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ambersgems · 1 year

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Bonded - Part 2 - Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Soulmate AU where you can feel your soulmate's emotions. When you meet, usually their name appears on your wrist.

A/N: Please let me know if you'd like this to be continued! Any feedback is appreciated! I also would love requests for anything Dean, Chris Evans characters, or Sebastian Stan characters! It can be blurbs, drabbles, or longer! Oh, also I imagine Dean being around 28/29 here while reader is approaching 25.

Word Count: 2K

Part 1

Dean’s POV

It was a simple case. It was a simple salt and burn. The spirit was going after highly driven authority types. CEOs, things of that nature. The motive was something about powerful people hurting the weak. He didn’t really know. Honestly, he didn’t really care. He just wanted to do what he did best and that was to eliminate this son of a bitch.

The old house creaked under his boots. The brown laces scraped against each floorboard he passed. He could taste the dust that was in the air, causing his chest to tighten slightly from the pollution in his lungs. Sam had decided to cover the back, while he went through the front. He held his flashlight in his left hand and his gun in his right, completing the necessary checks around the perimeter. After an arduous search, they finally found the bones in the basement.

Quickly, he reaches into his duffle bag and grabs the salt, turning it over and covering the bones as his eyes scan around the room. It was odd not to have encountered the spirit yet, but his suspicions were confirmed when he heard a loud crash coming from the top of the stairs, the door had swung shut. A groan leaves his lips dropping his bag, reaching for the shotgun with the rock salt. “Sammy! Burn the bones while I keep ‘em back would ya?!” He yells out, deciding to guard the stairs.

It was all running relatively smoothly, until ole casper decided to pop up out of nowhere. Dean doesn’t think. He just reacts, pumping the shotgun and shooting at the ghost. He would never admit it, but it gave him quite a jump scare. His palms were sweating and his heart was racing as the spirit approached, seemingly impervious to the shots taken by Dean. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest as the shotgun was knocked from his grasp and he was pinned to the grimy cinderblock wall. “Sammy!” he called out, watching him fumble with the match to burn the bones.

Despite the fear that coursed through his body, there was a sense of calm that washed over Dean’s physical body. You. It was you. He could feel you trying to calm him down. While he appreciated it, now was not the time for him to fall into your relaxing state. He fought against it as much as he could, waiting for Sammy to finally finish with the bones.

He let out a sigh of relief as the spirit disappeared, the bones completely destroyed. “Took ya long enough” he grumbled as he tried his best to catch his breath, knowing that you were still trying to soothe him as best as you knew how. He shook his head at the thought. This must be very confusing for you at the very least.

He tried to gather his thoughts as he and Sam took the Impala back to the motel. The drive was quiet between the two brothers, but it was anything but quiet inside of Dean’s head. All he could think about was you.

Dean had felt your emotions for as long as he could remember. The little things and the big things, he could feel them all with a heaviness in his chest. These things were relatively normal for soulmates. But, growing up in the world he did, Dean was also acutely aware of the things in life that were not normal. He knew that being able to help regulate your soulmate’s emotions was not a usual thing. So, he dove into the lore of it all and he found it. He found the term that describes the kind of soulmate that he had.

They were “bonded.” He took a deep dive and learned everything that there was to know about being bonded to his soulmate. It meant that when he met you, his name would form on your wrist, but yours would be written over his heart. Why? Because you were his source of heart. His name would be on your wrist because he was your source of strength. Once he met you, his entire life would change and so would yours.

Dean knew you were trying your best to accommodate him. He could feel you each time you tried to relax him. What was worse, he could feel you suppressing your own emotions. He could only guess it was for his sake, not wanting him to have to feel your pain. He knew you were kind in that way, that your heart for him was greater than any other, which is why your name would appear on his chest one day. Had he known this sooner, he would have left some extra space and not had his anti-possession tattoo placed in the same vicinity. He knew once he met you he would wear your name proudly.

He had a million thoughts racing through his mind as he drove them back to the motel, knowing you must be confused by everything that was happening to you. All he wanted to do was comfort you. He could feel the bristle of your own anxiety when his emotions couldn’t be kept in check.He was sure he woke you with his antics on more than one occasion, and he felt bad for that, but he was starting to calm down with your help. Sometimes he wondered how he would have ever made it without you caring about him, albeit in a roundabout way. No matter what, he could always count on you to be there for him, which isn’t something he could say about most people in his life. This is why he promised himself that once he met you, he would never let anything harm you and he’d never let go.

Trees blurred past his vision as he kept his attention on the highway, thoughts of you in every moment. What did you look like? Were you tall or shorter? Would you be afraid of him and what he does? What was the name of your favorite perfume? He could always smell it himself when you put it on, smell triggering some of the strongest emotions in you. He didn’t know the name, but he wished he could find it and keep it around for when he couldn’t feel your emotions, just to have you with him.

Dean had reached the Age of Choice several years ago now. He no longer had to wait to be with someone else if he wanted to. But that was just it, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be with anyone but you. The one person that he has had with him his entire life, cared about him and never let him down. Sure, he had definitely had his fun over the years. He was no blushing virgin by any means. Funnily enough, when he was with those girls, that was when he was the most emotionally cut off from you. Deep down he knew that he didn’t want to cause you that pain, but he also didn’t feel anything for them. It was a quick way to forget for a moment, but that was all that it was. There were no emotions involved. He knew that he wanted to find you, but he didn’t know how.

By the time that Dean had pulled into the motel parking lot, he knew you were asleep. He could feel the calm lull and lack of anxiety, which told him you probably drifted off after he had steadied himself in the drive.

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

The next morning Dean was woken up with a grunt. Sam threw some clothes at him and yelled at him to get up. “Come on, I found another case!” he shouted, causing Dean to groan and slowly change into his clothes.

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

After a coffee run and a short drive they reached what looked like the average office building. Sam had explained over the drive that there had been another death last night and that they may want to do some poking around to make sure no one else raised suspicion, even if they already had dealt with the spirit.

Upon getting out of Baby, they threw on their FBI jackets and grabbed their badges before walking inside the relatively nondescript building. Dean scanned the room as they walked in, noticing the way each employee’s eyes would flick up to them as they walked past, stopping what they were doing in the process. It was like they were frozen as they watched the men walk to what looked like a receptionist’s desk.

There was a young girl standing there, Dean thought she couldn’t be much older than 18, frantically answering calls and letting people know that, no, her boss wasn't in today and they would have to reschedule. His eyes flicked down to her name tag that read ‘Natalie,’ while they waited for her to acknowledge their presence. Once she seemed to stop panicking on the phone, she attempted to straighten her appearance, smoothing her skirt out with her hands. Dean noticed the blush on her cheeks, knowing she likely found one of them to be attractive. He smirked slightly, taking note that they may be able to use that to get information later.

“Hi Mr. FBI Agents, sirs,” the girl stammered out, “I’m sorry for the mess, but our boss didn’t come in today and his executive assistant is running late,” she explained earnestly.

“Well that’s actually what we’re here for. I’m Agent Jones, and this is Agent Smith, your boss died last night,” Sam says to the girl, watching as her reaction switches to one of shock.

“This executive assistant of his, do you know where she’s at?” Dean questioned, quirking an eyebrow up at her.

“Y/N? You’re looking for Y/N Y/L/N? What would you want with her? I know her, sh- she’d never do anything like that, you don’t have to worry about her!” Natalie states, her breathing becoming erratic the longer she talked. She quickly came to your defense, knowing your character. You had just texted her and told her you were on the way, with not only your boss’ coffee order but hers as well. She knew you would never be capable of anything horrid.

“Woah, woah, woah, nobody is accusing anyone of anything. We’d just like to have a word with her. If she was close to him, then she might have some insight into some questions we’d like to ask. Now, where is she?” Dean asked, his tone becoming a little harsher this time.

The girl merely pointed towards the doors that they had come in through, her hand shaking a bit in fear of repercussions. Dean and Sam watched as a young woman barged through the swinging glass doors. Dean smirked slightly as he saw you maneuver your way around, 3 coffees in hand and without spilling a drop. It was a sight to be seen. He thought it was odd the way it struck him, the grace that you held while simultaneously trading your flats for the heels you had in your bag. He tried his best to keep his expression neutral, though, as you approached them.

It looked as if you really weren't paying attention to them, but once you got closer, Sam spoke up. “You must be Miss Y/L/N?”

Dean noticed the way that your eyebrows raised, watching you intently as you responded “That’s me. Can I ask who you are?” your tone was polite, but he could tell that you were anxious to get past the two of them.

“I’m Agent Smith and this is Agent Jones, we are here to ask you a few questions about your boss,” he replied, instinctively reaching his hand out to grab yours.

He winced as he felt it, a groan escaping his lips and pulling at the fabric of his shirt. Your name began inscribing itself onto his chest, right below his anti-possession tattoo and over his heart. Dean could sense your confusion when you noticed your name wasn’t on his wrist, but his chest. He couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his face, seeing the shock written on your face.

“Well, sweetheart, looks like we’re not only soulmates, we’re bonded. And we need to have a conversation.”

Tagged by Request: @imaginedreamwrite

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winchesterfanatic1967 · 1 year

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The L Word

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,273

Warnings- Season 5 spoilers

You awoke with a deep gasp, your heart pounding and eyes wide. Sitting up and looking around the room you realize that you’re ok. Sam was asleep on the motel bed next to you, while Dean slept peacefully beside you. His chest rose and fell steadily, and you were more than grateful that you didn’t wake either of the boys up.

This hunt had been particularly difficult, and you knew the boys were exhausted and they needed their sleep. You were also exhausted, but the nightmares that usually occurred stopped you from being able to sleep.

The truth is, you were defeated. You and the Winchester brothers were working non stop and it was beginning to be one hunt after the other without a break and casualty after casualty with more lives lost than saved. It was kind of Sam’s fault that the world was coming to an end, but he received so much backlash from everyone you figured he’s been punished enough.

You couldn’t help but sigh softly and buried your face into your hands, then running your fingers through your scalp in frustration. Tears pricked at your eyes and you tried desperately to hold them back. All you wanted to do was sleep and get some well needed rest.

“Y/n? S’matter?”

You looked to your right to see Dean looking at you with squinty and sleepy eyes. Guilt coursed through you. “M’sorry De. Go back to sleep I’m alright.”

“What happened? Another nightmare?”

You look at him confused but he knew you better than you knew yourself. “We share a bed at every motel we stay in, and when we aren’t staying in a motel we’re living in the car. If you think I don’t know you by now or picked up on the fact that you’re not alright, you’re crazy.”

You quietly sigh, and look to your arms that were holding onto your legs. “You’re right. M’not alright. I haven’t been for some time.”

“I know.” He says teasingly with a smile playing onto his lips and yours did the same. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,-” You shook your head. “But..I really should.”

“I know I’m not the best person to talk to or get advice from. Hell, I bottle everything up and explode when I can’t take it anymore, but take it from me. Talking about your issues is way better than letting your mental health go down the drain…”

“I just…I feel like a failure. We’ve lost so many people in the last few years and with everything going on with the apocalypse… I feel like were losing more casualites than actually saving lives..”

The way he was looking at you was making your heart melt. His complete attention was on you, no distractions and every word you spoke you felt more and more comfortable expressing your feelings to him. You should’ve talked to him more, but you were stubborn just like him.

The truth is, your heart belonged to Dean and it always will. You’ve had your fair share of hookups with him and you knew that’s all you would ever get. Let’s face it, hunters don’t get a happy ending and he made it perfectly clear that it was a friends with benefits relationship.

Everytime he got close to someone it ended up in hurt and death. It’s the reason why he and Cassie never worked out, or why he had to walk away from Lisa. He knew he would never be able to get anything real and that’s why it was easy with you. No feelings or strings attached and you knew about the Supernatural so you understood the life.

Everything went well except you broke the number one rule of your friends with benefits relationship. You grew real feelings. Of course you wouldn’t say anything to Dean, because having him as a friend was better than not having him as anything at all.

“I just… I don’t know how to move forward. Trying so hard to save the world everyday and knowing it’s all on our shoulders is putting so much pressure on me. The clock is ticking and we’re running out of time. Jo and Ellen are dead because of us, Bobby can’t walk because of us…at his point I feel as if the world would be a better place without me” Your eyes welled up with tears and you were desperately trying to push them down.

“Hey hey hey, c’mere…” He cooed gently and pulled you into him. You turned to face him and wrapped your arms around his torso while burying your face into the crock of his neck.

He felt the tears sliding against his skin and his heart broke at the silent sobs that racked your body. He was so in love with you and it terrified him. He fell in love with you at the first hello. His past relationships never worked out but he couldn’t hide his adoration for you. He didn’t want to see you get hurt or to lose you so he figured innocent flirting and hooking up would do no harm.

