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anawinchester02 · 8 months

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A Place For Me

May 4th, 2004

I saw Sam for the first time in two years today.

Dean let me go see him for his birthday. He drove me, but he didn’t come to see him with me.

Dad is out of town on a case, so he doesn’t know we’re in Cali.

The day with Sam started off really nice. He seemed really happy to see me. It was nice seeing him so happy, but it did sting a little, knowing how okay he was without us. I tried not to bring up hunting, or dad.

We were having dinner at his dorm when he asked me, “so is Dean homeschooling you now or did dad finally put you back in public school?”

I looked at him for a long moment, before setting my fork down. “Sam… I dropped out of school after you left.”

He stared at me. “Dad let you do that?” he said quietly.

I nodded. “Dad encouraged it. I offered to, so that I could be better help with jobs and whatnot. I’m in charge of research on most cases now.” I said, looking away.

“Ana, you can’t just not get an education. What if you wanted to go to college one day? Or get a normal job?”

I scoffed. “I can’t do that, Sam. I can’t just ditch the job. They need me. Especially after you left.”

“You can, Ana. You don’t have to do this forever. You don’t have to listen to dad forever! I’m so much happier since I got away.”

I felt anger bubble up in my chest, and I caught myself physically biting my tongue. “Can we please not talk about this?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, Ana, this is important!” he said sternly.

“Yeah, well, I thought I was important to you, but clearly I was wrong, so.” I spat back, voice full of attitude.

“Ana you ARE important to me? That’s why I want you to get a proper education and not waste your life being daddy’s perfect soldier!”

I glared at him.

“C’mon, kid. You know you can do better. You can get out.” He said a bit softer.

“No.” I said firmly. “I can’t, Sam. I can’t just sit around doing nothing when I know there are innocent people out there who are being slaughtered.”

“Ana, it’s not your responsibility. Dean only thinks he has to do this to get revenge for our mom. You don’t have to carry that grudge. You don’t have a place in that fight.”

I felt the same pain that I felt the night dad hit me. I stood from the small table and started grabbing my stuff.

“Ana stop. Just… stay, I didn’t mean anything by that. Just stay tonight, see what it’s like to sleep without a gun under your pillow.”

I shook my head and stayed quiet.

“Ana STOP!” he yelled at me and grabbed my arm. I flinched back and stepped away from him.

“No, Sam!” I yelled. I rarely yell. “No, you don’t get it! You, dad, Dean… you all have this big revenge plan for your mom. You have to do this for HER. You all have a purpose. The only reason I do this, is because my mom didn’t want me so I got dropped in dad’s lap! I have to do this because I have to make all this worth it, Sam. I can’t just sit on the sidelines and let people die. I have to MAKE this my purpose, or else I HAVE wasted my life. I’m not like you, Sam. I can’t just leave my family. Like you. And like my mom. I-…” I took a breath, “I have to be better than that.”

Sam just stared at me for a long time. I had never spoken to him like that before.

“I have to go.” I finally interrupted the silence.

“No, Ana, stop, I-…” Sam stuttered, then he sighed. “Okay. But, just… remember there’s always a place for you here.”

I chuckled dryly and threw my bag over my shoulder. “There will never be a place for me here, Sammy.”

And I left.

Happy birthday, Sammy.

~Anastasia Winchester

#dean winchester #john winchester #spn fanfic #spn oc #supernatural #jensen ackles #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #sam and dean #sam winchester #winchester sister

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anawinchester02 · 8 months

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Mom

December 13, 2003

I’ve been thinking about my mom a lot.

I don’t know anything about her. Dad never said anything about her.

I don’t even know if she’s alive, or why she didn’t want me if she is alive. I don’t think I want to know.

If she’s alive, and had kept me, I could’ve had a different life.

I don’t want a different life, but I think about it sometimes.

Dean and Sam never act like I have a different mom. It’s nice, because I’ve never felt like we weren’t family. I like to think my mom is dead, like Mary. I like to think that she was killed by a demon too. It makes this all feel worth it. Like I might get revenge someday too.

I don’t know what my mom looks like.

I have strawberry blonde hair, almost ginger. I’m guessing that came from my mom. I have the same green eyes as Dean, so I don’t know if that came from my mom or dad. I’m tall, like my brothers, so that must be dad. I know I have my mom’s features, because I don’t look much like dad.

Sam has dad’s nose. I don’t.

I don’t think much of my personality came from my mom, or dad. I think it’s mostly from Dean and Sam. I always tried to be tough and funny like Dean, and smart like Sam.

