#spnrequests

[chucksfavouriteprophet]

The Cowgirl

Dean Winchester x Reader

Request by @blank-artistry : Hi! I was wondering if I could request a Dean x reader where the setting is like the Longest Ride?

A/N: God I haven't seen this film in forever, but I hope I kinda did it justice! I went a bit different with the reader as the bull rider, so I hope you don't mind, and I added a little smut at the end which is a first for me and I was pretty nervous to do but I just felt like it needed something hahaha. Also, I wrote this with the reader being a girl because I just found it a bit easier, but feel free to change this to suit you.

Warnings: Classic supernatural violence, Dean getting sassed, language and some smutty shit at the end

Word count: 3,949

Sam shook his head and laughed as he glanced at his brother. Dean was standing across from him, ogling himself in the mirror.

"C'mon Sammy, don't tell me these boots aren't the coolest things you've seen in the world? And this hat - man, North Carolina is awesome!"

Sam could tell this was going to be a long weekend. The gig was small, and pretty far fetched if he had to be honest. Bull riding was a dangerous sport - was it really something supernatural that killed those men on the same day every year in the ring, or was it just pure coincidence? In Dean's opinion, "it's never a coincidence", but Sam knew his big brother was just excited by the prospect of watching a proper rodeo event.

Still chuckling under his breath, Sam stood up and patted his brother on the shoulder. "Alright then cowboy, lets get this show on the road." They swiftly left the motel and made their way over to Baby, Sam not failing to notice Dean's newly-acquired swagger. He couldn't be mad - it was nice to see Dean in such high spirits when things had been so rough lately.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the rodeo event. It was a warm May Saturday afternoon, and the place was brimming with stetsons and plaid. God, this was practically Dean's wet dream. He parked up gleefully, hopping out and heading straight into the crowd.

"Sammy, you go see if theres anything weird around the stalls. Imma go check out the ring." Before Sam could even reply, Dean was off, skipping towards the main event. The ring was in the centre of the fair, with staggered seats running all the way around the edge. As he approached, a rowdy bull was getting loaded in, grunting as it resisted against those trying to tame it. From that angle, Dean couldn't tell who was about to ride it, but he made his way round the arena and settled in an empty seat just adjacent to the gate.

Seconds later, a buzzer sounded, the gate flew open, and the bull came tumbling out. It instantly whipped round, bucking ferociously in a desperate attempt to kick its rider off. But you didn't budge. In fact, you swayed with the animal's movements, as though you were part of him. You kept your head down so Dean couldn't see your face, but your shiny y/h/c hair flew across your shoulders under the brown suede hat you wore. He couldn't take his eyes off you. Those eight seconds were the shortest of his life; the buzzer sounded once again and you hopped off the bull, giving the elated crowd a wave before heading back out the gate.

"Er Dean? You find anything? Or were you just enjoying the show?" Sam hovered behind him, looking down smugly.

"Huh? Oh, er, yeah. I mean no. Hey, can't a guy just enjoy himself for a few seconds?" Dean was flustered slightly as he stood up and cleared his throat. "I'm telling you man, that's some crazy sport. Did you see that gal? She - she was awesome!"

Sam nodded, "yeah man, I saw. Pretty cool. Also stupidly dangerous." Dean frowned. "Well yeah, but hell, our job is pretty dangerous too. We can't judge." Sam gave him a small smile. "Yeah, yeah you're right. Anyway, lets keep scanning for EMF for a bit, see if we can figure this thing out."

-

The Winchesters walked the perimeter of the fair three times, and Dean managed to watch at least another five rodeos in the ring. By the time it started getting dark and the event started closing up, neither of them had found any sign of a haunt.

"C'mon man, I think it's time we called it a day. Theres nothing here." Sam was tired and was dreaming of his bed, even if it was a grubby little motel one half his size. Reluctantly, Dean agreed, but refused to leave until be bought a mega hot dog with some secret sauce trademarked by the town. He was tired too, and although the day had been fun, he was looking forward to heading back and dreaming of the badass girl in the ring from earlier.