You meant way more to him than just a hookup. He was scared as fuck to tell you especially now. If he told you how he really felt knowing his luck you would die on him tomorrow.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea how wrong you are..” He says softly. “The world would be a worse place without you in it. It would most likely already be destroyed if you weren’t here. No, this isn’t easy and it takes a toll on me too every single day. But I know for a damn fact without you, me, Sam and Bobby..it.. It wouldn’t be half the world it is. No, things aren’t the best with Bobby but unfortunately in our line of work it’s unpredictable and anything can happen at anytime. I really thought I would be dead by now and here I am at 30 alive and kicking. We’re doing our best and I can’t promise that any of us are going to make it through it, but I know for a fact we’re going to stop the apocalypse. If we go down, then we’re going to go down together and swinging…”

Your silent cries turned into tears, which eventually turned into occasional sniffles as he spoke softly. He always knew the right things to say to make you feel better. “Thank you…” You sniffle quietly and he wraps his arms around you tighter.

“I wish our lives were different sweetheart, because I would love to be normal with you…white picket fence with a dog and some kids..”

You look up at him and the amount of vulnerability in his features made your heart flutter. “I want that more than anything too De…I have strong feelings for you and it scares the shit out of me…”

“I, I feel the same way. I want to use the L word so much…because you deserve nothing more than to hear it every day…but I can’t. M’ scared to shit that if I tell you you’ll be taken from me and I can’t…” He took a deep breath.

“It’s okay De. I understand.”

“C’mere.”

You snuggled deep into him as much as you could while burying your face into his neck once more. He placed a kiss to the top of your head while wrapping his arms around you snugly.

“If somehow we do make it out of this…things will be different. I promise.” He spoke and now you had a reason to want to make it through this and live.

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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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spnhunter4life · 2 months

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Bullets and Ballgowns

Summary: In the summer of 1813, the arrival of a new family in Brighton causes much excitement for the townsfolk. Anna Foster is shocked to realize she has already met the elder of the two sons, Dean. As she gets to know the family better, she must fight her feelings for him. Though she finds herself drawn to him, it is impossible that they could ever be together.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Here it is, the first chapter of the regency era fic I promised. Set in England because it just seems wrong to write for this time period in any other location. Thanks to everyone who has shown excitement for it! I hope it doesn't disappoint!

Masterlist

(I have a header put together that will go here eventually, but I'm waiting on permission to use a picture)

Anna Foster was greatly enjoying the ball her parents were hosting. It was a beautiful evening. Despite the late hour, the sky was clear of clouds and the full moon shone bright enough to see clear to the horizon. Their country home located a few miles outside of Brighton thrummed with energy. The windows were cracked to let some of the mild summer air into the warm room. The room itself was occupied by a crowd of people. Gentlemen in suits and ladies in beautiful gowns twirled together on the dance floor, accompanied by the town’s most well-respected musicians. Even more people lingered around the edges of the room, chatting amongst themselves and admiring the dancers. It was an overall pleasant and joyful way to end the day.

There was always a great deal of excitement surrounding any ball, but this one was doubly exciting for the town, and Anna’s mother in particular. A new family had moved to town today and would make an appearance at the ball. A wealthy man with his wife and two eligible sons. Naturally, everyone was quite anxious to meet the new family – particularly mothers with eligible daughters – but none more so than Anna’s mother. She had been a ball of excitement since the announcement of the new family’s arrival several weeks ago and had been nearly literally bursting with joyful anticipation today. Anna could do nothing but shake her head and smile fondly.

She was just finishing a dance with Mr. Littleton – a sweet older gentleman who spent each ball dancing with as many ladies as he could, determined that none should be left out – when the sudden outbreak of whispers in the room alerted her to the new arrivals. She curtsied to Mr. Littleton and retreated to the edge of the room, taking up a position next to her friend Charlotte near the door to watch the unfolding excitement.

As tonight’s hosts, Anna’s parents were, of course, the first to greet the new family. They were already standing beside the newcomers, welcoming them not only to their home, but to the town. As the family of four made their way further into the room, Anna found herself staring curiously at them, much the same as everyone else. Her eyes flitted over the line they had formed, first the father, then the mother, and then the two sons.

Mr. and Mrs. Winchester were quite an attractive pair. He was tall with dark hair and had a certain ruggedness about him. Her blonde hair and slighter build complemented him well. And it appeared their good looks had been passed on to their two sons. It was hard to say which was older, but the one standing next to their mother was taller. His brown hair was on the longer side and fell attractively around his eyes. He had a friendly smile that Anna was sure would have caught the attention of girls even if he did not come from a good family with money. The second son was just as attractive, maybe more so. Though he wasn’t as tall as his brother, he was by no means short. His hair was shorter and a lighter shade of brown and he wore an equally charming and friendly smile. Anna felt the blood drain from her face at the sight of him.

Why was he here? How could this be happening? He was a stranger from London, one of thousands of people there. How could he be here of all places? Surely he must have been sent here to torment her, to remind her of that night.

“They are quite handsome,” Charlotte noted of the sons. “I suppose that means the fight for their affections will be even more fierce than expected.” She was not upset or bitter about this fact, merely making an observation. Charlotte did not fall all over herself anytime a new eligible man came to town. She was as eager to be married as any young lady, but she was determined to marry for love. Therefore she had no interest in the Winchesters at present beyond perhaps a desire to get to know them.

Managing a calm that she did not feel, Anna agreed with her. Her hand twisted nervously in the skirt of her gown as she watched her parents. The musicians started up a new song and couples shuffled off to the dance floor, no doubt still keeping a curious eye on the newcomers.

“Anna, darling, come here,” her mother requested when she noticed her standing nearby. She was absolutely beaming, smiling so widely it looked like it hurt. Even though she dreaded what might happen, Anna obeyed immediately, coming to stand next to her mother who wasted no time before getting to introductions.

“This is my daughter, Anna.” Anna said a polite hello as she curtsied. “Anna, this is Mrs. Winchester,” she continued giddily. “My childhood best friend I’ve told you so much about.”

She had indeed told Anna much about Mary Winchester, and always spoke of the other woman fondly. Mary had moved to London with her husband shortly after marrying, and Mrs. Foster had missed her friend dearly. Anna had never seen her so happy as the day she learned they were soon to be neighbors.

“This is her husband Mr. Winchester. And their sons, Sam and Dean,” Mrs. Foster finished. All three gentlemen bowed as they were introduced.

“How do you do?” Anna asked. “I hope you are finding Brighton to your satisfaction.”

“We've only been here but an hour or two, but my dear Mary is quite excited to be back,” Mr. Winchester said. “I must admit, I do have fond memories of the place myself and I believe we are both hoping Sam and Dean will grow to love it here as much as we once did.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Anna answered.

“I hope your expectations haven't been raised too much,” Mrs. Foster said to the younger Winchesters. “For while I find it hard to believe anyone could not be pleased with this fine city of ours, I find expectation a hard thing to live up to.”

“I don't doubt that we should be very happy here,” Dean answered with a polite smile. Anna forced herself to maintain eye contact as their gazes met. She saw no recognition on his face and couldn't decide whether to be relieved or disappointed.

“Come now, dear,” Anna's father interjected. “Surely Mr. Winchester and his family should like to make the rounds to reacquaint themselves with old friends and meet their new neighbors. We mustn't keep them to ourselves all night.”

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Foster immediately agreed. “Shall I introduce you to the Baileys? They are your closest neighbors.”

“I should like to make their acquaintance, but first I think we're forgetting something rather important,” Mrs. Winchester said. “We have not given either of my sons the opportunity to ask your daughter for a dance.”

Anna's heart started to race. Surely she would be allowed a little more time to settle her nerves before being thrown into a dance with this man.

“I assure you I would not mind if you wished to make a few more acquaintances before being thrown straight into the dancing.”

“Nonsense. It would be poor manners indeed not to ask for a dance from such a lovely new acquaintance, especially one whose family is graciously hosting this ball,” Mrs. Winchester insisted.

Before Anna could protest further, someone else spoke up.

“Would you do me the honor of dancing the next with me, Miss Foster?” It was Sam, and he wore a smile Anna recognized well, full of apologetic exasperation and fondness.

“I would love to,” Anna agreed immediately, smiling back at him. She was relieved it had been him who asked and not his brother.

As her parents took the Winchesters off to meet more people, Anna made her way back over to Charlotte.

“Well then, are they deserving of all the attention they’ll no doubt be getting from every eligible lady around?” Charlotte asked immediately. She was nothing if not to the point.

“I hardly know,” Anna answered. “I only spoke to them for a moment. I daresay they do appear to be quite kind though. I am to dance the next with the younger Mr. Winchester. I shall give you a better formed opinion after.”

“Wonderful,” Charlotte said. She sighed wistfully. “I do hope at least one of them has a character as lovely as his face is handsome.”

Anna smiled. “That would be quite lovely indeed. But of course nothing less could ever be deserving of you.”

As the two girls talked, Anna noticed Dean excuse himself from the conversation with the Baileys and make his way across the room. He stopped beside George Young and they warmly clasped hands. George had just returned home from university and Anna assumed that must be how they knew each other.

“Anna, you’re staring,” Charlotte informed her gently. Anna blinked in surprise before turning back to her friend, feeling a rush of heat to her cheeks.

“What is going on with you?” Charlotte asked. She sounded torn between concern and amusement. “I thought I detected a hint of unease when you saw his family tonight, but I dismissed it as nerves. But now to catch you staring as well. That’s not like you.” She paused, waiting for Anna to respond. When she didn’t, Charlotte continued. “He is very handsome. Perhaps you find him particularly so? Should I focus my attentions on the other brother then?” The ‘assuming he’s worth paying attention too’ went unspoken.

“No, it’s not that,” Anna protested. “I mean, he is quite handsome. But you know as well as I that I could not hope to be pursued by him even if I wished it. It is only…” Charlotte waited patiently for her to finish her thought. Anna sighed, steeling herself to admit something she had hoped never to speak of. If anyone deserved to know though, Charlotte did. “It is only that I’ve met him before. And I am quite ashamed of the way I behaved.”

Charlotte seemed puzzled by this news. They usually confided in each other quite openly after all. It wasn’t usual for something to happen, especially something big enough to cause discomfort at the mere mention of it, that the other was unaware of.

“What happened?”

“Nothing I want to speak of in such a public place,” Anna replied. “But I promise to tell you soon.”

“Alright,” Charlotte agreed worriedly. The closing notes of the song rang through the room and Anna saw Sam excusing himself from the small group of people he was talking to. “But… everything is alright?”

“Everything is alright,” Anna assured her.

Sam stopped in front of them with a bow and offered his hand to Anna. She took it and he escorted her to the dance floor where they lined up with the other couples.

“How are you enjoying your evening so far Miss Foster?” He asked as the musicians started up with the next song and they moved together in the first steps of the dance.

“Very well,” Anna answered. “Although I think it is unlikely for anyone to feel otherwise at a ball.”

“Yes, I believe you are right,” he agreed. Anna glanced around and saw all the ladies who were not currently dancing eyeing either her and Sam or Dean.

“I suppose you have a long night ahead of you dancing with every eligible lady in the room,” she said sympathetically. She did not know of anyone who did not enjoy dancing, but to be new to town and expected to get to know everyone through an endless stream of dances seemed rather tiring. “I should be happy to make introductions for you if anyone catches your eye. Or if at any point you need a break from all the dancing, I shall brave the displeasure of all the young ladies here and sit and talk with you.”

He smiled widely. “A very generous offer.” He was either amused or grateful. Possibly both, Anna couldn’t tell for sure. They danced in silence for a few moments before Sam spoke again. “I must apologize for being so quick to ask for a dance when I know it’s possible you would have preferred the invitation to come from my brother.”

“Why should I have preferred that?” She asked calmly, desperately hoping it hadn’t been that painfully obvious how nervous his older brother made her.

“Well, as the eldest son he is a better prospect than me. I shouldn’t blame you if you would prefer to get to know him.”

She supposed that was true enough, but why anyone would turn their nose down at Sam – who seemed to be a very kind, well-mannered man – simply because he was not the oldest was a mystery to her. He was still a very advantageous match.

“I do wish to get to know him,” she answered truthfully. “I have actually been quite anxious to make both of your acquaintances. But not in the hopes of securing an offer from either of you.” He looked at her questioningly, so she continued. “It means a great deal to my mother that all of us get along.”

“Ah,” Sam said, the understanding clear on his face.

“So no, I am not offended that you offered me a dance before your brother could. I should not feel slighted in the least to not dance with him at all tonight. I believe there shall be ample opportunity for us to talk in the future.”