I think Sam is a lot like his mom, because he’s not like me and Dean. He didn’t like this life. Dean and I know we have no choice. It’s our job, our responsibility. I wonder if my mom was a hunter too.

I don’t want to think about my mom, but it gets harder as I get older. I look in the mirror and start to wonder if I look like her now. If dad looks at me and sees her, or if he just sees me.

“Dean?” I asked my brother one night.

“What’s up, rugrat?” he spoke up, not looking away from the gun he was cleaning.

“Did you know my mom?”

He looked up quick then. “What now?” he asked.

“Did you ever meet my mom?” I repeated.

“I-…” he closed his eyes for a second. “Why do you ask?”

I looked down at my hands. “I just… I just never knew anything. As far as I know, I just showed up on your doorstep when you were seven.” I shrugged.

He sighed deeply. “I didn’t know anything until we got to Montana to get you. Dad told me two days before you were born.”

“So you never met my mom?” I asked.

“No, I did, once.” he turned in his chair to look at me.

“Do I-…” I shuffled on the bed uncomfortably. “Do I look like her?”

Dean stood up and walked over to sit next to me. “Ana, you…” he put his hand over mine. “You are beautiful. You have her hair, yes, but when I look at you all I see is… you. The strong, silly girl I raised. Nobody else.”

I lock eyes with him. “Why don’t you guys ever… talk about her? Or act like I have a different mom?” I asked him.

He grabbed my hand tighter. “Ana, none of that matters to me. To us. You’re a Winchester, it doesn’t matter if we don’t share all the same DNA. You’re one of us.”

I pulled my hand away gently and brushed my hair behind my ear. “I know, Dean… sometimes it’s just hard. Not knowing where I came from.”

“You come from the coolest dad in the world, Ana.” he said firmly.

“I know.” I said. “Did my mom not want me, Dean?”. I didn’t really want the answer, but I asked anyway.

He shook his head. “Ana, I don’t know. But I know that as soon as dad told me about you, I wanted you. I wanted you. Always.”

I nodded. “I know. Thanks, Dean.”

He went back to cleaning his gun soon after that, and I went to go look in the mirror.

I don’t know who I saw.

~Anastasia Winchester

#dean winchester #spn fanfic #john winchester #spn oc #supernatural #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #jensen ackles #sam and dean #sam winchester #winchester sister

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anawinchester02 · 8 months

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”She Was Six”

March 24, 2003

I am 16 today.

Dad and I have been getting along. Better, at least. He’s seemed happy with my hunting, so I guess I’m doing okay.

I asked him to teach me to drive for my birthday. He said yes. We’re doing that today.

Dean gave me my present last night.

“Hey Ana.” he came into the room. Him and dad had been out all day, doing field work for a case. I’m still too young to join in on field work, I can’t pass for a fake FBI agent or police officer.

“Yeah?” I poked my head up from the book I was reading.

“I’ve been thinking about something you said and… I have something for you.”. He started grabbing something from his bag.

“Something I said?” I asked, curious.

“Well… You asked me once why I didn’t write.” he said.

I nodded.

“And I told you that it was because I had nothing to write about.”

“Yeah?..” I urged him to continue.

“You told me to write about myself but, I didn’t think there was anything worth writing.”

“Which is bull, but okay?” I said, still a little confused.

“That night… I tried. I tried to write about myself, but I never found anything to say. So…” he trailed off, opening a notebook from his bag. “I wrote about you instead.”. He looked at me. “I want you to have it for your birthday.”

I smiled ear to ear. “Really?!” I exclaimed, getting up and running over to hug him. “That’s so sweet, Dean, thank you!” I said, hugging him tight around the middle. He squeezed me back.

“I love you, kid. Happy sweet sixteen.”

“I love you too, De. Thank you.”

This is what he wrote.

“~She was six~

She was never much for complaining, but there seemed to be something in the air that day.

Sam and her had been in the back seat all day without any trouble. Nothing happened until hour four of a ten hour drive. That’s when they were suddenly bickering back and forth.

I could feel dad tensing up beside me with every whine from Ana. “Stop!” she’d yell. “You’re too big!”

Sam wasn’t doing anything particularly wrong, just resting his legs on the seat beside him, his back pressed up again the car door. He wasn’t even in her space, but she was bickering with him nonetheless. “I didn’t do anything!” he’d yell back as she’d push his feet off the seat.

Dad was losing patience. It wasn’t consistent, just every few minutes she would pipe up and Sam would bark back. But it was enough that I was getting nervous for dad’s reaction. He had had enough the moment it started.

