there when you needed them afterward.

Or maybe that was just you getting sentimental before Dean agitated a painful wound of yours.

You hissed as he first dabbed the cotton ball onto the lacerations. He wasn’t harsh with it, but he wasn’t gentle, either. His movements had a clinical urgency to them— quick and fluid.

You leaned into Sam’s loose embrace, which tightened a little as you settled yourself.

Dean hummed at his work. "You’re lucky. It worked deep, but it’s nothing that some stitches can’t fix. You’ll have some ugly bruising tomorrow, though."

That was some good news. You sent them a soft smile. "Thanks, guys. Really. I know I can be a bit… secretive. Sorry for that."

"We just want you to open up a little more. That’s all we’re asking."

You huffed a little laugh, then squirmed as Dean drove the needle in for the first stitch. "I wonder who I learned it from."

Dean drove in the next stitch a little harder.

"Hey! Ow! Okay, okay. I'll… open up."

"Good."

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justwritingscibbles · 7 years

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Scribbles Meets Robbie

In celebration of the 2,000 milestone, I got an idea to write a little selfish fic from an ask about me meeting Robbie. For those of you who are new, you probably missed where someone asked what an irrational fear of mine is. Which happens to be Zombies!! And this sounded like fun to write! Hope you enjoy!

(P.S I also tried to leave the character vague, just so it’s still reader insert friendly) (P.P.S And before anyone asks, yes. This is really how I react to people dressed up realistically as the Undead. I do not do well at Halloween festivals)

Even after showering I felt greasy from work. But I was too exhausted to try and wash it off again. I changed quickly, but rather sluggishly, into my sleepwear before stumbling to my bed and curling up under the covers. It was a great relief to be off my feet after an entire day of running around at work. I sighed heavily and scooped up my phone to check for any messages. There were a few from Anti; asking if I was home or if I was able to come by for a visit. I replied that I was indeed home but far too tired to have any sort of social interaction for at least 12 hours. Anti replied almost instantly with a frowny face, but gave no other answer. I sighed and rolled onto my stomach to cuddle my pillow. Closing my eyes just as I heard a loud thump in my living room. Grumbling, but not moving to go investigate, I lifted my head and yelled angrily. “Piss off, Anti. I said I’m too tired!” There came no answer, only another thump and the sound of my coffee table being push a little. Muttering irritably, I forced myself to roll out of bed and go confront the goddamn intruder. “Honestly, do you never use the…door….” I stopped in my tracks as I entered the lounge-room. A man stood in the center. Swaying gently, as if drunk. With his head bowed I could only see the fluff of purple hair atop his head. “Um, excuse me….. who are you?” I asked, not daring to move closer. But refusing to back down from the intruder. I couldn’t see any broken windows. And I always made sure to check the door twice, once locked. So, how did this guy get in?

At the sound of my voice, the man’s head twitched. As if my voice startled him and he now lifted his head. Slowly, like he couldn’t go any faster. My eyes widened and I felt my blood run cold. This man looked sickly, his skin was grey and looked flaky in places. Eyes were wide and staring, pale like two moons amidst a starless night. And he way his mouth hung open a little, moving in slow chewing motions as he looked at me. He looked like a corpse. “Anti…. this isn’t funny.” It was the only thing I could thing of. It was definitely Anti. Or one of the other Septic-Egos. It had Jack’s face, but the hair and eyes were too different. Anti was also the only one who could pull off the dead-gaze stare. It unnerved me when he wasn’t moaning and acting funny. But now, with the pale make-up and stained shirt, I was beginning to shake. I took one step back and the creature growled, the sound froze my movements. “Anti this isn’t fucking funny. Stop it.” I hissed, trying to hide the growing fear in my chest with anger. “I told you to use the door when coming in here!” My voice cracked and something about it made the man’s head twitch again. He started moving forward, more of a stumble then a step. And I was already running as the man started to shuffle faster. His growls and shrieks followed me throughout the house. The man chased after me, slamming into the door I closed to protect myself. I pressed myself against it. Feeling his weight against the door as his nails scratched and clawed at the wood. “Go away!” I screamed. My bare-feet were slipping on the smooth floor, and the walking corpse managed to force an arm between the door as it slowly pushed it open. I looked around for something to defend myself with. Or some sort of escape route. I had run into my bedroom. The one place I didn’t have anything heavy that I could lift. The window was closed and I’d be eaten before I even manged to open the thing. Suddenly, the door was pushed open by a greater force and I was thrown back into the room. The Zombie scrambled into the room, his pale hands reaching for me as I crawled into the corner of the room. My arms flew up to protect myself, my body freezing as I felt his cold breath wash over me. The scream that flew from my lungs was loud enough to make my throat hurt, and my whole body began to shake from breathless cries. “Whoa, Anti you said she’d only be a little scared.” A slow, drawl like voice spoke. “She’s cryin’.” I couldn’t unwind my arms from my head. The tears flowed like rivers and I couldn’t stop the trembling that rocked through my body. A sharp, echoing laugh filled the room as someone entered from the doorway. It was a familiar sound, but it didn’t calm me. Only made feel worse as the cackling continued. “Oh my God, look at her! She shakin’ like a leaf in autumn!” Anti’s voice crackled loudly as he leaned against the wall. Slapping his stomach as he laughed. “Oh blimey! Ya, did good, Robbie. Don’t worry she’ll be fine.” “Fine?” The man, Robbie, said doubtfully. “Look at her, Anti. She’s terrified.” Anti giggled and nodded. “She reacted better than I hoped too. But I suppose childhood trauma would give that reaction.” I sniffled and forced my head to lift. My eyes went straight to the man standing nearest to me. He looked exactly like the Zombie, but his eyes were a normal color and their was a spark of emotion in his gaze. “T-This was a joke?” I asked through a sniffle. “Anti y-you fuck.” Anti giggled and pushed off from the wall to crouch in front of me. “Aww, don’t worry lass. Robbie here isn’t gonna hurt ya. He’s harmless as long as yer feed him.”

