#when the british men of letters came to america asking sam to give out the names of their associates
the simplest way to fix spn is conceptualizing how the seasons would play out if the major recurring characters had not been killed for shock value. for example: leviathan season becomes infinitely better if henriksen had been involved during the winchester manhunt, and ash had been the one helping them cover their tracks (instead of creating and disposing of an entire new character)
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Scotch and Snow
Christmas fic
Masterlist
Based on an imagine found here by @thefandomimagine
Crowley x Australian OC (Gender Neutral)
Words: 1,773
Warnings: Fluff, little bit of awkwardness and gift giving, more fluff
Normally, Crowley ignored this time of year, at least anything beyond the increase in demon deals as people decided that they wanted certain material things for their friends and family and were willing to go to any extent to do it. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the idea of Christmas had never overly appealed to him, to him, it was mostly just a waste of time and an unnecessary reason to spend time with friends and family.
It wasn’t that there weren’t people he wanted to see, but it was more that none of them really wanted to see him, and that was something that he forced to very back of his mind.
None of them, except maybe one.
It was risky though, and he’d spent the last few days deciding whether or not he could take that risk, and whether or not it would be something that would remain unnoticed, even if he was extremely careful.
His decision wasn’t made until Christmas morning, when he received a simple text message.
I know demons probably don’t care about the holidays, but Merry Christmas Crowley.
Crowley had stared at it for a long time and knew that he had to take the risk.
Ensuring he had a few extra protections on himself, he teleported as close as he dared, his face almost instantly screwing up as the heat hit him, throwing him for a moment, feeling the sun burning at his skin almost instantly.
How could anyone stand this?
The little street was quiet, a few having Christmas decorations up, including a few including animals he certainly hadn’t seen being involved in Christmas before. Shaking his head, he walked a little down the street and around the corner, a group of kids playing cricket in the street, uncaring if a car was to come down the street at any moment.
He knew it was a different part of the world, but he honestly hadn’t been prepared for just how different it could be.
A knock on the door to a quiet little home, not a decoration in sight, and the door was answered with a smile.
“Crowley,” Shannon said, leaning on the doorway. “I never actually thought I’d see you in person again, at least not here.”
He shrugged it off. “I figured, seeing as I can practically go anywhere, it would be more polite than a text in return.”
Shannon grins and steps back inside. “Come on it, we’ll let too much cold air out otherwise.”
Crowley was more than a little relieved as the front door closed behind him, the cool air settling around him, and making him give a small sigh. “Anyone would think you live in Hell.”
Laughing, Shannon returns to the lounge. “There’s probably more than a few that would agree with you, but it doesn’t usually involved the torture and everything else, and it’s not actually as hot as what it can get.”
He adjusts his suit at the mere thought. “Charming. I can’t believe you came back.”
Shannon cast him a smile. “It’s my home Crowley, I’m hardly going to let some weather dictate where I live.”
Crowley sits, frowning. “I guess I’m just too used to the cold. It was strange appearing here and just finding…heat.”
“That’s what air-conditioning is for.” Shannon takes a drink of tea. “And ice-cream.”
“Are you drinking?” He asked, sounding a lot harsher than he intended to. “Are you mad?”
“I didn’t realise there were restrictions?” Shannon raised an eyebrow, looking amused. “Just because it’s hot, doesn’t mean I can’t drink tea.”
Crowley stared, and then shakes his head. “You really are backwards.”
“Welcome to Australia,” Shannon chuckled. “I take it you saw the kangaroo sled down the street? We like to adapt things to our own little piece of paradise; you should hear some of the songs.”
“No thank you,” Crowley said. “Maybe another time, I think I’ve taken all the difference I can for the day.”
“You did come and visit,” Shannon said. “You had to expect something.”
Crowley looks at them and sighs after a moment. “I did, and I hope I don’t seem too…unnerved. I wanted to offer my own, er, Merry Christmas.”
“Thank you,” Shannon chuckled. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say it with a certain amount of disdain to what you’ve seen.”
He opened his mouth to say something in return before taking in the living room, quickly seeing that there was no sign of Christmas seemingly anywhere around. “Do you not celebrate Christmas?”
“I do,” Shannon nods, following his gaze. “But I don’t see the need in showing it to the world, and with no friends or family visiting this year, I didn’t see the need to set up anything. It always felt like a lot of effort for little return.”
Crowley watched Shannon get up, surprised. “You’re the exception of course, never thought I’d make friends with a demon of all things, but I don’t think you mind the missing decorations. Stay there a moment.”
Shannon disappeared from the room, leaving Crowley wondering to himself for a moment, relaxing on the lounge. It was…oddly comfortable here, despite the scorching heat outside, and Shannon, well, was Shannon. They’d become friends when Shannon visited America during the year, and despite working with the British Men of Letters, Shannon had been more than reasonable, even getting along easily with the Winchester’s. It had felt like much too short a time before they returned home, and Crowley had always wondered just what it was that made Shannon so amicable.
Reappearing, Crowley was stunned to see Shannon carrying a present, and proceeding to hold it out to him. “Merry Christmas Crowley.”
“You got me a gift?” He asked.
Shannon smiled as he took it. “I would’ve sent it with Sam, Dean, and Castiel’s presents, but I can guarantee they wouldn’t have given it to you, especially if they snuck a look.”
Crowley stared at them for a moment. “You knew I would visit?”
Shrugging, Shannon gestures to the gift. “Open it.”
He wasn’t used to gifts, so it took him a moment to look at it, the rectangular gift a little heavy, wrapped it…
“Are those meant to be Hellhounds?” Crowley asked, amused.
Shannon laughed. “I do have talents outside of hunting, so yes, everyone got their own custom wrapping paper.”
Crowley looks at them. “I can’t imagine your superiors like this?”
“What they don’t know, won’t hurt them.” Shannon drinks the rest of their tea. “And besides, I’d like to see what they’ll do with their best agent.”
He smiles and proceeds to carefully open the present, still not entirely sure how he felt about receiving a gift, let alone one in custom wrapping paper, but he was even more stunned as he saw just exactly what it was.
It was an incredibly old and awfully expensive bottle of scotch.
“Perks of the job, before you ask,” Shannon said at his stunned expression. “And I looked it up, you can’t actually buy this anywhere except from the rare collector that decides to sell it, which is even rarer in itself.”
“Understandable,” Crowley said, pulling out the bottle and holding it up in the light. “Are you sure you want to give it to me?”
“Absolutely,” Shannon said. “I know you have a taste for it, and it won’t do anything here except sit on my shelf and get even older.”
“Honestly I’m of half a mind to do that myself,” Crowley said earnestly. “This is a lot.”
Shannon shrugs it off. “It’s nothing.”
Crowley could see it thought, the slight embarrassment, the increase in heart rate and careful avoidance of his gaze.
“And you don’t have to give me anything,” Shannon said quickly as he goes to talk. “That’s not the point of Christmas. I just wanted to give you something and that’s all there is to it.”
He couldn’t help it, he smiled. “Well, thank you, but I still feel it necessary to do something for you in return. It would only be fair, so name it.”
There was a clear question on their features for a moment, completely unsure, but then it was gone and replaced by something else that he couldn’t quiet place.
“Well…” Shannon was a little hesitant. “I had been hoping to be in the states for Christmas. I’m not going to lie, it was why I jumped on the job so quickly in the first place, but there was ultimately not much I could do about being sent back home. I love here, I do, but…”
Crowley’s hand rested on theirs, making them freeze and look at him. “Name your price love.”
Shannon gives a soft chuckle. “It’s going to sound ridiculous to you, I know that, but I’ve always wanted a white Christmas.”
“When you live here in this Hell like heat, I’m not surprised.” Crowley said, grinning. “Go get something warm on. It’s the least I can do.”
It must have been a strange sight, seeing someone walk out of their house rugged up to the hilt in this hot weather, the man with them in a black suit which also definitely wasn’t suited, but neither of them seemed to care. Walking down the street, it was like a blink and they were gone, the thought of it soon fading from anyone who happened to see minds.
Shannon stared a little in wonder at all the white around, the temperate cold, but bearable. Snow as starting to fall through air, and there was no missing the wide smile as they held out their hand, the small crystals landing and slowly melting away.
Crowley watched, unable to shake the smile from his lips. They joy, he had to admit to himself, was a wonder to watch, and he suddenly decided that there was nothing that he would trade this moment for, not that there was anyone he’d ever tell that to.
Shannon turned and smiled at him. “Thank you for bringing me here Crowley. It is…well, it’s beyond words.”
“Merry Christmas Shannon,” Crowley said, earnestly this time. “I hope this beats sitting at home drinking tea.”
Smiling and returning to Crowley’s side, Shannon takes his hand. “Much. Will you walk with me?”
Crowley’s smiles and nods, the two of them soon walking easily through the snow, talking about everything and nothing. The longer it went on, the easier it all felt, eventually falling into comfortable silence. Crowley thought that if Christmas could be like this every year, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all, and as much as Shannon didn’t say anything, they felt much the same.
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Oh, the Irony (Crowley x Female!Reader)
Summary: Y/n is a hunter from America who comes to London to ask the demon, Crowley for help.
Fandom: Good Omens, Supernatural, slight Doctor Who
Warnings: Fluff, minor swearing
((REQUESTS OPEN!))
~~~~~~~~~
LONDON, TEN YEARS BEFORE THE END OF THE WORLD
After the Antichrist had been placed and the angel, Aziraphale, and the demon, Crowley, had decided to both watch over Warlock, the two celestials often found themselves in each other’s company more and more than the past 6000 years put together. It was during this time when Crowley found himself parked outside of Aziraphale’s bookshop for one of his annual visits. As he waltzed inside as if he owned the place, the angel was already on him with a desperate look in his eye.
“I think there’s an American hunter in the back room of my shop.”
Crowley’s steps stutter only momentarily before he eyes Aziraphale through his glasses with a snarl, “Are you sure?”
“Positive. She came in asking about an ancient book on spells that I couldn’t help but notice had everything to do with demon hunting,” when Crowley’s eyes passed on a brief look of betrayal behind his shades, Aziraphale nearly huffed, “Don’t give me that look! Why wouldn’t I have a book like that?”
“Fair point,” Crowley muttered, though he wouldn’t be letting that go anytime soon, “And she’s still here?”
“Of course she is. She suspects something now,” Aziraphale sighed in defeat while staring at the rug beneath his feet, “I’ve been told by the British Men of Letters that the American hunters are worse than ours. They’re relentless, stubborn, unorganized, and cannot be controlled.”
“Sounds like my kind of people if you ask me. And since when were you pen pals with the British Men of Letters?” Crowley nearly snarled at the idea of those controlling bastards, having not crossed one since 1973. Long story short, but they interrogated him after the death of some author named J.R.R. Tolkien or whatever. They didn’t exactly find it a coincidence that the author who had written a prophecy using the words ‘Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men, doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne’ just happened to die in the year of the reversed order of that prophecy, 1-9-7-3. It was obviously Crowley’s fault, as he had a thing for irony. Aziraphale still hasn’t forgiven him for that one.
“I have someone on the inside,” the angel admits as they start walking to the back of the store again, “She’s this way.”
Crowley didn’t even need Aziraphale’s instruction to know his way around the bookshop as he found himself walking ahead of the angel, crossing a corner and stopping short of the room at the sight of a young woman lounging unproperly over Aziraphale’s fainting couch, her legs crossed over each other as they rest on the armrest, putting her full weight on her elbow as she sits up to take a sip of tea from the small teacup that belonged undoubtedly to Aziraphale.
Crowley cautiously walked into the room, his friend now right behind him as the angel squawked at the appearance of the woman, giving the demon all he needed to know that this was not how Aziraphale left her.
She must have been tied up at one point unless Aziraphale had a current obsession for rope as a spool of it lied over a small chair in the corner of the room. With the woman now free and currently using the angel’s precious teacups, she sighs as if she had expected them and sat up properly this time, looking straight into their eyes.
“I believe it was Fyodor Dostoevsky who said, ‘I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.’“
Crowley was intrigued, to say the least after he realized he couldn’t take any more steps towards the female hunter. Once he discovered that his feet couldn’t move, Crowley followed the woman’s proud eyes and looked up at the ceiling to see a Devil’s Trap written onto the wooden boards with fresh, white paint dripping from the thicker parts of the lines. Aziraphale sees the trap at the same time Crowley does, and the angel is appalled and shocked, “How did you-?”
“You’re a fast one,” Crowley comments as he looks back down at the woman with a small smirk.
“Don’t flatter yourself. Normally, I’d say you Brits are so slow with all your scheming and small-talk that I was able to set a trap for you and make a cup of tea for myself while I wait, but seeing as you two are technically not Brits, I guess I’ll save my breath,” the woman smiles while setting down her cup in its respectful saucer.
“I thought Americans like coffee?”
“Not this one. This girl likes her tea and a fair share of demon-killing.”
“Well, lucky for me, my friend here isn’t a demon,” Crowley’s grin just widens, looking at Aziraphale to expectedly step out of the trap and attack the intruder.
“Lucky for me, your friend here can’t hurt a fly,” the woman quips back, “And even if he could,” Aziraphale’s face drains when the woman’s jacket sleeve suddenly moves and lands a long, silver blade into her awaiting hand, and even Crowley’s eyes had widened under his glasses at the sight of it.
“An Angel Blade,” Crowley muttered underneath his breath.
“How did you find such an artifact?” Aziraphale squeaked in utter fear, his eyes never leaving the weapon.
“When’s the last time the two of you took a vacation to America? We have plenty of these bad boys in our possession now. Hell, I know a guy who even has a grenade launcher!”
“Darling, I’m pretty sure you’re not here to brag about your collection of weapons back home in the Land of the Shithole, so if you’re gonna kill me then do it already,” Crowley hissed.
“Actually, Crowley,” his eyebrows shoot up at his name, the woman now standing up and setting her teacup aside, “I’m not here to kill you. I’m here because I need information from you. Normally, I’d ask for help, but seeing as that’s not your division as a demon, I knew I had to set up a trap in order to make sure you don’t go doing anything stupid behind my back.”
“Fast and smart,” Crowley kept finding himself smiling and shoves his hands into his pockets, lazily leaning back and looking at Aziraphale, “She’s good.”
“What exactly do you want?” Aziraphale stutters, side-eyeing a glare at his friend beside him.
“I want a favor. One that doesn’t involve me signing anything or giving up my soul anytime soon,” the woman’s face turns grim, eyes darkening as she appears hesitant. Crowley discovers that he does not like that look on her at all as she begins to explain, “I have some... friends back at home. They’re in trouble and this is the only way I know how to help them. Sam and Dean Winchester, you may have heard of them?”
“Briefly,” Aziraphale answered.
“Unfortunately,” Crowley muttered.
The woman glares at the demon before continuing, “Well, they’re trying to find a weapon. Something you might be able to help me find. The sword of the Archangel Michael. If we find the sword, maybe things go back to the way it was. My friends won’t be on every demon, angel, and monster radar there is out there and maybe I won’t have to live in constant fear that they might be killed.”
“Then why not ask for this angel’s help?” Crowley nudges Aziraphale, “Ask him to go and snatch it off of Michael’s desk why don’t you.”
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Aziraphale snapped back, “Because that sword is missing. The angels don’t have it.”
“That’s why you are going to help me find it,” the woman chirps happily, “Unless you want me to start speaking Latin and you can say goodbye to that Doctor Who body of yours.”
Crowley rolled his eyes underneath his glasses. If only he had a nickel for everytime he heard that one.
“Alright, love,” Aziraphale’s head whips around at the demon in protest as he watched Crowley bring a hand out towards the woman, “We are in agreement. I help you find your shiny stick and you won’t discorporate me,” the woman smiles and reaches for his hand. When she grabs it and they shake on it, Crowley grins and only pulls her closer while quickly hissing out, “And in exchange, you help my friend and I stop Armaggedon.”
The woman snaps her hand away, gasping as if she had been shocked and Crowley only laughs maniacally, “Now do you have a name or am I supposed to call you ‘sweetheart’ for the remainder of this partnership?”
And that’s how Crowley first met you a decade before Armaggedon.
~~~~~~~~~
LONDON, THREE YEARS BEFORE THE END OF THE WORLD
The first maybe two years of Y/n and Crowley’s partnership was rough, to say the least. Neither trusted the other, and both were very secretive as to what new information they might have found out about the other’s interests. Of course, it didn’t take long for them to find Michael’s sword and help Y/n’s friends in America, but she had made a deal, and so not long after that, she left America again to help Crowley out with his little problem. Sam and Dean worried for her, but after some time Y/n had, dare she say it, learned to trust the demon over the next few years and so she would always tell the Winchester brothers not to worry over their shared phone calls.
Y/n had actually grown accustomed to living in a flat in London, with a steady job and a network of British hunters working in her favor. Living just down the street from Aziraphale’s bookshop, Y/n found herself spending her time there more times than not. At first, the angel was weary of the female hunter, but over time they actually grew to like one another and enjoyed their tea time every Wednesday, which only drove Crowley and Y/n to hang out more and eventually they became friends. In fact, over time --and I know I’m saying that a lot-- they became more than friends and soon enough Y/n found herself fully moved into Crowley’s apartment. If only Sam and Dean could see her now.
Their relationship took a turn, to say the least. Their first quarrel was over the death of J.R.R. Tolkien. After they exchanged stories about the British Men of Letters, Crowley just so happened to mention the author’s death and Y/n became furious because as it just so happens, Tolkien was her favorite author. Aziraphale bore witness to the couple’s first ever argument, and it was entertaining for the most part as the angel describe the fight to resemble an old married couple. When the fight left Crowley on the couch that night, --and don’t ask why a mere human was able to ban a demon from his own bed. Crowley could still see the scratch marks of the Devil’s Trap just above the bedroom door along with the marks of a salt line scattered all around the bed-- the demon had asked Aziraphale for help in making it up to Y/n. The next day, Y/n was given the first edition, signed copy of the Hobbit.
“All I’m saying is that I haven’t had a real burger in what feels like an eternity,” she argued one evening to her demon boyfriend while they sat on the couch, “If someone, let’s say someone with wings, was nice enough to miracle one up for me, then I would be forever grateful to him.”
“How about you shut up for one bloody moment and stop trying to waste my precious magic on petty American food,” Crowley snapped back while pretending to read. As if he looked like someone who would, and she knew it.
“Says the man who miracled up his glasses yesterday after leaving them at home,” Y/n eyed him knowingly.
“You know I can’t be seen in public without them!”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure you can miracle normal humans into seeing you with human eyes if you wanted to without breaking a sweat, so I call bullshit,” she huffs while crossing her arms.
Crowley even flashed said eyes at her while growling, “Believe what you want, I need to hide a few things about myself so I blend in around here. In case you forgot that I’m a creature that you’ve hunted for more of your supernatural life.”
Y/n’s eyes soften and her shoulders even sink down as she sighs in defeat, “Okay, sorry. Sometimes I forget.”
Crowley narrows his eyes at her, but his eyebrows betray him as they shoot up in surprise. Has he literally done so well at acting human that he’s even fooled his girlfriend, a woman who hunts monsters using spells and guns? Did she honestly forget he had wings and snake eyes? Did he actually succeed in being human that he’s fooled everyone including those closest to him?
“Am I seriously that normal to you that you forgot about what I am?” He voices such thoughts, his tone soft and unsure.
She smiles back, aware of his insecurities while leaning forward to touch the tattoo on the side of his head, “Did you forget what I do for a living? Even the craziest things in the world have become a normal for me. I’m used to all of it. You’re human enough for me, you know.”
She didn’t have to say another word as Crowley suddenly reaches for her, causing her to laugh as he pulls her into his lap and starts devouring her face with kisses. Her laughs are silence when his lips finally reach hers and they stay like that, kissing and holding onto one another for so long, Crowley was sure that when they’d part, it would already be the end of the world. And maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
“Alright, love,” Crowley mutters into her lips, “I’ll get you that burger.”
~~~~~~~~~
(Part 2)
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Captive Chapter 1 : Blue Death.
Gifs not mine
_Dean x Reader_
Summary :
Dean Winchester is an enemy.
Every man of letters and hunters are enemies.
During the Great Purge in Europe, when every european Men of Letters allied to eradicate monsters once and for all, using hunters as their cold-blooded hounds, long before the BMOL took an interest in USA, they killed my mother, and made me go through hell. I killed so many of them I lost count, and lived a life on the run. Until one day I heard about American Men of Letters extinction, and decided to try and find peace there.
That was without counting on the exile of some BMOL, and the existence of the two best hunters of the world.The fisrt time I saw Sam Winchester, I almost killed him, and Dean has me now…
He is going to kill me, right ?
____________________________
Future warnings : Violence and captivity, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Smut.
Chapter Warnings : Violence, blood, pain. This is pretty dark actually. Character death. Swearing. Dean being the bad guy. Reader being the villain... Everyone being quite bad.
***CAPTIVE MASTERLIST***
___________________________
1. Blue Death
The knife enters the hunter’s flesh in one flowing movement and the tall man looks so surprised for a second. His large hand comes to my shoulder and he looks at me in the eye. Aware of how dangerous he is, even wounded ; I take a step back, taking the blade with me.
“Sam !” says the British men of letters and I turn toward him with snake’s speed.
He shoots on my direction and I avoid the bullet at the very last moment, but it lodges itself inside the tall hunter’s stomach.
Looking at my attacker -skeptical because he just risked his partner’s life without a hint of hesitation- I wrap my arms around his neck from behind.
“Ketch…” says the bleeding hunter, falling on the ground like a dying wild beast.
I send his gun flying far from us and climb on his back. The men of letters nails dig into my skin while I choke him with all my strength, screaming my lungs out to focus my energy on him. He tries to bang me on the wall behind us but I’m used to pain and I resist, coiled like a constrictor, even with the muffled sound of my rib breaking.
�� The lack of oxygen finally makes him weak and he falls on his knees. I scream even louder, compressing his throat more. His hands let go off my arms and he starts shaking.
The injured hunter tries to get up but fails, groaning and pressing a hand on the open wound I made on his side. The man under me passes out and I let go off him, knowing he’s not dead. My head is spinning from pain and shock. I look at his lifeless form and take my head in my hands.
“Raaah ! FUCK !” I yell, looking around to think.
I kick the unconscious man’s body and hear something break inside him, a bone maybe. My ribs hurt so much I could faint, my heart is racing with rage and fear.
How did they fucking found me ? I was so careful. Shit ! I’m going to run again, start from scratch once more.
“Fuck you hunters !” I shout, half panicking.
I take a deep breath and the long hair man seems surprised again. I spit blood and whine, holding my aching chest. Bending painfully I pick my knife and lift it above the man of letters. When he sees me hesitate, the hurt hunter speaks :
“You don’t have to kill us” he says weekly.
“Of course I do…”
“Still… you don’t seem to want it.”
“Shut up ! Fuck you !” I say before putting my knife away.
I take a big bag and untidily put a few things inside it. The hunter starts to shake, his hands in his own blood, his shirt drenched in thick vital fluid. A knife-deep cut in his side and a bullet a few inches from it.
When I’m about to go through the door, I hear him try to crawl to God knows where, like he needed to do something, anything, even if he’s already doomed. This man is a survivor and I can’t help but admire his will to fight. He crawls toward his gun and I could just leave before he reaches it, but I go to him and take it before he can touch the cold metal.
I take the bullets out and throw them far from him, giving him the gun back, and he takes it, like that was all he remembers at the doors of death : how to hold a gun. Given his height and weight -I’d say 210 or 220 pounds- and the speed of the blood loss… I say he will be dead in half an hour. There is absolutely no chance anyone finds him here.
I look at him and he stares at me, like a formidable noble lion looking in the hunter’s eyes. He struggles to breathe, his large and strong body fighting against exhaustion.
But he gives up suddenly, letting his head fall on the wooden ground. One menacing enemy gone, this should be a good thing… I sigh, and take a bottle of medical alcohol I have in my closet.
I kneel beside him and he looks at me with a great confusion behind the agony in his pupils. I press on the wound and he winces, I pour a large amount of alcohol on the cut then on the gun wound and he almost faints.
“If I slow the bleeding and prevent infection, someone may find you before it’s too late” I mutter, hating myself for taking so much risk. “You can’t go after me.”
Before I can find a bandage, he passes out and the door bursts violently.
Another hunter, also tall and strong, is aiming me with his gun, an extraordinary rage burning in his dark green eyes. An old but robust man with a machete and a blond woman in a cop outfit, also aiming a gun at me, follows him.
This is it. This is the end. I lower my hands and stay on my knees, closing my eyes to wait the sound of the bullet that will end me forever.
Finally.
Dean’s Pov
The doctor says Sammy is in a coma, he lost too much blood and even if he wasn’t stabbed on any vital organ, nor shot in his lungs, this is not good. His body started to shut down for good.