“Guys, can we please just try to get through the next few hours without fighting?” I tried to encourage before dad could say anything. They should have known better by now. Dad doesn’t take well to bickering. Especially when it’s unnecessary.

“He keeps getting on my side!” Ana defended. “And since when do you have a problem with Sammy, huh? He doesn’t seem to be bothering you.” I defused. “It’s hot in here and he’s making it worse!” She fought back again. I turned my head to glance at her with a warning look. She never talked back to me. Never. I did notice what seemed to be a glaze of sweat on her forehead, plastering her little ginger bangs to her face. I turned up the AC and pointed it toward the back.

“You are the only thing making things worse, Anastasia! Now stop bickering. I will not ask again.” Dad finally demanded. I was surprised, I expected worse. They was quiet for a moment before we heard a muttered “yes sir…” from them both.

We didn’t hear another peep out of them for about an hour, until there was a muffled “Sammy?” from her side of the car. “What?”, he still sounded agitated. “Could you come here please?…” she asked gently. I fought the urge to turn at look at her in confusion. “Why?” Sam asked, seeming slightly less annoyed, but still weary, as if it was a trap. “I’m cold…”. Her voice was soft and sweet as ever. She sounded a few years younger than she already was.

I heard Sam sigh slightly and shift over so she could lay her head on his shoulder. “You feeling okay?” he asked quietly, I could just hear it over dad’s music. She either didn’t answer, or simply nodded, because I never heard her confirm or deny. He should have asked her again. He should have known better than to trust a Winchester when asked about their well-being. But even if he did, she would have said she was okay since dad was in the car. She’d never admit anything other than “I’m okay” when he’s around. He didn’t ask again, and she slept soundly on his shoulder for the rest of the drive.

When we arrived at our destination, some town in Michigan, we all silently unpacked the car and made our way into the dingy motel room. Well, all but one. Even with all the movement around her, Ana didn’t stir. This was rare for her, she was usually the first one out of the car. “Wake your sister up. I need the car.” dad ordered. I was quick to obey, and went back over to her side of the car.

“Hey munchkin.” I said softly, shaking her gently. She didn’t budge. I moved my hand to push a piece of her hair behind her ear, and noticed an unusual warmth that hadn’t been there that morning. I laid my hand across her forehead, having to move her little bangs out of the way, and confirmed a slight fever, which would explain her irritability in the car and her fluctuating between being hot and cold. “Ana?” I tried again. When she still didn’t stir, I slid an arm under her knees, the other behind her back, and pulled her out of the car. Light as a feather.

“Don’t baby her, son.” dad barked at me as I entered the room carrying her. “I think she’s sick, dad. That’s probably why she was so grouchy earlier.” I explained, easing her only one of the two beds. “If she’s sick, she can toughen up and tell me, the same way I taught you boys.” he griped, before kicking the side of the bed she was on. “Anastasia. Up. Now.” She groaned slightly before fluttering her eyes open and peering up at him. Her eyes were hazy as she tried to blink herself awake. “Yes sir?” she muttered. “You know the rules about sleeping the day away. You slept in the car. Up. Help the boys get settled.” She just nodded sleepily and rose to her feet.

“Dad.” Sam started. “I don’t want to hear it, Samuel.” he shut him up. “She knows the rules. She’s fine.” Ana moved through the room as if she couldn’t hear them. She barely seemed awake. “No, dad.” Sam fought back. This wouldn’t end well. “No, she’s not fine, and she shouldn’t have to know the rules. She’s six, dad. Look at her! She’s clearly sick. You should be the first one to notice, you’re her father!” he spit out bravely. Dad turned on his heal. “Are you questioning my parenting, son?” Sam just stood up a bit taller and glared at dad. The balls on this kid sometimes…

Meanwhile, Ana came and stood next to me, almost cowering behind me. “De?..” she whispered. “Yes sweetheart?” I answered, trying not to get between dad and Sam. “Is dad leaving soon? I don’t feel good.” she asked quietly. Not quiet enough.