“That may be true, but you can be assured you will not have to wait until after tonight for a chance to talk to him. Our friendship means a great deal to my mother as well, and she would not hear of us leaving here tonight without both of us having had at least one dance with you.”

Anna chuckled. “It should not surprise me to hear that your mother and my own appear to have a great deal in common.”

“No, it should not,” Sam agreed with a smile. He hesitated a moment before speaking again. “I hope it is not too forward of me to say I am glad that the young lady our mother so dearly wants us to become closely acquainted with is you. Though I do not know you well, I daresay I think it shall be quite easy to be your friend.”

“I quite agree Mr. Winchester. You appear to be just what I might look for in a friend.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

They chatted quite contentedly for the remainder of the dance, at the end of which he escorted her back to Charlotte’s side.

“Might you introduce me to your friend, Miss Foster?” Sam asked politely.

“Of course,” Anna agreed. Well, she thought, now Charlotte can form her own opinion of the man. “This is my good friend Charlotte Thompson. This is Mr. Winchester.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Charlotte said.

“The pleasure is mine,” Sam replied. “Would you like to dance, Miss Thompson?”

“I thank you, yes,” Charlotte agreed, taking the hand Sam offered her.

The pair walked off, leaving Anna by herself. She retreated to the refreshment table, grabbing a glass of lemonade for herself. She noticed a small group of ladies gathered together in one corner of the room and was about to join them when a gentleman stopped her.

“Miss Foster,” he said. She turned to see Mr. Winchester grabbing a glass off the table. “Pardon me. I don’t mean to keep you from enjoying your evening.”

“Not at all,” she assured him. He took a sip of his lemonade, looking around the room as he did so.

“This is quite a lively ball your parents have put on tonight. My family and I are quite pleased to have such an event to attend on our very first night here.”

“As we are all quite pleased to have you here,” Anna said. He smiled.

“I think it will not come as a surprise to you to hear that my wife dearly wishes to get to know you,” he told her. “While I fear it will be some time before we host an event as grand as this, we should be settled enough in a few days' time to host small gatherings. I tell you this so you can know to expect a more formal invitation from my wife very soon as you are no doubt at the very top of her list of people to invite.”

“I thank you for telling me. And if Mrs. Winchester should ask, you may inform her that I look forward to forming a better acquaintance with her as well.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Winchester said gratefully. “I shall detain you no longer from your evening.” With that, he bowed and returned to his wife’s side.

The next couple of hours passed by just as pleasantly as the first couple. Anna danced several more times with several different gentlemen. When she was not dancing, she chatted with her friends. She and Charlotte were in agreement about Sam being a very pleasant fellow to be around, but Charlotte did not seem any more taken with him than she did any of the other gentlemen of the town.

Sam stayed quite busy dancing with various ladies but did take her up on her offer of talking when he needed a break. He spent some time acquainting himself with the gentlemen as well. His brother, while seemingly not quite as inclined to dance as him, still spent a fair amount of time escorting ladies to the dancefloor. He still had not asked her for a dance though, despite Sam’s assurance that he would. She was fine with that. The more time she had to steady herself before facing him, the better.

It was nearing the end of the evening, the musicians expected to play only three more songs when he finally approached her. He stopped in front of the group of four ladies she was talking to with a polite bow.

“Forgive the interruption, but I was wondering if I might borrow Miss Foster for a dance.”

Her friends looked to her in question. “I would be delighted,” she told him. Charlotte gave her a reassuring smile as she walked with him to the dance floor.

As the dance began, she found herself unable to stop from speaking the first words that came to her mind. “I was beginning to think I would not be offered a dance with you this evening after all, Mr. Winchester.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean to say you’ve been expecting an invitation all night?” Anna cringed internally. What an incredibly presumptuous thing to say. “If that is the case, I apologize for keeping you waiting so long. And for causing doubt that I, or any gentleman, would not wish to dance with you.”

“You misunderstand me,” she hurried to explain. “I did not mean to imply that I myself had any expectations. Indeed, if you ask your brother, you’ll find I had none at all. He assured me, however, that your mother would be rather displeased if the evening ended without both of her sons acquainting themselves with her friend’s daughter.”

“I see,” he answered casually. “So you are under the impression that I have asked to dance with you because my mother wished it, and that my own feelings had no influence on the matter.”

Up until now, the dance had required no physical contact between partners. They now reached the part where they were to clasp hands together as they made their way from one end of the lined up dancers to the other. His touch sent a jolt through her that she had not experienced with any of her other partners. She felt flushed as the contact reminded her of her actions on that night several months ago. Luckily any redness in her cheeks could be blamed on the exertion of the dance.

“My mother would be flattered to hear you have such a high opinion of her ability to influence my actions, but I am no longer a boy required to obey every wish of his mother’s. I asked you for a dance because it was my own desire, not anyone else’s.”

Anna could not deny the sincerity she felt in his words. Not being able to come up with a response to this declaration, she decided to change the subject.

“I asked your brother for his opinion on your family’s move to Brighton.” At the other end of the row of dancers now, they detached themselves and took their places back in line. “He confessed himself torn between an eagerness to know the people and sights here, and a sadness at the loss of his old home.”

“And you find this odd?”

“On the contrary. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to leave the only home you’ve ever known. Of course there must be excitement at meeting new people and experiencing new places. But that can only soften the feeling of loss so much.”

“That is very insightful of you,” Dean said. They clasped hands again as they began to weave in and out of the other couples.

“Perhaps not so insightful as you might think,” she disagreed. “I rather think every woman contemplates the difficulties, or perhaps in some cases joys, of leaving home, given that once she is married it is possible she will be settled quite far from her family.”

“And once you are married, what would you wish?” He asked. “To be near your family or to have a new city to explore?”

“I believe I should be content with either,” she answered, “assuming I am close enough to visit my family on occasion.” The topic of her marriage wasn’t one she wanted to dwell on right now, so she steered the conversation back to her original point. “What of you? Do you share your brother’s feelings?”

“I do not,” he answered. “But perhaps that is because I am only to spend the summer here with my family. After that I shall move into a place of my own.”

Of course. Sam had mentioned that he had just finished school. It only made sense that he would be preparing to start his own life then, a house being the first step before starting a family.

“And where do you plan on settling?” Anna asked.

“I do not know yet,” he answered as they came to a momentary stop, allowing the couples on either side of them to circle them as they waited their turn to do the same. “I hope to find a place in the country, just outside of London. I admit I have not seen much of the world, but I do not believe there could be a better place to live.”

They started moving again as Anna considered her reply. “I hope you are able to find the sort of home you are looking for.”

They spent the remainder of the dance discussing such things as how the Winchesters’ journey from London was, upcoming social events, and their families. It was a surprise to Anna when the music came to an end. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed. They walked together to the edge of the room, out of the way of the couples who were lining up for the next dance.

“Thank you for the dance, Miss Foster. I look forward to seeing you again.”

Before Anna could reply, she became aware of the presence of another person stopping beside her.

“Good evening,” the new person said. Anna recognized his voice immediately. William Sanders. Her heart sank a little, but she kept a polite smile on her face. “I had meant to speak with you earlier, but I fear I got caught up talking with Mr. Wilson and Mr. Collins about tomorrow’s race,” he informed her. Then, as if just noticing she was not alone, he added, “Oh. I see you are already engaged in conversation. Would you introduce me?”

“This is Mr. Winchester. His family just moved here from London. This is Mr. Sanders.”

“Ah, yes,” Mr. Sanders said. “I had heard a new family was moving to town. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Yours as well,” Dean agreed.

Never one for small talk, William appeared to consider the conversation over. He turned his attention back to Anna and his original purpose in approaching. “I do hope I am not too late in asking you to join me in the last dance this evening. Have no fear, if you have already promised the dance to another I will not be upset, for I have only myself to blame. I do believe it would be quite unfortunate if I did not dance at least once with the woman I am to marry though, particularly at a ball thrown in her own home.”

“You are quite right,” she agreed, determinedly ignoring the surprise she saw briefly cross Dean’s face. “And as it happens, I have no partner for the final dance, so you needn’t worry.”

“Very good. I shall return to you in time for the dance then,” he informed her before walking away.

“I should return to my family,” Dean said when he was gone. “We had a long journey today, and while she would never admit it to anyone, I believe my mother is quite tired and would like to return home and rest. Good night, Miss Foster.”

Anna wished him a good night in return and watched as he walked away. She couldn’t help but feel like something about this last interaction was off, strained. She could come up with no explanation as to why she felt this way though. He had been perfectly polite and had already been about to leave her side before William showed up. Why, then, could she not shake the feeling that something about their short interaction had caused Dean’s departure? With a frustrated sigh, she forced these thoughts from her mind and took some time to catch her breath before the next dance started.

Chapter 2

Tags: @123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @aylacavebear

#bullets and ballgowns #fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #mary winchester #original characters #original female character #dean winchester x ofc #regency era #non hunting au

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samlacy · 2 months

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Masterlist & Intro

HELLO!! My name is ila (for short, ilan also works idc tbh^^)

I am a HUGE reader and part time writer :)

I highly suggest to check the tags before reading my fics because I mostly write angst with a side of smut

REQUESTS : OPEN

Im multifandom, which means I write about marvel, supernatural, csm, etc.!!

I write ships AND x readers, just request!!

Okay enough about me, here is the masterlist

MARVEL

**ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE

- Hobie Brown

• Sunsets at the beach (red dots I fell inlove with)

Angst & Hurt no comfort / x reader

• Your Only Flaw Is That You‘re Flawless

Angst & Hurt no comfort / x reader

• False pleasure (I will be good for you)

Semi-Angst & Smut/ x reader

• Hot Man

Drabble / x reader

• Apron

Fluff / x reader

**AVENGERS

- Steve Rogers

• Love Me, Touch me (be the first who ever did)

Smut / Virgin!Reader

• Tall Baby

Smut / x reader

• Thighs

Smut / x reader

- Tony Stark

• …

ORIGINAL WORK

- MLM (men love men)

• Don’t Leave Me Here (Shivering In The Disappearance Of Your Warmth)

Angst / slight smut

SUPERNATURAL

- Castiel

• Let me go, I’m starving

Sastiel (SamxCastiel) / Smut & Angst

- Sam Winchester

• Let me go, I’m starving

Sastiel (SamxCastiel) / Smut & Angst

• One Last Time

Sabriel (GabrielxSam) / Smut

- Dean Winchester

• …

- Gabriel

• One Last Time

Sabriel (GabrielxSam) / Smut

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gingernut1314 · 2 years

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Dating Crowley would include...pt.3

Crowley x F!Reader

Summary: What would dating the fearsome King of Hell be like?

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 336

↞ to supernatural masterlist ~ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Sam and Dean can’t wrap their heads around you wanting to be with Crowley

It seems like every time you see them they let you know this

They would tell you how much better you deserve

You would tell them he is more than you deserve

And that no human guy would be able to afford you

Have they seen your Jimmy Choo heels? Your Mouawad handbag?

If you are a hunter, they would be even more flabbergasted, maybe even a little angry at you

You would have a very strange relationship with the Winchesters

Because not only are you dating their greatest enemy but you’re too nice

You’re even too nice to other demons who are literal serial killers

They wouldn’t know if you were friend or foe

You wouldn’t know either

But ultimately, your love for Crowley would outweigh any kind of decision you would have to make

But what the Winchesters don’t know is how much of a psychopath you really are

It’s part of the reason Crowley was drawn to you

Because he’s seen you rip into a man only to turn around with the brightest of smiles on your face, blood splattered here and there, and then go about your day as if nothing had happened

It doesn’t help your strained, strange friendship with the Winchesters when Crowley comes home full of bullet holes

You helped Crowley pick out that suit and now its blood stained and holey

And do those two idiots even know how expensive that suit was?

The short answer is no

You would have a just as equally strange friendship with Castiel

Crowley and him used to work together after all

You couldn’t help but be friendly with the angel

And you absolutely love how clueless Castiel is

Talking with him always gives you a good laugh

But after his whole stunt playing God and his horribly ended work partnership with Crowley, it got very strange

You still enjoy a conversation with the angel here and there

Crowley allows it because he loves any reason to try and get under the angel’s and the Winchesters’ skin

Pervious | Next

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sweet-heart-jack · 1 year

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Made a plus size page where I'll be writing characters x plus size OC's so please go check it out and follow me

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princessmisery666 · 2 years

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Samnesia - Master List

Summary: Brooke is a calming distraction from the chaotic mess of Sam's life. When a hunt keeps them separated for over a month, Sam returns to find she no longer remembers him. The need to find out what happened while he was gone sends Sam on a case that will change the course of his life. What he discovers along the way will change the way he looks at love.