Still, he couldn't sleep. There was something that bugged him about the case - yes, rodeo accidents were common, especially when so many events were going on in the Spring season. But ten deaths, one each year for the past ten years, all on the same day, in the same ring? If that wasn't suspicious enough, the circumstances had to be. None of the deaths had happened during a ride - the bodies had all been found in the ring, mutilated by a bull, in the early hours of the morning. They'd occurred during the night, when no one was around, and when all the animals were back in their respective barns and trailers. It didn't make any sense.

After a few hours of searching, Dean found something. It wasn't the sort of thing that would usually have caught his eye, except for the fact that the article below was about a wonderfully busted actress which had drawn in his attention.

"Sam. Sam, wake up!" Dean shook his brother, waving the paper in his face.

Sam groaned and rubbed his eyes. "You're still up? The hell's going on Dean?" He pushed himself to sit up and squinted at the article Dean excited thrust towards him.

"It's not the spirit of a person we're looking for. It's the spirit of a bull." Dean's eyes were wide with satisfaction.

"A-a bull?" Sam wasn't quite awake and looked at his brother questioningly.

"Yeah, man, a bull! See here, eleven years to this day, May 5th, 1997, this bull rider right, it was his last ride, he was a sure thing, fan favourite to win. The competition was rigged, so he knew which bull he was gonna get, and he'd practiced on him for weeks. Dude was gonna make history."

Sam nodded, wondering when Dean was going to get to the point.

"But it went wrong, see? He'd trained the bull to swing left, then right, then right again. He'd like choreographed the moves and all, so he was ready to move even before the bull did. But instead of going right a second time, the bull went left, right, and then left. But his rider, he swung right. Fell straight off on the seventh second. Lost the championship by the skin of his teeth."

"Did he die?" Sam ran a hand through his hair.

"No no, see, he was fine. Mad as hell, but fine. Stormed out the arena and didn't return. Except that evening, he snuck the bull out the trailer and set it loose in the ring. Went wild on it, whipping it and throwing beer bottles at it, making it tear round for hours until it died of exhaustion. Then he upped and left, and the cleaners found the bull's body in the ring the next morning."

Sam was already packing his bag. "So it's the bull that haunts the ring every year. Tries to get revenge for what the rider did to it." Dean nodded. "And guess what? Estimated cause of death of the bull - 1.39am."

Sam froze. "That's the same time each of those people were estimated to have died too." Dean nodded. "Oh, and Sam. What time is it now?"

"1am..."

-

The fair was pitch black when they arrived. No one was around, and the purring of Baby was the only sound to be heard. The boys tiptoed hesitantly around the stalls until a light caught Sam's eye.

"Dean. There. Look." He pointed in the direction of the ring where a torch was being shone. They heard the gate squeak open and the flood lights jolted on, causing the brothers to wince slightly. Once the coast seemed clear, they quietly made their way across the field and round the back of the ring into the stands.

"Ahh shit," Dean groaned once he saw who was in the ring. He would always be able to recognise the way those y/h/c/ locks shimmied from under that dusty stetson.

"What?" Sam frowned, peering round to get a better look.

"That's the girl from earlier. We gotta get her outta here Sam." Before Dean could move, a voice halted him in place.

"Hey! Up there! Yeah, I'm talking to you two creeps!" You’d spotted them. Hands in pockets, you started walking across the dirt and stared up at them.

"Oh, er, hi, ma'am." Sam stood up slowly, cracking a smile. "Sorry, we didn't mean to bother you or anything but..."

"But if you don't leave right now you're gonna die." Dean swallowed down the words as he felt Sam's eyes burn into the back of his head.

You just laughed. "Die? What, you two dorks gonna try kill me or something?" Sam nudged Dean roughly, giving him a glare before he stepped forward.

"No, no of course not. But er, it's just, it's hard to explain. But every year, on this night, someone dies in this ring. So if you could just, you know, leave, that would be great!"

You’d reached the fence now and leapt up, the shake making the brothers jump slightly. You climbed up with ease until you reached the top and hung your head over, grinning down at them.

"Honey, this is a bull riding ring. People die. It's unfortunate, but it happens. But I ain't gonna be one of them, okay?"

Sam and Dean shot each other a glance. Okay, so you were a stubborn one. "Look, I'm Dean, and this is my brother, Sam. We saw you ride earlier and, I don't know, I-we, thought you were cool. What's your name?"

You scoffed and shook your head. "Y/N. Which, if you had actually watched me ride properly, you'd already know." They knew you had a point.