The room fell silent. Even the clock on the wall seemed to stop ticking. Dad turned toward us and walked over to me slowly. “Oh?” he said calmly. “That’s how this goes?” I swallowed nervously. “I leave, and then the two of you coddle her like she’s still an infant, huh?” he asked, almost smiling. I think I liked it more when he was yelling. “No, sir.” I piped up. There was a silent beat where I almost thought he would drop it. Then he was holding the collar of my shirt in his first. “Don’t forget who raised you, boy.” He got in my face. “You two backstabbing teens better remember your place in this family.” He let go of me at the end of his sentence and turned to Ana. “If you’re hurt, you tell ME. You tell your FATHER. And if I say you’re fine, then you are FINE. Do you understand me?” He barked down at her. She nodded her little head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear that.” he demanded like a drill Sargent. “Yes sir.” She answered boldly. “I’m fine, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” “Damn right you’re sorry.” he said, pushing past me and grabbing his keys. “I’ll be down the street at the library working a case. And if I come back and find you two coddling her, we’re going to have a much bigger problem. Get those guns cleaned, Dean, and Sam get this room warded. That’s a direct order.” He finished, slamming the door behind him.

Sam slammed his bag down on the bed in frustration. “Sammy, you got the sigils?” I asked. He didn’t answer, but I knew he would get to work as he sauntered off to grab something from one of the bags. I crouched down to Ana. “Are you okay, sweet pea?” She nodded, “yes sir.” “I’m not sir, sweetheart, I’m just Dean.” I said softly, pushing her hair back and feeling her forehead again. She nodded again, her eyes looking slightly watery, but never shedding a tear. “I don’t feel good, Dean.” “I know, sweetheart. C’mon, let’s get you in bed.” I picked her up and carried her to the bathroom to get her ready for bed. It ended up being a long night, dad didn’t come home until the early hours of the moment, most likely spending most of his night at the pub down the street, as a way to get away from us for a few hours. Ana was up and down a lot that night, poor thing had nothing left in her system to throw up, just spent the night sweating and dry heaving, and clinging onto me like a koala. I was glad for once that dad wasn’t there. He would’ve told her not to move from her bed.

Incidentally, that was the last night that Ana ever got sick before dad disappeared. That was the last time she let me take care of her like that. That was the last time she ever told me she didn’t feel good.

She was six.

She’s almost sixteen now.”

#dean winchester #john winchester #spn fanfic #spn oc #supernatural #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #jensen ackles #sam and dean #sam winchester #winchester sister

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anawinchester02 · 8 months

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Dean

June 30th, 2002

Dad still hasn’t come back from Minnesota. He calls Dean most nights to check in, sometimes he gives us a new case, and we pack up and go. Three cases so far.

We’re with Bobby right now. I like staying with Bobby.

The bruises dad left on my arm finally faded.

I still haven’t talked to him. I want to, but I think he needs more time. He doesn’t ask Dean about me when he calls.

Bobby is going to teach me how to fix a car today. I’m excited.

Dean made me pancakes this morning. He asked me why I don’t write much anymore. I told him dad told me to only write the important stuff.

“If it’s important to you, it’s important enough to write.” He told me.

“Do you write?” I asked him.

“Well, no.”

“Why not?”

“Well…” he flipped a pancakes. “I don’t know what I’d write about.”

It was a simple enough answer.

“Write about yourself.” I told him.

He scoffed. “I don’t have enough about me to write about. I’m not very complicated.” He said.

But I think he’s wrong. So if he won’t write about himself, I will.

Dean is the best person I know. He is brave, and strong, and softer than he lets people believe. Dean used to sing to me every night. He would sing “Hey Jude” by The Beatles, and then tuck me into bed. Dean is artistic. I used to find little sketches he used to draw in the trash. I still wonder why he threw them away.

Dean killed a monster for the first time when he was thirteen. Only a year older than I was when I made my first kill.

Every year at Christmas, Dean gets me a tree, and we hang candy canes on it. The candy canes never last long, we usually eat them within a few days.

Dean loves beer and pretty ladies, but he loves me too. Dean is my hero.

~Anastasia Winchester

#dean winchester #john winchester #spn fanfic #spn oc #supernatural #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #jensen ackles #sam and dean #sam winchester #winchester sister

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anawinchester02 · 8 months

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Dad

June 14th, 2002

Dad put his hands on me today. I don’t know what I did.

He came into the room drunk. He didn’t usually drink around me. Normally he would either stay at the bar until he sobered up or just disappear until the next night.

I was sharing a bed with Dean, who was snoring like a bear. That’s when dad came in, stumbling. “Anastasia. Get up.” He ordered, slurring his words a tad. I got out of bed quickly. “Yes sir?” I asked him, rubbing sleep from my eyes. He started grabbing my suitcase. “We have to go, there’s a case.” he threw my suitcase at my feet. “Dad-..” I hesitated, not used to talking back. “What? We just got here.”