But that is when Cas said he couldn’t do anything that I truly panicked. He put his hands on Sam’s wounds and nothing happened. No bright light or miraculous waking.
So here I am, sitting next to my brother, a heavy pain on my stomach, despair on my throat. He seems so little, covered in hoses and machines, strangled by tubes on his nose and on his mouth, needles stinging his pale skin everywhere.
This wasn’t supposed to happen, that was a simple case, that was a simple stab, a simple bullet. Sam Winchester can’t be gone like this. Ketch said we’d be back by Monday…
“Dean, we got the girl” Donna says entering the room, and something hits me. “We don’t know what she is, so we used every protections and spells we know.”
“What if this is why…” I say getting up, thinking hard. “What if Cas inability to heal him is linked to what this bitch is ?”
I enter the dungeon, clenching my fists. Here she is, tied up to a chair in the middle of the large pentacle, her head down, hair falling on each side of it. Sam’s blood is still covering her and I have to swallow hard not to put a bullet between her eyes right now.
“What are you ?” I growl.
She doesn’t answer, keeping her glare on the floor.
“Oh so you’re not going to answer…”
I lift my arm and punch her face with full force, surprised by the lack of resistance her body opposes me. It’s like she doesn’t have any of that supernatural strength evil creatures usually have.
She spits blood and clenches her fists. For a second, her weakness surprises me enough to make me waver. But then I see her dark eyes turn blue, an unnatural light blue that remembers me of the monster she is ; so I punch her again, this time in her stomach and she almost faints, coughing and spitting a lot of blood.
When Ketch talked to us about the return of The Blue Death, I never imagined it had the form of a girl, nor I asked why “Blue” was in her nickname. And I know now. A fucking urban Legend among hunters, the death sentence itself, the monster that only tracks down hunters.
We tracked her for four months, following a trail of bodies, hunter bodies. Now I wonder how she could have killed so many of them without super strength, because she killed all of them hand-to-hand, with knifes mostly, or just strangling them like she did with Ketch, before shooting and stabbing my brother.
When Ketch woke up, he explained us that she shot Sammy before stabbing him, like a coward, and that she straggled him. They are lucky to be alive. She never left survivors before.
When he came to us for help to get rid of The Blue Death for good, he said she was hunter greater danger, and I remember smiling, thinking it was probably exaggerated. I believe him now…
French, German and Italian Men of Letters tried to stop her years ago but she slaughtered most of them, now she’s here to decimate American hunters. I should have listened to him more carefully, Sam and I were reckless and I’m paying the heaviest price for it.
I’m not doing the same mistake twice, I won’t underestimate her.
I’m going to break her.
Reader Pov
The pain is unbearable but I’ve known worse, worse than unbearable. If my body wasn’t able to heal a little better and faster than human’s one do, I would have died a hundred times already.
I think my jaw just cracked, every inch of my face is hurting like crazy, and my broken ribs are now displaced. I can’t breathe properly.
I should have ran, let this tall long-hair hunter die, run for my life as always… left the country.
I thought America would be a fresh start, since Men of Letters disappeared here, but it is always the same : BMOL convinces or pays hunters to track me down and my life became Hell again after only six months of my exile.
I’m used to run, I’m used to loneliness and anonymity. They sentenced me to eternal misery when I was still a child. When they killed my mother, my human mother, to take me. When they tested me, trained me like a slave soldier, when they made me kill so-called monsters.
The monsters are not always the one you think, and most hunters are dumb, ruthless, fanatical, alcoholic, violent morons. The one beating me right now is no exception, I can smell the booze on him and I can tell by the way he hits me that he is used to violence…
I just wish he would kill me already.
The dark is relaxing and I try to concentrate on my broken ribs to fasten their healing, but one of the countless warnings around me seems to have an effect on me, unexpectedly. I’m exhausted and at some point I think I pass out.
When my eyes open they meet incredibly green ones, highlighted by the red around them. The hunter is squatting in front of me with a stern face.
“What are you ?” he asks again.
Even if I knew, I probably wouldn’t tell him.
I stare back at him and study his face : This motherfucker is beautiful, probably full of himself too, conceited, convinced to be some kind of hero. His jaw is clenched by hate and I wonder what bullshit BMOL brainwashed into this empty suggestible charming head.
“You think you can keep silent, huh ?” he says with a dangerous smile. “You’re messing with the wrong guy, honey.”
With that he stabs my thigh, making me cry out in pain.
“So you have a voice…” he says.
“Fuck you hunter” I whisper as loud as my aching lungs allow, an unintentional smile on my lips.
“You are going to tell me what you are…”
“Or what ? You kill me ?” I laugh sarcastically, coughing blood.
“You don’t fear death” he says. “But you run for months… I say you fear captivity” he rubs his neck. “I won’t kill you, I’ll let you rot in here forever if I have to.”
“I need to pee” I just say, hoping he will finally hit me too much, maybe kill me by accident, put me out of my misery.
He takes my face in his big hand, hurting my already broken face, squeezing so hard my heart races almost to the point of heart attack.
“You still think this is funny, bitch.”
Dean’s Pov
It’s been three days and she barely flinched.
Exorcism didn’t work, iron and silver neither. Salt just burned one of her wound, like it would have on any human. She opened her mouth to drink holy water, and no spell worked.
I arranged the dungeon into a cell, to be sure she understands she’s here for good, I need her to break. An iron collar keeps her on a chain-leach, she can reach a chamber pot and lay on the ground, that’s all.
When I enter the room, she’s sitting on a corner, shaking and holding her ribs ; she hasn’t seen me this time. I stare silently at her : she almost looks like a normal girl, dealing with the most extreme pain and despair. She winces lightly, trying to cover the cut on her leg with a piece of fabric, obviously coming from her shirt. She’s different when she knows I’m here, : no cocky expression on her face now, only exhaustion and a hint of sadness.
“What are you ?” I ask, like everyday, making her jump this time.
“Hungry” she says with that smirk that makes me punch her.
“What do you think this is ? A luxury hotel ?”
“Well if you want to keep me alive, food is not optional” she smiles despite the cuts on her lips.
I throw her a piece of bread and she looks at it, then at me.
“Not hungry” she says with scorn.
Rage makes me clench my fists. She’s manipulating me, confirming I don’t want her dead, that I need her alive, showing me how strong and determined she is by not eating what I brought her after three days of fast.
I crouch down and take her hair in my fist, making her look at me.
“Listen to me, whatever you did to my brother, I’m gonna undo it, and you’re gonna die…” I start but a poorly hidden surprised expression on her face forces a pause.
“The tall guy is your brother ?” she asks.
“You already know that” I spit. “You aimed at us directly.”
“No” she simply says.
I search her eyes and something makes me wonder, something about her eyes.
“Yes you did.”
“I don’t even know who you are” she says.
She’s manipulating me again. I bash her head on the wall forgetting to restrain as the image of my dying little brother hits me in the guts, and I yell :
“YOU TRACKED MY BROTHER !”
She lifts her hand on her head and looks at her fingers, they’re soaked with blood. When she sighs, I wonder. That woman is so different from what I thought The Blue Death would be.
“Are you the Winchesters ?” she asks like it just hit her.
“You already know that…”
“Shit… Obviously” she says with a sour smile.
“What does that mean ?” I say, confused by her reaction.
“That I’m so fucking unlucky… Listen, I’m sorry for your brother” she says and I get up to hold back my fists because I know I could kill her right now.
I hate hearing her talking about him.
“He needs my blood” she whispers.
“What ?”
“Give him a few drops of my blood, it usually helps…” she murmurs, her head falling slowly against the wall as exhaustion hits her, her eyes slightly rolling inside her skull.
“Is it a trap ?” I ask with something childish in my hoarse voice.
“No…” she grumbles, letting her whole body coil on itself on the floor.
Her head doesn’t stop bleeding. I’m afraid that punch was one too many. But I don’t have time to worry about her. I take a needle and jab her arm. Maybe she lied, I can’t take the risk to poison my brother. So I touch her bleeding forehead and carefully lift my finger to my lips, letting my tongue taste the metallic taste of her blood.
It’s the first time I touch her for anything else than hitting her, she flinches slightly and passes out. She’s actually pretty and I wonder what kind of monster can look so vulnerable when she stops acting so tough.
Her blood tastes so much like human blood, except something warm suddenly roams my body : Like a hug from a friend or a shot of the best whiskey. I suddenly feel like I had slept better last night and I’m less hungry and tense. My wounds don’t really heal, they just hurt a little less.
I look at her now unconscious form in disbelief. Who is she ?
Reader’s Pov
I’m so cold my skin hurts, and I’m so thirsty my lips bleed.
Fever.
I knew this would happen, my wounds are infected and this is really bad. I haven’t ate for four days. I know I can survive a little longer than other people can.
Eight days without food and water, according to The Men of Letters. Fifteen days with only water, 140 degrees for a whole day, -31 for a whole night. Six days without sleeping, twice more volts than a human… I remember all their measurements. How could I forget ?
But this is too much, and one of those warnings is still holding my body down. I shiver and try to get up to see if I can stand. I can’t. I fall heavily on the floor and swear under my breath, on the verge of tears. This is fucking unfair. Sometimes I just wish I would meet my father, know who he is, why he did that to my mother, to me…
I lost track of time, but what I know is Dean Winchester never left me so long. Maybe he is never coming back. My blood must have helped his brother and now he’ll let me here to rot.
I start to panic, breathing quickly, I feel pure, painful fear hit my guts. I don’t even know where I am and I’m going to die slowly and alone in the middle of nowhere : my own worst nightmare, just because I couldn’t bear Sam Winchester to go through it. Shit.
Please please please, come back. Hit me all you want, torture me, kill me. Just don’t forsake me like everyone did.
The bread is rotting on the floor and I watch it with held back tears in my eyes. Cramps are tearing my muscles up, but I stopped reacting to them because there is no strength left to this kind of thing, I’m focused on breathing.
The door opens suddenly. A young boy enters, a phone on his hand.
“She’s alive, Dean” he says looking at you with a sudden deeply pained expression.
“Good” says the voice in the phone. “Give her a glass of water, and something to eat. Don’t let her reach you, you hear me Jack ? Never.”
“Dean, something’s wrong, she’s shaking and sweating… I think she’s ill.”
“What ?”
“Dean… Are you sure she’s a monster ? She looks… I think she’s dying.”
“I’m coming back. Don’t get near her, Jack. You hear me ? Stay away, she’s dangerous. I’ll be there before noon.”
The young man hangs up and sits on the floor. I can’t move, I can’t lift my head or talk to him.
“You shouldn’t have hurt Sam” he says.
I sigh.
“Are you ill ? How do you feel ?”
“Fever” I just whisper.
“What are you ?” he asks with an innocent voice.
And, in my fever disarray, I finally answer.
“I don’t know.”
When I open my eyes, the light hurts me bad. A hand is on my head.
“She’s dying of infection, Dean” a familiar voice says.
“A bullet between her eyes and we put her out of her misery. End of the story” I hear the almost comforting voice of Dean answer.
Honestly I don’t have enough energy to care what they decide.
“She didn’t finish me off Dean, she even tried to heal me…”
“What ? Are you crazy ? Sam ! I just spent a week watching you slowly die after she stabbed and shot you ! Now what ? You want me to feel sorry for that thing ?”
“She didn’t shoot me…” Sam says pushing my hair to see the wound on my forehead.
“YES SHE DID !” Dean yells.
“Ketch shot me… How could you be so cruel Dean !” he changes subject. “Look at her ! This is torture and pure cruelty, we are not this kind of person Dean !”
“What ! I can’t…” his brother answers with so much anger in his voice I almost can see his pissed face in my head.
Then there is only flashes.
Water in my mouth.
Water on my wounds.
The smell of alcohol.
Jack’s voice asking Sam if I’m a monster.
Sam answering he’s not so sure about that.
The cold easing.
The pain easing.
Dark then light.
Then dark.
Sam’s voice trying to catch my attention.
Dean yelling.
The smell of soup.
And Dean yelling again.
Dean’s Pov
Sam is still barely talking to me and I just can’t get over how pissed I am.
With Sam taking care of the monster that almost killed him for good, Jack asking how she’s doing, Cas too, Donna calling Sam to talk about her… It’s like I was the monster. And If Bobby wasn’t there to suggest cutting her throat for good, I would feel like I was the one loosing my damn mind.
My phone rings and I sigh, putting my glass on the table. I look at the name on the screen : Ketch.
Until now, I never answered his calls, because I was too busy trying to save my brother, but now I have questions to ask him.
“Ketch”
“Dean. I was starting to think she got you too. How is Sam ?”
“Better. He’ll need time to fully heal, but he woke up” I say looking at my glass.
“Oh… I see. And the girl ? Did you burn the body already ? I’m going to need a proof of her death” he says with a hint of badly hidden anxiety.
“She’s not dead. Sam insists in keeping…”
“WHAT !” he cuts me, making me jump and widen my eyes. “Dean you have to kill her right now. Listen carefully : You’re in danger, your brother is in danger…”
“I don’t know Ketch, maybe I have more questions to ask her, like did she really shoot Sam ? Because he says you did…” I grunt.
“Don’t be a fool. This creature is the most clever, dangerous thing I’ve seen. She’s messing with your heads. You have to kill her before she makes you lay into each other.”
I lower my eyes, thinking. At this moment Sam comes out of the donjon and looks in my direction. He has a tray in his hands and I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right” I say. “I’ll have to convince Sam.”
“Screw convincing, you have to defend your family” he states.
I frown. Ketch doesn’t care about family at all, or about us for that matters. Why is he so impatient to see her dead. I mean, he lost a lot of colleagues from her hands but…
I just can’t think straight lately.
A muffled sound catches my attention. Sitting on my bed, I listen carefully. What if she escaped ? Another sound. The clock says 4am.
I get up and take the gun under my pillow, walking silently toward the dungeon. The door’s not perfectly closed, I push it with precaution and prepare to shoot her.
She’s lying on the floor, bloody.
Ketch is sitting on her, beating her with full force. Her dirty clothes are ripped open, he carved something, an enochian symbol, on her chest. For a second I can’t move.
Her head turns toward me and she sees me but doesn’t react, obediently waiting for death. Her eyes trigger something in me, and it’s like time was in slow motion. I lift my gun and her hands open on the side of her body as Ketch hits her again. He lifts his knife above her heart and mutters “I win. We win, Y/n.”
I shoot him in the back. Twice. Thrice.
His body falls on hers, shaking an instant and freezing completely. She closes her eyes, a tear rolling on her bruised face.
Sam comes running, alerted by gunshots, followed by Jack. I just don’t move, not knowing what to do.
My brother runs to her, kneels, and pushes Ketch’s corps aside. Looking at him I squeeze my gun and hear his voice saying she’ll rise us up against one another. Then I look at her bloody bruised form in Sam’s arm and I wonder how a girl so pretty and cute can attract so much violent hate.
Sam takes his t-shirt off to cover her naked chest and the fabric becomes bloody. He looks at me.
“What happened ?” he asks, holding her.
“He was about to kill her” I just say muddled, looking at her pained face.
She clings to Sam, crying silently and, all of a sudden, that leash I tied around her neck seems so tight, I can almost feel it harm my own flesh.
***FEEDBACK IS EVERYTHING <3***
@tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx
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Epiphany 14
read first ACT 1
EDIT: @waywardbaby
Summary: Less than two years later, you finally passed the men of letters’ initiation and, finally, you now set foot in America eager to be reunited with the Winchesters.
But if Dean thought that you spent your days only with your nose in books and hands in monster’s guts, he was dead wrong. Your mission? Something that the British branch tried and failed miserably, or at least that’s what they told you anyway.
Pairing: Dean X Reader
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jack
Warnings: slow burn guys…slow burn. Also, some fluff, humor, feels and angst.
The smell of freshly washed linen filled your nose. You rubbed your face in the cool fabric, turning your head to the side and sighing contently.
A light chuckle reached your ears and opening one eye you spotted lovely freckles scattered under a pair of laughing, green eyes.
You squeezed your eyes shut and groaned.
“What time is it?”
“Not late enough. Go back to sleep.”
Soft lips kissed your forehead as you drifted into your slumber once again.
“Cass why is she not waking up?” Dean said, backhand slapping lightly on your cheek.
“…I don’t know…she should be up by now.” Castiel’s worried voice filled Dean’s room. Jack and Sam also looking down at you, worried.
“…Come on Y/N…don’t do this to me!” Dean’s pained voice failed to reach you.
Little distant noises woke you up again. You grumbled, head sliding from under the pillow, hair tangled in front of your eyes like a curtain.
“Dean…?” you called, swatting away the last strands. You saw him, already dressed, his back to you as he bounced slightly up and down.
“Shhhh, your daughter woke up…again!”
“My…my what?” you stammered, eyes opening wide.
He turned around, a funny smile on his face, “Yeah…you know...your daughter?” he repeated lifting the baby. “You must have been really tired if you didn’t hear her scream murder.”
You propped yourself on your elbow, looking at the scene in front of you. Mouth hanging open, scrambling to your feet, almost falling as your foot got tangled in the sheets, you walked to him, mouth feeling dry and you licked your lips.
With a croaky voice, you asked for a glass of water.
“Sure babe. I need to prepare the formula, anyway. Here,” he said, handing you the bundle, kissing your head. He walked out of the room.
Stunned you were frozen in place. You didn’t dare to look down until some complaining noises reached your ears, and you felt squirming in your arms. You almost dropped her when your eyes fell on her face.
Your hand gripped the curb in front of you, for balance, and your gaze searched, finding your son peacefully asleep, his tiny fist in his mouth.
“What the fuck? ”
“Whoa…language!! Want our kids to have our mouth?” he chuckled handing you the glass of water as he motioned to pick up the girl. You squeezed her to your chest, turning slightly.
“I…I’ll do it,” you said, your trembling hand taking the bottle from him.
“Babe, you okay?…”
You didn’t answer and sat on the bed to feed her. He frowned and walked to sit down beside you.
“Don’t!” you said, “You’re not real.” Raising your eyes to him, “Get out of my head!”
His image froze and vanished.
“It’s been hours Cass…”
“…I think she’s dreaming.” The angel said after having touched your head with his fingers “..she’s…they must have put some sort of blocking in case she found out about the brainwashing or something”
“Son of a bitch!” Dean whispered, passing a hand over his face.
“… Maybe we could do the same thing you did with Mum.”Sam walked in with some book open in his hands.
“When the Men of Letters brainwashed her, you …convinced her to come back, remember?”
Dean’s eyes sparkled with new life and he turned to the angel, “Cass…can…can we try?”
“I believe so.”
“Ok, let’s do it!” Dean’s hand brushed your cheek. “I’m coming to get you this time.”
You were finally able to get something to eat now that they were both asleep. Walking around the empty bunker, you checked that it was indeed empty, after having sent away fake Dean.
Not that you felt hungry, this was a dream after all.
You were balancing yourself on the counter, to check what was in the cupboard, set too high for you to reach when your knee slipped on the edge and in the fall your hand flailed to grab whatever was there to grab, which were pans and pots.
Dean opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows as he took in the ambiance he came to.
“The bunker?… Y/N ?!” he called out, walking down the stairs, silently now, as his ears perked to catch the littlest sound. This looked like the same old bunker, nothing’s different.
“MOTHERFUC-” her voice was cut by the clang of pots and pans hitting the floor.
“Fucking hell!! Goddammit!!” you swore under your breath as you rubbed your shin that had hit the counter edge. Hearing some rushing footsteps, you sighed.
“Y/N!” a known voice hit your ears and heart.
“I told you to go away, you’re fake!” you said, without turning.
“I don’t know about you but I feel pretty real here sweetheart.”
You almost let one of the pots fall down again as you turned quickly around. There, leaning against the kitchen entrance, stood Dean.
Your Dean or that was what you thought for a moment. Sighing deeply you turned around again.
“I’m not falling for that again. This is my head, he can’t be in here.”
“Oh ...so you know this is all fake,” you heard him coming closer to you, “…the question is…” he put his hands on your shoulders, forcing you to turn around “... what the hell are you still doing here?”
You stood back, surprised. “…I’m….” you blabbered and then it hit you. “How long I’ve been out?” you asked laying your hand on his chest gently. He looked down at it and covered it with his own.
“Almost an entire day. Scared the shit out of me!”
You hummed and hugged him, nuzzling your face in his shirt. He squeezed you closer, his hand tangling in your hair.
“I’m sorry…” you sniffled, rubbing your nose as you broke the hug. “I guess I …I got caught up in this.”
“I’m just glad you seem aware of it. Let’s go. Everyone is waiting.” He grabbed your hand and turned around, dragging you. “Hell, the kid is freaking out!”
You giggled as you let him tug you toward the exit, but as you passed through the door, instead of the war room, you found yourself in the sleeping quarters.
Dean looked around confused and then at you “…Are you doing this or…?”
“…I…I really don’t know…”
As you walked and walked, the corridor seemed to never end and you soon noticed that the same door number kept repeating.
“What..? What is it ?” he said as you stopped in front of the door.
“I think my mind doesn’t want me to leave until I show you…”
“Show me what?” he asked confused as you silently stepped aside, motioning him to open the door.
Dean looked at you funny as he threw open the door and stomped in.
“Not like that! You’ll…” the door hit the wall and a series of wails filled the room,“...wake them!”
You saw him freeze, his head turned slightly to the side. You couldn’t make his expression but his voice let you picture it.
“….Are ...are those...?”
“…Yep…” you stood still, as Dean slowly walked to the crib. Your heartbeat quickened as he gripped the rail and looked down.
Seconds that felt more like minutes passed in total silence as he looked transfixed by them and you asked yourself how much he was hating this.
“Can I ...?” your mental babbling stopped as his hoarse voice broke the silence. Taking a few steps, you walked into the room too, keeping your distance to give him some space.
“…Well yeah sure, technically they’re yours too.” you tried to keep your nervousness out of your voice, failing miserably as it broke. You crossed your arms around you to keep them from trembling.
You watched as he bent down to lift one of the twins. He didn’t need help since he used to take care of Sam and you knew it, so you just stood where you were.
Dean’s grip on the crib’s rail tightened as his eyes set on the tiny squirming bundles that were still screaming. His heartbeat throbbed in his ears as his hand reached down, touching the frail tiny chest of the loudest one. He retreated it quickly, feeling them warm and very real. Squeezing his fist he asked you if he could pick them up.
“..Technically they are yours too.”
That scared him and settled bittersweet and heavy in his heart.
Very slowly and very carefully, he picked up the crying one, staring at it as if his hands could shatter it. Cupping the baby’s head, the other hand supported the tiny body and he gazed at it like it was the most incredible thing. Sensing the loving touch, the baby stopped crying, making a series of little distressed noises then a big yawn, smacking lips and finally going back to sleep. He was still gaping at it that he almost didn’t hear you coming closer. You bend down to pick up the other crying one.
Dean followed your movements as you placed the baby’s head on your shoulder, your other hand on its back, slowly rubbing. It wasn’t working and you glanced at Dean.
Biting your lips nervously, you blushed and looked away as you started rocking and humming. You heard the soft noise that Dean made and ignored it, too embarrassed to look back as you continued with the song.
“Hey Jude?” he managed to whisper, shocked.
You stopped rocking but continued your hum as it calmed the girl, “...yes I’m -” you turned around and your words died in your throat. He had tears in his eyes, actual tears and your eyes welled up too so you looked down.
“You told me once, your mother used to sing it to you and Sam and I…I thought to use it too. I - it was a way to remind me of you when I was…you know…” swallowing hard, “I’m sorry…it’s stupid I - I didn’t mean to use your mother’s memory...” your voice turned into a breathy whisper and faltered as you felt Dean walking closer to you, “... like that…”
“No..Y/N. It’s fine…it’s perfect. I-” he shifted the boy against his chest and cupped your cheek with his now free hand, forcing you to look up.
You saw his face getting blurry and you tried to blink away some of the wetness. “Sorry…I …I know this is all fake and it’s probably freaking you out or something. But I guess you were entitled to meet them. This is all…probably way too creepy.” You giggled nervously, not daring to look into his eyes.
“I love you” he blurted out.
Your eyes widened. He was dead serious, not a trace of smugness, nor humor, not even his usual smirk. Just plain Dean.
“…Dean…I swear to God, if rig-”
He kissed you.
His mouth soft as always, the light stubble he kept on just because you liked it so much, slightly grazing. It felt all so real, nostalgic and you just knew it was him.
Breaking the kiss he bumped his forehead to yours.
“Real enough?” he asked with his good old, annoying side grin.
You hummed as you nuzzled his nose, your eyelashes wet against your cheek.
“Yeah…yeah…it was.” Stepping back, you grinned at him, “Definitely less tongue than the other you.”
He smirked back and pulled you to him. “Oh… I can fix that…” but the sudden movements were not agreeable with everyone.