"Alright then, Y/N, you got us there. But seriously, you need to get out the ring before you get run down by some mad angry steak." Dean gave you a cheeky grin, hoping his charm might help slightly. It didn't.

"Man, it's the middle of the night. I ain't bringing no bull in here without back up, I'm not insane. I'm just scouting out the ring, getting my bearings before the finals tomorrow."

"It doesn't matter." Sam looked at you with such a serious look, it kinda creeped you out. "The bull that's gonna get in here, it'll do so on its own. Its name is Rampant Thunder."

You shook your head. "No, no Rampant Thunder is dead. Everyone knows that story, his jerk of a rider murdered him because he lost a gig years back." You threw yourself over the fence and stormed towards the boys, your face a myriad of emotions.

"We know," Dean said solemnly. "It was this day, this night, 11 years ago. And every year, on the anniversary of his death, he kills someone, in this very ring. And tonight, that's gonna be you unless you do what we say, and get the hell out of here."

You couldn't believe your ears. Who the hell were these guys? You knew people died here more often than in other rings, but hell, this was redneck country and all sorts of crazy shit happened around here. But there was something about their faces that made you question your instincts. The tall one, Sam, looked anxious, constantly glancing around him. You hadn't failed to notice the gun he gripped tightly behind his back. And as for the cute one, Dean. You had seen him earlier, when you were riding. Every time you got on a bull, you found someone in the crowd to latch onto. This time, it had been him, and you’d enjoyed catching those ocean green eyes for those eight seconds. Dean looked downright scared right now, and you could tell that wasn't an emotion he felt often.

"Look, it's getting late anyway. It's gone 1.30am, I ought to be getting going. And not because of some crazy ghost bull you two keep going on about, but because I need my beauty sleep, alright?" The boys seemed content with that answer and stepped aside, making way for you to make your way back out the gate onto the main field. They gave each other a look of relief as Sam nodded towards his watch, hovering at 1.39am. They were in the clear.

Except they weren't. With a few seconds gain on the Winchesters, you started to hurry back towards your car before you froze.

"Hey, Y/N. You alright?" Dean took a quick look around him in the darkness.

"Er, yeah. Sorry, I just thought I heard something. Ignore me, I've been hanging around cows too long, sometimes I can hear them mooing in my damn head!" You chuckled, but it was clearly one of anxiety.

"It's not in your head." Sam breathed. The three of you stood incredibly still as you heard the roar of a cow to your right, followed by the stamping of hooves.

"Y/N. Run!" Dean hollered as he spun round, pulling his gun out in the direction of the the sound. In the darkness he couldn't see a thing except the grey misting of breath some meters away.

You legged it as fast as you could towards the stalls, crouching behind one to find your breath when you felt your were far enough away. What the hell was going on? A fucking ghost bull? This was ridiculous.

But of course, it wasn't. Not when you could feel the warm breath against your ear and felt the bull's saliva drip onto your shoulder. You turned your head slowly, but there was nothing there. Nothing visible, at least. But it was there alright.

Your piercing scream sent Sam and Dean running, weaving between stands, guns at the ready. You were crouched in a ball, rolled up tightly against the corner of a candyfloss stall. Sam fired to your left, the rocksalt penetrating the invisible animal and sending it up in smoke. Dean ran forward, reaching out to you.

"You okay?" You nodded, then shook your head strongly. "No I'm not damn okay, a fricking ghost bull just tried to kill me!" Dean couldn't help but smile at your abruptness. "Yeah, takes a while to get over that stuff." He didn't even realise that you had shifted position to curl into his arms, tucking your head into his shoulder. "Is it dead? Or gone, or whatever?" You peered up at him.

"No," Sam said, reloading his gun. "Rocksalt just blasts it. But it'll be back, and you're it's target. We've gotta get you out of here now."

Dean stood up, helping you to your feet and starting to guide you towards the lot behind Sam, who was poised and ready with the gun.

"Wait." You tugged at Dean's jacket and caught his eyes despairingly. "You said this thing comes back ever year, right? And every year, it kills someone because of the way it was killed?"

Dean nodded frantically, "yeah, that's why we gotta go!" But your feet were planted and you weren’t going anywhere. "That poor animal didn't deserve to die, especially not like that. He was totally abused, and left to die all alone. He was probably terrified. Look, I don't know much about this ghost shit, but surely he's haunting this place for a reason? Can't we free him or something?"