“There’s a haunting in Detroit.” He just muttered.

“Sir, we’re in Detroit.” I tried.

“Get your stuff, Ana, c’mon. That’s an order!”. He wasn’t listening. He walked to the bathroom.

I turned quickly towards Dean and started shaking his shoulder.

“Dean!” I whispered.

He just groaned and brought a hand to his face.

“Dean!” I say, a little louder this time. “Dad’s drunk!” I lower my voice again.

“Huh?” he mutters, turning towards me.

“Dad’s drunk.” I repeat.

Dad came out of the bathroom. “Anastasia Marie!” He barked. “Get in the car!” he yelled. I just stand there next to the bed, unmoving and silent.

That’s when he marched up to me sluggishly and grabbed my arm. Hard. He started pulling me toward the door before Dean got out of the bed.

“Dad, you’re drunk. Get in bed.” Dean tried to tell him. He walks over to us and tries to grab dad’s arm to get him away from me. Dad’s grip just gets tighter.

“Don’t disobey me, Dean.” he says sternly. “Get in the car, we have to go to work.” he yanked on my arm as he spoke. It hurt.

“No, stop, dad. You’re DRUNK.” Dean yelled. Dad dropped my arm and grabbed Dean by the collar.

“You don’t yell at me, boy.” he threatened. “Ana and I will go then. You stay here and fix your attitude.”

“Dad, you’re not taking her anywhere.” Dean told him, trying to stay calm.

“She’s my daughter!” Dad yelled.

Dean stood up straight. “I don’t care. Get away from her.” he said boldly.

The air stood still.

Dad pushes Dean away. Dean doesn’t budge.

“Dad, STOP!” I finally screamed. And then my ears were ringing.

Dad had turned to me and slapped me straight across the cheek. Hard.

Everything after that was a blur.

Dean grabbed dad faster than I could register, and wrestled him out the door, yelling stuff I didn’t quite hear.

Dean slammed the door after dad was out, and I heard dad start his drunk. I just stood there, frozen.

“Ana, baby are you okay?!” Dean was bedside me in an instant. “I’m so sorry, Ana, I should have made him leave right away.” he grabbed my shoulder gently with one hand and my cheek with the other. “I’m so sorry, Ana…”

I nodded, finally looking him in the eye. “I’m okay.” I said blankly.

Dad had never hit me before.

“Ana you know he was drunk, you know he’d never-…” he trailed off. I just stared at him.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at him.” I said. Dean shook his head.

“Ana, no, you did nothing wrong, okay?”

I didn’t answer him. I just walked passed him and back to the bed.

“Ana.” Dean said.

“I’m okay, Dean!” I huffed. He just sighed and walked over to sit next to me on the bed.

“Has dad ever hit you?” I asked, staring at the wall.

“Only when I deserved it, and not often.” he answered.

“Did I deserve it?” I asked.

“Absolutely not, kid. He’s just drunk.” he told me.

“When you get drunk, you just tickle me until I can’t breathe.” I looked at him. He laughed.

“Yeah… I know.”

“Did dad-…” I paused. “Did dad ever hit Sam?”. I don’t usually want to talk about Sam.

“No.” Dean answered quickly.

“But they were always fighting…” I say, confused and cocking my head at him.

“I know. I always took the hits for Sam.” he looked down at his hands.

“Why?”

He let out a breath. “That’s my job, kiddo.”

I just nodded.

“I’m sorry again, Ana.” He tries.

“I’m okay, Dean.” I repeat.

“Dad loves you.” He told me. I didn’t answer. “I love you.” He says this time.

I smile at him. “I know.”

—-

I heard dad come back early in the morning. I pretended to still be sleeping.

He shuffled around a little before I heard him approach my bed, and I felt him kiss my forehead and brush my hair out of my face. He didn’t say anything.

I heard him leave shortly after that. I opened my eyes to see this note he left.

“Ana, I’m sorry. I hope you know that already, but I ought to say it anyway. I never should have come back last night. You were right to fight back. I’m proud. I hope I never give you a reason to fight me again. Take care of Dean. I’m going to Minnesota. You and Dean can handle this hunt. I’m sorry. Be good. ~Dad.”

#dean winchester #john winchester #spn fanfic #spn oc #supernatural #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #jensen ackles #sam and dean #sam winchester

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anawinchester02 · 8 months

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My Birthday

March 24, 2002

I am fifteen today.

I have not written in a while. I haven’t had time.

Sam has been gone for a month. It’s just been me, Dean, and dad. It’s been tense. Dad’s been drinking a lot. He’s been angrier than usual.