You went to take the other one too but Dean was faster and took the girl from you. He walked to the bed, bouncing slightly, and the motion was as ridiculous as it was sweet. Stifling a chuckle, you sat beside him, kissing the little head of the boy.
You both lost track of time as you reconciled with them and Dean got to know them. He pointed out all the similarities between what you had told him and what was now sleeping in his arms. Suddenly, the lights in the room began to flicker and the vinyl record started to spin blank.
You looked around and then at yourself.
“I think my mind is telling me to get a move on.” you smiled bitterly. “I knew this was coming, I’ve been here enough.” You got up and dropped on your knees in front of Dean, hands-on the twins’ heads, “ I need to say goodbye”. You kissed them both, burning their smell and faces in your memory. “No more running this time”.
You opened your eyes and the first face you saw was-
“Jack …” you whispered and smiled “Hello!”
Jack’s face beamed with relief and was soon shoved away gently by Castiel who helped you up to a sitting position.
“How do you feel Y/N?”
“…I’m great. Sorry if I worried you.” you smiled as Jack gripped your hand. “Dean?”
“Yep…I’m here!” you heard him groan from the chair, as Sam helped him up.
“Sooo…are you good now?” Sam asked, handing you a glass of water you didn’t even know you wanted.
You and Dean looked at each other, you hiding a smile behind the glass.
“Yes…yes I am “
Now the not so fun part of this whole ordeal.
After everything that had happened, you weren’t very keen on hearing from your branch but if there were still good people there you needed to know and, especially they needed to know. Calling the family who had taken you in the first place, you explained what happened.
Even better, Cass zapped you there real quick.
Their faces after you had told them everything made it useless to ask Cass if they knew about the plan or not. Having done enough, you made it very clear that you didn’t want to take any part in whatever was going on there and honestly –
“I think y’all need to get your house in order…” you had said as Cass dropped Toni in front of the head of the family, “... because you have some naughty children playing in it.”
“I’m sure we will restore the order and do some cleaning up!” she winked at you as her foot stepped on Tony’s hand. “But tell me, Y/N dear…how can we …make up for the discomfort ?”
“I get to do what I was doing. American hunters are not all assholes. I’ve met lots of them eager to make their life easier.”
“You…you want to stay there?”
“Yeah, I have my contacts and...” you looked at Cass who smiled at you, “…a new family.” you smiled back. “ I’ll be your employee from there. It’s a win-win. Of course, I want a raise.”
“…Done!” she extended her hand and you shook it.
“…And another thing...!” you added loudly, looking toward the marble column that framed the pool where you could easily spot a mass of curly locks, “... please tell Thalia that I know it wasn’t her fault. And if she would be so kind as to send me my notes and some of her books. I’ll email the list. I’m behind on my spell studies.”
“Anything else?”
She asked as you turned around to grab Castiel’s hand. You looked over your shoulder.
“Yeah…remember what happened to the British-American’s branch and don’t be that stupid!”
“Ah…Dean !” you breathed out, one hand gripping the sheets and the other tugging at his hair. You looked down to meet his eyes. He flicked his tongue one more time and you whined biting your lips. Kissing your inner thigh he rested his head there, looking at you, expectantly, “…what?” you asked.
He raised his eyebrows and looked down, his mouth curving into a pout, the hand that was drawing circles on your other thigh, slid up.
“Dean?”
He looked like he had something on his mind.
“You know….” the hand touching you was now replaced by his two fingers. Your breath hitched when they traced your folds, slowly, torturing and denying you the release that he had built up so carefully, “... you actually never said it back…” he whispered as his thumb started to delicately stroke your bud. Your hips buckled, his free hand keeping you steady.
“W-what?” you asked once again breathless, mewling.
He raised an eyebrow and sank two fingers inside you in one quick thrust. Your head rolled back as you moaned.
“Look at me Y/N!” he growled as he pumped in and out of you deliberately slow, building you up again until the only thing you could feel was him. You hummed, feeling drunk, sight hazy and unfocused as you looked at him through eyelashes.
“You…” he sucked on the tender inner thigh skin, eyes locked on yours, “... never said it…” his lips hovering where his fingers were working you undone, “…back.”
You clenched needily around him as a frustrated cry escaped our lips. You were so close, so close, but he clearly wanted something and he would not release you until he got it.
Trying to clear your lust-filled mind, you concentrated as hard as possible.
“You know…it would be ...easier if you ...didn't distract me like ...ah- like that!” you said, arching your back when he curled his fingers.
He chuckled and without losing his torturing rhythm, he let his lips travel up your abdomen, between your breasts, gently nibbling your neck and kissing that sensitive spot right under your ear. “I’ll help you then…”
Shifting his eyes on yours, he kissed you as his life depended on it, pouring all of himself into it. Your heart throbbed painfully as you understood, and you smiled into the kiss. He smiled back, you teeth gently bumping together as a chuckle bubbled up to your throat only to be killed when he flicked his thumb, reminding you that he was indeed keeping you under his command.
You grabbed his face and looked him in the eyes.
“I love you too,” you whispered on his lips. He sighed as his eyes fluttered closed. His hand left you and before you could protest, he had you straddling him, his arm around your waist, giving you the lead. Raking your hands in his hair, you locked eyes with him again as you sank down, connecting your bodies.
You moved together leisurely, savoring every sensation.
Both feeling the weight of your confessions and the shift that they would cause in both your lives.
A moment of sudden and great realization.
An epiphany.
Fin Act 2.
oh jeez finally I finished the long due edit for this after it got all deleted.
don’t know when act 3 will be written honestly, it will on the template os season 13-14 and probably whatever will go on in 15.
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There’s no place like home - Part 8
Summary: The reader has had a unique gift all her life. While considering it a curse, she discovers the identity of her real father after her mothers passing. Journeying towards her new life, she finds herself thrown within the Winchester’s world. Is it her destiny?
Setting: End of season 13. This takes place after episode 13.18.
Warnings: Language. Some angst, fluff, drama- a typically SPN episode. POV may switch after certain sections.
A/N: I’ll apologize now, what you are about to read is a bit of an emotional roller-coaster, at least it was for me. This was not all in my original plan, but I am happy it had happened. I’ve been rewatching the series and during this time I was on Season 5 where Jo and Ellen die, tears still coming although it was probably the 10th time I had watched it. Amazing how much character’s relationships can still make your heart break years after. I promise more interesting things are on the way. We aren’t even close to done.
Any grammatical mistakes are all my own, because I am human. Remember all comments and feedback are welcomed! If you want a tag in future posts regarding this series or other writings please send an ask! As always thank you for reading! Enjoy!
Sam and Dean had shifted glances to each other, their Adam’s apples bobbing as they swallowed hard, waiting to see who was going to answer your question of why they had brought up the men of letters. You stood there patiently waiting, leaning up against the end table with your arms crossed while watching the apprehension move between them.
“Well, guys? Why does some boy band called the Men of Letters matter?”
“You said a man and woman came to see you?” Dean questioned while raising his eyebrow.
“Yeah, some British guy. Ketchup or something,” you chuckled while trying to remember what it really was.
Dean squeezed his eyes tight while shaking his head. “You mean Ketch?”
“Yeah that was it, and the girl was Campbell, like the soup. I guess I had food on the brain that day,” you laughed.
“Campbell?” Sam coaxed.
“Yeah, um Mary,” you said looking into his inquiring face. Flashes of your memory went through your head as you tried to recall the details. “She seemed a little uneasy being there… actually, her light was different like yours too.”
Sam and Dean stared back at each other again like they just witnessed a nuclear bomb go off in front of them and were frozen in place. Dean tilted his head slightly to Sam, encouraging him to speak first with his eyes. Sam gave an audible sigh and ran his hand through his hair before speaking.
“Mary Campbell is Mary Winchester, our mom.”
“And the dick with her is a part of the Men of Letters from over the Atlantic,” Dean included.
“We think that your grandfather was involved somehow, here in America,” Sam said while moving to grab the mahogany frame. “This is the outside of their bunker, their safe house if you will.”
You held up your hands to stop them. “Whoa. Back up there. Your mom? But she is…”
“Yeah not so much for a while now,” Dean interjected while sitting himself down on the end of the couch. “That’s a long story.”
“Are there any Winchester’s that stay dead?” you blurted while sitting yourself across from him in a steady recliner, feeling the tension radiating off of them by your words. You didn’t mean to say it, it just…came out. A lingering silence fulfilled the room before you spoke again. “So why do you think that is a picture of their safe house anyways. I mean it could be anywhere. It doesn’t exactly have ‘men of letters hideout shack’ written all over it.”
“Because we’ve seen it. We’ve been there. Hell, it’s our home,” Sam stated while moving to sit next to his brother. “The quote ‘There’s no place like home’ written on there, it’s a reference to the Wizard of Oz.”
“Yeah, so what? Next, you are going to tell me Dorothy is the leader,” you scoffed while shaking your head.
“Well she was definitely a part of it,” Dean replied while sitting himself back further into the cushions.
“Wait. Click your heels three times Dorothy? We’re not in Kansas anymore Dorothy?”
“Her father, L. Frank Baum wrote the stories, he was a member during his lifetime. She was trapped when she had followed him into Oz, so he left clues in his writings for her.,” Sam informed you calmly. “A couple of years ago we released her from her spell with the Wicked Witch, and as far as I know she is still in Oz. Our friend Charlie would have been able to explain this all so much better.”
Charlie rang in your ears, completely erasing the absurdity you had just heard about the Land of Oz existing and one of your favorite childhood stories. The image of her smiling face lighting up the room forced itself into the forefront of your mind.
“Charlie Bradbury,” you mumbled while moving your face towards the ground.
Dean and Sam’s eyes shot at you in confusion to how you could have possibly known. Feeling their eyes on you, you raised your head to meet their stares while giving an audible exhale. You got up to grab the old photo album that you had frantically searched and found earlier. Flipping through the pages you found the one that you were looking for. Hesitating in your steps you watched their curiosity grow for their unspoken question. Walking over to them, you held it open to Sam’s reach.
“Like I had said before, I’ve heard about you two from others.”
Sam’s eyes widened in shock as he looked at the old Polaroids. There was Charlie, with her signature full body smile and you equally as happy. Both dirty like you had just been in a fight, but cheerful nonetheless with pride of accomplishment shining through. Feeling his brother trying to see what you had given him, he leaned the book over. Dean gulped hard while focusing on the pictures, his eyes shifting furiously over the photos.
“There was a ghost not too far from where I lived,” you quietly uttered. “She came in looking for information from my mom and found me instead. We took it out together. Honestly, given the circumstances, it was one of the best hunts of my life.”
“Y/N, Charlie…” Sam started to speak with sorrow in voice.
“You don’t have to tell me, Sam. I know what happens on the job,” you interrupted while giving him a tight-lipped nod. Watching Dean still steading his eyes over the pages. “There is more too that you should probably know. Turn back a couple pages.”
You could feel the emotions from earlier rising again within you as you watched him turn back the pages, stopping when he saw the familiar faces. His mouth dropping in disbelief.
“Ash,” he whispered while leaning the filled pages to Sam. “Jo. Ellen… How is this possible?”
“Ash is a long story,” you chuckled lowly while remembering your oldest friend. “Basically we were friends in high school and stayed in contact well after. He would help me out with cases and things like that. He was actually one of the few people who knew about me and what I saw. I met Jo and Ellen when I was looking for him, finding her took up permeant residency at the Roadhouse.”
You could feel the emotions trying to push through your eyes as you spoke but you shook them off, putting on your best fake smile you could muster. Sam sat completely still lost in his thoughts, looking out to nothing in front of him. Holding onto the album tight, Dean looked up to you, his glossy eyes meeting yours.
“Y/N…I’m sorry.”
You shook your head before speaking up again. “I know, I mean… I already know what had happened to Ash from Ellen afterward. I kind of figured whatever was going on wouldn’t take long to catch up to the rest.”
“They died fighting,” Sam uttered, breaking out of his thoughts.
You shifted in your seat, feeling anger you had suppressed running through your veins as he said it, screaming at you to avenge your fallen friends by taking down the causes that sat comfort on your couch in front of you. Your gut and your heart advising you to allow yourself to just sit in the silence, remembering the lives of the fallen with them. You chose the latter, while Dean now was sifting through the album, looking to see if there was more. The old-aged open letter fell out into his lap. You went to say something but the words written on it had already caught his attention. His eyes scanning it over and over while his brows furrowed, before looking up to you in disbelief.
“I guess I was supposed to meet you a long time ago,” you quietly answered his unspoken question while exhaling back into your chair. “I couldn’t open it. I couldn’t bring myself to… not until today.”
Your anger quickly boiling over that you had worked so hard to hold back. It wasn’t just at them though, it was at yourself. If you had only been brave enough to read a god damned letter, so many things could have changed. Jo and Ellen might still be alive. Charlie would be here. Your dad? You might have actually gotten to know your real father, not just going off of others words, but actually known him. If you would have just opened the god damn letter your whole world could have changed.
Dean had handed the letter over to a curious Sam while you felt your heart beating fast and your muscles tighten as the rage grew inside of you. “Y/N, if we would have known…”
“Known what Dean?” you snapped. “That the people you drag into all of your shit have their own friends and family that you throw into danger?”
The words fell out like vomit, you had no control over them as they spilled out. His face dropped and eyes widened like you had just twisted a knife into his gut.
“You know what Dean? Save all of your apologies. I don’t want to hear them.”
“You listen here princess,” he yelled while standing straight up in his spot, face turning dark red in the heat of his rage. “That is a part of the damn job. They knew what they were getting into. Every single one of them. We tried to save but they made their choices. Don’t you dare put all of this on me.”
You could feel your breathing turn rapid as you clenched your fist to punch time right in his perfect jaw as he spoke. Looking into darkened his eyes you could see the anger, sadness, and self-hatred all mixed hiding away behind them. A sea of tears trying to escape. You saw the truth in them, not only had you blamed him, but he was still blaming himself. Your words had cut open a wound that time had not healed. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to relax your muscles as it set in.
“There is no point in this. In us yelling at each other,” you sighed, knowing that no matter what you did, the past could not be changed. Moving forward was the only option. “There have been tough choices that we all have made, that I know we all regret.”
Sam and Dean both nodded their heads in agreement as you took in a deep breath and raised yourself to obtain another beer from the kitchen. Sam followed your lead, leaning on the counter while you popped the top off. He went to open his mouth to speak but you stopped him in his tracks.
“Not talking about it anymore Sam,” you said before taking a large gulp, downing almost half of the contents. You let out a low burp that made him quietly snicker, breaking the tension. “So what is up with the boy band you’re in? The lettermen.”
“The men of letters,” he corrected you as Dean walked in red-eyed, with an obvious tear stain on his cheek. He rubbed his face with both hands while Sam continued. “Basically there were like elite hunters. They complied almost every lore and spell book you could imagine.”
“Were?” you queried before taking another sip.
“Yeah, a bitch knight of hell, Abaddon, pretty much wiped out the membership in 1958,” Dean responded while grabbing for his own beer. “All that is really left is a few legacies, like Sam, me and well I guess now you too.”
“Our grandfather Henry Winchester was a member,” Sam added.
“Yeah, he was an alright guy. Kind of self-righteous,” Dean quipped.
You pushed your head back in confusion, squinting your eyes to Dean. “He was? You just said she wiped them out.”
“Time travel spell,” Sam responded in seriousness. “He traveled to his next of kin in the future, escaping while luring her here.”
“Through the closet,” Dean chuckled while taking a sip of his beer.
“Anyways,” Sam continued. “He sacrificed himself to stop her, and that was just the beginning of a whole other mess.”
You stood there staring blankly at you beer bottle, frozen in your thoughts. Time traveling grandparents and demons. Resurrected parents. Secret hunters club. Fucking Wizard of Oz’s Dorothy, all things that were real and happened to them. You shook yourself out of your thoughts and finished your beer in a long gulp.
“Well,” you clicked with your tongue as you pulled the empty bottle away from your lips. “I think you two would definitely be institutionalized if you ever admitted these things to other people.”
“Yeah, being honest usually gets us committed for a few days,” Sam laughed.
You gave him a perplexed glare but shook it off instead of asking further questions. The clock behind him displaying the time that could not have possibly been right, making you jump to find your phone.
“Fuck what time is it?” you groaned while moving items out of your way in the search for it.
“It’s a little bit before 5,” Sam informed while looking at his watch.
“God damn time change,” you grunted. “Look, listen guys as much as I would love to sit here and have girl talk, I have less than two hours to get ready for a stupid faculty ball at the University. I also have no idea where half of the things I need are.”
“We can help you find them,” Sam offered, glancing over at his brother that looked lost in his thoughts.
“You really don’t…” you started to reply.
“We would be more than happy to,” Dean added, stopping you from speaking.
“Fine,” you breathed as you rolled your eyes and glanced at the boxes still full of miscellaneous contents behind him. “I need my curling iron, makeup, jewelry and black Manolo Blahnik’s.”
“What is a Manolo Blahnik?” Sam questioned in confusion.
“They’re high heeled shoes,” Dean informed while moving towards the living room. He turned himself back around once reaching an unopened box, meeting Sam and yours surprised stares. “What?”
“Nothing,” you scoffed as you walked past him to another box.
“So what exactly is this thing you are going to?” Sam asked while moving to his own spot amongst the stacks.
“Basically a meet and greet amongst faculty members,” you answered while pulling away at the tape, revealing yet another box of books in front of you.
“Want some company,” Sam suggested. You gave him a puzzled look, questioning is motivations. “I mean being the new kid and not knowing anyone, might help to have friendly faces.”
You let out a short laugh, imagining yourself walking in with two handsome men head to toe in plaid and denim. “Unless you guys have a tux handy, I don’t think so.”
“I do,” Dean nonchalantly said while rummaging through his boxes contents of beauty products.
“You do?” Sam and you questioned together in amazement.
“God how many bath beads and bombs do you have?”
________________________________________________________
“A lot. Now answer the question Dean,” Y/N commanded while folding her arms in front of her waiting for him to reply.
“What? So I have a tux in the car. You never know when you might need it for a case,” he answered while pulling out her curling iron from the bottom of the box. “One down.”
“And how often do you need a tux for a case?” she giggled while lifting and fumbling with another box to stifle through.
“You would be surprised,” he laughed, grabbing the box in Y/N’s hands to help her balance it. His eyes met hers in the motion as she mouthed a “thank you” that made his heart skip a beat. Just one look and he felt like a teenager again, sweaty and anxious about the future. What would ever become of this? Did she even feel something for him? Was he just wasting his time here?
That night, that amazing night that he found himself lying next to her, watching her chest rise and fall as she dreamed was one of the best moments he had in a long time. During the drive to her he played around with the thought of if things weren’t so complicated, for lack of a better word, he could see himself doing it every night. Just being with her. Hell, maybe the civilian life in a little house that he could escape the world with her in.
While he pulled up to her house, he couldn’t help but smile at how it looked exactly as he imagined. The perfect spot for the perfect apple pie life. His smile fading as he remembered nothing about his life would ever be perfect. Not in this lifetime at least. The question of what the hell he was even trying to do or going to do shook up his nerves. He was actually grateful that Sam had been there or else he would have probably tucked in his tail and ran back home before even seeing her face again.
She hadn’t been as spirited from the other night, maybe she had regretted everything that had happened. That thought made Dean sick to his stomach as he helped unpack the endless stacks of books. How drunk had she been? Did he take advantage of her? Oh God, did she want to gut him right where he stood? The worst possible thought flooded his mind until Sam snapped him out of it. The picture he held in his hands was so familiar like he had already seen it. When Sam spoke up he knew what he was looking at. Home. No place like it.
His brother was looking to him for answers the same way he had all his life, only this time he didn’t have them. He knew what had to happen next, he had to find out what she knew. The world he wanted to keep away from her was breaking through. Her eyes searched for the details within her memories that only made the sickness in his stomach grow. His world had already met hers, and not only that his mother had brought it to her. As Sam and he spoke, he watched her carefully as she followed their words. Her eyes were searching for reason when she as questioned how it was her that she had brought it to her. A long story he did not want to talk about because the ending still frightened him. His mother could still be alive with Jack by her side in a world he may never be able to reach again.
As a familiar name hit his ears his heart sank. Charlie. Although he had just seen her face in another world, it was not the real Charlie he had cared for, the one he was unable to protect. He could feel his heart beating faster as Y/N grabbed a book and shown his brother her past, one that included the bright smile on his friends face that he knew all too well as it still flashed in his memories. He felt his emotions burning inside of him, begging to come out when she told him to turn the pages. There they were, more of the family he had let down all those years ago. Ash, Ellen, and sweet Jo, the girl who sacrificed herself for him. His heart was now tearing into pieces.
A worn letter fell into his hands as he sat remembering, feeling the guilt that he tried to push back. Ash had sent her to them. If he had only known he would have found her one way or another if anything to honor his fallen friends' wishes for them to protect her. As he spoke he could see the anger inside of her push itself out as her words hit like acid. Out of instinct, he fought against them as his anger toward himself grew. He watched her face as his muscles tightened to attack her, she wasn’t scared. He saw it in her eyes, her anger still burning and seeing in his that he was as well. She could see it how it still haunted him, his past mistakes. The emotions in her eyes shifted as she watched him. She was still angry, but somehow she could read that he was too and she understood. Understood how the memories would keep him up at night, how given the job things happen to the ones you love, and how if he could take it all back, trading in his life for theirs he would.
He watched her walk away with Sam following, a tear escaping down his cheek. How would she be able to forgive him when he could never forgive himself? He let out a deep sigh before following them. The subject already had changed as she asked more of her questions. Somehow she was able to push all the words that were said aside and allow herself to pretend that everything was normal. Nothing was nor ever would be normal, not with him around.
Her smile gave him a sense of calm as they all spoke. She really was perfect. If there had been any chance at something more, surely all that had transpired erased them. Following her gaze to the clock, Dean knew he was running out of time he had with her. Sam offering for them to accompany her was his last shot before he knew she might be gone from him again. When she suggested that it was not going to happen unless they had a tux Dean jumped at his chance. This was it and he was not going to miss it.
“So what time should I be ready for our date?” Dean smiled coyly setting the box down from her grasp.
“Really, I’ll be fine,” she laughed as she tore through the tape to find her other lost items.
“Nonsense,” Dean stated. “You might need someone to carry you home after being bored to sleep all night.”
He watched as she rolled her eyes and chuckled, muttering a “fine” in defeat. He could feel his heart starting to beat faster, this was it. It was happening, and not only that he wouldn’t have Sam to lean on. No, it would just be her and him. The possibility of redemption from the past fueled him to work faster, tearing through the boxes and finding everything she needed.
“Thanks,” she said while taking them from his hands. “There is an iron underneath the bathroom sink if you need it for your suit.”
Dean nodded as he looked over at Sam who had a smile raising in the corner of his mouth. This was the chance for Dean to find what he wanted, hell what he needed. There was no way he would let anything mess it up.
Y/N had disappeared into what Dean could only assume was her bedroom. He heard the water from a shower run as he went to Baby’s trunk for everything that he would need. While grabbing the garment bag that held the tux he glanced at all the tools that laid organized in front of him. Knives, guns, holy water, bombs and a whole lot of other tools he would usually reach for when going into the unknown. He shook his head as he pushed the trunk back shut. There was no need for any of it, at least not tonight.
After fixing himself in her bathroom mirror after changing, he walked out to have an approving nod from his brother that was short lived as Sam’s eyes moved to what was behind Dean. He turned his head and saw her standing there in a long low cut black dress with her hair falling on her shoulders in curls. Their eyes met as they both whispered that same word in unison, “Jesus”.
“Wait what?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Dean quickly replied as he pulled out Baby’s keys. “You ready to go.”
“Ah ah, Winchester, I do believe I said the next time I was driving,” she smiled while jiggling her keys in her hand.
Dean gave a low laugh while smiling as he followed her outside. He would do anything she told him to do to see her smile and tonight he would do exactly that. Butterflies now fluttering inside of him as they reached her car. She walked to the driver’s side making Dean move quickly on his feet.
“You know, as the guy I should at least drive,” he suggested while opening the door for her.
“No chance in hell Winchester,” she laughed before seating herself in.
Closing the door gently before walking himself around to the other side he felt his smile only growing wider. Nothing was going to ruin tonight. He wouldn’t let it. Everything was just going to be…perfect.
Keep reading to part nine here
Tags: @jaylarkson @waywardbaby @snffbeebee @iamabeautifulperson18 @19agbrown
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Ten Minutes (Dean Winchester/OC)
Des Moines, Iowa, May 2014
Riley stared at the screen of her phone, looking at the text there and wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into?
She hadn’t stepped foot on American soil since she had taken out her first vampire when she was just a kid, but yet here she was, following Mick Davies’s guidance and praying for the best. She had no idea what to expect, all she knew was that there were other players in the hunting game, which is precisely why her heart was pounding at the very moment.