The Winchesters glanced at each other. Damn, you were testing their morality. But you were right. If they just left, the bull would come back year after year, killing innocent people. They came here to stop it, and that's what they had to do.

"Maybe, but it depends. It's an animal, so there won't be any records of where the body is buried and burning the bones is usually the best way to free a spirit. And if it's revenge the bull is killing for, that's pretty much hopeless because we can't just kill a man because he killed an animal, as much as I'd love to." Sam shrugged, stumped for thought.

"What if it's not revenge?" you questioned. "These animals, sometimes they go through horrendous treatment. I mean, we ride them for all of eight seconds, right, just letting them go feral trying to buck us off because clearly they hate it. So, what if it's not revenge he wants. What if he just wants out?"

Dean nodded, glancing back and forth between the two of you. "The guy that killed him. He was never punished, right?"

Sam shook his head. "No, the guy ran off and they never heard from him again. No one went after him."

Dean turned to look at you, staring you straight in the eye. "You're right. He's trapped here. He's got no closure, and he can't leave this place. He's only killing people out of fear, not revenge. We have to free him."

At that very moment, there was an almighty crash as a stall to your left shattered into pieces. Hooves thudded on the grass, growing louder by the second.

"So how the hell do we do that?!" You shouted, gripping Dean's arms tight.

"We get him over the threshold, that's what we do."

In a split second, he wrapped his arm round your back, propelling you forward towards the fair exit. The three of you ran like hell, the bull close on their heels. You could feel his horns brush your back as you stumbled over the threshold, falling to your knees with a yelp. You braced yourself for impact, squeezing your eyes tight. But there was nothing. Nothing but the slight 'poof' behind you. You spun around just in time to see smoke drift up and away, threading itself around the entrance sign and floating off into the night sky.

Sam looked round to see you being embraced tightly by his brother. "How - how did you know that would work?" You stammered. "I wasn't sure it would," Dean chuckled. "But I figured every death happened in the ring. He never had a reason to leave it. But if he needed to chase you outside, if he needed to follow you away from the scene of the crime, outside the boundary even, it might give his spirit just enough of a push to let go and be set free."

Sam shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He knew what was going to come next. "Maybe?! Christ sake, maybe?!" You shoved Dean with disbelief and Sam chuckled. "Good luck getting yourself out of this one, big brother." He slapped Dean's shoulder as he headed back towards the car, still chuckling at himself. Something told him Dean wouldn't be coming back to the motel just yet.

-

Naturally, Sam was right. Dean had figured the only way to stop you from going on a rant about how much of an idiot he had been for almost getting you killed was to seize you by the face and kiss you. It worked, of course. You couldn't deny that you’d wanted to do the same thing since he'd grabbed you from behind the candyfloss stand.

By the time you’d made it back to your car, all you were wearing was that sexy stetson and your Ariat boots. That was more than he had on, to be fair. Dean pushed you against the hood and you wrapped your legs around his waist eagerly, squeezing them tight. He kissed you all over and your hands wandered, first giving his peachy butt a good slap before reaching round between both your legs. By this point, his mouth was around your left nipple, sucking gently while his right hand caressed the other.

"Fuck, I've always wanted to do it with a cowgirl," he giggled as he took a breath. "Well, today's your lucky day, cowboy." You looked down at him and bit your lip as you grasped tightly onto his rock hard penis. Dean's head thrust up and he growled before softening into your grasp. Your hand moved methodically up and down, hitting all the right places at just the right speed. He couldn’t help but think if this was how she rode the bulls, they were damn lucky bulls.

Before long, Dean started to feel himself brewing. Quickly, he pulled you up further so that his face could burry itself in your dripping wet pussy. His tongue caressed you, taking it all in as your hand gripped his hair tight and moaned. Mosquitos buzzed around you, but neither took any notice. You were far too busy enjoying yourselves.

"Dean," you moaned, reaching down to tilt his head up. "Dean, come up here. Let's make it a tie." He did as he was told, moving up to lie next to you, replacing his mouth with his hand. Once again, you took hold of his penis, rubbing even harder this time. Quickly, you fell into a rhythm, your hands working their magic on each other while your lips intertwined, only parting to take a brief breath.