He said I didn’t have time to waste on writing stories, so I stopped. I wonder why he even bothered giving me this journal.

Dean hasn’t been the same after Sam left either. I guess none of us have. But Dean was the same with me, at least. But I could still see sadness in his eyes. Like it was his fault somehow. I never say anything about it, I just talk a little sweeter to him and hug him a little tighter. I think it helps.

With dad I’ve just been trying to get more enthusiastic about hunting. I’m trying to be his perfect hunter. Even though I’ll never compare to Dean. Or Sam. We never talk about Sam, and dad is still angry, no matter what I do.

I’m only writing today because it’s my birthday, and dad isn’t here.

Dad left three days ago. He said he’d be back for my birthday, but he called Dean this morning and said it was going to take a few more days. He didn’t mention my birthday. I heard the whole conversation. Dean thought I was asleep, and when he woke me up, he told me dad called to say happy birthday and told him to take me to a nice dinner and a movie. He didn’t say that, but I smiled at Dean and acted happy anyway.

“Where do you want to go, pipsqueak?” Dean asked me, ruffling my hair.

I hesitated. This was my chance to have any kind of day I wanted.

“I think I’d just rather go practice my shooting, Dean.”

His face seemed to drop. “Babygirl, it’s your birthday. We can do anything you want!” he encouraged.

“I know. That’s what I want to do.”. I smiled.

“Ana c’mon. Dad isn’t here.” He insisted.

“Yeah but, I like shooting, and I was sloppy on my last hunt. I could use the practice.”

Dean looked sad.

“But… can we go get some pie afterwards for dinner? Instead of a cake.” I smiled again. That finally got him in a better mood.

“That’s my girl!” he exclaimed, slapping the bed and standing up.

I don’t like pie. I never really have, but it makes Dean happy, so I pretend I do so I can cheer him up sometimes by asking for it. I didn’t really want to go shooting either, but I know it would make dad happy, and even better than that, it would make him proud.

They needed the mood boost more than I did.

So Dean and I went and grabbed some breakfast, then spent the day at the shooting range. I perfected my shot on Dean’s revolver, which I always loved to shoot, the kickback just always threw me off.

On our way to pick up an apple pie, Dean struck up a conversation.

“You didn’t really want to go shooting for your birthday, did you?”

I thought hard about what to tell him.

“Maybe not. But I want dad to be proud of me. And I wanted to spend the day with you. So it’s been a pretty good birthday.” I smiled softly at him, but the smile didn’t reach my eyes.

“Ana, you know dad is always proud of you, right?” He asked.

I didn’t say anything. I just listened to the hum of the engine and the soft song that was playing on low volume.

“Ana?..” he sounded softer.

“Hm?”

“You know I’M always proud of you, right?” He asked me, looking over to me for a moment.

My smile is real that time.

“Yeah, Dean. I know.”

He’s silent for just a moment, then, “happy birthday, kiddo.”.

I look at him. He’s beaming with pride at me. I reach to turn the music up.

“Hush. I love this song.” I say. He laughs.

We sang along to “Wanted Dead Or Alive” the rest of the way to the diner, laughing at each other.

Once the pie was finished, we went back to our motel and watched Scooby-Doo until we were falling asleep.

Dad texted Dean close to midnight.

-Case near you. I’ll call with details. You leave tomorrow.

Dean lets me read it, and I hide any annoyance at the lack of a “happy birthday, Ana.”.

-Ok

is all Dean texts back. I asked to text him too.

-Ready for the next case. I love you, dad. ~Ana

-8500 Washington Ave

is all he texts back.

Dean just took the phone back quietly.

“I’m gonna hit the hay, kid.” He tells me.

“Okay. I think I’ll study a bit and then get to bed. Is that okay?” I lie. Dean still thinks this journal is used for research and studying.

“Whatever you want, princess.”. He rolls over and closes his eyes.

“I love you, Dean.” I mutter.

“I love you too, Ana-banana.” He says, promptly following it with some light snores.

It was a good birthday.

~Ana Winchester

#supernatural #spn oc #spn fanfic #supernatural fandom #spnfandom #sam and dean #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #john winchester #jensen ackles #supernatural oc

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anawinchester02 · 8 months

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February 21st, 2002

Sammy left today. I don’t want to tell that story.

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anawinchester02 · 8 months

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March 27, 2000: "Bait"

March 27, 2000

The hunt in Missouri went really well. Dad says I "passed" my first big hunt. But I think I messed up. Sam and dad had a really big fight right afterwards. Dad made me walk away before they started yelling, but I think it was my fault.