I shook my head, breathing deeply to try and calm my racing heart. My chest was tight and it was difficult to breathe at some points. Robbie felt horrible. Anti had explained I was easily scared, but not the type to cry or scream too loudly. But seeing me all curled up, trying to breath and looking as if I had just walked through Hell, made his vision cloud over a little with anger. He had refused to do this at first. Robbie wanted to meet me normally. The next time I came around to visit his brothers. But instead Anti had made Robbie look like a monster. And he didn’t very much like how much it upset me. “Jeez, lass, get over it. It’s just a prank. Zombies aren’t real ya knob, except this one of course… Hey Rob what’s your deal?” Anti asked as he turned to gesture at Robbie. I looked past Anti to look at the new guy. His eyes had turned back to their pale color, but they weren’t dead like before. They were glowing, eyebrows furrowed in an expression of anger. “Hey now, Rob, calm down.” Anti tried. But the Zombie was already racing forward. I yelped as the two clashed, Robbie’s claw like fingers dug into Anti’s shirt as he lifted him up and threw him over the bed. Anti crashed into the wall and was in his feet in an instant. “What the hell, man? What’s your problem?” Anti exclaimed. “She’s fucking fine, ok!” Robbie ignored him and charged forward. Anti ducked his swipe and ran for the open door of the bedroom. The two sprinted through the house until Anti found an open window and leapt through it. Robbie came to a stop by the opening and growled at Anti as he backed away from the house. “Alright, alright! I apologize to her. Just don’t bite me.” Anti snapped, his hands raised and crackling with green energy. “Go….away.” Robbie snarled. His teeth making a loud chomp sound when he spoke. Anti glared but disappeared in a bright flash of green light. Robbie waited by the window, expecting the other man to come back. But after a few minutes, he was satisfied there would be no return. Robbie slowly made his way back to my room. Having not moved the entire time, it wasn’t hard to find me again. I had buried my face in my hands, counting to ten and breathing deeply with each number. Robbie looked around my room and smiled when he found something he could give as a peace offering.

I looked up, startled, when I felt something soft brush my arm. The man, Robbie, had returned. And in his hands, he held out my large Septic Sam plushie. “The start of my apology.” Robbie explained to my confused expression. I wiped my tears from my cheeks and took the plushie to clutch against my chest. “I-It’s not your fault. I know what Anti is like.” I said, trying to sound somewhat normal with my clogged nose. “Thank you for scaring him off though. I hate it when he brags.” Robbie shrugged and took three steps back before slumping to the ground to sit crossed legged on the floor. He returned the smile, somewhat awkwardly. He was still getting use to moving different muscles. “Still, I’m sorry I scared you. I shouldn’t have done that.” I snuggled the plushie and sighed deeply. I was calming down and beginning to think clearly. “So… Jack has a Zombie Ego now?” I asked and Robbie shrugged. About to speak when his arm fell off from the elbow down. We both stared at it for a long moment. Before Robbie seemed to snap into reality about what I just witnessed. “Oh, sorry. This happens when I move too fast or someone pulls on it.” Robbie said as he grabbed his fallen arm with his other hand and tried to push it back together. “I can fix it, hold on.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the bluntness of his explanation. I placed the plushie aside and forced myself to approach Robbie. His limbs were riddled with stitches and bandages. They were obviously Dr. Schneeplestein’s work, and a few were even glowing. “Do you need to patch them back on? Or do they just click into place? I asked, crouching beside Robbie. Who watched me anxiously as I approached. He didn’t want to cause another panic attack, but he would like the assistance. “Henrik usually sews them on and Marvin charms them to heal my dead skin. You don’t need to help if it makes you uncomfortable.” Robbie assured me with a soft smile. I shrugged and got up to get my phone. I punched in Chase’s number and smiled at Robbie. “Naa, you’re ok. Now I know you’re not craving brains, I think we’ll get along ok.”

#robbie the zombie #rob (zombie jack)#scribbles in writing #selfish fic

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