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, slow burn, language, stalking, mentions of cheating, kidnapping, shitty friend, canon level violence mentioned.

W/C: 54k (11 Chapters)

Rating: E (explicit - 18+)

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Rowena McLeod, brief - Mary Winchester, OFC, OC’s.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x OFC (Brooke)

Notes: set around season 14. Chapters 1-8 flick between “then” and “now” but all in timeline order and labelled.

A/N: This has been a labor of love since 2019. I wanted it to be perfect and finished before I started posting. Thanks to @slytherkins it's perfect to me and finally finished.

Betas: @slytherkins // @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own.

Special shoutout to: @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba // @manawhaat - who took a look, offered encouragement and helped at some point during the creation.

Graphics: all made by the wonderful and talented @talesmaniac89

Series Complete

Prologue - Questionable Decisions

Now: Sam has to explain to Brooke and Dean why he kidnapped her.

W/C: 1.9k Warnings: angst, language, kidnapping.

Chapter 1 - Photographs

Now: Sam has to convince Brooke that he kidnapped her for her safety.

Then: Sam wants a quiet night but ends up rescuing Brooke.

W/C: 4.2k Warnings: angst, fluff, kidnapping, shitty friend.

Chapter 2 - The Cheek

Now: Brooke decides to trust Sam.

Then: Brooke gets stood up, but Sam is there to save her night.

W/C: 5k Warnings: angst, fluff, slow burn, language, stood up.

Chapter 3 - Girls' Night

Now: Sam and Dean try to narrow down the cause of Brooke’s memory loss.

Then: Sam and Brooke share their first kiss and get to know each other a little better.

W/C: 5.4k Warnings: slow burn, fluff, angst.

Chapter 4 - Expectations

Then: Sam makes Brooke dinner, and they discuss what they want from their relationship. Dean invites himself to meet Brooke.

W/C: 7k Warnings: fluff, angst, slow burn, very mild smut.

Chapter 5 - Confessions

Now: Brooke hints at knowing there’s something Sam isn’t telling her but she doesn’t want to deal with it right now, instead wanting to hear more about her and Sam. Sam tells Brooke the truth about the Supernatural, how will she take it?

Then: Free of all interruptions Sam and Brooke finally get to be intimate.

W/C: 7.6k Warnings: smut, slow burn, fluff, angst.

Chapter 6 - Calm The Chaos

Then: Settled into a sporadic routine Sam and Brooke spend as much time together as they can. Until Brooke realizes her stalker isn’t who she suspected, and it all becomes too much.

W/C: 4.4k Warnings: angst, stalking, fluff.

Chapter 7 - Cold Shoulder

Now: The timing is off and Sam doesn’t want to tell Brooke how he feels but actions speak louder than words.

Then: Drunk phone calls lead to a confession, but Brooke unexpectedly gives Sam the cold shoulder.

W/C: 4.8k Warnings: angst, fluff, argument, love confessions.

Chapter 8 - Poker Face

Now: Sam’s frustrated that he’s no closer to figuring out the cause of Brooke’s amnesia. Could a friendly game of poker with Dean reveal the answer?

Then: Sam tracks down Brooke to find out why she’s giving him the cold shoulder, and he doesn’t like what he finds.

W/C: 4.6k Warnings: angst, confrontation, kidnapping.

Chapter 9 - Misplaced Intentions

Now: Brooke loses more than her memory, but finally, they have answers. How is Rowena connected? And more importantly, can she restore Brooke’s memory?

W/C: 5.5k Warnings: house fire, shitty friend, angst, fluff, Rowena being the badass she is, canon-type violence.

Chapter 10 - Magical

Now: Sam has to make the decision of how much he wants Brooke to remember. Is it too much of a risk to have her remember everything?

W/C: 4.3k Warnings: mostly fluff, bit of angst, happy ending.

Master Lists: Sam Winchester // All The Fandoms

#samnesia #long post #sam winchester #supernatural #spn #sam winchester x ofc #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x original female character #slow burn #fluff #angst #canon divergent #dean winchester #smut #amnesia

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galacticwildfire · 2 years

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Bobby's Daughter | Dean Winchester

Dean Winchester x Original Female Character

Dean and Stevie Singer have been inseparable since childhood. Now with Sam away at college and with their fathers no longer speaking they crave one another more than ever, and find that love they have for one another has changed as they’ve grown older.

When the demon who killed Stevie’s mother comes for her, Dean makes the decision to disobey his father’s orders to go after her, and the two of them hit the road, unable to deny what’s between them any longer.

Only to discover Azazel has the same fate planned for Stevie as Mary, which causes Dean to make a decision he can never take back while she herself battles with the most important decision of her life.

Both of them willing to do whatever it takes for their family, even if it means they hate each other forever.

A/N - Starts in 2002 with young Dean and Stevie, then jumps to season one and will continue through the first seasons loosely following canon.

Under construction/being rewritten

#dean fanfiction #dean winchester #dean #dean winchester x original character #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction #bobby singer #sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #wildfirewildflower #bobby's daughter #jensen ackles #dean winchester x female original character #fanfiction #smut

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emisanemu · 2 years

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I Need Requests

I mainly work with supernatural characters right now but I’m looking to open up to the walking dead and the avengers.

I will write smut and will incorporate some kinks such as bdsm, sub and dom dynamics, biting and hickies, oral fixations, and am open to hearing kink suggestions. I also will work with rough topics and explore the nature of those topics to the best of my ability. Fluff and angst are also totally fine.

I do not write bathroom kinks, incest, abuse, underage characters in suggestive situations, non con is a definite no, nothing that can be considered illegal and no blood or death kinks. But again if there is something you’d like me to consider please tell me in your request and I’ll do research and make my decision.

Characters I write for:

Supernatural: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Gabriel, Crowley, Rowena, Charlie Bradbury, Jack Kline, John Winchester, Gadreel, Samandriel.

The Walking Dead: Rick Grimes, Glenn Rhee, Maggie Greene, Daryl Dixon, Michonne.

The Avengers: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, Piertro Maximoff, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, adult Peter Parker, Thor Odinson, Loki.

(Note that I am open for character suggestions)

Characters I will NOT write for:

Supernatural: Lucifer, Metatron, Dick Roman.

The Walking Dead: Shane Walsh, Negan, Dwight, The Governor, Lori Grimes, Andrea.

The avengers: Ultron, underage Peter Parker, Starlord, Thanos.

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pascaloverx · 25 days

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Sweet Love

Summary: You're an up-and-coming writer, congratulations. To protect your beloved job, you're willing to do anything. Even strike a deal with the devil, better known as your sister's neighbor. You and Dean Winchester don't really see eye to eye, but in a moment of desperation, you agree to collaborate with him for a greater good.

Author's Notes: Many characters do not belong to me but to the Supernatural Universe (2005-2020). I hope you enjoy the fanfic's story. The fanfic will contain strong language and future adult content.

chapter one chapter three

CHAPTER TWO

It's been two days since you made your agreement with Dean, and there's no sign of him. You even thought about going to him, but he always seems to be busy screwing someone. Literally. Yesterday, a beautiful man left his apartment, and you gave up on going to Dean's place because you swore it was Castiel. Well, to put it briefly, Castiel is Dean's great love story. At least, that's what you think. When you moved into your sister's apartment, Castiel lived with Dean. They seemed like quite the couple, even though officially they said they were having a "casual thing." But about a year ago, Castiel broke up with Dean. Rumors say Castiel wanted emotional commitment, and that's Dean's biggest nightmare. So when you saw a handsome man very similar to Castiel and wearing a trench coat like Castiel used to wear, you thought they had made amends. But in the end, it wasn't Castiel. This makes you sure that Dean is avoiding helping you. It could be because he's quite stupid when he wants to be, or because he didn't see any benefit in helping you.

You then decide to try writing the long-awaited smut, describing how the male protagonist's skin smells like men's deodorant and cheap moisturizer, and how the female protagonist is intrigued by the male protagonist's eyes. You try and try, but your protagonists don't seem to want a physical connection. If only your publisher would accept this. But you're just a few steps away from becoming permanently unemployed. So, wearing a somewhat revealing nightgown and your Stitch slippers, you practically run to Dean's apartment door. But you can't bring yourself to knock on his door; courage is lacking. Or perhaps you feel humiliated. You turn around, thinking about what you'll have to do to apply for any other job. Or how it will be to move back in with your mother when you're already too old for it to seem like a viable option.

"Do you make a habit of standing in front of other people's apartments?" Dean Winchester asks, opening the door to his apartment. You turn around delicately as if caught off guard. The feeling of embarrassment washes over you.

"No, actually, it's something I exclusively do with you, sweetheart. Can you explain why you gave up on helping me?" You speak, feigning confidence. Dean looks you up and down.

"You're going to regret this, you know?" Dean says boastfully as I walk further and further out of his apartment, you noticing that he's in a bathrobe and him apparently noticing that you're in a nightgown.

"Dean, I'm not a little girl. You don't need to protect me. I just want you to help me. Do you understand this?" You get closer to him. Your face getting closer to his. You feel the strange need to kiss him.

"Sam thinks our partnership is a bad idea. According to him, I'm taking advantage of the fact that your sister is away to try to lead you down the wrong path." Dean tries to explain the reason why he hasn't helped you yet.

"Is he right?" You ask, smiling mischievously as you keep your eyes locked on Dean's. He looks at you, as if calculating what answer to give you. You presume he's undecided between lying or not. In reality, it means he wants to take advantage of you.

"Probably is. The problem is, everyone knows you and me, it's not gonna work out. Either you'll give up on me, or I'll mess everything up." He says, looking intensely at you, as you hold onto the edge of the robe he's wearing and bring your faces closer together.

"I didn't come here to play cat and mouse with you, Winchester. Now, tell me how to start a romantic story with a bit of sexual tension and forget your worries." You say, cutting straight to the point.

"What are we doing now. Analyzing each other halfway between our apartments. Casually wondering if it wouldn't be interesting to take off the few pieces of clothing we're wearing?" Dean's suggestion sounds good, but in your head it sounds like a warning. What you and he are doing is building sexual tension. Analyzing each other's bodies, observing details such as what they are wearing and moving closer and closer.

"Are you saying this is the method you're going to use to help me? Try to fuck me?" You say, moving away from him a little and coughing falsely. That was letting you embarrassed, in a good way.

"What better way than to practice with you? Write about what you're experiencing right now, about your filthiest thoughts about me, you, and the floor of my house. Maybe the shower, or the mattress?" Dean says, approaching you step by step, making you lose your breath. Your head lightly knocks on your door. Or rather at the door of your sister's apartment.

"What's the next step in your help?" You speak almost in a whisper next to Dean who is face to face with you. His fingers then lightly travel around your waist, holding you steady. He wants to tease you.

"Imagine that your character is going to do exactly what I'm doing, seduction works like that. But something good about seduction is knowing when to do things. Now it would be easy to win you over but leaving you eager for more, it's much better. " Dean says, letting go of your waist and composing himself.

"You're more useful than you seem. I hope you know you're going to need more than that if you want to help me with this book." You say trying not to seem affected by him.

"Get ready, kitten. I know very well how to help you. Just try to take it to the professional. I don't know how to deal with people who are in love with me." Dean says smiling and you roll your eyes. How arrogant he is.

"I'll see you tomorrow, idiot." You say, opening the door to your sister's apartment and closing it in Dean's face. You then run to get your computer and write down everything about what just happened.

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #spotify #female reader #dean x you #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural characters #supernatural series #supernatural x reader #angst #smut #sam winchester #mary winchester #castiel #Spotify

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ambersgems · 1 year

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Bonded - Part 3 - Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Soulmate AU where you can feel your soulmate's emotions. When you meet, usually their name appears on your wrist.

Word Count: 2.7K

Part 1 Part 2

Reader’s POV

Bonded. That was the term he used to describe you and him. It was a term you had never really heard much about before. Sure, you had heard legends of true mates, but that’s just what they were, legends. Your head was spinning as the green-eyed man, you now knew as Dean, carefully approached you with what looked to be a mixture of both concern and amusement on his face. You didn’t have much time to study him before feeling his hands on your face, jumping slightly at the contact. His hands were cupping your cheeks at first, causing you to feel the roughness of them while he seemingly studied your features. Your gaze was cast downward slightly, as he was much taller than you, but you could feel his eyes taking in every aspect of your face. More than you could feel his hands on your face, feeling him tilt your head up towards him, you could feel the warmth in your chest. It was from him. You could physically feel the adoration buzzing within his body, and to be honest it didn’t make much sense to you.