We were loading the car after the hunt, when Sam spoke up. "Dad, you really pulled a risky move back there." he said, throwing something in the trunk. "Everything worked out fine, Sam. Why fight what works, son?" dad asked him. "You used her as BAIT, dad!" Sam raised his voice. "We're not having this conversation, Sam." dad shut him down. "Yes, dad. We are." Sam took a step towards dad. I stiffened, afraid for Sam. I couldn't imagine talking to dad like that. Everything he ever said to me was met with a quick "yes, sir.", and I didn't speak unless spoken to. "Ana." Dad yelled. I marched to him almost like a soldier. Head high, back straight. "Yes sir?" "Go back inside and help Dean move those bodies." he ordered. I began to walk back into the cabin. "Ana?" he said again. I turned around. He just raised a brow at me. "Oh!" I chimed. "Yes sir.", then he nodded and gave me permission to walk away. Like I said, EVERY thing that dad said to me, was met with a yes sir.

"De?" I called when I entered the bloodied cabin. "I'm in here, pipsqueak!" he answered from the back room. "Dad told me to help you." Dean was heaving one of the vamps out the a back door. "I got it, pip. You can go help them load the car." he huffed, still supporting the dead weight. "I can't." I told him. "Why not?" "Dad sent me away because they were fighting." I told him, walking over to him and helping him chuck the body out the back door. "I think I messed up." Dean took a deep breath after the vamp was out of his hands, and wiped his hands off on his pants. "Pipsqueak, how the Hell did you mess up? You aced this hunt. I'm definitely buying you an ice cream after this." he said, patting the top of my head with his dirty hands. "They're fighting about me, Dean." I told him, brushing off the top of my head. "Nonsense." he argued. We walked out the back door where Dean had piled the bodies to burn. "Sam said dad used me as bait." I said. Dean lit a matched, then stiffened. "Ana, listen." he started, as he threw the match on the pile, already soaked in lighter fluid. "Dad and Sam fight a lot lately. I know you've noticed. It has nothing to do with you. Sammy has just been moody lately. Probably on his period or something.". We watched the bodies burn. "What's his period?" I asked him. His eyes shot up in what seemed like panic. "Uh-... I'll tell you later." He disregarded. He didn't tell me later, but I looked it up on Sam's laptop when we got back from the hunt. Gross. Dad finally came to tell us it was time to go. He was clearly still mad, but didn't say anything else.

"Dad-..er-... Sir?" I corrected myself. "Yes, Ana?" he turned to look at me. The boys were already in the car. "I'm sorry." I told him. "For what, Ana?" he asked, cocking his head at me. "For making Sam mad at you. I'll try to do better next time. I'll be better bait.". He looked down at the ground and sighed. "That wasn't your fault, Ana. I promise. You did great, all things considered. Way better than your brothers at your age. Sam just wanted something to be mad about." I nodded. "Because he's on his period or something?" I asked. Dad's eyes went wide. "Get in the car, kid." he ordered. "Yes sir." I quipped.

When we were both in the car, dad leaned over and whacked Dean on the back of the head. "What'd I do?!" Dean exclaimed, grabbing the back of his head and rubbing it. Dad just glared at him and started the car.

~Anastasia Winchester.

#supernatural #jensen ackles #spn oc #spn fanfic #spnfandom #supernatural oc #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #dean winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester #john winchester #daughter winchester #winchester daughter #sister winchester #winchester sister

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anawinchester02 · 8 months

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March 24, 2000

Dad just gave me this journal for my 13th birthday. He said he bought it when I was born because keeping a journal really helped him after Mary died, and when I was born he thought I could use all the help I could get. He's not wrong, my life has been... different.

I think dad wants me to make this into a hunter's journal. For research and whatnot, but I have always liked writing and storytelling, so I think I'll do that here. I've never had anywhere else to do it. I'd like to write my story, whatever that ends up being.

I'm 13 today, and I am a hunter. I always have been, always will be. Dad raised me on the road with my two big brothers. Sam is 19 now, Dean is 23.

We're on our way now to Missouri for a vampire case. My first one. Dad usually leaves me with uncle Bobby on the more "dangerous" cases, but he says I'm ready now. He says I'm an adult now, so it's time for me to join in even the challenging cases. I'm excited, I've been waiting to finally be told I was ready. Vampires are smart, cunning, not like some of the things we hunt. I've been training my whole life for this. I hope I make dad proud.