Sitting in a booth in the corner of the bar, she gently set her phone down on the table and took a sip of her warm beer. This wasn’t exactly what she had in mind when Mick informed her of their next step but if she was going to actually get on with her plan and eradicate the vampire population like she had threatened to do years ago, then the good ole United States of America was where she had to be.
Mick Davies had been good to her for the past few years, helping mold her into the woman she was, leading her towards the right choices, offering to help her understand how to handle different monsters- and boy how that had been a rude awakening.
With vampires came werewolves, demons, ghosts- the list when on and on, but Riley was only really interested in vampires. The other monsters were just obstacles that got in her way. She was good at what she did, working for the British Men of Letters had helped her. They had taught her, honed her skills, even let her join the Army Reserve for a tour.
Yeah, Riley had worked hard to gain her position as Mick’s top gear special ops girl; but she had long ago proclaimed herself ‘the Vampire Slayer’. Her time over in the United Kingdom had been a great practice run but Riley had stepped into the world of monsters long after the British Men of Letters had and while she was a decent monster hunter, she had a better opportunity in America, the place that had once been her home.
Mick had insisted that she would be fine, she knew what she was doing, but he had also pointed out (over many long, long meetings) that she would have some stiff competition. There was an insurmountable number of hunters on American soil, some of the top dogs had been shown to her, she had read file after file, but the biggest files of them all belonged to the two men sitting in the booth attached to hers.
Amazingly, what she was listening to was not what she was expecting from some of the most respected hunters she had ever had the privilege of hearing about.
Sam and Dean Winchester, top grade American hunters, experience that outmatched hers.
So why hadn’t they figured out that the monster in this specific town was actually a small nest of vampires?
A nest that Mick had given her the go-ahead to eradicate. She only ever got the green-light to do her thing when the higher-ups were done with them, done connecting them to other camps, done checking over the casualties they had left. Riley was the final step, and boy was she ready to finish what others had started.
“So get this: the victim was drained of his blood…”
Riley rolled her eyes and grabbed hold of her phone, looking at the most recent message Mick had sent her. She ran a hand through her hair and smiled, seeing the string of happy face emojis followed by a picture of a cartoon vampire. Oh yes, of all the British Men of Letters, Mick was her favourite, much to her delight. He was the one who was in charge of her cases, he was the one who backed her up when it came to the people who outranked her, he had been the one person that she could truly call a friend, and he understood her.
He knew what made her tick, knew what made her smile, was aware of her desire to kill every last vampire and had figured out a way of proposing that they do that in a way that made it part of their entire group’s mission and not just hers. He was back in England working on the final few details of the proposal, hoping that soon enough he’d be joining her in America.
You know, these Winchesters are way cuter in person.
She sent her text and waited for the reply, but after a good ten seconds, nothing came, instead, she looked forward and spotted the back of Sam Winchester’s head, knowing exactly who he was because of the photos that accompanied their files. He was sitting across from Dean, the two of them talking about the case, but Riley already knew what the monster was and she knew what she had to do.
If she could just get into the nest and kill the vampires before the brothers, then she would be able to call the mission successful. She wanted to get out of this place without them even knowing what she was capable of, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want them to know who she was.
She could definitely have some fun, especially with Dean, god he had piqued her interest the second she had laid eyes on his file. He was big, strong, intelligent and his monster kill count was huge! This was an impressive man to her and well, she wasn’t going to lie, it had been an awfully long time since any man had caught her eye.
Her phone vibrated in her hand, pulling her out of her thoughts and she looked at the screen, Mick’s name flashing in front of her eyes, signaling that he was calling her. Did she really want to talk to him now?
Chances were good he was going to fill her head with technical information, tactics she should be using to get to the nest without the vamps having a chance to prepare for her attack. Did she really want to hear that?
Not really. Riley was ready to go, she had her plan laid out in her head and in a couple of short hours, she’d be heading over to the big barn off the old country road where she knew the vampires were hiding out. Once there, she’d sit and wait for the sun to rise, giving her more of an advantage- not that she needed it. The vampires wouldn’t even know what hit them.
“Got some time to kill.” Riley mumbled to herself, swallowed the last big mouthful of beer and set the glass back on the table. She pocketed her cell phone and sat up straighter in the booth, catching a glimpse of the one and only Dean Winchester.
Time to kill indeed.
Sucking in a deep breath, she prayed that she still had it in her.
Sliding out of the booth, she set her feet on the floor and headed over to the bar, putting a bit more sway to her hips than normal. She didn’t dare look back to see if she had caught his attention, no, that wouldn’t work in her favour, she just had to hope that he was watching her.
Leaning her elbows on the edge of the bar, she popped her butt out and grinned at the bartender, who was immediately in front of her, leaving the rest of the patrons, who were all skeezy looking men, without his service for the time being. He smiled back at her and she couldn’t help but wonder if this guy would do as a back-up, in case she hadn’t caught Dean’s attention.
He was attractive enough, but he didn’t look like he’d be able to give her what she wanted, what she craved. Nope, Dean Winchester was the only man she wanted tonight.
“What can I get you?” The bartender asked with a smug smirk and Riley flopped down onto the nearest stool, drumming her fingers against the shiny surface of the bar.
“What do you recommend?” She purred but before the bartender could reply, she felt a presence next to her. She looked sideways and spotted the very man of her current desire standing beside her, his eyes grazing over her but his attention ultimately falling on the bartender.
“Two more beers.” Dean’s voice sent a shiver down her spine and Riley fought every ounce of her being not to stand up and ask him to fuck right then and there. No, she was better than that, she could play it cool, even if she could feel her heart starting to pick up in pace at his mere presence.
It had been a long time, too long for her.
“What do you recommend?” Riley repeated her question, only this time she stared up at the Dean Winchester.
Slowly he lowered himself down onto the stool next to her and she propped her elbow against the edge of the bar, tucking her knuckles under her chin as she leaned against her arm. His eyes looked her over again and when his lips upturned into the tiniest of smirks, she cocked her head slightly and widened her eyes.
“What I recommend, you probably can’t handle.” Dean countered. Riley lifted her chin off her knuckles and reached her hand upwards, tucking the tip of her fingernail in between her teeth. She stared at him and shook her head with a giggle- oh god a giggle. Yeah, maybe she was desperate; how could she not be though, Dean Winchester was a beauty.
“I’ve been told I can handle a lot more than people think.” She countered and planted her feet on the floor, letting her arms drop down to her sides. She took a step forward and closed the distance between their faces, lowering her voice in the process. “I bend, but I don’t break.”
With that, she gingerly ran her palm across his chest, gave his shoulder a rough pat and began sauntering towards the door to the outside.
She held her breath and prayed that he would follow her, but she wasn’t too sure how enticing she had been to him. The last guy she had fucked had been blatantly obvious about his feelings towards her and it had been almost too easy to get him to bed, but Dean Winchester wasn’t him.
And she had been out of practice for too long.
Riley leaned into the door and pushed it open, feeling the slightly chilly evening air against her skin. She stepped out onto the deck at the front of the bar and tucked her hands into the pockets on her jacket, feeling her phone there but not wanting to look at it. She figured she’d eventually have to call Mick back but she just didn’t want to, not yet anyways.
She’d call him when the job was done, she’d tell him that she had done it- and by god she would do it. She’d kill every last vampire in this god-forsaken town.
“Hey!”
Riley froze at the sound of his voice, but found that it still managed to get to her. Okay, so maybe she had caught his attention after all.
“Hey!” He called out to her again and she fought off the urge to laugh at how easily he followed her.
Turning on her heels, she locked her eyes on Dean and smirked, cocking her hip to the side and biting down on her bottom lip.
“I don’t know if you could handle what I recommend.” Riley countered, echoing his words from inside. He stared at her, taking in the sight of her from head to toe. She was quite the catch, and certainly Dean Winchester’s type- hell she was everyone’s type.
“What is it that you recommend?” Dean questioned and she offered up a small shrug, turning her attention to the parking lot.
“You got ten minutes and a car?” She shot back, whipping her head around to look back at him, knowing exactly which car in the lot was his and boy was it a nice ride.
“Ten minutes?”
“Like I said, you probably couldn’t handle-”
“Yeah I got a car. But you’re going to need more than ten minutes.”
Riley scoffed at him but her insides tightened in anticipation.
Yes! This was exactly what she wanted, she wanted Dean Winchester, she wanted sex, and she wanted to be fucked.
We’ll see.” Riley murmured and freed her one hand from her pocket, offering it to him. He took it but didn’t let go, instead, leading her towards the lot and back towards the corner, right to the sleek black muscle car that she had seen pictures of in his file. Hell yes, this was even better than she could’ve imagined, she wanted this so bad and here he was, the Dean Winchester, leading her to his car.
When they were within reach of the black Chevy, she tugged out of his grip and leaned her back against the side of the car, waving him forward. The weight of his body colliding with hers was more than she was expecting. He was heavy, and when he came crashing against her, pinning her to the car, his chest against her chest, she let out a huff, as if the air had been forced from her lungs.
This was precisely what she wanted: to be on her own with the man currently pressed against her.
She tipped her head back and grabbed at the collar of his plaid shirt, jerking him forward so that his lips met hers and when they did, by god, it was better than she could’ve ever imagined. He was an amazing kisser, his lips moving against hers, his tongue poking in to meet hers and he tasted like alcohol, hell that was fine by her.
When he pulled away, she took her bottom lip in between her teeth again, watched as his hand dug into the pocket on his jeans and produced a set of keys, which he then proceeded to fumble with. She watched as he struggled to get the right one and when it was clear he was having trouble focusing, she gently set her hands on his wrists and drew his attention back to her face.
“You going to make it into the car?” She teased and ran her finger along the side of his wrist.
“You’d rather we just do it out here?” Dean husked in response and Riley cocked her head sideways, seriously considering the offer.
As much as that turned her on, and boy did the idea of him fucking her against the car turn her on, she figured that maybe it’d be best if they didn’t set themselves up to get caught having sex in public.
She ran her hands up his arms and then ran her nails over his skin, watching as he finally managed to get the right key. She squeezed her legs together and knew that this was going to be great, hell, she was practically halfway there already at the mere thought of what was about to happen.
“Ladies first.” He stated cheekily, managing to pull the driver’s side door open. Riley tossed him a grin and slipped inside the car, sliding across the supple leather seat and running her hands over the dashboard, waiting as he followed her inside.
Turning to face him, she closed the distance between them and hauled her leg over him, straddling him as she rested her arms on his shoulders.
“Ten minutes.” She cooed, and nudged his nose with her own before locking lips, once again, with the infamous Dean Winchester; and by god if it wasn’t just as great as the first time.
His hands came to rest on her hips, holding her tight against him and when his one hand drifted over her ass, she let out a low moan and leaned into him.
Pulling back, away from him, Riley moved her hands from his shoulders and ran her palms over his chest, letting them move downwards, her fingers grasping as the buckle of his belt. He followed her lead and started to do the same thing to her belt, the two of them fighting to undo buckles.
She had managed to finish first and as soon as she had, she popped the button and lowered the zipper, feeling him arch up towards her so that she could slide his pants down enough to get to what she wanted. Except his hands worked nearly as fast and when she felt him tugging at the waist of her jeans, she pressed her knees into the seat on either side of his thighs and shoved her pants down just enough to give him access to her black satin panties.
His finger ran over the front of her underwear and she huffed, dropping her head down and latching her lips onto the side of his neck, sucking hard. She could feel his hands moving over her ass, along her hips and up under her shirt, but what she wasn’t expecting was for him to lift her up ever so slightly, just enough so that he could slip her panties sideways and plunge a finger into her.
She bared her teeth against his neck and let out a hiss, but she didn’t dare pull away, no, this was getting good and she hoped that he would last longer than the ten minutes she had originally challenged him too.
Frantic, she leaned away from him, arching her back as she pressed her palms against his chest, letting his finger circle around her lips, rubbing over her clit before plunging back into her wet folds.
Her nails dragged down his chest and she desperately tried to get closer to him, but he was stronger than she had anticipated and wouldn’t let her get near him. She managed to snag his boxers with her fingers but Dean was quick and grabbed her hand with his, holding it against his chest.
“Got somewhere to be?” He quipped; a cocky smirk plastered on his face. Riley opened her mouth to respond but he added a second finger, rendering her speechless as she let out a low moan. “There’s no need to hurry.”
Sucking in a breath, she tried to regain her composure but found that it was no use. He had the upper hand and even though her head was screaming for her to fight it, she didn’t want to. This was a long time coming and she knew that it was going to be good.
“You sure know how to treat a girl.” Riley managed to get out and his grip on her hand loosened, letting her go back to trying to get to him. As good as his fingers felt, she wanted his cock inside of her, she wanted the roughness that she fantasized about, she wanted to be left satisfied and sated.
With a chuckle, he freed his fingers from inside of her and rested his palms against her sides, giving her flesh a rough squeeze. She reached for his boxers and managed to get her hands on the top of them before he lifted his hips away from the seat and let her push them down. His fingers drummed across her skin and he gripped her hips- hard.
“You sure about this?” His voice was low and soft, almost concerned but Riley merely nodded her head, slipped her panties to the side and let him guide his cock to her entrance.
There was no hesitation, no time for her to prepare, before he lined up and thrust himself inside of her, her entire body jerking at the motion. Her lips parted and she let out a small whimper but it didn't stop him, didn't even slow him down. He pulled out and thrust into her again but all Riley could do was gape, feeling him fill her up completely.
God he was so big; so long and thick and just…god it felt so perfect, so amazing, and she relished in the feeling of him inside of her.
Her eyes widened from the sheer pleasure he was providing and she tried to shift her hips but it was no use, he was tight against her, holding her hips and refusing to relinquish control. Not a word was said between them and they merely remained silent except for a few grunts and a couple pleasured moans.
Riley could hear his heavy panting and she knew that he wanted this just as much as she did.
She took her bottom lip in between her teeth, desperate to bite back a cry of pleasure, Dean leaning forward and pressing his lips against hers instead, Riley nipping at him as he moved. She lifted her hand up, running it through his hair and he halted in kissing her. He stole a quick glance sideways at the fog building up on the window of the car, Riley moved her hand out towards him and gently gripped his chin, guiding his head so that he was looking back at her.
Her kiss was quick and it was more of a peck on his lips than anything but with the contact of her lips against his, she got the desired reaction: his eyes widening ever so slightly. She grinned at him but he didn’t seem to object to her, not as she wiggled her hips against him.
“Oh my god.” She breathed the words out and his hand pressed firmly against the small of her back, holding her tight against him.
She leaned in and kissed him again, this time she lingered, pressing her lips more firmly against his, and when his hand ran up her back, slipping over the side of her bra, she shivered. His palm found the front of her bra and he tucked his fingers inside the cup, his fingertips brushing over her nipple causing Riley arched into his touch.
Not a word was shared between them and the only sounds that she produced were low whines and whimpers while he matched her noises with primal grunts.
It wasn’t long until she felt the familiar tightening sensation deep within her and she came, squeezing around him before he followed her into release. Still not a word was said and when he finally relaxed underneath her, letting her lean against him as his fingers lazily brushed against her thighs.
Her hand ran through his hair as he pressed his face against her chest, his breath hot against the top of her breast. They merely sat in silence together for what felt like forever, but Riley knew better. Jesus this man underneath her was amazing, so amazing that she was almost saddened by the fact that if everything went according to plan, then she’d never actually have to see him again.
She let out a soft sigh while Dean remained buried inside of her.
When he finally gave her hip a pat, she rolled off of him, watching as he tucked himself back into his boxers. She lazily turned her head towards him as she relaxed into the seat beside him, draping her arm across her abdomen, staring at him, waiting for him to say something.
He turned his head to face her and caught her lazy smile. Before she knew what he was doing, his hand was on her thigh, giving it a rough squeeze before he let go and roughly patted her flesh.
“I wasn’t timing, was that longer than ten minutes?” He asked, one hundred percent serious. Riley sucked in a breath and rolled her eyes at him before letting out a small bark of laughter.
“You got ten more?” She teased.
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Never Let Go
Pairing: Sam x Twin Winchester!Sister
Warnings: Torture, language, blood, implied rape, feeling like a failure, ANGST
Word Count: 1923
A/N: This was written for @impala-dreamer ‘s One prompt for all Sam Challenge. The prompt was “I promise, I won’t let go.” I’ve got to admit this took a lot more angstier turn than I was originally planning. This is very triggering so please be weary and read the warnings. I may do a part 2 but that’s very much in the air right now.
Summary: You are Sam’s twin sister and have always shared a connection beyond that of twin siblings. After Dean you think Dean has given himself up to the darkness you and Sam are captured by the British Men of Letters. You are both tortured for information, but what they do to you pushes the boundaries that even you can’t handle.
Being a Winchester was dangerous everyone knew that. If you had the last name Winchester you were on the top of every monster’s hit list. Now, imagine being a twin to one of the Winchesters. That’s right you were Sam’s twin and that came with a whole other list of problems in itself.
Let’s not get it twisted you loved your brother, both of them, but with Sam came the whole demon blood problem. Turns out Azazel got a two for one deal when it came to the younger Winchesters. He not only gave Sam a dose of his demon blood, but you as well.
As many problems as this caused, with Sam dying and Dean selling his soul to save him, you thought it was all behind you since Azazel was dead and had been for a decade. You figured no demon, no freaky demon powers or being sought after for your uniqueness. Boy, were you wrong.
Here you were 10 years later captured by the British Men of Letters. You and Sam. Dean was dead, or you thought so at the time, and Cas was sent away. Your wrists were chained to the ceiling, your head hung low as blood dripped from your mouth. Sam was chained to a chair with torture marks as well.
You both were taken for two reasons. One, you were American hunters who had the information the Brits needed and two, with your abilities, that had been dormant for years, you both were considered a threat the Brits.
“Alright Y/N, let’s give Sam here a little break shall we,” Lady Beville said.
What she didn’t know was that with the demon blood connection and already being twins, you and Sam shared a connection on another level meaning you could feel each other’s pain. Of course, you couldn’t feel the intensity the other did, but you felt it non- the less. So, neither of you ever got a break.
“Stay away from her. You’ve done enough,” Sam said trying to get them away from you knowing you were getting the brunt of the torture because they thought they could break you easier.
“Aww, how sweet. Sam trying to save his twin sister. It’s a nice sentiment really, but isn’t going to do much here,” Beville sneered.
“It’s fine Sammy. I can take whatever this bitch can throw at me,” you crooked.
“Ooh sweetie, I have cracked stronger women than you with this,” Beville snickered.
“Sammy, why do all monsters seem to underestimate me? Don’t they know I’m the one saving yours and Dean’s asses most the time?” you joked.
“I don’t know, sis. I know you scare me more than most monsters and especially more than this broad,” Sam replied.
“That’s enough. Y/N, do you need to go back with our ‘expert’?” Beville said and your eyes widened. When you wouldn’t cooperate earlier they put you in a room with a man, who at this moment you didn’t realize was Ketch, and he made some pretty vile threats towards you as you were strapped to a table. As he dragged his hands up and down your body he told you in great detail exactly what he would do to ravage you. You cringed at the thought. Would they really go that far? Would they really take the one thing no creature ever dared to go near?
“N-no. I don’t need to go back there,” you said with a shaky voice that Sam didn’t fail to notice.
“Good. I’ll be right back. You better be ready to talk,” Beville smiled and walked out.
“Y/N? What did she mean but seeing their expert?” Sam asked.
“Don’t worry about it, Sam.”
“Y/N, I have to worry. This situation sucks and is awful but we’ve been in worse and you’ve been stoic through it all until now. The fear when she said that was written all your face and on top of that I could feel your fear. Y/N, what did they do in there?”
“They didn’t do anything, at least not yet. It was more of a threat of what they would do if I didn’t cooperate,” you said as the fear really started to take hold and tears started to spill.
Sam felt it. The pure fear. He knew it was bad and as bad as he didn’t want to know, he needed to. “Bug,” Sam said using your old nickname to calm you a bit. “What did they threaten?”
You sniffled looking at your brother, your twin, your best friend. “They had me strapped to a table back there. There was a man and he came towards me. He started to get really handsy as he went into detail on all the things he would do to me. All the things he wanted to do to me. Sammy, I-I can act tough and stoic and take all the torture these douchebags have to offer all day long, but what he was saying, what he wanted to do, I can’t. Sammy, I’d rather me sliced and diced than have that man on top of me,” you sobbed as you got the last words out.
“Bug, look at me,” Sam said using his caring big brother voice, technically he was 10 minutes older. “That is not, I repeat, not going to happen. You hear me? I won’t let. If I have to tell these assholes every damn secret we have, I will. I will not let that man put his hands on you, okay?”
You nodded. “Sammy, I’m scared. Usually we would have Dean to help, but-but,” you couldn’t finish what you were saying.
“I know, Bug. I know. I’m scared too. But I need you to be that tough, badass, smart mouthed woman I know you are. I need you to be strong so we can get out of this okay?”
Before you could respond Lady Beville came walking back in. “OH, that’s cute you think you’re getting out of this. I guess it helps to think positively. Y/N are you ready to talk or are we going to your favorite room.
“I’ll talk, just please don’t hurt Sam anymore. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know to stay out of that room and keep him safe.”
“Good. I need the names and addresses of all the hunters you know of in America.”
“OK, come closer and I’ll tell you.” She started getting closer to you, ‘Idiot’ you thought to yourself. As soon as she was close enough you head butted her sending her stumbling backward. “I won’t give you the identities of the people you plan to take out. I’m not an idiot.”
“You little bitch. You should not have done that. Our expert is going to have fun with you. He hasn’t been able to stop talking about his plans.”
“WAIT! I’ll tell you what you need to know. Just don’t take her away. I’ll tell you I promise,” Sam begged.
“Sorry Sam, she knew the consequences,” Beville said as you were unchained.
“Wait, no. I’m sorry. I’ll behave. I’ll tell you. I promise. Please, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this,” you begged.
“Sorry love, you dug this grave now you need to lay in it,” Beville retorted.
“NO! PLEASE! STOP! SAMMY!” you screamed. You knew Sam couldn’t help you but that was all that came to mind.
“Y/N! Please lady, don’t do this. Can’t you see she’s terrified? How could you willingly subject her to that?” Sam asked.
“We all have to endure pain and fear. It’s how we overcome it,” was her simple answer as she gave Sam the key to his chains and walked out.
Meanwhile, you were dragged down the hall kicking and screaming till you stopped in front of the door of the room that would change your life forever. How, exactly? You didn’t know. The men who held you shoved you in and brought you to the table where they stripped you down to your undergarments and strapped you down.
The man from earlier entered with a sickening grin on his face. All he was wear was his boxers as he approached you and ran his finger down your face.
Tears started to pour out of your eyes. “Please don’t do this,” you pleaded one final time.
“Sorry sweetheart, but you need to be punished and I think I’m really going to enjoy this.”
You closed your eyes trying to be anywhere else as he began his work. When he inserted himself into you, you screamed and other than the occasional sobs or whimpers of pain that was the last sound you made.
Sam could feel the intense fear coming from you. He could feel your pain in his gut. This was more intense than your connection had ever been. He knew what they were doing to you back there and it was killing him. Despite being unchained, he was powerless to do anything to help you. He was failing as your brother. If Dean could see him now, Sam knew he would be pissed and disappointed with him. He would be if the roles were reversed. All Sam could do was sit and wait and hope they brought you back alive.
Two hours later Ketch pulled away from you and put his boxers back on. He walked towards your head and placed a kiss to your forehead. “That was fun sweetheart. Maybe we can do it again sometime,” he said with a smile and you turned your head and let the tears continue to fall.
The other men came in and gave you your clothes and unchained you. You haphazardly threw on your clothes and followed the men out. You had no fight left in you. You just went where they told you.
Sam heard movement on the other side of the door. When he heard the lock turn he stood and prepared to attack, until he saw
Sam heard movement on the other side of the door. When he heard the lock turn he stood and prepared to attack, until he saw you. You were distraught, your clothes were a miss and the tears were still falling.
“Move,” the bigger man behind you ordered and you complied as you moved into the room and he closed the door behind you.
Sam came running towards you but you couldn’t look him in the eye, not after what just happened. He could feel the shame you felt and it killed him. You shouldn’t feel ashamed, the man who assaulted you should. He hooked his finger under your chin and made you look him in the eye.
That’s when you broke. You completely lost it. You collapsed into Sam’s arms and sobbed into his chest as you fisted his shirt. He wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you tight.
“S-Sammy I-I Please don’t let go,” you sobbed.
Your broken voice killed Sam. He knew he failed you, but as his own tears began to fall he knew he would do everything in his power to make it up to you. “Shhh… I promise, I won’t let go. I won’t ever let go.”