Your eyes flickered upward, seeing the same look on his face that you were feeling in your chest. He was committing your every feature to memory. The color of your eyes, the shape of your face, everything. Before you could convince yourself to say anything, you felt his fingers slide past your face and thread through your hair, slightly messing up the work you did this morning on taming the strands. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, though, as his hands slid further into your hair and to the back of your head. He pulled you close to him quickly but gently, removing one hand and wrapping it around your waist as he held you tightly to him. That’s when you felt it. Peace. Wholeness. Safety. Things you never knew you could get from just being held. What was better is you felt those things radiating from him too, he felt them too.

You weren’t quite sure what to do, so you just let him stand there and hold you for a moment. It was strange, in times past, it felt like you could feel his heartbeat within your own, but, now, you really could. You could feel it betting within yours and against you within his own body. He had your face pressed against his chest, and you breathed in his scent. Sandalwood and pine filled your nostrils, causing you to sigh heavily in contentment, closing your eyes for a moment as you slowly moved your own arms to wrap around his middle.

It had to have been at least a couple minutes like that. You were sure people in your office were staring at this point. You quietly tugged at the bottom of his jacket, suddenly becoming bashful as you tried to pull away slowly.

“You said we have to have a conversation?” you asked softly. It felt almost as if you were afraid of startling him. He was very reluctant to release his grasp on you, still not letting you go completely as he gave you a little space in between the two of you.

His hand had slid down slowly to the back of your neck, gently resting there as his thumb delicately stroked the column of your throat and he gazed down at you with the same adoration you saw minutes ago. “We do, but not here. There are some things that you need to know about… who you are… and who I am. Neither should be discussed here, though.” He says firmly.

Despite his gruff and firm tone, you grin up at him. The juxtaposition of his gentleness with you and seriousness of his voice causes you to giggle. You can sense his confusion at your laughing, so you speak up. “There are some things you need to know about who you are - who I am,” you repeat his words, imitating his rough and deep voice with a fake sense of seriousness, causing you to giggle once again. You can tell he is trying to hold back a smirk at your antics.

“Oh, come onnnn! Don’t be grumps!” you tease, biting your bottom lip gently. “Besides, what could you possibly have to tell me about myself that I don’t already know?” you ask with an air of levity, but you could see the look on Dean’s face, and it was anything but.

Your smile fades slowly, realizing that he was in fact quite serious about whatever conversation he thought you needed to have. His grip on you tightens slightly, “please, let’s just find somewhere to talk,” he says grimly, as if he had something horrible to tell you.

Nodding slowly, you allowed him to lead you out of your office building, his partner following behind the two of you. You could feel your cheeks heat up as everyone stared. “Um - I’m assuming you’re not from around here,” you mumble shyly, “we could go to my place?” your statement coming out as a question.

Dean nodded his head, “yeah, that would work. Sammy, why don’t you take the car back to the motel and I’ll ride with Y/N back to her place,” he states gruffly as Sam’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Dean never willingly let Baby go anywhere without him, but Sam nodded anyway.

The car ride was a lot quieter than you expected. You had so many questions running through your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask any of them. What did he mean that you two were bonded? What does that even mean for you? What could there possibly be about yourself and him that he couldn’t tell you in a public setting? The FBI jacket was an indicator of the danger that you had felt nightly. Maybe that was why he had so many stress responses? He was chasing bad men? But it didn’t sit right with you as you studied him. It just felt odd that he wasn’t saying anything to you. He hadn’t explained anything yet. That’s when you determined he wasn’t really in the FBI.

One thing was for sure, he hadn’t stopped touching you since you met. Even now, as your hand rested on the gear shift while you drove, his rested on top of yours. It was calming, but strange to physically feel his presence when you were so used to feeling his spiritual one.

You were so lost in your thoughts you almost jumped out of your skin when you finally heard him speak up. “After today, you’ll probably have to get used to me being the one who drives,” he says with a hint of teasing in his tone, seeing the tense look on your face. You could tell he was trying to ease your mind, but it wasn’t working.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned, quirking an eyebrow up at him.

“Well, I drive Sam around a lot. I’m always the one that drives. It’s just the natural way of things. That and no one drives my car but me,” he states matter of factly, causing your forehead to crease from furrowing your brows.

You sigh deeply as you park your car in front of your apartment building, becoming increasingly frustrated with the fact that Dean hadn’t really explained anything to you. You felt completely in the dark.

Turning to face him in your seat, you finally break. “Are you not going to explain all of this to me? You said that there were things that I needed to know, about not only you but about myself. Forgive me if I’m being a bit harsh here, but you have some explaining to do, and I want answers - now,” you growl bluntly, tired of tip-toeing around the subject.

What you didn’t expect was the smirk that formed on his face at the harshness of your tone. He had a glint in his eyes, and you could feel the admiration. You weren’t sure what for, though.

Dean’s POV

He smirked at your frustration, trying his best to hold back a full-blown smile. No one stood up to him besides Sammy. They were always too intimidated by his grunts and growls. He liked that you were different, that you were challenging him. It was what made you you.

“Woah there sweetheart, there’s no need for gnashing teeth and clashing tongues - although if you are going to clash tongues it had better be with mine,” he winks, moving his hand so that it rests on your shoulder for a moment before slowly brushing some of your hair behind your ear. He chuckles at the deadpan look that is still on your face, shaking his head.

“Alright, alright, I will start explaining. I think it might be easier if I go into who I am first. Maybe if you feel like you know me a bit better, you’ll feel more comfortable with me,” he says with more seriousness this time.

“If at any point you have questions, because I’m sure you’re going to have a lot, just stop me and I will answer them. Truthfully,” he sighs. You nod your head, a bit of fear prickling your skin at the somberness of his tone.

“I’m… I’m not in the FBI,” he says, eyes scanning your face as he waits for you to react, a bit shocked himself when he notices none. All he sees is you looking at him in expectancy, waiting for him to continue. “You don’t seem surprised?” he questions, tilting his head slightly.

It was your turn to chuckle. “You’re not exactly dressed like an FBI agent, Dean. You’re also too young to be a senior agent in the field, although I’m not quite sure how old you are. Your ‘partner’ is even younger than you. You’re also not carrying a standard issue firearm from the Bureau. It wasn’t that hard to figure out,” you state matter of factly with a shrug of your shoulders.

Dean was now the one quite dumb-founded by your rattling off of facts, but he quickly recovered, a smile spreading across his face. He knew you would be amazing. You were smart too, and he was in awe of you. He doesn’t respond to your observations, shaking his head slightly as he decides to move on.

“Okay, so, I’m clearly not FBI,” he says. “But, what I am, it’s… equally as dangerous, if not more so,” he says, swallowing thickly. He hoped this wasn’t the point in time that you called him crazy and wanted to reject him as a soulmate.

“What are you, then?” you question.

“I’m a hunter…”

“A hunter? Of what? Wild game? That wouldn’t make sense as to why you were at my office this morning, though. You’re going to have to elaborate.”

“I hunt - I hunt the supernatural,” he states, eyes flickering up to yours.

“The supernatural? What the hell is the supernatural? Like ghosts?” you ask giggling, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Well, kinda. More like spirits, demons, werewolves, vampires, things like that,” he says with a shrug, noticing how your eyes widen. Great, you do think he’s crazy.

He watched your breathing get unsteady, your chest heaving slightly. If he couldn’t tell by your eyes, he could tell by the tightness in his own chest that you were anxious. “If you have questions, that’s okay,” he says softly.

He watched you swallow thickly, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “I mean I do, but I want to know more about you first. I-I wouldn’t ever consider myself a person who believed in… those things,” you say quietly, biting your lip. “But, if- if my soulmate says that they’re real, then they must be real,” you state with the same matter of fact tone you had earlier, causing Dean’s heart to swell with more love than he had before. You believed him. You had faith in him, even though you barely knew him. That gave him hope, and hope wasn’t something that Dean had had much of in his life.

Reader’s POV

“How does that work? Hunting, I mean. How long have you been doing this? What caused you to start?” You questioned, a plethora on the tip of your tongue to inquire about.

Dean answered all of your questions, explaining the life he lived with his father and brother, what happened to his mother, why he was in the life he was. It made a lot of things make sense to you. There was no wonder you woke up with a racing heart so often. It also made all of the nights you felt his heartache make sense as well, which hurt yours to think about. The pain he must have felt his whole life, feeling responsible for everyone around him. You just knew that he would now feel responsible for you. Part of you was pleased by that. It would be nice to have someone who cared so deeply for you, loved you more than life itself. The other part of you felt guilty that you would be adding to the stress that he already felt.

Your hand went to grip his as he talked about the life he lived. You could tell he was trying to act strong for you, but you wanted to reassure him that he didn’t have to. The warmth from him was calming, and you hoped you weren’t being too forward by gripping his hand so tightly, but you could feel him relax against you, which brought a smile to your face.

After he had given you an abridged biography of himself, he took a deep breath, looking at you intensely. “This life, it can be dangerous, Y/N. I want you to know that I will do anything to keep you safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever. You have my word,” he breathes out. You nod your head slowly, knowing he meant it.

“Which is why you have to come with me. I can’t keep you safe if you’re not with me. I know this probably isn’t the life you planned, road tripping around the country in search of things that go bump in the night, but I can’t let you stay behind. If something were to happen to you, I’d never forgive myself, Y/N. Never. And, honestly, now that I’ve met you, I wouldn’t be able to be apart from you again anyways,” he rambles. If you weren’t connected to him, you would almost have missed the way that his eyes were beginning to glisten. You could feel the raw emotion in his chest. He was terrified.

You unbuckle your seatbelt quickly, crawling over the armrest and settling into his lap before throwing your arms around him with urgency. You nuzzled your face into his neck, breathing in his scent and trying your best to calm him with your own breathing. His arms wrapped around you, one around your waist the other around your back, with his hand resting on the back of your head. You sigh in relief as you feel him begin to calm. “I’m sorry, it just hurts when you’re afraid,” you mumble against his neck. You feel him nod.

“It’s okay. I know, and I know that you’ve spent the better part of your life trying to make me feel better haven’t you?” he whispers quietly in your ear.

You furrow your brows, nodding your head slowly. How did he know you tried to calm him? All of these years, you had prayed that he felt the things you did, but you never really knew if he did or not. After all, soulmates can feel each other's emotions, but they can’t regulate them. Right?

“Sweetheart, there is a lot you don’t know about who you are, and I know this is overwhelming right now. I promise I will tell you everything soon, but I can feel how overwhelmed you are right now. I just dumped a lot of information on you. I think we should go inside. You should lay down. I can tell you feel weak.” he says softly.

You can feel your head swimming, “I don’t feel good” you murmur, feeling Dean slowly opening up the car door and picking you up with him as he gets out.

“Dean, why do I feel this way? What’s going on?” you ask, beginning to feel light-headed.

“Not right now, Y/N. We’ll talk about it later,” he says gruffly.

You’re about to protest, wanting answers, but then everything goes black.

Tagged by Request: @imaginedreamwrite @suckitands33

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pycobutterpie · 8 months

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#spn #spn imagine #dean winchester x original female character #sam and dean #supernatural #all you can eat #Sam winchester imagine #Dean winchester aesthetic

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laurel-finch · 2 months

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'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch11: In The Dark

Summary: An unusual case yields new discoveries and old faces... Referenced Episodes: S1 E16 "Shadow" CW: The usual Supernatural shenanigans. Word Count: 4709 Recommended Song: Bad Moon Rising -- Creedence Clearwater Revival Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

I pushed our motel room door open harder than anticipated. My eyes flitted towards Dean, his green ones wide with surprise and his phone held to his ear. I half-smiled in apology and made my way toward the table where he sat.

"You trying to bust the hinges or something?" he asked. My cheeks dusted red and I glared at him as I dropped a bag of gas station goodies on the table.

“Got lunch,” I replied dismissively as I shrugged off my coat and tossed it onto the back of the other rickety chair at the table. “They didn’t have the Black Forest ham sandwiches you like, so you’ll have to make do.”

"Sure, thanks,” he muttered as he turned his body away slightly and returned his attention to his phone. “Right, sorry Sammy," he started again, leaning back in his chair. "Like I was saying, she checks out. There is a Meg Masters in the Andover phone book. I even pulled up her high school photo," he sighed and held his unoccupied hand up, gesturing as if Sam could see him. "Now, look, why don't you go knock on her door and, uh, invite her to a poetry reading, or whatever it is you do, huh?"

I laughed and Dean's eyes slid over to me, a smirk resting on his features. He winked and then returned his gaze to the ceiling. I rummaged through the contents of the grocery bag, pulling out my own drink and chicken pot pie. Thank God for hotels having microwaves.