Neither had any idea how much time had passed, but the night was still as you locked eyes, feeling the energy catch its spark. You both exploded, coming into each other's hands at the exact same moment. It took a while for you to recover, both panting while laughing as you gazed into each other's eyes.

You sat like that, wrapped in each other's arms, for a few more hours as you watched the sun rise. At some point, you’d both gotten dressed, but Dean had made a point to steal your stetson and refused to take it off. As the first stallholders started to arrive, you stayed where you were, giggling like children at the funny looks shot at you. After a while, Dean was alerted by the familiar honk of Baby's horn, and the pair of you turned round to see Sam pull up a few yards away.

"Hey, Sam!" You yelled, giving him a wave. "Hey, Y/N. Glad to see you still alive and kicking. Oh, and thanks for keeping my brother preoccupied. Best night sleep I've had in weeks." He winked as Dean rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, I gotta shoot." Dean stroked your hair softly. "More ghost cows calling, huh?" you giggled, planting a quick kiss on his lips. "Something like that. I'm sorry I can't stay to watch your ride."

You shook your head and crinkled your face. "Don't worry, you won't miss it. Just turn to the first page in the paper in the morning. I'll be the one who wins, if you're wondering where to look." He smiled down at you, reaching up to pass the hat back.

"Keep it. I've got plenty." You gave it a pat and adjusted the brim to fit on his head better. With one final kiss, Dean slipped off the car and headed over to his brother, who was already chuckling away.

"Keep that trap shut, boy, or you're riding shotgun for a year." Dean sauntered round to the passenger side, giving you one final nod as he climbed in. As Sam sped away, Dean flipped the hat off to run a hand through his tousled hair. He grinned when he saw the phone number scribbled on a scrap of paper tucked into the inside of the rim.

If one thing was for sure, Dean Winchester would never forget his rodeo with his cowgirl.

#dean winchester #spn x reader #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam and dean #dean winchester x y/n #spn fic #spnrequests #spn smut #dean x cowgirl!reader

[chucksfavouriteprophet]

High

The Winchesters x Reader (sister)

Request: Ok may I request a Winchester brothers x sister reader where the reader is depressed harms themselves and feels like she not good enough and is a drug addict like does weed and other drugs drinks to relieve her pain and her brothers found out /caught the reader being high or doing drugs and are not happy it and the reader just not having it and has doesn’t want help and can’t handle being sober since tends to withdrawal and rather not be lectured so she runs away and overdoses and her brothers find her but in the end her brothers help her in recovery it fluffy in the end (@supernerdycookietrashblr )

A/N: This is my first attempt at a request, so I'm really sorry if it wasn't what you were after! The request was kinda based off Euphoria, which I'm pretty obsessed with so I tried to use what we see of Rue's battle with addiction as well as my own experience. I'm sorry it's so long as well, I kinda got carried away!

Warnings: Man, why do I keep writing deep shit. Okay, so really graphic discussion of self harm and hard drug use, including overdosing. Lots of self-hatred and violence towards others too. Talk of seizures, vomit, blood etc. But don't worry it all ends in some nice Winchester brother fluff!!

Word count: 3,156

It had been a few months since you'd started living with your brothers again. If again was even the right word to use; you'd never really lived with them in the first place. While John had taken the boys round on hunts as kids, you'd been sent straight to boarding school across the country. Sam and Dean always said you were lucky, that you'd been saved a childhood of displacement and abnormality. To them, you'd been given a break - Sam especially got jealous a lot, often wondering why his little sister had been allowed to get an education when he hadn't. On the odd occasion you'd come back for the holidays, you'd be met with resentment from your brothers; Dean treated you like an innocent kid who had no clue what their life was like, and Sam pretended you weren't really there. So not really that different from boarding school, aka, the most lonely place in the world.

Maybe it would have been different if you had wanted to be there, if you'd been more academic and wanted to study like Sam did. If you felt like your Dad had shipped you off for your own good, it might have been okay. Except you knew he hadn't. Your Dad didn't care about you getting an education any more than he did the boys. He just couldn't stand the sight of you, thats why he sent you away. He couldn't cope with looking at his daughter every day, the daughter that looked the spitting image of her mother.