You sat there in your brother’s arms letting him comfort you. You soaked up all the warmth you could. This was the only place you felt safe, wrapped in brother’s arms. Neither of you knew how you were going to get out of there, but you knew you would and then revenge would ensue starting with the son of a bitch who took advantage of you.
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Mamma Mia
So Toni’s a bitch. I really don’t care how much they try to make her human with her having a kid and not liking to watch torture...I don’t like her AT ALL. Anyway, deciding that Sam can take way more pain then she can dish out, she tries to entice him into telling her what she wants to know another way...by thinking they are intimit. And he does tell her a bit, but she doens’t believe what he says. To Toni and the British Men of Letters there is a hierarchy. The Men of Letters are at the top and are intellectuals, and even then in the organization there is a ridged structure. Strict ranks. Then the hunters aren’t even worth being counted as humans but are, as she puts it, they’re slaves. Then she comes to America where some hunter is telling her that not only is the Men of Letters not even a thing but the hunters have no structure or order but are apparently just a lot of angry and revenge hungry people out running around on their own whims killing anything that starts killing people.
Meanwhile, Dean and Mary are trying to find Sam while also trying to find a way to interact with each other. And this right here, the whole sub plot of season 12, of the boys and Dean especially trying to figure out how to interact with Mary and get through that roller coaster hit home FAR TOO much for me. I grew up without a mother and it wasn’t until I was older that my mother came back. And honestly, I feel Dean so much in this episode. For that first month or so, we had no idea how to interact with each other. And I tried to make it as smooth as I could, and don’t get me wrong I was happy as hell to have her home. I had a picture of me and my mom when I was a little kid, just the two of us, that I kept in my room and looked at all the time. I used to pray for my mom back, to wish on every shooting star I saw. And when I got her...I had no idea how to really act around her. I mean she was still my mom, but we missed so much with each other that we just...I had only a few memories of her because ironically enough, I was the same age as Dean was when my mother left. And she wasn’t the same as I remembered. I mean she looked the same sure, and many things were the same, but so many things were different too, and with us kids, we didn’t look the same as when she left and we definitely werne’t the same in personality. My brother was just a baby, not even a year! So yeah, I get it so much in this season.
Dean actually ends up going to Cas, which... I mean it’s great Dean feels like he can go to Cas about things but even Cas is baffled on what to tell him because he doesn’t know the first thing about mothers. He just tells Dean not to make things needlessly complicated but Cas doesn’t understand that it’s way past complicated at this point. Mary has to actually build a relationship with Sam when they get him back and she has to redefine the relationship she once had with Dean. But first they got to find Sam and Cas gets a lead on him.
They go out to rescue Sam and of course Dean decides to go in by himself. He gets captured by Toni using a spell and she drags him in to see Sam, who now learns his brother is alive. Sam has been tortured, broke out of a mental illusion spell, and has been being beat on and hurt but what finally shakes him is the brother that he thought was dead coming through the doors. Not only is Dean alive, but that hope of a rescue is back. Sam is upset when Toni hurts Dean but he doens’t break and give her what she wants because if Dean is here then that mean’s Cas is outside and Cas is going to find a way to save them. Toni is sure she can get Sam to break by torturing Dean but sweetie, Dean was tortured in Hell by the Grand Torturer Alastair himself as well as apprenticing under him and becoming one of the greatest torture masters there is, albet not willingly. Does she really think she knows torture better than Dean?
The rescue comes but not in the form of their trench coated friend but their mother! And now Sam has experienced exactly what Dean did in the season 6 premier when a dead brother and another dead relative walked through the door. Only this time it’s mom and she is pissed! Mary, Dean, and Sam work together to escape only to meet another of the Men of Letters, Mick Davies. Mick is much more polite, explaining that they were supposed to be friends and he would like to offer them his assistance. To show he is sincere, he even brought in Cas while unarming himself.
Mary, Sam, and Dean have their first family meal together and Mary reveals something Dean never knew, she doens’t cook. Good thing Dean does because if not this whole family would have died out years ago! I’m kidding but still. Anyway they are amused at Dean’s love of pie and then Mary goes to her new room where Sam comes to see her. Sam also doens’t know how to act with his mother, but he wants to be there to help her and support her. She asks him about the fact that Dean said he got out and Sam says he did but he wants to be with his family and this is what they do. He gives Mary John’s journal so that she can see the blanks that she missed in his words. So as Mary looks through the journal, Sam goes to his room to think about everything that happened, and Dean drinks in the kitchen while going over his photo stash.
Meanwhile Crowley goes to Rowena, wanting to shove Lucifer back into the cage, but Lucifer is circling a new vessel. Rowena is trying to leave all the magic and supernatural behind but Crowley won’t let her until she helps him shove Lucifer back where he belongs. Both Rowena and Crowley talk about the Winchesters, plural, meaning they already have learned Dean is alive somehow. Not really shocking, Crowley still has a few demon followers and Rowena is a powerful witch who can do psychic projection. As they try to put Lucifer back however he over powers them and Crowley runs, leaving Rowena in Lucifer’s hands. This isn’t going to come back to bite everyone in the ass at all!
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Who is she Ketch?
A/N: The British Men of Letters want info on all the American hunters & finally find something they can use against Sam & Dean to get the information.
Word Count: 875
Warnings: Angst, death
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Sam and Dean sat in their chairs as they glared at Ketch and the two other members of the British Men of Letters who had barged into the bunker. The boys had just returned home from a hunt Mick had sent them on and were enjoying some beers when Ketch came through the door with his gun drawn.
“We wanna talk to Mick. Now.” Sam said as he scowled at the Englishman.
“Ah, about that. Mick, he’s dead, been dead for a couple of weeks now.” Ketch replied nonchalantly. The Winchester’s continued to stare at Ketch, trying to not react to the news of Mick’s death.
“Why’d you kill him?” Dean questioned.
“Let’s just say that the, higher level members back home didn’t approve of the way he was handling things here in America. So he had to be handled.” Ketch told the brothers.
“What do you want?” Sam asked, changing the subject.
“Well, you see, those same members decided that we need to change our strategy towards you American hunters. Assimilate or eliminate.” Ketch said as he looked between Sam and Dean.
“So if we don’t take to your rules, you’re gonna kills us?” Sam replied.
“Probably. Now, we’re almost positive that you two are going to be a pain in our side and work against us so you’ll be handled, but first, you’re going to give us information about all the hunters you know.” Ketch stated as if it was a fact.
Dean let out a scoff, “And why would we do that?”
“You’re just gonna kill us anyway.” Sam added.
“Possibly, it depends on how you two behave.” Ketch replied.
“Why the hell would we do what you want? We’re not rats, we aren’t going to give up our friends.” Said Dean.
“Maybe, but we have someone that you’re going to want to meet and knowing you Winchester’s and how you treat family, you’re going to do whatever is necessary to keep her alive.” Ketch informed the boys with an unsettling grin.
“Don’t you touch our mom Ketch.” Dean gritted out as he glared him down.
“Oh I wouldn’t dream of it. Your mother and I have become, close, over the last few months. I’ll ensure her safety.” Ketch explained.
“Then who are you-” Sam began but was interrupted by the bunker’s door banging open.
“Ah, she’s arrived.” Ketch said as he watched one of his partners drag a terrified looking teenager into the library where Sam and Dean were being held at gun point.
You looked up at the brothers with terrified Y/E/C eyes. Your hair was messy from an obvious struggle and had a split lip that had dried blood around it. Tears filled your eyes as you glanced around the room, “Wh-who are you?” You questioned, your eyes going wide as you noticed the two men sitting in front of you had guns pointed towards them.
“This is Sam and Dean Winchester. They’re the reason we had to pluck you from your boring average life.” Ketch informed you as he grabbed your arm from his companion, dragging you closer to the table.
“Who is she Ketch?” Dean asked in a gruff tone.
“In due time Dean. Patience is not your strong suit.” Ketch replied, “Now, you boys give me a name, or...” Ketch pulled a knife from his belt as he maneuvered you so that your back was to his chest, he placed the knife to your sternum, “Innocent Y/N here is going to die. Your choice.”
You froze as you felt the knife dig into your chest, not enough pressure was being applied to cut into you, but it was enough to make you panic. Tears began to fall from your eyes as you looked at the strangers who you prayed would save your life.
The brothers shared a look, having a silent conversation as you glanced back and forth between the men in front of you. “Please.” You said in a broken voice.
Dean shook his head, feeling the guilt begin to set in, “Sorry kid but-this, we can’t-”
“Very well then.” Ketch said before he whispered new information in your ear. You snapped your head up as you looked at the brothers, both of them confused about what Ketch had told you.
“Dad?” You breathed out right before Ketch shoved his knife into your chest. Your eyes widened out of instinct and you let out a gasping sound before Ketch released you, causing you to drop to the ground.
“Pity.” He said as he observed you staring at the Winchesters, trying to focus one in particular, as you took your last few breaths.
“She said dad.” Sam whispered as he continued to look at your body on the ground.
Dean glanced at Sam before looking at you once more before returning his attention to Ketch, “Why did you do that to her?”
“We just assumed you two would want to save her.” Ketch replied as he glanced at your body, “I guess we were wrong.”
“Who was she?” Dean questioned as he looked at your lifeless form.
“Ah, that’s what I forgot.” Ketch said as he snapped his fingers in an ‘oh darn’ manner.
“Who was she Ketch?” Dean growled out.
“Why, she’s your daughter Dean.”
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In The Arms of a Stranger
Pairings: Mick Davies x Reader
Summary: Years after losing touch with your best friend from Kendricks, Mick Davies, you are sent to America to rid the states of the Supernatural, only to find your once best friend there and engaged no less.
Word Count: 882
A/N: This is based off of the song “In The Arms of a Stranger” By Mike Posner. Again, thinking about making this a series!
You joined the British Men of Letters when you were just barely sixteen years old. You had lost both your parents in a car accident the year previously and were at lost as to where your life was going. Soon after the accident, you were thrown cruelly into the world of the supernatural, finding out a vampire had been the cause of your parent's demise.
Wanting to get away from the town that only brought you painful memories of happier times and fear of the supernatural that lived there you moved to London. For a while you lived with some of your relatives, that was until the British Men of Letters found you.
They thought you showed promise and offered you a new beginning. They were so awfully convincing you couldn’t say no. Besides, that’s why you came to London in the first place, for a new beginning.
After agreeing to go with them they made you disappear. They got rid of all your school records, passport, birth certificate, anything that proved that you once existed. And that was how it was, you simply didn’t exist anymore. You didn’t mind though, they gave you something new and exciting and told you would no longer need to have any reason to fear the things that go bump in the night.
Sixteen also happened to be the age when you first met the infamous Michael Davies, the top of your class, or, at least the top of your class in the book way. You two soon made fast friends and were nearly inseparable, that was until you both graduated and were given different jobs.
Mick was book smart, there was no denying that. You gave him something to remember and he would, that was that. You, on the other hand, were never very good at the school portion of your training. While you excelled at fighting you found it harder to keep your straight A’s.
This made you the perfect yin yang, a match made in heaven some would say. You helped Mick with what little training he was required to graduate, he never liked to fight so you taught him the bare minimum, and him helping you in return by being your study buddy.
So when the time came to be assigned to your jobs it neither surprised you nor Mick that he was tasked with filing the reports while you got to do the actually hunting.
The first six months or so you frequently got together. Mostly it was you giving him information about a hunt but occasionally you both would take the night off and go out and have some fun.
But that soon stopped as the workload got more and more. Soon you barely saw Mick once a month and then even that stopped. After that, you didn’t even have time to think about Mick with all the the hunts Dr. Hess had assigned you. And because of that, the years flew by. It was like your life was just one big long blur, that was until Dr. Hess ordered you to go to America.
You didn’t know what you expected going to America but you certainly didn’t expect to find Mick there. You had walked straight into the makeshift base like you owned the place but had to do a double take once you made eye contact with the one and only Mick Davies. Needless to say, you were shocked. It had been over ten years since the last time you talked.
“Mick?” You questioned, your eyebrows knitting together. “Long time no see, Ms. Y/L/N,” Mick said giving you a slight smile.
“What, are we on a last name basis now? Get over here!” You laughed pulling him into a hug. For a moment he hesitated before returning your embrace lightly. You pulled back afraid something was wrong but before you could speak someone walked into the room.
Mick hearing her footsteps approaching turned around, “Caroline!” He said giving her a quick kiss. Turning back to you he offered a smile, “Ms. Y/L/N, I’d like you to meet my fiancee, Caroline. Caroline, this is my old friend from school, Y/N Y/L/N.”
“Really?” Caroline all but proclaimed bouncing over to you and pulling you into a tight hug. Surprised you tentatively you wrapped your arms around her. After pulling back she confessed, “Sorry, I’ve just never met someone Mick considered a friend rather than a co-worker. It’s nice to meet you Y/N.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Caroline. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other around a lot.” You tried to hide your disappointment behind a smile. In school you had always hoped Mick would one day ask you out. A glimmer of that hope returned to you once you saw him here, in America of all places, but was ripped away from you as soon as he introduced Caroline.
“You bet we are! I have so many questions for you, what was Mick like when he was younger?” She grabbed your hand excitedly and started pulling you out of the room. “Here, I’ll show you to your room we can talk there!” You willing let her pull you along sparing one glance back at Mick before you pulled your bag over your shoulder and followed Caroline.
Would adore feedback! (:
Tags: @wayward-mirage @faith-in-dean @srj1990 @deals-with-demons @mick-deserved-better @theinsandoutsofcastiel @mickdaviesdeservedbetter @bmolbunker @riversong-sam @justafangirlinaspnworld-blog @notnaturalanahi @teamfreewill-imagine
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Ain’t Nobody Need You Like I do
Summary: Almost the very first moment you laid eyes on Mr. Ketch, you felt a strong connection. Everything seemed to be going fine until another woman joined the team, replacing your spot real quick.
Words: 2175
Pairing: Arthur Ketch x Reader, hints at Arthur Ketch x Mary Winchester
Warnings: Angst, quite jealous!reader, smut, unprotected sex, minor character death, sort of unrequited love. Ps The smut is at the very end, it doesn’t play that much into the thing so you can stop reading when the smut starts if it makes you uncomfortable or so.
A/N: Thanks to @wayward-mirage for reading over this and helping me decide on how to end this!
You had found a liking in the mysterious man called Mr. Ketch almost the first time you laid your eyes on him. You knew people hated him, knew they thought he was a psychopath, sick, a cold-hearted murderer and what not. But there was something about him and you felt like you were the only one to see it.
There were those small cracks of humanity left inside him but unfortunately, no one else would see them. Unfortunately, no one else would notice how manipulated he was. You haven’t been a part of the British Men of Letters but you have been staying with them for support during their mission in America.
People came in and left, all the time. Though there were some faces you saw more than one. One face, you wished you didn’t have to see this much.
One person who claimed all of Arthur’s attention. One person who suddenly made you feel so useless.
Mary Winchester.
Even if Arthur wouldn’t say it but she had been running through his head day and night and whenever she would come to the base, you were long forgotten. And you hated it.
You hated that you loved Arthur and all he saw was Mary. And he didn’t even notice how uninterested she was and that wasn’t just your jealous mind talking. While he kept praising her, talking good about her, charming her, she did nothing to acknowledge him. She didn’t deserve his affection.
The other day you had noticed Arthur sitting at the conference table, he seemed so lost in thought and if you weren’t imagining things, he looked even quite hurt. His hair was a mess and just then you noticed Mary leaving his room, adjusting her clothes a little.
So that was what they were doing when he said they had to go over a hunt. Amazing. But he didn’t look all too pleased for whatever reason.
“Are you okay?” you asked him and sat down in front of him, that way when he looked at you, you could try to read more into his expressions.
“Will you ever stop being so nosy? It’s nothing and even if, it would be none of your business,” Arthur groaned out, furrowing his brows together as he looked at you. So that was how he would treat you after everything you’ve done for him in the past.
“Oh, come one. You don’t need to hide it,” you sighed.
“Bloody hell, Y/N. Just stop bothering me. Don’t you have something else to do?” he partly hissed and you took a moment to stare at him before shaking your head while getting up.
“You’re the worst,” you mumbled and headed into the direction of your own room. How you wished you could get yourself to actually think he was the worst.
What happened to you? What happened to how the two of you used to be? He couldn’t just forget about everything because of one woman who didn’t even show any interest in him at all. At least you thought so and eventually that just broke your heart even further.
He had changed so much while working with Mary. Of course, you had seen the cracks in his personality before he knew her but now they were even more visible. You just wondered why you couldn’t make him feel the same for you. You had been trying for so long but all your efforts were for nothing.
Week after week passed and you hoped he would finally realize that loving Mary was a lost cause. But he only seemed to fall for her more. Not only breaking your heart but you were sure his own as well.
You just wanted to head out to the garage to grab something to eat when you heard some rather heated discussion in the conference room. When you peeked around the corner you noticed Arthur, Mick and Dr. Hess and it didn’t seem to be going well.
It wasn’t going well. Arthur had just pulled out his gun, pointing it at Mick when you quickly entered the room.
“Arthur stop. You don’t have to do this,” you said, pulling their attention to you, noticing the shock on Mick’s face when he noticed the gun being pointed at him.
“Yes you do have to Mr. Ketch and while you’re at it kill her as well,” Dr. Hess said, making Arthur tighten the grip on his gun.
“Arthur, please. This really does not have to happen. She is abusing you, manipulating you. That woman is messing with your head. She has been for so long. Don’t let her ruin you. Don’t let her make you do something you would regret,” you tried reasoning with him.
When the shot fired you couldn’t help but flinch but when you looked closer at the scene both you and Mick were still up and alive. It was Dr. Hess he shot.
“Arthur… I-” you tried to talk to him but couldn’t even without the fact of him interrupting you.
“We’ll have to get rid of her body, remove all security tapes that lead to this scene or we will all be in big trouble,” Arthur simply said and grabbed Hess’ legs. Mick and you had both been in shock but started helping Arthur. After all, the three of you were now in this together.
Even after killing Hess Arthur was still ordered around. The elders kept demanding more information of the Winchesters, demanded him to either way recruit or finally kill them. But first, they needed information. More than they already had. And that was why they sent out people to search the bunker while Sam and Dean were on a hunt.
Though when they returned, Arthur seemed even more different than usual. And you soon knew why. You noticed a picture in his hand as he sat on what used to be Mick’s office table before he decided to leave for the better.
On this picture were Mary and what seemed to be one of her sons and you very well knew that both her sons were in their thirties meaning something wasn't quite right. If that wasn’t another reason to be suspicious of her. But then again you knew there was no use in trying to make Arthur see what he could have if he wasn’t that blind and wasn’t so focused on that damn Winchester.
“I feel like at least now you should finally realize to move on. That she is never going to feel the way about you that you do. Maybe you should try finally opening your eyes and start to see the love that has always been there for you. But let me guess, you just won’t listen either way and are rather stuck up in your own messed up world,” you shook your head before leaving without giving him a chance to talk. You’ve had enough of this. This was tearing at you and there was nothing you could do about it.
What you didn’t expect was Ketch following you, holding onto your shoulder to stop you from walking away.
“What are you talking about, Y/N?” he furrowed his brows together as he looked down at you.
“I’m talking about being sick of being in love with you and only getting shit from you. Everything was fine between us, maybe something could have happened between us until that damn Mary Winchester came and you replaced me. I’m tired of watching you go after someone who doesn’t give a shit about you while I, the one who loves you, try to be there for you and show you love but only get pushed away. I am tired of this, Arthur,” there you said it. And there was no taking it back but honestly, you didn’t even want to. So what he knew you loved him? It wouldn’t make a difference anyway.
Arthur was looking at you in shock, not saying anything but you didn’t want to listen to him any further but rather took off into your bedroom. You needed time for yourself. Time to figure out where to go from here.
The thoughts in your head were so loud that you didn't even notice Arthur was following you. At least not until you wanted to close the door to your room but he came rushing in, closing it instead. What was he doing?
“Arthur, I don't want to see you,” you sighed and shook your head, avoiding to look at him.
“Y/N, if you really love me… Show me what true love feels like,” Arthur murmured and rested his hands on your waist, pulling you close.
“Arthur… I can't show you real love in just a few moments… but I can start here,” your voice was just above a whisper as you finally looked up at him and pulled him into a soft and gentle kiss. To your surprise, his lips were much softer than you expected. Just be the way he was pulling you closer, by the way, he wanted this kiss to be rough, you noticed how he wasn't used to something like this.
But you were going to lead him to through love-making.
Gently you shoved him over to your bed until he sat down before you straddled his lap.
“Do you trust me?” you whispered and looked down at him.
“I do,” he hummed slightly after thinking for a few moments.
“Then let me take over this. I'll do you good,” you smiled and kissed him once again. Your hands were gently roaming over his form, pushing the coat of his suit down his arms before discarding it to the ground.
Once again your hands started caressing his clothed upper body while you slowly pushed your tongue into his mouth, exploring every inch of him.
Slowly but surely you undid his tie, throwing it down to his coat before you started unbuttoning his button-up shirt. Once it was gone as well you got rid of your own shirt and ordered him to move up the bed and lay down on his back, which he did.
Ever so softly you started kissing his neck.
“You're so good, Arthur. Even if you don't show it,” you hummed against his skin as you then traced your way down his arms.
“You're so strong. Stronger than anyone I know,” you said before you started kissing his chest down to the spot his heart was at.
“I know you have a good heart… you just have to open up,” once again you hummed softly.
“I want to be by your side… hunt with you… support you through anything… I want to give you the love you deserve,” only now you came to look up at him, his eyes were soft and to you, it seemed like all those walls he built up were falling apart. With a smile you opened up his pants, working them off along with his underwear and everything else that has been bothering you.
Your hands gently slid up his legs until you reached his crotch. To your surprise, he was half hard already but in that case, it was even better.
For just a moment you contemplated whether you actually wanted to do this or not but why not? This was your chance to convince him about you. Even if it might have not been the best way.
Gently, you took his sex into your hand, starting to gently take care of him.
Having your mouth and hand work together, it didn't take long for his erection to grow until he was fully hard, your other hand meanwhile pleasuring yourself. When you finally knew that both of you were ready for this, you got rid of your own clothes before straddling Arthur’s lap.
Slowly you ground against his hard erection, slicking him up with your wetness before you lined him up on your entrance. Ever so slowly you slid down his full length, whenever he wanted to push you to go faster, you stopped him.
“Let me take control… just relax and enjoy this,” you whispered to him before kissing him deeply and starting to ride him.
Whenever you weren’t busy with kissing him or parts of his body, you whispered or rather moaned words of affection, words of pure love to him, assuring him just of the love you felt.
Eventually, you picked up your pace from just slow riding a little but just enough to finally make the both of you reach your orgasms.
It felt amazing, something you haven’t felt in so long. Pure bliss overcame you just before you collapsed on top of Arthur, who, to your surprise, wrapped his arms around you in return.
A comfortable silence filled the room while the two of you recovered from your mindblowing orgasms.
“I don’t remember the last time someone has said those things you said to me,” Arthur admitted, his voice low.
“Well, you should get used to it now if you really want me to show you, true love.”
@evyiione @fuckyeahfeysand @lokis-quinn @xtina2191 @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @noor-xo @gabavaldman @youromglittlesunshine @hexparker @craftersdust @isoldmysoulforspn @applepie-and-angelwings @kayteonline @bloodstained-porcelain-doll @kristiisaidjit @jinksy-ride-with-your-ass @badsongwinchester @donnaintx @deaths-maiden @diehadess @lucifer-in-leather @little-red-83 @heyitssilverwolf @a-banana-for-your-thoughts @captainemwinchester @melodyhiddleston @holywaterbucketchallenge @bestieswithmydarkthoughts @mogaruke @mysaintsasinner @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @wayward-mirage @giny-l @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
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Ketching You Off Guard
This my first ever fic and first ever smut. Be gentle.
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Lizzy walked into the library of the bunker, still in her pajamas. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and made her way towards one of the big tables in the middle of the room. Sam was already sitting there, cup of coffee in his hand, perusing a lore book.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” He chuckled while bringing the coffee cup to his lips.
Lizzy tried to glare at him and reply with a snappy remark but was cut off by a yawn.
Stretching her arms out, she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Morning. Where’s Dean?”
“He went out for supplies.”
“This early in the morning?” Lizzy was confused. Dean was almost as grumpy as her in the morning….almost.
“Liz, it’s 11:30.”
“What?” She got closer to Sam, grabbing his wrist to lift his watch up to her face. Oh crap, she thought. I slept longer than usual.
Lizzy went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee and stopped dead in her tracks. She stared wide eyed at the man in front of the fridge before turning around, now fully awake, and running back to the library. “What the hell is Ketch doing in our kitchen, Samuel!” she was trying and failing to not yell.