Dean hummed and leaned forward once more, scanning his notebook resting on the table. "Yeah, that I did have some luck with." I straightened and turned to him to see him hunched over his hastily scrawled notes. I moved to stand behind him, staring down at his wrinkled paper. "It's, uh—turns out it's Zoroastrian. Very, very old school, like two thousand years before Christ. It's a sigil for a Daeva."

My finger ran lightly over the sigils and words that I had never seen before. I had no clue what a 'Zoroastrian' was, nor a Daeva. It certainly sounded demonic, which was far above my educational paygrade.

"What's a Daeva?" I heard Sam's voice from the end of the phone. Dean changed his phone to his other hand and hit the speaker button.

"It translates to ‘demon of darkness.’ Zoroastrian demons, and they're savage, animalistic, you know, nasty attitudes. Kind of like, uh, demonic pit bulls."

I chuckled. "Pit bulls aren't that bad. Sweethearts, really."

Dean quirked a skeptical brow and Sam laughed breathily from the other end. "How'd you figure that out, Dean?"

Dean huffed in an almost offended way. "Give me some credit, man. You don't have a corner on paper chasin' around here."

"Oh yeah? Name the last book you read."

Dean fell silent and visibly sweat. After a few moments, he finally spoke up and said, "I called Dad's friend, Caleb. He told me, alright?"

I bit back a laugh and hid behind my hands. When I looked up I found Dean already scowling at me and the clear sound of Sam’s laughter over the speaker. I grinned somewhat sheepishly and collected my food from the table. I felt Dean’s eyes burning into me as I strolled to the kitchen and readied my meal.

"Anyway," Dean continued. "Here's the thing: these Daevas, they have to be summoned, conjured." That piqued my interest and I turned back towards Dean, resting my back against the counter.

"So someone's controlling it?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm sayin'. And, from what I gather, it's pretty risky business, too," he took a deep breath. "These suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them. And, uh, the arms, and torsos." I scrunched my nose in distaste.

"So what do they look like?" Sam's voice was tinged with obvious confusion and worry.

"Well, nobody knows, but nobody's seen 'em for a couple of millennia. I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? Someone really knows their stuff. I think we've got a major player in town." Dean smirked and leaned back in his chair again. "Now, why don't you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?"

"Bite me," Sam snapped.

"I can arrange that!" I hollered from the kitchen. Sam laughed and Dean rolled his eyes.

"No, don't!" Dean said quickly, waving his hands wildly. "Bite Meg, Sammy! But don't leave teeth marks-" the line went dead. "Sam? You there?"

"I think he's busy now, Dean," I called over my shoulder as I put my pot pie in the microwave and started it.

"I sure hope so," Dean grumbled in response. "Kid doesn't get laid enough."

I scoffed and made my way back towards the table and Dean. "I'm sure Sam does gets laid enough, not that it's any of your business." I rifled through the plastic shopping bags to pull our food and drinks out. Dean paled as I slid a chicken salad toward him.

"I can't eat this."

"Then I guess you'll starve," I answered with a shrug. "That's what you get for sending me to the store by myself."

"I was doing research!" he argued, thoroughly exasperated, and threw his hands in the air.

"No, Caleb was doing research. Who knows what you were doing. Probably something I don't want to know about." The microwave dinged, signaling to me that my meal was ready. I sauntered towards the kitchen and pulled my dinner out of the microwave.

"You got a pot pie, and I get rabbit food? What kind of injustice is this?" Dean demanded, shoving his salad away from him.

“It’s good for you.”

“So’s pot pie,” he said, lowering his voice to a piteous grumble. “Can’t I just get a bite of yours?”

I turned to glare at him over my shoulder. “Like Hell, Dean. Your version of a ‘bite’ is half the frickin’ meal.”

“You must want me to starve to death-”

“I picked up some of that raspberry vinaigrette you and Sam like.”

He fell silent for a moment and I heard him fishing through the plastic bag again. From across the room I could hear the quiet but not displeased sigh he let out. “At least there’s some meat in it… but you’re still on thin ice.”

—

Dean tapped away at his laptop for a solid thirty minutes before either of us spoke up. He combed through county clerk records, his preferred type of research… which subsequently left me with the mind numbing task of researching a several thousand year old Iranian religion with a fine-toothed comb.

I eyed his father’s journal from where it sat beside Dean. Now wasn’t the time to bring any sort of drama into this case, not when we knew we had a demon on our hands. But God, that phone number… it itched at the back of my mind. How did John know him?

"Holy fuck!" Dean exclaimed. I jumped from my place across the table and met his excited gaze with one of surprise. "How the hell did we not notice this before?"

"What is it?" I asked. "You find something important?"

"Hell yeah, I did! Take a look at this," Dean said as he spun the laptop to face me. His cursor highlighted a line from the deceased man’s obituary, the first victim. "Look at where the banker guy was from."

My eyes trailed over the blue highlighted text. "Lawrence, Kansas," I breathed out, practically a whisper. Dean nodded.

"Now look at our girl Meredith," he said excitedly as he clicked to the next tab. My eyes searched for her birth city on the webpage.

"She's from Lawrence too..." I mumbled and handed the paper back to Dean. "You think there's a connection?"

"Of course, there's a connection! How could there not be?" He stood abruptly and practically jogged towards the door. "I'm going to go find Sam. If we don't get to him soon, he could end up being our next Lawrence victim."

"Dean-" I said, holding up a hand for him to wait. He quickly threw his jacket on and yanked the front door open to find himself face to face with Sam.

"Dude, I need to talk to you," the brothers said in sync, without skipping a beat. Sam pushed past his older brother and into the room, pacing beside one of the beds.

"Meg's the one controlling the Daevas," Sam stated, tossing his hands into the air in frustration. I left my spot at the table and narrowed my eyes in worry.

"What? How do you know?" I demanded.

"I followed her to this abandoned warehouse thing and-" he took a deep breath. "She had an altar there, with that symbol we found in Meredith’s apartment. She was- she was talking to this, this bowl, and telling whoever it was she was talking to that they shouldn't come."

My eyes widened and I turned to meet Dean's. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door contemplatively. I could see him connecting the red string in his mind, pressing each push pin into place until it all made sense.

"So, hot little Meg is summoning the Daeva?" he asked thoughtfully. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as his eyes moved from the floor to his brother.

Sam nodded. "It looked like she was using the black altar to control the thing."

Dean chuckled and nudged me with his elbow. "Looks like Sam's got a thing for the bad girl." I rolled my eyes sky-high. "So what's the deal with this bowl thing?"

"She was talking into it. The way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone," Sam replied. I raised a brow.

"Is that a thing witches actually do?" I asked.

"Not all of them- most don't. That's more of a folklore thing, but scrying does have its purposes," Dean answered quickly. "Who was she talking to? The Daeva?"

"No, you said those things were savages. No, this was someone different. Someone who's giving her orders. Someone who's comin' to that warehouse." Dean suddenly straightened and moved toward the table. I hurriedly snatched his laptop from his side of the table and handed it to him.

Dean hurriedly thrust his laptop into Sam’s hands and stood beside him, pointing over his brother’s shoulder at the screen. "What I was gonna tell you earlier. I pulled a favor with my-" he cleared his throat, " -friend, Amy, over at the police department. The complete records of the two victims—we missed something the first time."

"What'd we miss?" Sam asked, eyes scanning the papers.

"The two victims," I interjected. "Look at where they were both born."

Sam flipped between the two papers as it dawned on him what we were implying. "Lawrence. They were both from Lawrence, Kansas. Holy crap."

"Yeah," said Dean.

"I mean, it is where the demon killed Mom. That's where everything started. So, you think Meg's tied up with the demon?"

"I think it's a possibility," Dean answered with a shrug.

"But I don't understand. What's the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?"

"Beats me," he replied. "But I say you and I trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation."

"Don't," I growled firmly. "You'll just tip her off- you'll get hurt."

"We'll stake out the place first," Sam offered, attempting to be reassuring. "We've gotta see who, or what is showing up to meet her."

"And I'm going to need you," Dean used his whole laptop to point at me, "to stay here."

I snarled. "What!? You expect me to let you track down some crazy blonde demon summoner without my help!?"

"What would you be able to do against her!?" he snapped back. "You can't go wolf-mode on her right now, and I doubt you'd be able to take her and a bunch of demon things."

"Have you forgotten that I’m not a dog!? I have thumbs, dumbass! I can use weapons too!” I shouted. I crossed my arms indignantly across my chest and fixed them both with a heated glare. “If I can't take her and a few 'demon things' then you certainly can't either! I literally have built-in fangs and claws, you two only have guns! I'm not letting you two go alone!"

"We won't be going alone!" Dean shouted back. "I have a plan."

I glared as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He dialed a number and leaned back against the table. I watched the brothers exchange glances. Sam looked reluctantly between the two of us but eventually withered under Dean’s heated glare. I scoffed as he stepped out of the motel room, likely to prepare the Impala.

I sat down on the bed, fuming. The dialing finally ended and went to voicemail. Dean swallowed dryly.

"We think we've got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom," he started, sounding rather nervous. My eyes widened as I realized just who he was calling. "So, uh, this warehouse – it's 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can." He closed the phone and slid it back into his pocket, running a weary hand over his face.

"You called your fucking dad?" I snarled from my place on the bed. "The guy who hasn't answered a single one of your calls since this whole shit show started!? You're expecting him to show up when you could just take me with you!?"

"Well, it's not like you can do much against her!" he growled back. "You're in no shape to be fighting demons and crazy people!"

"I can handle myself just fine, Dean, fur or not!" I paced up and down the edge of the bed, raking my fingers through my hair. My eyes were swimming with a dull golden color, fighting to get out. "I was raised by hunters too! I know how to fight! Let me help you!"

"You're not coming with us!" he shouted, pushing off the table and stalking towards me.

"Like Hell, I'm not!" I felt that familiar clawing sensation in the back of my mind. She was digging her claws into the barrier, fighting to tear it down. I inhaled sharply, expecting her to fight to put Dean in his place – instead, it dawned on me that she was yearning and fighting for his safety. "Dean, you don't even know what you're walking into!"

"And you do!?" he challenged, practically in my face at this point. "Sam and I can do this without you! This isn't your fight!"

"My fight is your fight! How long is it going to take you to realize that you're part of my pack now!? It's my job to look out for you!"

He scoffed. "Yeah, great job you've been doing there! Last time you tried to help out, someone died! Sam could have died! You could have died!"

My eyes widened and then narrowed just as quickly, a low growl rising in my throat. My wandering hand clutched onto a rather firm pillow. I inhaled deeply, puffing up my chest, and swung the pillow towards Dean, who raised a hand to block it.

"You-!" I screamed and smacked him again, "Are such-!" I hit him in the ribs with the pillow, causing him to drop his raised arms and expose his head, "A fucking-!" I whacked him in the shoulder, "Asshole!" I screamed, slamming the pillow down on his head and sending him stumbling backward.

My chest rose and fell with labored breaths as I watched the red recede from my vision. The door clicked and my wild, golden eyes fixated on Sam as he peeked inside.

"Bad time?" the younger brother asked.

"No, perfect time," Dean grumbled, rubbing his shoulder and doing his best to smooth out his now messy hair. "We just finished." He glared at me, one full of hurt and irritation. I glared right back, standing tall under his scrutiny.

"You sure?" Sam inquired and gestured over his shoulder with his thumb towards the door, "cause I can leave again, if you want, let you get everything off your chests."

"We're fine, Sam," I said, my short temper obvious. "We can talk about it more when we get back. What'd you get from the car?"

"I ransacked the trunk. Holy water, every weapon that I could think of, exorcism rituals from about a half dozen religions. I'm not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything," Sam answered with a nervous laugh and dumped his haul onto the bed furthest from the door.

I wasted no time in helping the boys load their guns and pack their small bags. I had a feeling that there was no point arguing in packing my own. The boys carried on their own conversations as I pondered, lost in thought.

There was something seriously dark swirling overhead – I felt like something terrible was going to happen soon, like everything would come crashing down. It was a foreboding feeling and one that brought that familiar chill down my spine. Something was going to go wrong on this hunt, I could feel it.

The boys were going to get my help whether they liked it or not.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. Once again, Sam seemed to understand my frustration. Likewise, I understood why he sided with Dean, although he wasn't outright voicing his opinions. If he had, I might have smothered him. I just wished Dean would understand. I wanted nothing more to protect the brothers, just like I only wanted to protect my pack. I know Dean felt the same way, considering how hard he was fighting to make me stay. So why couldn't he see that I felt the same way, just from the opposite end of the spectrum?