Even once you'd left school, you had no desire to go home. Hell, Sam left you a voice message to tell you your Dad had died, which you took as the perfect opportunity to go on a two week long bender. You figured they were back hunting together, that Sam had given up on school - they didn't need you around. Besides, you had your own gig going on, hustling around bars, spending nights with random guys in exchange for some crack. The thought of Dean knowing about your secret little drug habit made you laugh.

But now things had changed. Ever since that woman walked into the club, the woman who looked just like you. You thought you were tripping at first - there certainly were occasions where you'd hallucinated your mother, but this time, it was real. She had tried to explain to you how she had come back, that your brothers had been dealing with God and the Darkness and all this stuff that didn't seem to make much sense. She'd been shocked to hear that you hadn't spoken to them in so long, and she wanted you to come home, to be a family.

At first you said no. You had never been a family, not really. What made her think they could be now? By the time you'd decided to give it a shot, she was gone, trapped in some parallel world. So now it was just you and your brothers, staying in an old bunker that reminded you all too well of your old school.

You almost gave Dean a heart attack after your first hunt together. It didn't help that he couldn't take his eyes off you, probably because if people thought you'd looked like Mary as a kid, you really did now you were all grown up. They probably hadn't seen you since you were ten, and now you were almost twenty you really were the spitting image of her. Neither of the boys expected you to join in on the hunt, so they were shocked to learn that you had a few tricks up your sleeve. You'd never let hunting go - knowing what happened to your Mom, knowing what was really out there - how could you have stopped? But that night, you did kinda feel like a family. You'd butchered the nest, earned a few little scrapes, and enjoyed a beer back at the bunker with your big brothers. For a second, everything was perfect.

For a second. Before long, it all became too much. What the hell were you doing? You'd avoided your family for a reason, to stay disconnected to your life, to avoid reality. At some point they were bound to ask what you did as a day job, or what those scars up and down your arms were. The thought of all that...hell, you didn't even want to think about it. They'd probably kick you out, which you weren't sure was a good thing or a bad thing. They'd be disappointed with you, especially after spending all those years thinking you were the 'normal' kid.

That was where your head was at as you sat on the toilet seat in the bathroom in the cold, damp bunker. When you first moved in, you hadn't thought about what would happen when your stash got low, which now it was. That filled you with anxiety - you couldn't remember the last time you'd gone without a hit. Fumbling through your bags, you found enough weed to last you probably a week, barely enough pills for a few days, and maybe enough coke for tonight. Plus the 'emergency' bits hidden elsewhere that you swore you would never, ever touch unless you really, really had to.

You groaned, slamming your head back repeatedly onto the wall. Anxiety was starting to eat away at you, and you knew there was only one way to stop it. You reached behind the soap for the razor you stored, ready to go. As you brushed it gently across your wrists, you felt the stress leave you. The warm liquid that oozed down your arm sent you into a state of peace, the physical pain taking over from the mental. You much preferred that; at least with physical pain, you knew the source, how to stop it, you could see it all going on. When it was in your head, there was no end.

"Y/N!" It look you a second to recognise the voice as Dean's, not just a random client waiting for you in your room. "Y/N, Sammy found a case. You comin?"

You sighed, annoyed at being interrupted from your tranquility. "What sorta case?" you shouted back. "Demons took over a bar in Omaha." Dean's impatience was short lived, as you leapt up and swung your head out the door. "Gimme 5 secs, I'll be there." You hurriedly wrapped up your wrist, shoving the razor back in its hiding place. Omaha, the city known for its drug problems. If there was a chance you could cop a score, there was no way you were missing out on that hunt.

-

A few hours later, you were starting to regret you decision. Lying in the corner of a bar, having been thrown all over the place by the pissy little demon, you'd had no opportunity to get away from your brothers and find some locals. Dean was pretty beat, having tried to take the brunt of the fight. Sam had been knocked out at some point, but he crawled towards you as he came to.

"Hey, you okay? Are you hurt?" You shook your head. The only pain you really felt was your internal organs shifting around, screaming at you not to go into withdrawal. Dean finished off the final demon, and the three of you limped out to the Impala. After what felt like years, you finally arrived back at the bunker. Just in the nick of time too; your stomach was growling at you and at some point the nausea would make itself fully known. As you scrambled from the car, your head fuzzed, forcing you to sway slightly. Sam, ever the noticeable, reached out and grabbed you before you fell.