Sam took a deep breath and moved to face her. “He’s, uh, helping us with a case –“
She cut him off. “WHAT!”
“More like, they’re helping me with a case,” the smooth, British accent came from the doorway. Ketch walked into the room, having left the kitchen to see about the commotion.
Sam scoffed at this and muttered something under his breath.
“So Dean knows about this?” Lizzy knew Dean wasn’t the biggest fan of the British Men of Letters.
“Of course, he does, love” Ketch replied, his signature smirk gracing his face.
“I wasn’t asking you, asshat.” Lizzy spat her reply. She was not going to sugarcoat it. She did not trust the British Men of Letters and, she certainly did not trust Arthur Ketch.
“Oh, Elizabeth,” Ketch was definitely a smooth talker, there was no denying that. “I am so looking forward to working with you.” His smirk still plastered on his smug face.
“Nuh uh. Nope” Lizzy threw her arms up in frustration, turned around, and stomped out of the library. ‘This is NOT happening. No.” She huffed the entire way back to her room.
When she came back, dressed and ready for the day, she sat in the chair across from Sam. “You have some explaining to do, Winchester.”
Sam looked up at her, trying to word his response in the best way. “Uh. Right. So, a few weeks ago, after the whole thing with the Alpha vamp, I agreed to help the Men of Letters. I only just told Dean a few days ago. And you were off helping Donna with that little ghoul problem.”
Lizzy stared at him incredulously. “So, let me get this straight. You help them kill the Alpha and now your best friends with those dicks!”
“No! No. It’s a means to an end, Liz. I don’t think we can eradicate every monster in America, but,” Sam hesitated, “I think they can help us.”
Lizzy just ran her hand over her face. She was realizing there was no arguing with Sam, and most likely Dean too, at this point. She just had to shut up and accept it. “Ugh. Fine. We’ll do it your way.”
“Thanks” Sam was grateful to avoid the argument.
“But don’t think I’m going to like it.” She started standing up, leaning across the table and pointing her finger in Sam’s face to make her point.
“Didn’t think you would.” Sam smiled.
As Lizzy wandered around the bunker that day, she wondered when she would run into Ketch again. She really didn’t like that man. He seemed like a tightly wrapped coil and once he snapped, it would be chaos. But she couldn’t deny the fact that he was a good looking man with impeccable etiquette and an accent like melted chocolate.
Thinking of chocolate, she realized she never had eaten breakfast and made her way to the kitchen to make lunch. When she walked in the room, she found Ketch, once again standing in front of the stove.
“Well good afternoon, Elizabeth” Ketch turned away from the stove, wiping his hands on the dish towel over his shoulder. He walked over to pull out the stool under the table for her.
Lizzy was still thrown by Ketch’s manners. For someone whom she saw as a psychopath, he was very well behaved. As she sat down, she took in his appearance as he walked back to the stove. She had never seen him out of his usual three-piece suit. Moving about the kitchen with grace, he was wearing fitted, well fitted, slacks and t-shirt she swore was two sizes too small. Eyes roving over his form, Lizzy couldn’t help but think that Ketch was one fine specimen of a man.
She shook her head. She couldn’t think like that. This man, this gorgeous man, in front of her was the enemy. Then she realized he was saying something to her. “Hmmm?”
“Would you like a pickle with your sandwich?” He smiled at her, holding a plate in his hand (the one with the tattoo, Lizzy noted) that held one of the most beautiful sandwiches she’d ever seen in her life. It dawned on her that Ketch had been making her lunch.
“Oh, uh, yeah.” She was thrown off guard by the genuine smile he wore in his face.
He set the plate down, went to the fridge and grabbed the jar of pickles. With what looked like no effort at all, he opened the lid and grabbed a pickle, placing it on the plate as he slid the plate across to her. “Bon apetit!”
“Uh, thanks?” She didn’t know why it came out as a question and didn’t dwell on it either. She was starving and she certainly didn’t care where this sandwich came from or who made it. As she took her first bite and started chewing, her eyes shut and she let out a throaty moan. This was probably the most amazing sandwich she’d ever had. With her mouth still full, she garbled out, “this is delicious!”
Ketch’s smile grew. “Thank you. I noticed you hadn’t had breakfast. What with your distaste of my being here.”
She stopped with the sandwich in her hands midair, looked up at him and said, “I still don’t like you.” Then added, “And I definitely don’t trust you.”
“You don’t have to like me, love. But we do have to work together. And,” he paused, walking to stand behind her. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Do not think that I did not notice your eyes roaming over me when you sat down.”
Lizzy sputtered. Coughing and wide-eyed, she opened her mouth to deny it. “I don’t – “
“Ah, ah, ah. Do not deny it, love. Though I admit, I did take advantage of your earlier state of undress this morning.” If it was even possible, his voice got lower, “And I must say, I would love to just ravish you.” He stood back up to his full height, threw a wink in her direction and walked out of the kitchen.
Forgetting her sandwich, Lizzy ran out of the room to follow him, determined to deny everything he said about her attraction to him. She did not want to willingly admit she found the man intimidatingly handsome. “Wait! Come back here! I do not,” she paused, running to catch up to him. “have any other feelings towards you except pure contempt!”
He stopped abruptly and she slammed into him, unable to stop herself in time. He turned around and looked down into her eyes. “Oh you don’t?”
There was a hint of a challenge in his voice, mixed with something else Lizzy couldn’t quite place.
She glanced up to meet his eyes and saw a fire in them. He was looking at her like she was prey. “I-I-I-, “ she stuttered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice was quiet.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush to him, staring down at her with a dangerous gleam in his eye. “Are you sure about that, love?”
Lizzy’s breath hitched as she felt her resolve start to crumble. She didn’t see the point in trying to fight it anymore. What was the point of being stubborn if he was clearly not going to give up but there was still a little part of her that was steadfast in avoiding Ketch at all costs. She tried once more to rebuff him but was unable to find the words.
Taking her silence as an opportunity, he pushed her up against the wall in the hallway, pinning her between his body and the cool, hard surface. His head dipped to her ear, “Let’s find out. I’m sure I can sway your opinion of me.”
And with that, any fight Lizzy had left in her was gone. “Ketch,” she started, before he cut her off.
“Please, love. Call me Arthur.” His voice was thick like honey in her ear. She was pretty sure that if Ketch -no, Arthur - wasn’t holding her up against the wall, she would’ve fallen to the floor.
Using his free hand, he cupped her face. She was unaware she was even looking down until he raised her head to meet his gaze. “Tell me, love.” He ran his thumb over her cheek and her eyes fluttered shut. “What kind of lover do you think I am?”
She opened her eyes, only to view his grey-blue ones taking her in. “I, um, I don’t know.” And she didn’t. At least not in that moment. Her thought process was currently focused on the ever growing wetness between her legs. Though she figured with the way this encounter was going, she was bound to find out soon.
“How would you like to find out?” He purred in her ear, like a predator luring its prey for the kill. It was almost as if he read her mind.
She could only nod in response.
He moved forward to kiss her, capturing her lips with his own. Once their lips touched, every logical thought she had went out the window. Lizzy’s hands flew up to grip Arthur’s shirt, while his wandered down her body, playing with the hem of her tank top.
He pulled away, the lust in his eyes burning with an intensity that almost scared her. “Why don’t we move this to a place that’s a little more,” he moved to whisper in her ear yet again, having caught on quickly that Lizzy truly enjoyed it, “private.”
“Yes,” was her breathy reply. Gaining a small ability to form coherent thoughts again, she continued, “Follow me.”
Pulling apart, Lizzy, suddenly bold with the anticipation of what was to come, grabbed Arthur’s hand and led him to her bedroom. His hands were callused, rough with years of hunting and killing under his belt. What he must have done with those hands was frightening, the countless lives he must have taken. However, the prospect of what he could do to her with those hands made Lizzy pull him along harder, hurrying to get the room.
Once she opened the door, Arthur pushed into the room and shut the door behind him with his foot. He turned her around and pushed her face first against the door. “This,” he started, running his hand up under her shirt,”needs to go.” He pulled the shirt off smoothly. Spinning her around once more, he brought his lips to her ear, “You are exquisite.” He breathed her in, running his hands all over her. “The things I want to do to you. So many marvelous things. But right now, I’m far too impatient. I just want to take you, lay you down on that bed and shag the hell out of you.”
Lizzy whimpered, rolling her body against his. “Yes.” She rolled her head back as he kissed the base of her neck, making her moan.
She felt him smirk again her skin. “You quite like this don’t you, love?” As he continued kissing her neck, his hands moved to her breasts. As soon as his fingers brushed over her nipples, still hidden behind her bra, she shuddered. He reached around her with his right hand, undoing the clasp on the first try. She shrugged her bra off and his hands went right back to her breasts, massaging them before running his thumbs over her bare nipples. She leaned her head forward on his shoulder and the feeling increased the wetness still growing between her legs.
“Ketch,” Lizzy gasped and then felt a sharp smack on her ass. She whined and pushed back against him.
“Now, love,” Arthur’s voice had a level of dominance in it. “What did I tell you to call me?”
“Arthur.”
“Very good. You’re like a fine bottle of scotch, love. Smooth and full bodied, with the perfect hint of spice. But scotch doesn’t make the wonderful little gasps and moans that you do” Arthur kissed way down to the top of her jeans and brought his hand up to the clasp. Lizzy tried to contain herself, focusing on the cross tattoo. She was completely transfixed with the tattoo on his hand. She’d always had a thing for hands, at the cross in ink on his right hand made it that much more intriguing. She thought about that hand, deep inside her, pulling gasps and moans from her throat. As he pulled the zipper down, her hips bucked forward. “My, My, aren’t we impatient? Can’t wait for me to take you body and have you writhing in sheer pleasure. I cannot wait to hear the noises you make. I do love a surprise, and I’m sure this will be a good one.”
He started leaving light kisses along her thighs and her legs as he pulled her jeans down. When she kicked them off, he rose. Lizzy noticed he was still fully clothed. “Arthur, I think you have far too many clothes on.” She purred at him.
Reaching down to the hem of his shirt, he grinned. “I suppose I do,” and pulled the shirt off in one swift movement. He was toned, with slight definition around his abs. Clearly in shape, but not some crazy buff health nut. But the muscles in his arms, that was what sent Lizzy reeling. It looked like he could pick her up and throw her around with very little effort. She sighed and ran her hand down his chest. “Like what you see?”
“Fuck yes.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, hard, feeling her bare breasts against his hard chest. He walked her backwards and let her fall on the bed, taking the time to shed his pants. Lizzy looked down to see a sizable tent in his boxer briefs. She moaned wantonly at the sight.
Arthur moved onto the bed, taking his time to kiss up her body, “I just want to ravish you. I want to take you so hard and pull every beautiful mewl out of you.” Her body rolled as he continued his journey upward. When he gotto her breasts, he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked greedily. One of her hands gripped his head, determined to keep him there as long as possible while the other fisted the sheets.
As his mouth continued, switching between nipples periodically, his right hand moved down and slipped under her panties. “Already so wet. All for me, love?” The noise that left his mouth was predatory. He growled and his hand squeezed her hip so hard, she was sure there would be a bruise there.
All Lizzy could do is hum in agreement, focused on his fingers circling her clit. Her hips tried to move along with his ministrations but he pinned her hips down with his free hand. He took his mouth off her breasts, trying to finish kissing his way up to her neck. When he found her sensitive spot again, she moaned, louder than intended.
“I adore the noises you make. Shall we see how loudly you can make them?” Arthur punctuated this by sliding two fingers between her legs and slowly up into her. Her hips jerked up, her moans going right into Arthur’s ear. He gave a low growl, curling his fingers up and hitting her g-spot.
She cried out, meeting his thrusting hand. “Oh, God yes!”
“God has nothing to do with it, love.” He kissed her fully. “It’s me making these sounds come from you.”
“Yes! Please, Arthur….more!”
Kissing her once more on the lips, he moved to kneel in front of her. As his right hand kept pumping in and out of her, his left started to rub her clit, bringing her close to the edge. She felt it coil tight within her, with a few more thrusts, she’d be screaming his name. Then he curled his fingers one more time and scream his name she did.
Her back arched and her eyes slammed shut, unable to form any other thought other than his name. As she calmed down, she gasped out his name one last time, “Arthur.”
“Beautiful,” Arthur shifted and stood up to remove his underwear. “You are absolutely stunning when you come undone.”
Lizzy, still in a post-orgasmic haze, looked up to see Arthur stand up and she took in the sight of him. Her mouth dropped. He was decently long and amazingly wide, with a slight tilt up and to the left. She stared wide eyed at the naked man, anxious to have him inside her. She licked her lips unknowingly.
“Oh, love. You have no idea what you’re in for. I’m going to ravish you so hard that you will feel me for days.” He moved back onto the bed and positioned his body over. Leaning down into her ear, he growled, “The only words on your lips will be my name,” teasing her folds with the tip of his hard member.
“Please,” she whimpered, “Please just,” she couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of him, hard at her entrance. “Please.” And with that, he sank himself inside her.
He drove into her, his hips moving at a relentless pace. He was not a gentle lover and LIzzy was okay with that. The only thing she cared about was the delicious stretch she was feeling between her legs. He filled her completely, the slight curve of him hitting her g-spot with almost every thrust.
“Ah, so you like it rough?” He was groaning with each thrust, helping her get closer to release.
“You make the most lovely noises. All because of me.”
“Yes. Arthur!” She was meeting his force with her own movements, chasing that crest, the wave of final pleasure. “Please, Arthur.”
He increased his pace, pushing harder, and if possible deeper. “Tell me, love,” he was grunting in between his words, “I can feel how much you like this, me driving into you, whispering in your ear?” She just wailed in response. “Look at you, so lost in ecstasy. Just begging for orgasm. Craving the release only I can give to you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Please, harder.”
He grunted. “I can feel you getting closer.” He punctuated each word with a jerk of his hips. “I can hear you so close to the final crest. That final wave of paradise within reach.” He moved his right hand in between them to rub her clit, moving to whisper in her ear once more. “Come on. Cum for me, love.”
Her back was arching, so very close to the edge. With only a few more thrusts, she toppled over the edge, body spasming with the shock of her climax. The only thing that left her mouth was a scream of his name, “Arthur!”
“Yes. That’s it. Scream for me.” And with a low growl, he followed her into the pinnacle of carnal desire. “Elizabeth,’ he keened into her ear as he lazily rode out the rest of his own wave of pleasure.
He remained over her as he removed himself from her, their breath mingling as it returned to normal. As he shifted to lay beside her, she expected him to leave the bed and then the room. So when he put his arm around her, she was pleasantly surprised.
“Mr. Ketch,” she began leisurely, then corrected herself, “Arthur, I did not take you for a cuddler.”
He chuckled, “I do enjoy holding a beautiful woman in my arms after passionate love-making,” and kissed her behind her ear.
She turned in his arms, placing a soft kiss to his chest. “You know, maybe working with you won’t be so bad. Perhaps we can learn to trust each other.” She still had a nagging feeling in her gut, but was too satisfied and too tired to pay attention to it.
Arthur looked down at her, his smirk returning to her face. “Love, you have no idea.”
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Supernatural s12e14 "The Raid" Recap
After Mary reveals to Sam and Dean that she's been working with the British Men of Letters, and the boy's negative reactions, she returns to the Men of Letters' temporary headquarters to continue her work with them, eliminating vampires. Despite her repeated attempts to reach out to Dean, he still refuses to answer her texts. Sam however, takes a softer stance and agrees to try and understand.
Sam agrees to meet with Mary to take a look at the Men of Letter's headquarters to see what sort of operation they're running. Sam is mildly impressed witht eh high-tech organization of everything that the Men of Letters are working on, through he still has his reservations about it. They finally catch his interest by telling him about the imminent success of their vampire elimination program. They have been using intelligence, and their special device, called the AVD (anti-vamp device) to systematically wipe out every nest in the northern midwest of the US. The last remaining nest is in Wichita, Kansas.
While Sam is occupied there, Mr. Catch takes a different angle towards recruiting Dean. He shows up to the bunker for a chat bearing a gift: expensive scotch. After a few drinks and some smooth talking of the part of Mr. Catch, Dean agrees to go with him to take out a vamp nest--the one in Wichita. Mr. Catch preys Dean's darker side, almost like the Mark of Cain did. They arrive ready for a fight, but find only one vampire, a low-level drone who fled from the slaughter in her previous nest. Mr. Catch begins to beat her, demanding to know where the rest of the vampires are. Despite his callous nature towards violence, Dean is bothered by the level of brutality that Mr. Catch displays. He stops Mr. Catch and instead offers the vamp a deal: tell tell them where the others went and he'll make her death quick. She relents and tells them that the nest went hunting the hunters.
Meanwhile, back at Men of Letters HQ, Sam, Mary, and the other Men of Letters there come under attack. The base was designed to facilitate attack operations, and possesses very little defense capability. The group of 5 is trapped in the conference room with next to no weapons. To make things worse, only three of the six people there had ever killed anything before, Sam, Mary and a small time hunter named Pierce. As the vamps take down the outside guards, the group inside locks the facility down. Sam and Mary take out one that managed to get inside and captured another. The captured vampire reveals that the Alpha Vamp has come out of hiding to fight against the Men of Letters.
The only weapon immediately accessible to the Winchesters and the Men of Letters is the colt that Mary had stolen from Ramiel in a previous episode ("Stuck in the Middle (With You)"). The colt has no bullets left, but Sam's big brain comes in handy and he gives the Men of Letters the spell to make more. While the Men of Letters work on the spell for the colt, Sam, Mary, and Pierce make a run for the armory. Sam holds off the vampires while Mary and Pierce go for the AVD in the armory.
Pierce returns to the Men of Letters alone. He bursts through the door and is quickly followed by the Alpha who kills one of the Men of Letters. The Alpha explains that Pierce has been receiving monetary compensation for keeping him off the radar. After Sam finds Mary, who was knocked out in the armory by Pierce, they make their way to the the Alpha and the Men of Letters. Sam trains the colt on the Alpha.
The Alpha tries to claim that he is one of the five creatures on earth that cannot be killed by the colt. Sam calls his bluff immediately and offers a deal in return- let Mary and Sam go without a fight, and things can go back to the way they were, where the hunters just went after the vamps out of line. The Alpha asks about the brit. Sam offers him up. In apparent anger, the Brit charges at Sam and the two struggle. As the more experienced fighter, Sam quickly throws him off and retrains the colt on the Alpha. But now it's the Alpha's turn to call Sam's bluff. He asserts that the colt isn't loaded. But he's wrong. When the brit attacked Sam, he handed off a bullet that he had managed to put the spell on before the arrival of Pierce. He pulls the trigger and so ends the Alpha.
The wrap up after that is pretty simple. The Men of Letters that weren't killed in the skirmish take Pierce and promise to dispose of him in a properly harsh manner. Dean and Mr. Catch show up, to late to help with the fight, but just in time to watch the clean up. Dean and Mary have a touching conversation to make up for their fight at the beginning of the episode. Sam declares his interest in helping out with the Men of Letters' efforts to rid America of monsters.
I don't like anything about this. The whole situation came together just a little to neatly for me to trust. With all their planning and networking and intel, how could the Men of Letters been so wrong about the location of the Alpha? Unless they knew exactly where he was, but presented Sam with their "false" intel in order to make Sam feel that the Men of Letters might need his experience and expertise. Of course, it's possible that the MoL already knew that Pierce was working with the Alpha. And sending Mr. Catch off to deal with Dean and appeal to his killing nature just seems to devious. I would not be surprised at all to find out that the Men of Letters engineered this whole situation in order to gain the loyalty of the Winchesters. What do you guys think? Let me know below!
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Epiphany 12
read first ACT 1
EDIT: @waywardbaby
Summary: Less than two years later, you finally passed the men of letters’ initiation and, finally, you now set foot in America eager to be reunited with the Winchesters.
But if Dean thought that you spent your days only with your nose in books and hands in monster’s guts, he was dead wrong. Your mission? Something that the British branch tried and failed miserably, or at least that’s what they told you anyway.
Pairing: Dean X Reader
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jack
Warnings: slow burn guys…slow burn. Also, some fluff, humor, feels and angst.
Letting your bags fall on the bunker’s floor, you stretched happily, enjoying the coolness that being underground provided while Dean had already disappeared into the kitchen.
“We’re back! “ you called out as Cass entered the war room.
“Hello Y/N,” he said. You sighed happily and leaned against him tiredly. “ …are you okay?” he asked worriedly as you hugged him.
“It’s good to be home…” you said smiling into his crisp white shirt as he returned the hug awkwardly. “Can't wait for a good, water pressure shower!”
“Hey, hey! Hands off my wom-friend… my friend!” Dean said, opening a can of beer and sitting in the chair, legs propped up the table, as usual.
Both Sam and Jack entered together, “Welcome back, Y/N!” Jack said, coming closer nervously. You nodded and pulled him into the hug too.
“Room for me too?” Sam asked, joking and you pulled him in too by his shirt.
“What is that? A hug fest?”
“Guys…that grumpy old man there is now my…boyfriend…” you said, voice muffled by the hugs. And you were suddenly freed.
“About damn time!”
“ Really?!”
“Congratulations!” were their respective reactions.
Dean choked on his beer, spluttering it all over. “A little warning next time?”
“Well… I don’t want to sneak out of your room every morning like a teenager!”
“Why would you have to sneak out of Dean’s ro-OH…!” Jack blushed.
“Great! See what you did there? The kid’s corrupted now!” Dean snorted amused. Groaning he stood up, slowly. “I’m beat. I’m gonna take a nap.” he walked to you and you looked at him, confused.
“Wha- WOAH!” Dean disentangled you from the hugs and scooped you up on his shoulder.
“You are tired too. Let’s go!”
You shot an apologetic look to the others as you dangled on Dean’s shoulder. Sam just shook his head, smiling.
The room was dark, but not that much. There was a thin line of light coming from the slit beneath the door, just enough to let you make out details. You caressed Dean’s cheek while he was asleep. Your fingers lightly traced every centimeter of his face. From is hairline, his delicate brow, down his temple, to his freckled cheekbone and nose. His mouth was slightly parted and his warm, regular breath tickled your thumb as you grazed his lips. The bedding was cool and crisp on your skin and smelled like washed laundry mixed with Dean. You cuddled yourself closer, sneaking under his arm. Unconsciously he put it around your waist, pulling you close.
Tired, you tried to close your eyes but your head just wouldn’t let you fall asleep. You felt restless, fidgety like your mind and body were two separate things. Watching the pulse of Dean’s heart on his neck, you found comfort in it. Sliding your hand over it, you could now feel the steady beating under your fingers. Closing your eyes again you tried to match your own heart to his.
As you started to drift off, you noticed that Dean was now the one who was restless. His pulse was quicker. He suddenly tensed, locking you in his arms, almost painfully. You tried to sooth him gently, hugging him back, but to no use. He was still agitated and now his arms squeezed you, too tight. It was then when he let out a whimper, almost a sob.
“Dean ...Dean, wake up,” you whispered softly, but it didn’t seem to reach him. He rolled on his back, pulling you over him. Holding his head in your hands, using your thumbs to stroke his cheeks, his face relaxed a bit. You heard some mumbling and you clearly made out the word ‘mom’. Of course, he was having a nightmare about her.
You kissed him but he didn’t respond at first. His lips were tight and unmoving against yours as you straddled him. You kept kissing him and he started to slowly wake up, his lips starting to respond to yours before being fully awake. You knew he was conscious when you felt his hand sliding up to your head, pressing you to him as he deepened the kiss. You barely had time to remove your t-shirt before he rolled you on your back. His movements were hurried, desperate, rushed and you didn’t care. Right now, you wanted to give him your very own soul and this was the only way you could do that.
He tensed in your arm as he came and you held onto him as tight as you could, your muscles tired and burning. His head hidden in the crook of your neck, you could feel his quick breaths, hot on your skin, his lips brushing and soothing where he had marked you with his teeth. He rolled his body, taking you with him. The air felt cold on your damp skin, and your cheek stuck to his naked chest. Nothing in the world could make you move to cover yourself. You sensed hesitation in Dean as he probably was thinking about what to say and before he could do that you placed your hand tiredly on his mouth, missing it by inches.
“Don’t…” you said warmly, patting his face. He grasped and kissed your hand. Without saying anything more, you both fell asleep.
The next weeks at the bunker passed between routine and research. You almost finished all your trips so you could help the guys with the search of dream walkers powerful enough that could help them. Those blackouts and missing hours kept recurring and you seriously considered having a check up but you were expecting Toni to arrive in the next few days, so now was not the right time. It could wait.
“Who keeps texting you?” Dean asked, badly hiding his annoyance as the phone vibration shook the wooden table for the tenth time. You brought down your feet from the table as you started to search for the damn thing under stacks of papers and books.
“Where the fuck is that fuckin- ha ah, there you are!”