After a few pain-staking goodbyes, the boys were finally prepared to leave me to my own devices while they fended off whatever evil Meg was. God, I wish I could have smacked them hard enough to make them understand.

I huffed as Dean stood in the doorway, an apologetic but confident look on his face. He looked as though he had something he wanted to say but just wasn't sure how. It was the same look he had given me in the bar when I first tried to tell them about the number in the journal.

He lifted a finger to point nervously at me. "Sit," he said. "And stay."

I raised my own middle finger at him, glaring harshly. "Bite me."

He chuckled and turned to leave, calling out over his shoulder. "Don't tempt me, fido!" And with that last remark, the door closed on him, leaving me in the dark, in more ways than one. Alone.

I rushed to the window and drew back the curtains just enough that I could see the drive away, but they wouldn't see me. As soon as I heard the Impala's purr and watched it race out of the parking lot I was off again, rushing around the room.

I stuffed whatever weapons I could find into my small bag, dumping out whatever clothes and utilities I once had in it. Since my first hunt with the boys, I had been sure to pack whatever necessities I may need for either a solo hunt or a situation like this: salt, two lighters (they were notoriously unreliable), holy water, shotgun shells preloaded with rock salt, two knives, one silver and one not (I didn't like to use the silver one) and a pistol with extra bullets. Needless to say, I was prepared, although I would have been more prepared with the help of the brothers.

I checked my pistol to make sure it was loaded and zipped up the backpack, leaving everything easily acceptable but not easy to steal or see. I donned Dean's old coat and slung the bag over my shoulders, marching out the door of the hotel room with fury and confidence licking at my heels.

The boys had to know I would do something like this. Perhaps they thought they could wrap up the case before I made it there on foot.

They were wrong.

—

Surprisingly, it didn't take me long at all to get to the warehouse. Iwas panting with my hands on my knees, gazing up at the sheer scale of the building before me. It must have been seven or eight stories. My stomach felt queasy. My instinct and I could both agree that a skinwalker's place was with all four paws on the ground, not high in the air.

God, the things I do for those boys. They were lucky I put up with this bullshit.

I steeled myself and shrugged my shoulders, preparing to march across the road and enter the building. I was stopped by the odd whining sound of a large truck. My eyes scanned up and down the road until they settled on a black pickup, a rather tall and bulky vehicle. The truck pulled into a side alley a few buildings down and stopped. The engine cut out.

My hackles rose once more, and I felt that unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach. I chalked it up to my nerves about facing my first demon. If my uncle could see me now, I don't know if he'd be terrified or proud. He tried to stay away from demons and magic, and just stuck to good old-fashioned monster hunting. My parents would certainly be terrified...

I tightened my jaw and marched across the street. Despite this being a busy city, there were no cars out tonight. I was thankful for that, the fewer people to see me, the better.

The inside of the building was ratty and honestly a mess. I really hoped it was condemned. If not, someone was going to get seriously hurt in here. My eyes scanned the broken-down elevator shaft that went up to the highest floor.

"No fucking way," I grumbled at the very thought of scaling that monstrosity. Instead, my eyes flitted around the room, searching for any other option, before finally resting on an old wooden door, tightly shut. I grinned and paced towards it, trying the handle and frowning when it didn't budge. I pushed against the door, hoping my weight would make it pop open. It didn't.

With a puzzled frown, I took a step back and rolled up my sleeves. I squared my shoulders and turned slightly to the side, angling my shoulder towards the weak point near the door handle. With a shake of my arms and a preparatory inhale, I launched at the door, ramming into it.

And suddenly I was falling forward with the door as it came off its hinges, a mess of cobwebs raining down on top of me. The door, and I, landed with a crash at the foot of a long flight of stairs. I lay there for a few moments, catching my breath.

"They definitely heard that," I whispered just loudly enough for myself to hear.

I stood and dusted myself off, my eyes following the length of the steps. If I wanted to make it to the boys before they did something stupid, I'd need to hurry.

I ran up the steps as quietly as I could, hoping the pounding I heard was my heart and not my feet. Whatever was up there, I didn't want to alert it to my presence. I was lucky I didn't have a swarm of evil thousand-year-old demon things descending upon me as I ran.

My heart thumped in my chest as I made it to the top of the stairs. In front of me was a rather short hallway with a single dark door at the end, the glow of light from something on the other side peaking through the crack under the door. I licked my lips and tip-toed to the door, nerves rising, hoping to hear something on the other side.

I did in fact hear something. It sounded like a muffled conversation. I put my ear to the door and listened.

"It doesn't mean anything. It was just to draw you in, that's all," I heard a woman say. I ground my teeth together as my lips pulled back in a silent snarl. Meg.

"So you killed those people for nothing?" came Dean's unmistakable but muffled voice.

"Baby, I've killed a lot more for a lot less," Meg purred in response. I bit back a growl. My blood was boiling and it wasn't long before I was fighting with myself. Should I charge in and risk their safety, or play it safe and sneak in?

My ears pricked at Sam's voice. "Dad. It's a trap for Dad."

Shit. A trap for John? But there was no way he could make it to Chicago in time, was there? Not unless she planned to use him as bait. For a moment, I was glad I had stayed behind. Now I had a chance to warn John and maybe save the boys.

I straightened as my skin suddenly prickled with goosebumps. I felt an itch at the back of my mind, as if urging me for my attention.

My attention was redirected yet again to the sound of a scuffle on the other side of the door. I heard a crash and what sounded like a person tumbling across the floor – one of the brothers. I went to reach for the handle, but something stopped me. A buzzing between my ears.

My fist clenched, struggling to identify the feeling. My eyes widened as I felt pressure in my head.

Duck, ordered a whisper.

And I did. I ducked low enough to see a fist fly over my head and narrowly missed the door handle that I had just been reaching for. With a growl I spun in my crouched position and lunged towards my assailant, flinging them into the door.

The door splintered with a crack, light filling the once dim hallway. I snarled and tossed myself at my assailant as they struggled to stand, landing a harsh blow to their ribs and a kick to their shin. They grunted and dropped low, attempting to tackle me. I side-stepped just in time to see two shadows tear into Meg's flesh and toss her out a seventh-story window like nothing but a heap of trash.

I heard Sam's voice shout my name from beside the once meticulously arranged altar. I didn't have time to look at him before my assailant knocked me to the floor in a tackle. The two of us struggled and I felt them land a harsh blow to my cheekbone and mouth. Blood careened down my lips and dribbled into my mouth.

Suddenly, the weight was being dragged off of me and I flailed as a set of hands grabbed me under my arms, dragging me away. I kicked and screamed, fighting against whoever held me as an arm wrapped around my torso, struggling to hold me still.

"Easy, tiger!" shouted Dean, from his place beside my assailant, his hands extended toward me in an appearing gesture. My sight cleared enough to rest on the man before me. He was tall and his features were dark, a line of blood dripping down his temple from where I had hit him. He scowled at me and I glared back, struggling to get at him and fight. My eyes widened, seeing Dean's hand on the guy's shoulder.

"It's OK!" shouted Sam near my ear, struggling to hold me still and calm me down. "It's alright, we know him!"

"Who the fuck is he then!?" I snapped back and dropped my arms, ceasing my struggle. Sam let go and helped me stand, a hand under my elbow to steady me. His voice was filled with awe and his eyes were wide with shock.

"He's our dad," he said, quietly. My own eyes widened to the size of saucers, flitting between the two shocked brothers and their raggedy father. My round eyes locked with his brown ones.

"John?"

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spnhunter4life · 1 month

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Bullets and Ballgowns Chapter 2

Series Summary: In the summer of 1813, the arrival of a new family in Brighton causes much excitement for the townsfolk. Anna Foster is shocked to realize she has already met the elder of the two sons, Dean. As she gets to know the family better, she must fight her feelings for him. Though she finds herself drawn to him, it is impossible that they could ever be together.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: Sorry about the long wait for this! I had a fire in my house a month ago. As you can imagine, life got crazy and in the free time I've had I just wasn't motivated to write. I'm finally getting this chapter out there though! I really can't say how long it will be before chapter 3 comes out, but just know that I fully intend on continuing this. Thanks for the patience and I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist Series Masterlist

(header picture here eventually. was on my other computer, so I have to figure out how to get it back)

Two days passed before Anna saw the Winchesters again. Her family and Charlotte’s sat together in the park. Their parents sat together in the shade provided from the tent they had set up. Charlotte and Anna preferred the corner of the blanket, out of the shade where they could feel the warmth of the sun. Between them and their parents a picnic basket full of grapes, biscuits, bread, butter, and jam was laid out, as well as tea.

They were not the only families taking advantage of the beautiful weather. Tents were set up all around them and small groups promenaded together down the cobbled path around the small pond. The two girls had just decided to join them, thinking a bit of exercise would do them good, when the Winchester family arrived.

“We must go now,” Anna informed her friend. “If we have not left before my mother or Mrs. Winchester are aware of each other’s presence here, we shall not be allowed to leave at all.”

“You do not wish to speak to them?” Charlotte asked, but she was already complying with Anna’s request to hurry.

“I would be happy to speak to them, but I daresay there will be plenty of time for that today and I truly do wish to walk for a while.”

They reached the path and linked their arms together, settling into a leisurely pace.

“You never did tell me the story of your first meeting with Mr. Winchester,” Charlotte prompted. Anna looked away from her friend as she deliberated where to begin. “Oh, come now,” Charlotte insisted, mistaking her silence for refusal. “I’m sure it is not so dreadful as you believe it to be.”

“I assure you it is,” Anna disagreed. “Nevertheless, I did promise to tell you. So here it is.”

~~~~~

The sun was setting in the sky when Anna stepped out of the theater. If she wanted to be back to her aunt’s house before dark, she needed to hurry. It had been her aunt’s only demand when she gave her permission to attend a performance by Maria Dickons, something she would not have allowed at all had she known Anna’s claims of meeting a new acquaintance there were false. Anna felt bad for lying to her aunt, but not bad enough to persuade her not to do it. She dearly loved music and could not pass up the opportunity to see an incredible performer like Mrs. Dickons for herself. Her aunt’s house was a mere six blocks away, but she was feeling slightly unsteady on her feet due to a slight overindulgence in wine.

As she walked down the steps, she saw the man who had made her uncomfortable with his close watch on her all evening exiting the building behind her.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said.

She ignored him. With so many people around it was easy enough to pretend not to hear him or to assume he was speaking to someone else. Undeterred by this, he hurried to move in front of her.

“Miss,” he tried again now that he knew he had her attention.

“I’m sorry, but I really must be going. I am to meet a friend, and he will not be happy if I’m late,” she lied. She scanned the faces of the people passing by, wondering if any noticed her distress. They didn’t seem to.

“Yes, of course, but-”

“Oh, there you are!” Anna cried out happily. She spotted a young, friendly looking gentleman standing by himself and hurried over, praying that he would play along. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long. I was held up by this gentleman here,” she said, indicating the man who had followed close behind. The stranger seemed to catch her meaning and immediately jumped to her rescue.

“Not long at all,” he assured her, moving to face her in a way that placed himself between her and the other man. “I hope the performance was as delightful as you anticipated.”

The man who had followed her out seemed to take this as a sign that he was unwelcome and left with a huff. Anna let out a relieved breath.

“Thank you for that. I do not know who he was, but he was scaring me a little.”

“No thanks necessary,” the gentleman assured her. Looking closer now that she was safe, she realized how incredibly handsome he was. “That sort of behavior is inexcusable. A lady should never have to fear for her safety.”

“I should like to thank you just the same. I do not know what I would have done if you were not here.”

“Surely there must be someone with you who would have helped.”

“I’m afraid not,” she admitted. “I am visiting my aunt you see, and I simply could not miss the chance to hear Mrs. Dickons. I told her I was meeting a new acquaintance, but I do not know anyone here in London.” She knew she ought not to be telling him these things, but the alcohol loosened her tongue and she found she felt quite easy around the man who had been her means of rescue.

“Then you must allow me to escort you home. I would not want to help you avoid the unwanted attention of one man only for you to fall prey to another later tonight.”

“I wouldn’t wish to trouble you.”

“Ensuring a lady’s safety is no trouble at all.”

“Alright. I suppose I would appreciate the company.”

The walk home was quite pleasant. Anna and her escort spoke of nothing of consequence, but she was delighted to learn that he was happy to discuss this evening’s performance with her. She quite enjoyed hearing his opinions, even the ones she did not agree with. Before she knew it, they were a few doors down from her aunt’s house.

“We are nearly there. I should bid you goodbye here, lest my aunt see us out the window and think something scandalous has happened. I thank you for the company.”

“I thank you for your company as well. It is not often I have such a lively conversation with a beautiful young lady.”

Anna knew she should take her leave of him then, but a strange impulse struck her that she found she could not ignore. With alcohol fueling her bravery, she kissed him swiftly on the mouth before turning and darting towards the house.