"You sure you're okay?" You tried to give him a smile, except his hand was wrapped tightly around your wrist. The wrist that was now pulsating and had started bleeding through the bandage under Sam's grip. Of course, he noticed. Call it big brother instinct or whatever.

"Dean, she's lying. Y/N is hurt, her arms bleeding. I'll get her inside, you go grab the first aid kit." Shit. How on earth were you gonna cover this one up?

"Sam, honestly, its fine. Just a scratch. You two are bleeding waaaay more than me..." But your brother was having none of it. He guided you down the stairs and into a seat, kneeling next to you ready to roll up your sleeve.

"Sam, please, don't" you tried to will him away, knowing it would have no effect. "C'mon, Y/N, let us take care of you. It's the least we can do-"

You couldn't look at him as he pulled your sleeve up and pealed away the bandage. For a second, time froze. Sam didn't move, and once Dean barged in and saw the scene you could feel the anger rising from him. "Dammit Y/N, that ain't no demon scratch. What the hell are you playing at?"

You snatched your arm out of Sam's grasp and shoved your sleeve back down. "Its nothing" you snarled. "You shouldn't have interfered, you don't even know me." You stormed off to your room, eyes stinging with tears. The lights were so bright, everything was starting to agitate you and you were desperate for a hit. Slamming the door behind you, you whipped out the bag you did under the bed.

It was empty. The few drugs you had left were gone. You felt sick, shivering down to the core. No, no, no, no. You stormed out the room, back to the kitchen where Dean had his hand on Sam's shoulder, comforting his obviously distressed brother.

"WHERE THE HELL IS IT?"

"Y/N..." Sam stood up and tried to walk towards you, but you stepped back, steaming with anger. "Don't fuck with me, Sam. I know you two have it. That wasn't your shit to take, so give it back, right now. NOW!" Sam shook his head sadly, "we can't do that, Y/N."

When had this happened? How long had they known? You thought you had it so well hidden! You stepped forward and pushed Sam's chest with as much power as you could, but he barely stumbled. "Give it back! Give it back! Give it back!" You screeched, pushing him harder this time. Neither of your brothers moved.

You spun around, desperate to find your stuff. Pots and pans went flying as you tore the kitchen apart, ripping the doors off their hinges, punching through the walls. "Y/N, please, we're just trying to help. Come sit down" Dean hovered behind you, his big hands reaching out to grab your shoulders. At the slightest touch you flinched, whirling round to face him. He instantly backed off, hands in the air. "C'mon, sis. Put the knife down". You hadn't even realised you were holding the sharp thing, hand gripping it tightly pointed straight at Dean's chest.

Fuck, you needed a hit. Your damn brothers - this is exactly why you didn't believe in family. How could they do this to you? They had no right to go snooping in your room, taking your things behind your back.

Except then it hit you. They couldn't have taken it all, because it wasn't all in the same place. You slowly moved towards the door, not letting the knife drop as a warning for Sam and Dean to stay back. Once you reached the corridor, you turned and sprinted towards your room, skidding on your knees as you locked the door behind you. You went straight to the bed, lifting up the mattress and peeling back a fragment of material that had been half picked off. Thank god for your secret stash.

"Y/N, let us in, please. We're worried about you, please, just talk to us. We hate seeing you in pain." Sam did genuinely sound upset, but you didn't care. You didn't care about anything right now, except for opening up the baggy and grabbing a lighter from your pocket to warm up the smooth, black gunk on a burnt-out tablespoon. Your hands were shaking so much, it took a while to get the flame lit, and you had to really focus on holding the spoon steady. You hardly registered the pounding at the door.

"Son of a bitch Y/N, let us in before we break the door down." You didn't for a second doubt Dean's threat, but so what? The liquid was bubbling as you pulled out a clean syringe kept alongside the secret stash and placed the tip in the centre. Or probably not the centre, seeing as you were so shakey and your vision so blurred.

You had barely filled the syringe before you heard the door heave. Dean was fulfilling his word, but he was too late. There was a reason you'd chosen a bedroom with a small window; it might not have been big, but it was the perfect smoking outlet. And now, for a desperate junkie about to hit the worst of withdrawal, it looked like the perfect way out. You broke the window with your bare fist, enjoying the pain of broken glass spreading across your knuckles. You squeezed out, not caring how you had to manipulate your limbs, as long as the syringe stayed in tact. You would guard that shit like your life depended on it. Because your life depended on it.