“Love it when you forget English!” he said smugly tilting his chin, trying to take a peek and you pushed his face away.
“Winchester, are you trying to spy on my phone?”
“Yes, absolutely!”
Rolling your eyes, you threw him a bone. “It’s just Toni, Dean. He’s letting me know where he will be landing so I can go and pick him up. Now that I think about it, I haven't even thought about where we’ll be staying ...” Dean made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat.
“Y/N’s right, Dean. As much as I don’t like the idea of her staying somewhere else with someone we don’t know, you have to admit that we can’t bring him in the bunker. Man of Letters or not, you know we can’t trust most of them.”
“And remember that they don’t know she’s with you two.” Cass added, “I can see how that could cause her some problems.”
Dean’s what-the-hell-dude gesture to Cass made you laugh.
“Where’s Jack, by the way?”
“Dean sent him to pick up dinner…by car!”Cass said, smiling pleased. You and Sam slowly looked at Dean, amazed.
“What? I’m hungry and I had to finish this book … why - why are you looking at me like that?”
You giggled looking at Sam who mirrorred you.
“Stop it you two!”
You both raised your hands in apology.
“Ugh, I hate when you look like twins. It’s freaky and gross.”
A couple of days later you threw the last of your bags into the backseat of your new, rented pick-up.
“….and remember to-”
“... call you, text you and triple text you. Sam and Cass, yes I know.” You rolled your eyes and turned around, leaning on the car. You propped an eyebrow and crossed your arms, looking at Dean like a spoiled brat. He read your stance and straightened his posture, closing in on you, your eyes traveling up to his.
“... and you, Dean, rememb-”
“No yelling at Jack, no playing with your toys and eating a vegetable that is not ketchup. Yes, I know!” he mocked you. Smiling you slid a hand up his chest, gripping the fabric and pulling him to you.
“…aaand?” you asked, lips grazing his.
“..a...and?” his brow furrowed, looking confused.
You brushed your lips to his, letting the tip of your tongue skim in between, inviting. He hummed as he opened his mouth for you. You pressed your entire body to him so he could feel every curve and exposed flesh. Changing angle, you pulled him to you. Your back hit the car door again and his leg pushed yours apart until you were straddling it and a little gasp escaped your lips at the friction of his jeans. You felt him smiling in the kiss.
‘This little shit!’ you thought. ‘Since he wants to play this way I’m gonna have fun and enjoy it!’
Smiling back you began to roll your hips until your breaths quickened and you couldn’t stop the needy sounds that spilled out of your mouth and into his. He groaned and moaned as you continued to ride him, taking all the pleasure for yourself. He kissed your neck while his hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements. You hadn't planned it but you were actually getting off just by that. When during a particularly slow and long stroke your hips came in contact with his, you felt him through his jeans, stiff, throbbing and hot.
You mentally high fived yourself.
Dean’s grip on your hips tightened and pushed his leg up a little more. The fucker could read your body better than yourself. That and him nibbling at your ear pushed you right off the edge. Leaning your weight on him still panting you looked up at him.
“If this is your way to make sure I don’t elope with hot men from my country, you're stuck with me now, boy.”
Smiling hazily, you patted his chest.
“…and this…” you said, your hand sliding down, stopping at his belt, looking down as you felt hip hips twitching against yours, “... this is me, making sure you’ll think of me!”
You kissed him and pushed him away, as you quickly sat in the car, closing the door.
“W-what?!” he babbled, blinking.
“Bye, Dean! See you in a couple of days!”
Blowing a kiss, you got out of the garage as fast as you could. After a few minutes of driving, you heard the pings of several texts coming in. Giggling you asked Siri to read them for you.
‘What the hell was that?’
‘Son of a bitch!’
‘Y/N, I swear to God’
‘You gonna regret this, you know that, right?’
A big laugh bubbled up inside of you.
‘You will beg, it’s a promise’
That laugh died in your throat. You squeezed your legs and asked yourself in how much trouble you really were.
Waiting in the front of the arrivals, bored as hell as you scanned every face in the tired crowd, you started to feel like you were watching a tennis match. You rubbed your eyes and sighed, pacing impatiently back and forth, scanning the crowd again.
Toni did not have an ordinary face after all. Tall and well built, with dark, expressive, brown eyes, a jaw that could cut diamonds, olive skin, jet black hair probably pushed back and the usual short but well kept dark beard. Why was he taking so much? The plane landed ages ago. Suddenly, your vision was obstructed and you tensed. Quickly, sizing the unknown arm you turned around, twisting it painfully.
“Well ...I'd say your reflexes have majorly improved!”
“Toni!?”
You let go, startled and gaped at you partner turning around, rubbing his shoulder.
“Hello, Smurf!” he smiled one of his killer smiles, engulfing you in a hug, and kissing your cheeks. You almost didn’t reciprocate. Snapping out your little stupor, you kissed him back feeling a bit uneasy doing so, but still. That’s how you always greeted people close to you.
“Don’t call me that!” you said, smacking his chest and smiling. “I was waiting for you. Where did you materialize from? I didn’t see you coming out from there.”
“Oh, you didn’t know?”
You went to grab his trolley but he circled you and passed an arm around your shoulders. Bending down your ear he whispered while walking to the exit, “They flew me in, privately.”
“Excuse me??!! I had to sit with peasants and three newborn babies for hours and they flew you in on a private jet? Whose ass did you kiss? “
“Mine!” he smirked.
Only that minute realizing what he had actually meant, you gaped at him.
“Oh, shut your face!”
He exploded in his classic, booming, loud laughter that made several people turn around.
“That’s not the way to talk to your new boss!” he winked, looking down at you.
“Ah, fuc -..err...I mean…” you pinched his upper arm. “Sorry boss!”
“Ugh … nope! Use my name when we are alone please, so I can still remember it.”
You walked him to the pick-up you had rented and he raised an eyebrow, eyes widening.
“Since when do you drive the kind of car where you need a ladder to climb in?”
“Oh, please! You know I always liked big cars and here there’s enough space to use these puppies.” you patted the hood. “Come on! I want to look at your face when you see the dump I found for us. It even has an empty pool. It’s amazing!”
“Uh...about that…”
It seems that being boss meant that you decided the budget and transportation and Toni made sure to splurge on it, happily. So, the motel you had found was replaced by-
“Eerr…Toni…. the fuck is this?” you asked, your dusty duffel bag dropping from your shoulder.
“…a loft suite?” he said while tipping the concierge that walked you from the lobby to the elevator, pressing buttons and opening doors for you. Said concierge, fucking, bowed and closed the double door.
“I can see that…” you said looking around the hotel room and the stairs leading to a second floor.
“Don’t you think this is all…” a fucking second floor? “... a bit too much?”
“Relax!” he said, opening the curtains. You gasped looking at the wall of windows, floor to ceiling high. “I’m the boss. I approved of this.”
“…Ok…but I can’t afford to book a room here!” you dragged the bag to the windows and looked down, touching the glass with your hand.
“What?...No, no! you’re staying here!” he said bouncing on the sofa.
You turned around.
“I can’t stay here! We are not gonna share a bed, mister!”
He stayed silent for a moment staring at you. Then letting out a frustrated sigh, he walked to you and gently grabbed your shoulders.
“This is a suite ...there's a guest room, right that way,” he said, pointing at a door at the end of the lounge space.
“I’m too under dressed to be here. I’m dusting the whole place up!”
Without saying anything, he took a shiny, new credit card out of his jacket, sliding it in your jeans’ pocket.
“Call it a bonus for your hard work until now.”
You started to refuse and he blocked you raising a hand, “ Y/N …it’s an order from your boss. You, literally, can’t refuse. You know?”
“Dammit! I’m gonna buy so many stupid, useless things to fuck with you just so you know!” you pouted, turning back to look out the window.
He laughed, amused. “I expect no less. But just so you know, we are gonna meet some important people and executives from other branches, so you might wanna buy something nice to wear.”
“Oh …I should warn my contacts here, or they’ll be wor- they won’t know where to find me if they need some supplies,” you said, patting your pockets in search of the phone.
Before you could dial the number, he tried to slip the phone from your hand. You looked at his reflection in the window, utterly confused, as he bent down staring into your eyes, his lips near your ear.
“There is no need for that,” he said. Your head started to hurt. You tried to blink but you couldn’t.
“…But - but I -”
“Y/N…There is no need for that,” he repeated slowly. Every word spoken clearly, slowly piercing through you. Your grip softened and Toni easily slipped the phone from your hand.
“Understood?” he whispered, gently but firmly. Something cold slipped in place somewhere in your head, and suddenly you didn’t feel any more pain. Your expression blanked.
“There is no need for that,” you repeated, your tone cold and distant.
“Good girl.”
He patted your head and with his hands still on your shoulders, he walked you to the bathroom.
“Now, wash all this dust away,” he said, helping you out of Dean’s plaid shirt that you had stolen from him that morning.
“Yes.”
You handed the shirt to him at the same time struggling to let it go as he tugged.
He started to walk out of the bathroom when he looked down at said shirt. Rubbing the material between his fingers, he walked back and tossed it in the working fireplace above the bathtub. Your hands faltered at the jean’s zipper as you eyed the shirt burning. You felt your heart skip a beat. He walked up to you and knelt down, helping you out your boots.
“I’m gonna book you a styling and grooming session. Let’s rub the plaid off of you, yeah?” he said looking at you, his hands sliding up your legs and his fingers gripped your jeans, slowly dragging them down.
“Yes.”
Stepping out the pooled garment on the floor, you reached for the tank top. Removing it, your hands went to unhook your bra too. He kept staring at you until your hands trembled once they reached your underwear. He covered your hands with his, stopping you.
“Here, let me help.”
He tried to move your hands away but your muscles tensed and you felt uneasy. Why would you tense, though? That was Toni. He tried again and a whimper escaped you. What? Wait…this feels wrong…wh…
“I said ...let me help!” he repeated, demandingly.
“Yes.” your hands fell beside your hips without a second thought.
You watched as he smirked pleased. He slowly slid down the fabric, letting his hands caress your skin. You used his shoulders to help yourself out of that last garment and he, still kneeling, embraced your naked body and nuzzled his face against your tummy. He grunted when you stayed stiff and guided your hands in his hair. You automatically started to stroke his head.
“The spell still needs a bit of a push, but a couple of days and there will be no problems.”
He kissed your skin, inhaling deeply.
You felt sick.
“Mmmm, oh how I missed you!” he slowly got up, hands around your hips as he pressed himself against you. You gasped, sensing his arousal. His head bent down, lips hovering on yours.
“Tell me you missed me too.”
“I missed you too.” you complied and he kissed you.
He was forceful, aggressive and you didn’t like that at all. You weakly pushed him away but he only pressed you to him more. You felt his stubble scratch your lips as he deepened the kiss and when you felt his tongue slide in, you realized how wrong it actually was.
Green eyes and freckles flashed before your closed eyes.
SLAP
You opened your eyes to see Toni’s head turned to the side, eyes wide and an angry, red mark was starting to appear on his cheek. He smiled viciously turning to you. His hand curled around your neck dangerously, twisting your head to the side. Your eyes were blank and expressionless staring into nothing, as his traveled down and he eased his grip around your neck. His hand moved back your hair but he froze, his eyes widening.
“What is this, Y/N?” he said, tracing the little bruise you had under your ear with his finger.
His face transformed then, eyes blown open and burning with anger. He wrapped your hair around his hand and pulled back, sharply. You cried out at the sudden pain as he forced you to look at him.
“…Tsk, tsk...it seems I’ll have to wash away the stink of the Winchesters, too.”
That name hit you, punching out the air from your lungs without knowing why.
“Now, be a good girl. I have to make some calls.”
With that, he left you alone in the middle of the bathroom, the hot water of the shower still going having fogged up the mirrors. You walked to the sink, feeling your throat dry. You took two careful breaths and rising a trembling hand you wiped the moisture from the mirror. The person looking back felt like a stranger. Your eyes wandered down to your neck, moving your hair out of the way and you angled your head to the side. With your finger, you traced the same spot Toni had as a tear you didn’t feel, slid down your cheek.
“Dean, calm down!” Sam said, running behind his brother as they made their way to the poor bastard at the lobby desk.
“How can I calm down Sam? She said she’d call ….it’s been 3 fucking days!!”
Sam didn’t argue. He was just as worried, Cass and Jack were already working on finding new information on this so-called Toni.
“You! I need information on a customer, room 45.”
“Eer ...I can’t let pers-”
Dean grabbed the barely out of his teenager years boy by his t-shirt, almost lifting him off the floor.
“I don’t have time for this! You better tell me right here, right now!” Dean’s voice was dangerous and low.
“S - sir…please! I could g-get fired!”he cried.
“Dean…” Sam took out his badge.
The full in hunter mood Dean let the boy go and inhaled sharply. He reached in his breast pocket and threw the badge down on the counter.
“Let me try again…”
Sam started through gritted teeth, trying to sound calm, but Dean wasn’t having it.
“FBI man! Talk! NOW!”
Scared for dear life the boy typed something on the computer “That room is e-empty…”
Dean reached for the monitor, turning it around to read.
“It says that the reservation was ... canceled?” his tone now more panicked than angry and faltering as he said the last word.
“Yes. A couple came in. The woman said she had a reservation but she needed to cancel it. She said she was sorry and paid the cancellation fine plus a tip.”
“She wasn’t alone?” Sam asked.
“No. There was this other tall dude. A Mediterranean, looking guy.”
“Did she say or leave anything? A message, a note, a phone number, anything?”
“No…they were in a hurry. She had a slight accent and a strange satanic tattoo on her inner forearm. That’s all I know, I swear!”
Dean pushed himself from the lobby counter and nervously walked back and forth, rubbing his face, tiredly. Sam kept an eye on him while turning to the boy again.
“Adam…? Right?” the boy nodded. “Listen, Adam. I need you to think very carefully about that moment. Do you remember anything ...anything at all? Did she look anxious, scared, nervous?”
“No…not at all. She was nice and smiled a lot.”
“And…and the man with her?”
“Didn’t say a word ...but-”
Dean gripped the counter again, “But…?”
“…I - I don’t know. He gave me a strange vibe. He was looking at her like …strangely ...it creeped me out a bit.”
“Son of a bitch!” Dean whispered.
“They left together, yeah?”
“Yep! In a big, dusty, beige pick up.”
“CCTV.” Dean’s hard tone made the boy flinch.
“W - what?”
“We need to look at the security tapes. Do you still have them?” Sam explained.
“ Y - yes we still have them. I’ll go make you a copy.” Adam disappeared, quickly.
“Sam, I have a bad feeling.”
“L- let’s not jump ahead of ourselves. I mean, you said this Toni and Y/N were close in the past?”
Dean's head snapped up.
“What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything, Dean. I’m just saying that there’s a big chance she’s not in danger. That’s all.” Sam squeezed his brother shoulder, reassuringly.
Dean’s response was to silently clench his jaw.
“Guys, have you found anything?” Cass’ gravelly worried voice asked over the speaker.
“We should be asking you that!”
“…I still can’t sense her. She must be guarded or she’s somewhere guarded against angels and I also suspect demons.”
“She definitely left with her partner,” Sam said, re-watching the moment you left the motel smiling like always and you were also the one who drove away, so no kidnapping. “Fortunately I can run the plate”
Sam watched as his brother’s eyes were following your every movement as if to find something strange or out of the ordinary. But they had been looking at the same ten minutes of film over and over again and nothing seemed wrong.
“How’s Jack?” Sam asked.
“I managed to calm him down, but I’m not sure how long I can keep him from flying around Kansas, searching for Y/N.”
They all fell silent. It was Dean who broke it.
“Something’s wrong man. I just feel it.”
“I know Dean. I find it unlikely for Y/N to have left like that.”
“…I don’t know Cass. She doesn’t seem to be in danger here and it’s been three days…I…”
“I’m fairly certain that something doesn't feel right.”
“How can you be sure-”
“She loves you, Dean.”
At those words, Dean looked out the window, knuckles whitening on the steering wheel.
“Dean, I’m an angel I can feel things from people. You both love each other, I can feel it. So stop doubting it, snap out of it and focus.” The angel’s tone was heated and firm and the two hunters looked at each other, surprised.
The older hunter smiled sadly, “damn Cass! who died and made you boss..?”
“I can assure you that if something has really happened to Y/N, I’ll find the person responsible and personally escort their soul to hell.”
The call ended.
The brothers were silent while Sam ran the plate number, trying to find the last place this car was seen.
“Found her!” Sam exclaimed and then looked confused at the screen on his lap as Dean continued to drive, trying to watch the road ahead.
“What?”
“…She’s…at the Ambassador hotel…50 miles from us. At least the car is registered there as a guest’s”
“…What the hell?”
“I’ll let Cass and Jack know our position so they won’t materialize in some poor bastard’s suite.”
“Stop fidgeting!” Toni hissed in your ear as you pulled the fabric to cover your naked thigh peeking out the high slit. Your hand fell down, following the skirt, revealing your crossed legs again. You were sitting on the stool at the hotel bar beside him while he was entertaining some old dude whose name you already didn’t remember. Squirming slightly you tried to hide your legs under the bar counter but it was all in vein. The dress was as uncomfortable as it was gorgeous. White as marble, ankle length, it was tight around your hips and wrapped loosely around the rest of your body. It had a long slit that crept up, crossing to the waist, where a gold belt kept it all from falling down. Thank God the dress had a halter top necklin so at least your boobs were covered.
‘So uncomfortable’ had been your main thought since dressing up like that hours before.
Someone was braiding your hair in a low chignon, leaving some strands framing your face as you reached for your usual crystal pendant. “I think I’ll keep this.” Toni had said, grabbing it before you could. “How about the ones they prepared you?”
“Okay “
You had looked at yourself blankly in the elevator’s mirror, while he embraced you from behind.
“Beautiful. You look like the statue of a Roman goddess.” he had murmured behind you, kissing your neck as he pushed your head to the side to give himself more access.
“Thank you.” you had responded, not feeling the compliment nor gratitude.
Even your own face looked different. All that makeup felt heavy and gross on your skin, your cheekbones were like, glowing, your nose looked smaller, and let’s not even start with the eyebrows, square and darker. Thank God, your lips were spared.
You clutched the useless little empty bag you were given just for show and took the expectant arm waiting for you out of the elevator, letting it guide you to the spot where you were now seated.
“Order something to drink sweetheart. I have to go and talk to that gentleman, there.” you flinched at the pet name.
Your eyes slowly scanned the bartender in front of you “…Beer” you croaked, hoarsely.
“Sorry ma’am but at this hour we only serve cocktails or liquor.”
“ …Whiskey then…neat.”
“Sure. Would you like to see our selection?”
“…It’s fine, you choose.”
The bartender bowed politely with his head and passed the order to the girl behind him as he took the other drinks and walked out the counter to serve at the tables.
The lounge bar was dark except for the soft gold lights from the bar counter and the candles on the tables. There were lush sofas and high puffed stools awaiting the rich hotel’s clientele. In the corner, someone was playing the piano and that has been the only thing keeping you company all evening. Your head swayed at the soft jazz music. People talked in hushed tones, couples exchanged heated touches or kisses in the corner tables, some old businessman eyed you like a piece of meat giving you the creeps. Thank God the bar counter was the least dark space in that room.
“Good evening ma’am. I hope this is to your liking...” the girl’s voice snapped out of your thoughts. Turning your head to her and your eyes down to where she placed the glass you nodded. Picking up the glass, you gulped down the whole thing. The waitress’s eyes widened.
W - would…would you like another, ma’am?”
“Yes …please,” you whispered.
“Is everything okay?...ma’am?” she asked, placing you another glass in front of you. Your hands closed around it, your knuckles going white. A bright smile that didn’t reach your eyes, blossomed on your face.
“Of course. I’m just…lost in the music.”
“I don’t like this Dean.”
“Neither do I Cass, but we have to. The whole place is guarded. You and Jack can’t enter. We’ll search for the symbols too, but Y/N is priority. And please… ” he added, lowering his voice, “...keep an eye on the kid. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
Dean straightened his suit jacket, feeling uncomfortable out of his usual clothes but the place had a dress code and he and Sam needed to blend in. Ergo ...penguin suit.
“Ready, Dean?” Sam asked while smoothing out a little crease on the pants and combing his hair back with his hand.
Dean sighed. “Yeah…yeah let’s go,” he said, checking the gun under his jacket.
Leaving the car keys to the valet, the Winchesters made their way to hotel lobby. Before going in, Sam grabbed Dean’s arm.
“Dean…remember we are here to search for Y/N and nothing more…”
“For now.”
“For now.” Sam agreed with Dean’s icy tone.
Calmly walking to the front desk, Sam pumped up his charm charade.
“Good evening miss…” he flashed his FBI badge discreetly to her while bringing his finger to his lips winking. “I’d appreciate it, greatly, if you could point us to the whereabouts of a certain Miss Y/S.N. We know for sure she’s staying here, at the moment. She is a key witness in an ongoing investigation and we are keeping her here for safety.”
“The hotel’s policy bans me from disclosing her room number but… ” she bent towards Sam, whispering “….I can tell you that I saw her walking to the hotel bar…if that’s enough.”
“Yes. That’s great. Thank you very much.”
Sam turned around but Dean was already walking away, his pace nervous and hasty and disappearing behind what should be the lounge bar door.
You were at your third glass now and what remained of the amber liquid, swirled around. Toni occasionally checked on you, making sure you had your glass full or just to get what he wanted. It was annoying and frankly, you felt repulsion every time he touched you. That was confusing, though. You were a couple. Shying away from his touch wasn’t right so you complied.
The music changed half an hour ago into soft covers of random classic songs and you enjoyed trying to guess what songs they were playing.
Suddenly, you felt a faint commotion at your back but you didn’t care for it anyway. This song was one of your favorites and you had recognized it from the first couple of notes.
“Tangerine, Led Zeppelin.” you murmured into your glass, smirking before taking a sip and closing your eyes as the liquid burned.
“Correct.”
A husky voice said from behind. You felt a shiver running down your spine, not an unpleasant one. “I thought you didn’t care for classic rock ...Y/N.”
Your eyes widened hearing your name from a stranger and you turned around quickly.
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Epiphany 3
read first ACT 1
EDIT: @waywardbaby
Summary: Less than two years later, you finally passed the men of letters’ initiation and, finally, you now set foot in America eager to be reunited with the Winchesters.
But if Dean thought that you spent your days only with your nose in books and hands in monster’s guts, he was dead wrong. Your mission? Something that the British branch tried and failed miserably, or at least that’s what they told you anyway.
Pairing: Dean X Reader
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jack
Warnings: slow burn guys…slow burn. Also, some fluff, humor, feels and angst.
Feeling out of place in their little domestic banter, you volunteered to help with the cooking and felt relieved when she accepted. You could use this time to get to know her better, she was a hunter so... kinda what you were here to do. The boys set up the table and unloaded the rest of the luggage from the car.
“Want to cook something you are familiar with? If I have the right stuff?” Jody asked, gesturing you to look into the fridge, where you found eggs and bacon. You already knew what to do.
“There is plenty for a pasta recipe if it’s ok with everybody…? Do you have …what do you call them here…noodles?”
“Yes, I have them, and don’t worry… Those guys will eat everything that’s homemade and they’ll make you feel like an honest to God chef.” She scoffed grabbing the beer from your grasp and putting it on the counter with hers. Then she opened a cabinet and pulled out two wine glasses and a cork, “Red or white?”.
“Red please,” you said while waiting for the sink water to become hot. While pouring a generous amount of wine she watched you filling up the pot and putting it on the stove. She handed you the pasta but you shook your head. “Wait for it to boil, trust me... I feel bad having to tell you what to do in your own house …”
“Oh don’t worry. I’m more than ok with people cooking for me,” she said whisking the eggs lightly while you chopped the bacon and let it sizzle in a large pan with some olive oil.
“The water is boiling now.” You took a big handful of salt and threw it in the water, spaghetti going in right after.
“I smell bacon!” Dean's head popped into the kitchen. “Y/N, you cooking?” he asked taken aback.
“I asked her. Hope you are hungry because this looks amazing “
“Anything with bacon is awesome.”
He grinned, coming to stand behind you, perking above your shoulder, while you tossed around the chunks of bacon. His scent again covering whatever smells were around and you inhaled deeply, groaning mentally.
“It should be almost ready,” you said while fishing out a single noodle, with a fork, to taste. Blowing on it you pick it up, testing the consistency with your fingers. “Yeah, should be okay” you raised the noodle to Dean who bent down to catch it with his mouth and you froze.
“Yep, ready!” and he walked out of the kitchen. You picked up the pot and began to drain the pasta in the sink.
“Well …so that’s what happened back then.” Jody's eyes didn’t miss that little moment you had and smirked.
“What?” you asked startled, splashing some of the boiling water on your arm. Hissing in pain you continued to drain the rest of the pasta without stopping.