~~~~~

“Well… I must admit I am shocked,” Charlotte said when Anna had finished telling the story. Anna felt a curl of fear in her gut that her friend might think less of her. She knew it was no less than she deserved. “But I still believe it is not so bad a situation.”

Anna turned her head to Charlotte, wondering if perhaps she heard wrong.

“After all, you did say he did not seem to recognize you at your parents’ ball the other night, did you not?”

“I did,” Anna agreed warily. “But, Charlotte-”

“Then I see no reason you need fear for your reputation. You know how gentlemen are, even the kind ones like Mr. Winchester. It was no doubt far from his first kiss and therefore, I’m sorry to say it, not particularly memorable to him. You can go on as if you had never set eyes on him before two nights ago. All will be well, I’m sure of it.”

Anna considered her friend’s words for several long moments. “But what of you?” She finally found the courage to ask. “You must have lowered your opinion of me now. I cannot blame you for it.” She could not bear the thought, but knew she must learn to. Actions had consequences after all, and this would be one of them. Or the only one, it seemed. She should consider herself lucky for that.

“Indeed, I have not.” The fierceness of Charlotte’s words surprised Anna. “It was only a mistake. And you will find, my dear Anna, that there is not a person alive who has not made mistakes. It is true that not all of them have quite such a potential for scandal as this, but that does not make you a bad person or mean that I should wish never to associate with you again.”

Was this it, then? Was she truly to suffer no consequences for her most improper actions? A relieved smile gently turned up the corners of Anna’s mouth.

“You are far too kind to me,” she told her friend. “You have no idea how grateful I am for it.”

“Or perhaps you are just too hard on yourself,” Charlotte disagreed. “Believe me, I understand why you are so distressed. I’m sure I would be too if I were in your place. And if it were public knowledge, of course you would have reason to worry. But I am the only one who knows and surely you could not think so little of me as to believe I would condemn you for being brave enough to confide in me.”

“Of course not,” Anna hurried to assure her. “You are too good and kind a friend to ever behave in such a way. I suppose it is less that I expected you to think that way and more that I believe you should.”

“Perhaps society would say that I should. But I find that I cannot. From what you say, it was so short a kiss that it can barely even be counted. And it was while you were under the influence of alcohol, no less.”

“I fear the fact that I was out on my own and not entirely sober does not paint me in a much better light. But I thank you for your understanding.”

They walked in companionable silence for a couple of minutes before Charlotte spoke up.

“There is one thing I would ask you.”

“What is that?”

“What are your feelings towards Mr. Winchester?” Anna’s immediate response was to brush this question off, considering it inconsequential. Anticipating this, Charlotte hurried to continue. “I know what you’re going to say. That your feelings are of no matter when you are already promised to someone. But I wish to understand the situation better. And besides, who can you talk to of any feelings you may have if not to your closest friend? I would imagine it a relief to be able to speak your true feelings aloud, whatever they may be.”

“Well,” Anna began after a few moments of deliberation. “I believe he is the handsomest man I have ever seen. He is kind and gentlemanly. He is very easy to talk to. And he has an appreciation and understanding of music that I have rarely seen.” Charlotte smiled, knowing how appealing this was to Anna. Anna sighed. “I believe if circumstances were different, I would like him very much,” she admitted.

“I believe what you mean to say is that you wish circumstances were different because you like him very much.”

Anna could not deny this, so she kept quiet. They were just completing their first full circle of the pond and about to start a second when they were approached by Sam and Dean Winchester. Bows and curtsies were exchanged before Sam spoke.

“Good afternoon. Would it be alright if we joined you?”

“Of course,” Charlotte agreed, unlinking her arm from Anna’s. “I daresay it would be most fortunate if you would. That way we can continue to enjoy our walk and have no need to return to our tent in order to enjoy your company.” She held her freed arm out to Sam, who was quick to offer his own to her. They began to walk together. Anna took the arm Dean offered to her and they followed a few steps behind Sam and Charlotte, who were already conversing.

“I hope you and your family are settling in well,” Anna said.

“We are, thank you.”

“Do you plan to spend much of the day here?”

“I believe we will likely stay as long as everyone else does,” Dean answered. “My mother was quite pleased to see so many of the town’s families here today. She is eager to reacquaint herself with old friends.”

“Yes, I imagine she is,” Anna smiled. As they walked, they passed a group of gentlemen standing together in the grass, talking animatedly.

“I must confess, I am surprised that you and your brother wanted to walk with us,” she said. “I would think you would rather join the other young gentlemen in their discussions and games.”

“I’m sure we will,” he replied. “But is it not also usual for a gentleman to walk with a young lady?”

“I suppose so,” she agreed. She didn’t bother pointing out that they usually only did so with young ladies they were courting, or ones they wished to court.

“Speaking of gentlemen, I do not believe I see Mr. Sanders here today,” he noted mildly.

“Oh,” Anna said, surprised at his choice of conversation. “I do not believe he is here. If he is, I have not seen him.”

“Will he be joining you later then?”

“Perhaps. We do not have any plans of the sort, but I imagine if he should arrive, we will spend at least some time together. Did you wish to speak to him?” Anna could think of no other reason for this line of questioning.

“No. I am merely trying to understand the two of you better.”

“What do you mean?”

Dean sighed. “You did not mention that you were engaged when we danced,” he said pointedly.

“Well, no, I suppose I didn’t. You’ll find I made no mention of it to your brother either. I don’t make a habit of mentioning such things to every man I dance with. I see no reason to unless I know the gentleman in question has a desire to court me.”

He seemed displeased by this response. “Perhaps you are right,” he frowned. “And yet, it does not make sense.”

It was Anna’s turn to frown. “What doesn’t make sense?” She rather thought her explanation was perfectly acceptable. And he had agreed. So what was bothering him?

“I have spent the past couple of days wondering how a man could neglect to ask the woman he is engaged to for a dance until the very end of the night,” he explained. “Or in the case of your Mr. Sanders, it appears he did not just neglect to, but forgot to entirely. I understand that ladies are not always entirely happy about the man they are to marry. It would make sense to me if you had avoided his attention whenever possible if that were the case. But a gentleman has a say in who he marries. Surely if the two of you are engaged, it is because he wishes it. So why was he so neglectful of you at the ball? Why is he not here now, taking advantage of the beautiful weather to proudly walk with you on his arm?”

“Perhaps you are not as wrong in your assessment as you think,” Anna said simply. “Mr. Sanders had no more to do with the engagement between us than I did. It was an arrangement between our fathers. One that he agreed to of course, but then so did I. That is why you do not detect any particular regard from him.”

“I suppose that does make some sense,” Dean agreed grudgingly. “But, still. Regardless of his feelings towards you, he agreed to the marriage and therefore he should treat you as any man would treat the woman he is engaged to. If he did not intend to do so, perhaps he should not have agreed.”

“I thank you for your concern, but I assure you it is unnecessary,” Anna told him. She couldn’t understand why he should care so much. They barely knew each other. And there was certainly no one else so worried about William’s treatment of her. “Firstly, this agreement between us is unofficial. Mr. Sanders still has one more year at university. It will be announced as a formal engagement once he has finished. Secondly, it is still somewhat new. He is still adjusting to the expectations that go along with it, but I do believe he is trying his best.”

Dean seemed to consider her words carefully before responding. “If that be the case, then I suppose you are right. All we can ask of someone is that they do their best. And you believe you will be happy with him?”

She chuckled. “My happiness has very little to do with it, as you well know.” He did not answer, only continued to look at her expectantly. She sighed. “I believe I am quite lucky. Mr. Sanders is kind. As for fortune and connections, we are quite well matched. And as silly a thing as it may be, I cannot help but be glad I shall not be married to an old man. I believe I will be content with him.”

“Then I shall say no more on the subject.”

“Perhaps instead you might tell me if you’ve had time to make any friends yet,” Anna suggested. “I did notice you seemed friendly with Mr. Young. Am I correct in assuming you know each other from school?”

“You are,” Dean answered. “I would not consider us close friends, but he is a decent fellow, and I admit it was a pleasant surprise to see a familiar face.”

“Yes, I imagine it was. What of other friends? There is no shortage of decent young gentlemen in this town. I don’t believe it should be difficult for you to find one or two whose company you enjoy.”

“Perhaps not, but it does not matter if I make any friends.”

“Because you are not going to be living here?” Anna guessed.

“Exactly.”

“I disagree,” Anna said.

A small smile turned up one corner of Dean’s mouth. “Do you? May I ask why?”

Anna wasn’t sure if she should be frustrated at his obvious amusement or just glad to be getting along with him. She decided on being glad. After all, she had to admit that she was proud to be the source of his happiness. “You may not be living here,” she explained, “but your family is. I imagine you will want to visit them on occasion.”

“Of course,” he agreed.

“And as glad as they will be to see you, they will still have things they need to do. They will not be able to spend all of their time with you. Would it not then be wise to have a friend or two you may visit when your family is busy?”

“I suppose you are right,” he agreed easily. He was quiet for a moment as he scanned the faces around him, pretending to consider his options. “As you said, I already know Mr. Young, so there is one friend. Perhaps you would be my second friend?”

Anna tried to hide her smile. She could feel it pulling at her mouth, fighting to break free. “I think that is a possibility,” she said nonchalantly. She noticed his smile and could no longer contain her own. “Both of our mothers would be quite disappointed if we were not friends after all,” she continued, not wanting to become swept away in the moment. “And besides that, I find you are very easy to talk to. Yes, I think we could be friends.”

“Good. I think so too.”

“Winchester!” Someone called out. All four members of their little group stopped walking and turned to acknowledge the newcomer, George Young. “Sorry to interrupt. Could I borrow your companion Miss Foster? I was just trying to convince a couple of gentlemen of the merits of living in the city over the country, and I would appreciate having a Londoner to back me up. Your brother is welcome too, of course,” he added to Dean almost as an afterthought. “The more people arguing my case the better, I daresay.”

“As long as the ladies are ok with it, I believe we should be happy to join the discussion,” Dean answered, conveniently forgetting to mention that he favored the country himself, Anna noted. Sam nodded in agreement and all three gentlemen waited for a response from her and Charlotte.

“We were managing alright without you before. I think we shall be just fine on our own once again,” Charlotte told them. Anna chuckled.

“Until next time then,” Dean said.

The two ladies continued their walk in companionable silence, but it lasted for only a short time before Charlotte spoke up. “I apologize, my dear Anna. Perhaps it is not my place, but I feel I must say something.” Anna turned a puzzled gaze on her. “I did not mean to listen to your conversation, but walking as close as we were, it was hard not to overhear some of it. Surely you must have heard some of my conversation with the younger Mr. Winchester as well.”

She had, as a matter of fact, and had thought nothing of it. After all, they had been walking close as Charlotte said. Nothing could be expected to be entirely private at that distance. “Whatever are you talking about Charlotte?” Anna asked. It wasn’t like Charlotte to babble nervously.

“Well…” Charlotte hesitated, twisting her hands together. “It’s just that I heard you and Mr. Winchester agreeing that you could be friends,” she finally managed to say.

“Yes,” Anna agreed, drawing out the word a beat longer than necessary. “Should we not have? It is normal to make friends with people who move to the neighborhood you know.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Charlotte agreed brusquely, “but is it wise for you to be friends with this particular neighbor? Feeling the way you do about him when you are engaged?”

“Oh,” Anna said. A furrow formed between her brows as she considered her friend’s words. “I see what you are saying. But I do not believe it will be an issue.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” she said confidently. “Just because I feel a certain way does not mean my feelings are reciprocated. And he knows I am engaged. He would not be foolish enough to spend time with a promised lady if he felt anything more than friendship for her. I can hardly avoid him without giving him – and anyone else who might notice and question it – a reason. But what reason could I possibly give? Besides, he is only here for a short time. He will be gone by the end of summer. We probably won’t even see each other that much. No, I’m quite certain your concerns are misplaced. I thank you all the same though. You do not know how much it means to me to know I have you looking out for me.”

“You have always been there for me. It is only fair that I do the same for you.”

They walked together for a while longer before returning to their tent. Mr. and Mrs. Winchester were there, and Anna was promptly invited to come along with her mother for tea at their house in two days’ time. She couldn’t ignore a voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Charlotte mocking her earlier assertion that she would not be around Dean very often.

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@123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @aylacavebear

#bullets and ballgowns #supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #original characters #original female character #dean winchester x ofc #non hunting au #regency era

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