-

On the third heave, the door came crashing down. Sam and Dean knew it was too late; they'd heard the window smash and your groans as you tried to squeeze out of it.

"Dammit!" Dean kicked the bed as Sam crouched down and picked up the burnt-out spoon. "Dean...what have we done?" He looked up at this brother with desperation in his eyes. "What we had to, Sammy. You and I both know it was getting out of control, she was going to kill herself and she thought we had no idea." Sam threw the spoon on the floor. "And she still might, Dean, maybe now more than ever. We should never have taken her stuff, we should have talked to her first..." Dean grabbed his brothers shoulders and stared at him. "She's a junkie, Sam. Remember what you were like on demon blood? She's our sister, man, addiction runs in our veins. Look, I saved you, didn't I? So lets go save her, huh?"

-

The moon was so bright, it was intoxicating. You made it up the hill, leaving the bunker in the distance, but there was no way you could carry on. Every few steps you'd trip over, grasping the cold soil for stability. At some point you had to stop to throw up, feeling your whole body shake to the point of near collapse. It was now or never.

You could hear your brothers shouting for you in the distance as you slid down a tree, cradling the syringe like a baby. You'd never thought it would come to this - all your life you'd stayed away from needles, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Secretly you always knew it would get to this point - that was why you had the stuff, wasn't it? You tugged at your sleeve, wiping away as much of the dried blood from your cuts as possible and squeezing your arm tight to find a vein. Still, it was a gamble given that you were far too dizzy to spot something so small in almost total darkness. It pinched a little as it went in, and then everything stopped. Your head cleared, the air felt warm against your cheeks. You smiled as you let your body roll over, nestling your head in the moss. Peace, at last.

-

Sam thought he'd never find you. The woods around the bunker were so vast, and you could be anywhere. Regret seeped through him - all those lost memories he could have made with you as kids, all the chances in the last few years he and Dean should have made an effort to reach out and try to bring you home. He cursed himself as he charged through the bushes, shouting your name as loud as possible.

"Sam!" Dean's gruff voice echoed from his left. "Sam, she's over here!" The eldest Winchester was crouched down in front of you, muttering to himself. "C'mon sis, don't give up on us now." He scooped your lolling head up, resting it on his lap as he checked for a pulse.

Sam towered about him, panting in shock. "Is she..." Dean shook his head. "She's still alive, but her heart is racing, Sammy. I-I think she might be overdosing". He picked up your weak body as you let out a little groan, opening your eyes in slits. Dean looked down on you, his green eyes swamped with worry as he stroked your hair. "It's gonna be okay, Y/N. You're gonna get through this, I promise you. Me and Sammy, we're gonna patch you right up. I promise." You eyes rolled back into your head as you faded out, drifting off into the unknown.

-

You bit your lip as you opened the card left on your pillow. The boys hadn't said anything all day, but you knew they hadn't forgotten. Tears pricked your eyes as you read the words, full of love and appreciation that this time last year you never could have recognised. "Congrats on one year sober, Y/N." You spun around and smiled at your brothers, standing hunched in the doorway. You slid towards them, embracing them in a tight hug. You felt Sam's chest heave beneath you as he struggled to control his sobs, and you could feel Dean's wet check against yours. You would never forgive yourself for what you put them through, Sam trying to keep you alive in the back of the Impala as you seized and vomited, Dean driving a million miles an hour to get you to hospital. The past year had been horrendous, and there were countless times you thought there was no way you could stay clean.

But no matter what, Sam and Dean stood by you. Every hard day, they never left your side, constantly encouraging you, even if they didn't always say the right thing. They held your hair back as you threw up, patted your face with a cold flannel as you battled a raging fever. They visited every day when you were in rehab, bringing along information from their current cases so you could still help. And when you returned to the bunker, the place was gutted of alcohol as even Dean committed to supporting your sobriety. You could never have imagined anyone would want to care for you like they had. It had taken decades for you to feel like you belonged, but here you were. Team Winchester, ready to face anything. You had a new addiction now - family.

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