“You ok? “
“Yeah, don’t worry, it’s nothing” Your skin burned, tossing the pasta in the pan with the bacon.
Jody passed you the beaten eggs, pepper, and grated cheese mixture.
“I’ll let you stir it up while I take care of this,” you stated, showing her your arm and you left the kitchen. You passed in front of the brothers that were sitting at the table quite quickly but not quickly enough. Dean saw the angry red forearm you were holding to your chest and stood up, chair scratching the floor.
“What happened?” he was by your side in a flash, taking your arm gently to check it.
“Nothing! I just splashed some boiling water on it. Don’t worry, I have something.” He followed you to your backpack that was leaning near the entrance.
“Can you help me ..?” you asked, whispering. He crouched down near you and opened the zip. You searched inside with your good arm and took out a clear tube full of green gel. He grabbed it from you and before you could say anything, he squirted out the gel on his hand. Grasping your arm again with one hand and furrowing his brows in concentration, he touched your skin. You hissed at the contact with the gel, and he stopped to look at you.
“It’s okay, it’s just really cold,” you said smiling. He nodded and began to massage it into your skin. You sighed in relief as the cooling of the gel erased the burning, and peered at Dean’s face who, sensing your gaze, looked up at you.
“Am I doing this right?” he asked, anxiously.
“Yeah, feels great,” you said softly and watched as his pupils grew wider.
Someone cleared their voice.
Both your heads shoot up at the source. Sam and Jody were awkwardly waiting for you at the table, steamy food in the center. You scrambled on your feet stumbling a bit, Jody exchanging a funny look with Sam, and of course, your face went up in flames.
“Oh, God!! This is amazing!”
The Winchesters stuffed their faces with the food, moaning in appreciation. “What is this?” Sam asked, mouth full, while Dean guzzled up another bite like someone would come and steal his plate.
“It’s…just eggs, cheese, and bacon….” You said baffled while taking another sip of wine.
“It’s awesome, that’s what it is.” must have been what Dean tried to say.
“Delicious, simple and quick” Jody nodded, approvingly.
“Thanks” you mumbled behind your glass.
Bellies full and spirits intoxicated, the boys offered to do the dishes while you and Jody lounged, watching tv.
“Soooo..” she began and you already dreaded what was coming, “... you and Dean, uh?” and wine went down the wrong pipe.
“No, no, we are not…I mean …”
“Hey look. I don’t know what happened, but I’m not blind,” she said, smirking. You blushed and sipped from your glass trying to buy time.
“Uhm…yeah well… maybe something happened. Maybe!” you said looking in the direction of the kitchen door, making sure no one was listening. “Maybe there was something, but it’s been long and I don’t know anymore…err.”
“That thing before… didn’t look like nothing” she chuckled.
“…I think he liked me better when I wasn’t part of this” you said lowering your voice. “He isn’t happy with what… I am now,” you mumbled, the bottom of your glass looking extremely interesting right now. “He made that clear.”
“That’s just how he is. I saw something before, and trust me, you don’t want to let it slip away.” She looked towards the kitchen too, where you could hear the boys talking. “Especially, if you both are in this life. Sometimes, it’s simpler that way” Suddenly, you could see her lines more clearly. You knew that look. She had lost someone.
“Tell me about the girls …”
In the kitchen.
“Dude…”
“What?” Dean replied, failing to look clueless.
“I mean, that little scene from before…really? In Jody’s living room? We were wondering if we should have just left the two of you alone. So embarrassing!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about “
Sam sighed, frustrated by his brother stubbornness.
“For almost two years you checked on her regularly and every time you didn’t hear from her, you’d freak out and when she would finally text or call, suddenly it was all rainbows and unicorns”
Dean scoffed “I was not…”
“Yeah… you were! Even Jack noticed it!”
“So…? We all care about her!”
“Sure, we do…but…”
“It’s been almost two years, Sam. Things have changed.” he snapped.
“Have they?....she is in the life now, and from what I could see she looked pretty competent and happy.” Dean’s jaw clenched as his brother cut him before he was able to say anything. “And don’t say it’s your fault! Remember what she told you last night, yeah?”
“She looked like she wanted to eat my face” he chuckled.
“You two looked like you were going to have angry sex right in front of me”
Dean quickly focused on the plate he was drying and then peered at Sam again. “That was pretty hot, right?”
Sam paused and rolled his eyes, and then smiled wickedly, “If you don’t, then I will” he whispered.
*crash*
“What was that?” Jody exclaimed, alarmed. “Guys are you breaking my china?!”
Sam’s head appeared, grinning. “Sorry, Jody! Dean’s hands slipped! Why don’t you and Y/N choose a film? We are almost done here.”
“…no chicks flicks!” Dean’s tensed voice roared from the kitchen.
“My Netflix, my rules!” Jody shouted back, then she turned to you, “Any preferences?”
“Mmm, not really. I mean, I love Austen’s movies but I don’t want to torture the guys” you laughed.
“How about some action?” Jody said, scrolling through the library; suddenly you saw a familiar name.
“THAT!” you cried, jumping up. “Oh my God! I can’t believe it! Can we? Please?”
“Watch what?” Dean came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel, followed by Sam.
“They call me Trinity,” you said excitedly, turning to him. “You know it?”
“No, what’s that?” Sam asked.
“Oooooh, it’s a - I mean, you never saw it? Really?” Both shook their heads. “It’s a spaghetti western from the ‘70s… it’s so great! It's been years since I last saw it!”
“You had me at Western,” Dean said happily and pushed Sam when he elbowed him smiling like an idiot.
“Hell yeah…! If… if it’s ok with you?” you asked Jody, embarrassed for taking the initiative.
“I’m ok with that! Let me grab some beers” she said giving you the remote.
“Oh, you are all gonna love it!”
------------------------------------------------
“If you don’t, then I will”
Dean’s hands slipped when his muscles twitched and he turned his head to Sam, eyes wide. “What?”
“Guys, are you breaking my china?”
“What do you mean ‘if I don’t, you will’ ?” Dean stared at Sam’s back. He turned to face him.
“Well…Dean...” he sighed as he watched Dean’s eye twitch. “I mean…she’s cute, and clever and funny. I like having her around. It’s refreshing.”
He walked to his brother lowering his voice. “I stood aside because I thought you two were...Dude, I mean, I’m not blind…”
He picked up the broken plate, Dean staring at him in silence “... but if you decide not to act on it, then I will!” Dean’s gaze shifted to the door that overlooked the living room.
Sam sighed, “Look...I don’t pretend that what I feel now is deeper than what I think you feel, but if you tell me to back off, I can still do that”.
Once everybody was seated, Dean in the armchair, you squeezed between Jody and Sam jumping slightly on your seat, feeling so thrilled as the movie began with the old nostalgic whistling tune that you tried to follow.
Dean snorted looking at you. “What are you trying to do?”
“I can’t whistle, sue me!” you snapped unfazed by his question and resumed your poor attempt, earning a throaty chuckle from him.
Dean watched you from the corner of his eye. How you laughed and whispered the lines over the ones playing.
‘Nerd’
His eyes softened seeing you so caught up with it. Sam occasionally leaned into your side to ask about something in your ear, you whispered back, and both laughed softly. Dean had been biting his inner cheek to stop himself from walking over to you two. After a while, he just gave up and shoving his brother aside, sat in between. Sam had patted him on his shoulder, saying he will give him time to sort his shit out.
‘Sort his shit out’
Yeah, like it was simple. His mind went back at how things were left between you two. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it and most of the time there was nothing innocent about it.
It had begun after the first week they came back. He had had a dream about that kiss and woken up in the middle of the night, sweaty, hugging the pillow and, with great horror, he realized he’d been dry humping it. Looking down at the throbbing bulge in his boxers he had mumbled something about behaving like a horny teenager. Nothing good came from trying to re-adjust himself. In fact, it made it worse.
“Jesus, I need a cold shower”
But moving, at this particular moment was almost painful, with his blood buzzing like it did so he had fallen back on the pillow, exhaling. His hand lazily grazing down his navel, drawing the path to his groin. He had paused, unsure if thinking about you this way was dangerous and deciding that it definitely was. His mind wandered, again, to that night, you breathing out his name, teeth nibbling his ear, your body desperately trying to find some friction and he lost it.
‘Fuck, I’m gonna explode if I don’t take care of this’.
His hand sneaked under the waistband of his boxers. The skin was burning and he was already a sticky mess down there and as soon as his hand wrapped around himself he let out a low moan.
‘Son of a bitch, this is ridiculous what am I? 15?’
He tentatively gave a slow pump and his hips jerked on their own account. Again and this time he had to bite down on his lips, muffling a swear. He stilled and closed his eyes diving into the memory of you, your face burned on the insides of his eyelids, your hands around him and your name on his lips like a prayer.
“Dean, you ok?”
His eyes flew open at the sound of your voice and he turned his gaze to you, who looked concerned and a bit disappointed “Are you bored?”
“W-What?” he stuttered.
“The movie…is it boring?”
His eyes once focused, registered that you had shed your sweatshirt and he could see your whole cleavage the way you were bent toward him. You were, now, in a loose shirt and after all that had just played back in his mind, this had definitely come at the worst timing.
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “No no, the movie’s awesome. I guess I'm just tired”
“Oh then, maybe we should leave before you fall asleep here”.
“What? You leaving?” Jody asked.
“Yes, we saw a motel on our way here”
“Nonsense! Why don’t you crash here? Y/N can sleep in Claire’s room tonight, and the couch is a pull out bed big enough for both of you.” Dean opened his mouth to refuse “…and I also have bacon for breakfast” she added.
“Oh well, in that case…” Dean looked pleadingly at Sam who rolled his eyes.
Lying on the bed, after taking a quick, much needed, hot shower, you had your journal open on the werewolf section when a knock distracted you.
“Come in,” you said, securing the towel tight around your chest.
Dean’s head popped in. You saw him tensing a bit and awkwardly entered the room, eyes lowered and scratching his head.
“Uum sorry… I can come back later if…”
“Nah, it’s ok! What's up?”
His eyes wandered to the journal in your hands “Is that..?”
“Yep…still using this. I can’t deal with the digital one.”
He walked towards you and you felt the bed sinking under his weight. He extended his hand asking for permission and you handed him the journal.
“Well, look who’s been a busy bee!” he teased, scrolling through the pages. “This looks so much better.”
You scooted closer, staying in a prone position, and reached for the bookmark, turning the pages.
“My records,” you said tentatively as he read the list of hunts you’ve been in. You had kept track of them as you had with your first one.
“I see you didn’t get any better at drawing!” he chuckled.
“My colleagues, back at the office, make me draw the monster of the week on the briefing board.” you giggled
He became serious and stared at you. “You fine, then?” he asked.
“Yeah! ” you sighed and smiled warmly. “I am.”
And there was that staring contest again. His eyes darting back and forth, unsure of where to look. Fortunately, the phone next to you rang.
“Hello?” Dean watched as your face brightened, a big smile blossoming on your face and he could swear he saw you blush slightly. “Tony, hi!” his heart dropped. You sat on your knees and threw an apologetic look at Dean, mouthing ‘sorry’.
When he tried to leave, you grabbed his arm and forced him to sit back down. “Sorry, one moment” you covered the phone with your hand, “Stay, this will take just a minute,” you said and put your phone back to your ear. “Hey, yeah I’m here! Yeah, I’ve arrived safely. No, it was long and boring. NO, I DID NOT GET LOST…”
He couldn’t understand a word but your body language was obvious.
What if he misunderstood everything?
Was he too late?
You had never mentioned someone all this time and shit, why would you? It’s not that he had any right to know anyway.
Dean’s attention was caught again by your fit of giggles and you finished the call sighing.
“...Boyfriend?” he blurted out, kicking himself mentally. He watched as you blushed,
furiously.
“…No … colleague” you said, avoiding Dean’s gaze.
“...Well, I came to tell you that we’re leaving tomorrow at 8. Goodnight.”
Dean stood up quickly before you could stop him. He opened the door and glanced back at you, sitting on your heels in your towel-wrapped body and wet messy hair. He hoped that this vision would not come back this night to torture him.
The smell of coffee and bacon woke you and your stomach up. Groaning, you slid out of bed, dragging your feet to the bathroom. Yawning and rubbing your eyes, you didn’t see who was coming out of the door and crashing your nose into whoever that was, you heard a sickly, crunchy sound.
“Ow! ” you winced, covering your nose with your hands, bending over. You felt your eyes filling with tears in no time.
“Oh geez, Y/N! I - 'm sorry, you ok?” Sam’s apologetic voice said above you, his hand rubbing soothingly on your back.
“ No, I’m not ok,” you snapped back with a nasal voice.”Is it broken?” you asked whining and looking up for him to take a look.
Sam’s gigantic hands cupped your face and tilted your head up. “Nah, you’re good. It’s just a little bump,” he said, his face coming closer to look at it properly.
“What the hell is your chest made off…? Concrete?” you whined again, punching him slightly. He scoffed but didn’t let go of your face.
“Am I interrupting?” Dean’s annoyed voice came from the end of the hallway. “...breakfast’s ready…”
Seeing your teary eyes when you looked at him, Dean walked closer. “The fuck’s going on? “ Sam's hands let you go, falling to his sides real quick.
“I broke my nose against a wall, aka Sam,” you said, tentatively touching the tip of your nose.
He chuckled at your nasal voice, then looked at his brother. “There’s some fruit for you too. I’m eating your share of bacon if you don’t hurry”
“So, I called Donna and briefed her with what you told me. She’s busy but she’ll talk to the sheriff there so you’ll have fewer problems. Let me hear from you when you’re done, alright?” Jody said looking down at Sam.
“Like always! Bye, Jody and thanks for letting us crash here” you shouted and waved from your seat, smiling.
On the road again Sam asked you about that booklet you had given Jody.
“Oh…it’s…uhm....PR…” you finished in a whisper. The boys looked at you briefly. “Well, you said she was a hunter and she knows other hunters, and I’m here representing hunters and Men of Letters and we uhhmm… offer international shipping…so yeah…” you faltered, feeling flustered.
“It’s cool. It’s the job. Don’t need to get all worked up about it.”
“Dean’s right. Hey, can I have one too?” Sam asked and you passed him one of the brochures. His eyebrows shot up as he studied it.
“A spray that hides your smell? …really ?” he asked amazed.
“Yeah, I brought some, that is...if you want.”
“There’s this thing that hides you from their bite for a certain amount of time, and something similar if you swallow vamp’s blood, and hear this out-...” Dean jumped in and just went on listing everything you had described the day before. He had remembered all of that when you thought he hadn't been listening to your rambling.
“Y/N, you ready? Come on!” Dean looked at his watch and tapped his foot, Sam simply leaning on the balcony.
“Coming, coming, sheesh!” you called out while opening the door. Their eyes widened as they went up and down your frame.
“What!?” you asked looking down at you. “Do I have stains on my trench-coat? I thought I cleaned it after the last time”
You heard Sam snicker as Dean closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why are you dressed like that?” he asked
“Why..?" you said in a gruff, low voice. “What’s wrong with it, Dean?” you added annoyed, tilting your head and squinting at him. Sam lost it and he bent down laughing.
“Yeah, ok alright! Let’s go, Cassandra.” Dean’s eyes crinkled.
Once in the car again, you lifted your hips and tugged down your pencil skirt.
“Isn’t that a bit too short for comfort?” Dean asked looking at you from the rear view mirror.
“There are many reasons for wearing this shit, ok? Mainly… it’s distracting when it needs to be distracting and I can reach my gun and knives easier”
“You…” his eyes looked down and then back up as he quickly licked his lips, adding, “You have what under there?”
You looked at him and then at Sam who was avoiding your gaze. “Well…not now! I didn’t think I needed them. Why?”
“That’s hot!” Dean whispered smirking and leaning towards Sam.
“What?” you asked.
“Nothing” they both said.
“Good morning, agents. Sheriff Hanscum has already alerted me about your arrival. You are looking for a pattern between the murders, right?”
“That’s right! The coroner reports stated that their hearts were missing...” Sam started putting away his fake badge.
“Yes…more like ripped off…” the poor agent agreed, grimacing.
“… some of them had been used as chew toys?”Dean continued, leaning on the station’s counter. “We’ll need the addresses of the witnesses and relatives and…”
“Can we see the bodies?” you cut in, smiling.
“S-sure…don’t know what else there’s to find but I’ll notify the coroner” the agent smiled and left the counter.
“I can manage the morgue. You go and talk to people…” you said starting to follow him.
“Wait...someone should stay with...” Sam began and you turned to face him with a bitch-please face. “Right…never mind”.
“I’ll call when I’m done and meet up with you,” you said and followed the agent to the morgue after he gave the information to the brothers. You watched as Dean looked back at you and you gave him a thumbs up winking. He smiled, shaking his head.
You skimmed through the coroner reports while examining the wounds. Hearts missing and those were definitely bites and they were still relatively fresh. Making sure nobody was around, you took out a swab and quickly swiped it deeply in the flesh.
Putting the tip of the swab into a tiny test tube with a clear blue liquid, you closed it tightly and sent a text to the boys.
The cab stopped right beside the sleek, black Impala where you waited for them leaning on it and shaking the test tube between your fingers.
“What’s that?” you heard Dean asking before he was even close to you. You looked up at him, Sam left behind to say goodbyes to those poor bastards and handing them fake cards.
“Werewolves genes detector” you answered, squinting at the liquid which was starting to get slightly yellow. Dean lowered himself to peer at it too.
“What’s that?” Sam’s asked, parroting his brother.
“Dude…werewolf test!” Dean said, excitedly.
“Any moment now and it should tell us if we are dealing with those or not,” you said, giving another little flick of your wrist and the liquid started to darken to a bright red. “Yep, doggy genes!”
“That’s convenient,” Sam commented.
“So what did you two find out?” you asked, biting into your burger, making a mess, ketchup dripping down your chin.
“The vice all had something in common...” Sam started.“...hiking” Dean finished, handing you a tissue, pointing at his mouth and chuckling.
“So, we are thinking about a pack of rogues up in the forest? The same path, I guess”
“Likely”
“Phewww! Luckily I have this job or Id go home floating like a balloon,” you said licking your greasy fingers.
“What do you mean? This is all proteins and energy “ Dean said chewing on a fry. You and Sam shared a look. “You two can’t just enjoy the little things, can you?”
Switching to hunt mode you took out the local hiking path maps. “Guys, I thought we could cover these different paths that go around the one where the attacks happened and….”
“You are not going in as bait Y/N!” Dean interrupted you and that earned him your lifted eyebrow look.
“I don’t plan to”
“Because I sai- what?” Dean was sure you were gonna fight him on that.
“I don’t want to go as bait. You should do it. Sam and I will keep an eye on you”
The fry hang from his mouth.
“Y/N, where’s the gun we gave you?” Sam asked confused, staring as you fastened the thigh holster secure, and slipping in a large silver knife.
“Oh, I’m not using it this time” you declared, straining as you tried to shove the jeans inside the worn, leather boots.
“The hell you aren’t!” Dean stated. “You ain’t going werewolf hunting, in the middle of the fricking night, with only a silver knife!! What are you, crazy?”
Rolling your eyes you groaned. “Guys, can you please just trust me? Let me do this my way” you said, tying another holster around the other leg, tight. “Right… now. Sam and I will wear the smell covering spray, you…” walking up to him, you patted his shoulder, “do your best and smell delicious.”
You winked at his outraged face.
You and Sam left Dean at the beginning of his part of the trail before reaching yours a little further down.
-We are in position. Start walking.
Sam typed quickly, eyeing you as you reached in the back seat, heaving out a big black case.
“Sam…may I present you…” you began unzipping the case, “... Darcy…”
With a big theatrical gesture, you took out a black crossbow, with a reverted, automatic, cocking mechanism, swinging it on your shoulder, “... and its little fellas! Silver pointed darts!”
You continued, loading ten of those in the automatic mechanism and slipping five more in your tight holster, only now Sam noticing the empty slots.
You threw an optics at him and he, after catching it, raised it to his eye, “I - is this a night vision optic?”
“Yep.” you grinned, starting to walk down your trail, crossbow across your shoulders, your arms hanging on it.
Sam watched you from behind. “Dean’s gonna freak out so bad “.
Dean’s senses were on alert, steady grip on the gun, ears ready to catch the tiniest sound. The flashlight illuminated just a slab of dirt and a small part of the forest trail. His mood was foul though. He wanted this hunt to finish as quickly as possible. His mind racing and fighting with his heart. He wanted to trust you but at the same time, his heart decided that nothing was safer for you than to stay at the bunker in your nerd-cave. He had to admit, seeing you first thing in the morning, cooking pancakes made his stomach flutter and that should not have happened but still, what Sam had said made his blood boil.
‘Dean Winchester you are a mess’
His brother was right. He needed to get his shit together and fast.
Suddenly, he heard the classic twig snap. His steps slowed down, his mind cleared, a shuffle to his right and his hand twitched on the handle of the concealed gun.
“Please, help!” a female voice caught his attention. “Help! Is there anyone out there?” This is clearly the trap that was used to lure victims that would have been kind enough to offer help.
“Who’s there?” he decided to play along, keeping his guard up. Another rustling noise and a girl scrambled out from a bush almost knocking him down. He steadied her. “What happened?”
The girl was covered in mud and he recognized the coppery scent of blood as his grip tightened around his gun.
“They are following me, please help!” She threw herself at him and he would have believed her, hadn't been for his instincts. Her eyes quickly switched to a sickly yellow and he barely had time to push her away when he was jumped by another shadow. He lost balance for a moment and the girl tried to attack him too. He lifted his gun to aim but it was swatted from his hand.
“Shit….A LITTLE HELP HERE?!” he shouted while he kept the female from chewing on his neck. The strain on the muscles on the still fresh wound weighed him down and made his teeth clench. He had completely forgotten to ask Cas to heal that shit.
Finally, he heard some running steps, which he recognized as Sam’s. Immediately, he was freed from one of them and managed to kick the other one off of him. But Sam was held down, his gun too far to reach and Dean launched himself to him. But the male werewolf held him back. He could only watch, in the corner of his eye, as Sam struggled to get that bitch off of him. Then, he screamed when he saw her going for his throat he had left unguarded.
*Shunk*
Dean had time to see Sam shrugging off the body, still gasping for air.
*Shunk*
The struggling werewolf fell limply on him and grunting, he shoved him to the side. He scrambled up, breathing hard, adrenaline running high pretty much the only thing stopping him from registering the muscle pain he was experiencing.
“W-What was that?” he asked Sam, helping him up
“That..that was Y/N,” he said breathlessly, hissing as he checked the gash on his thigh. Dean’s confused look fell on the two bodies. He crouched over one to get a better look while Sam picked up their guns, limping.
“Is this an arrow?” he asked, stunned.
“A dart, actually.”
You said, coming out of the bushes, dusting off your knees, the crossbow held low on your side. Dean watched speechless as you walked past them placing a foot on the werewolves’ chests for leverage. You yanked back, recovering the darts with some, awkward, stumbling back rubbing them clean on your coat before slipping them in your thigh holster. You and Dean stared at each other for an indeterminate period of time, and eventually, you cleared your throat.
“Is that a fucking crossbow?” he asked amazed at Sam. “You use a fucking crossbow?” he turned to you.
“When I can.” you lifted your chin ready for another nagging session. “So?”
His face slowly brightened, a dazzling smile that made him look at least ten years younger spreading there. “Awesome!! That’s...” he breathed, “... that’s cool!”
“Thanks” you mumbled looking at your feet. “Uuhhhm…we, we should clean up and go… drinks on you two “.
-------------------------------
“Tell me again how you came to use that thing,” Sam asked when Dean came back to the table holding drinks.
“Well...” you began, leaning on the table, trying to reach for your glass, huffing as your fingertips barely reached it. Dean, chuckling pushed the glass closer to you. “First, it’s badass!! Second, I suck at guns!!”
“From what I saw back there, your aim ain’t bad”
“You see these hands, Dean?” you said waving them at his face. “See these tiny, baby hands?... the recoil always throws me off. If it’s small guns, yeah sure. I can manage but those things you two use?... Nope!! My trainer just gave up and I had to improvise”
“You need to learn, though,” Sam said. “I can’t imagine a lot of hunts where you can use that”
“That’s what I tried to tell you guys from the beginning, but someone...” going louder on the last word, “... likes the sound of his voice way too much.” You glared at Dean who furrowed his brows. “…as I said, I don’t always go on hunts, and when I do, I’m just in the back as a backup...”
“Then how did you manage to get that scar?” Dean deadpanned in the middle of the conversation. You tensed as his eyes didn’t leave you while drinking from his bottle.
Damn it.
“What scar?” Sam asked, confused.
You signed, fingers clutching at your crystal pendant for comfort. A gesture that neither of them missed.
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