#supernatural #jensen ackles #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn oc #spnfandom #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #sam and dean #spn cw #sister winchester #Supernatural oc #winchester daughter

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anawinchester02 · 8 months

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Brush Yourself Off; An Ana Winchester Story

First chapter of a Sister-Winchester story. Anastasia Winchester, youngest of three, and her life with her dad and brothers.

“Brush yourself off.”

That’s what dad always said. It started at the ripe age of four. Or at least, that’s when I became old enough to understand it. See, being a Winchester didn’t come with the hugs and kisses that normally came from a good dad. Not that my dad wasn’t a good one, he did the best that he could, all things considered. Truthfully, my brothers did most of the work raising me, with some help from uncle Bobby when dad was out of town.

I still remember the first encounter with something sinister. Something otherworldly. Something dad had been fighting for years. I remember the first wendigo I ever laid my eyes on. I was four. Dad told me to stay in the car like always. I tried to listen, I really did. Until I heard my brother, Dean, calling out for help. Dean was my best friend, not just my oldest brother. So naturally, as any logical four year old would, I threw open the car door and raced toward the call as quickly as my little legs could carry me. I was too late to save Dean from a gnarly gash on his leg, but not too late for the wendigo to spot me, and slash it’s nasty claws against my side, slamming me onto the ground and onto my back, screaming for help just like Dean.

Unsurprisingly, when dad finally made it to us and took care of the beast, he was not happy. I was fine, aside from the scrapes and bruises and a few wounds that probably should’ve been taken care of, but my ego was being quickly beaten down as dad yelled at Dean and I the whole ride back to the motel. “NEVER disobey me like that again.”, “that was a direct order.”, “you could have been killed!”, “how could you be so stupid?”, he screamed.

When he finally got bored of yelling, or just had nothing left to say, I turned to Sammy in the back seat, my hand still pressed firmly against my aching side, and quietly told him, “It hurts, Sammy…” Sam shushed me and wrapped an arm around me just before dad barked out, “Brush yourself off. You have to toughen up if you want to keep coming on the road with us. If I say you’re fine, you’re fine. Understand?”. “Yes sir.” I muttered sheepishly, tucking my head into Sammy’s arm.

It was one of the many times that I would be harshly told, “brush yourself off.”. I took it to heart. I became the perfect little soldier, just like Dean. I grew up sturdy, tough, and independant. I was Dean's little mini-me, dad's perfect little girl. Even when Sam went off to college, Dean and I stayed. I dropped out of school promptly after Sam left, and the three of us were the dream team.

I never asked for help, I never showed my pain. I lived by my dad's words, "brush yourself off.". He would say it after every hunt. Until he wasn't there.

Dean and I didn't start to worry until two weeks went by, and we still hadn't heard from him. Dean was quietly worried, I was more aggressive with my worry. I was more angry. How could the man who constantly told me to brush it off, not brush it off himself? He was my hero. How dare he disappear like that.

Dean and I were staying in different rooms the night I broke.

We rarely did, but I finally convinced Dean that as a teenage girl, I needed my own space sometimes, and as a Winchester, I would be fine on my own. In Dean's defense, he wasn't worried about me because he thought I couldn't handle myself, he was worried because he noticed how not okay I'd been since dad had left. He knew I was tough, but he raised me, he was the only one who was truly there for me through every scraped knee and werewolf scratch. Nothing got passed him when it came to me. I was his little girl. He noticed the way I responded to Sam leaving, he saw how it made me sloppier on hunts. Almost like I just stopped caring about what happened to me. He watched me shut down, but he knew I was too prideful to ever say anything.

That night was the night I just couldn't do it anymore. It had just been festering inside my head. Every victim I couldn't save, every friend I had lost. Every fight I had with dad where he said I would never amount to be as good as my brothers. Every little thing, every insult, every bruise, every monster, everytime I brushed myself off. I was sitting on my motel bed, just covered in dirt and blood from the hunt that evening, and I just couldn't bring myself to get up. This never happens to me. I'm always the strong one. That day, I felt about as helpless as I did as a little girl faced with a wendigo for the first time.

The clock on the wall just kept ticking, like it was taunting me for being so helpless. I had to do something. I felt paralyzed. I needed... help. But truthfully, I didn't even know if I was allowed to ask for help. I never had before.

With all the energy I could muster, I crept off the bed and to the door. It wasn't that late yet, and Dean hardly slept anyway, so I knew he'd still be up. If getting off the bed had been hard, lifting my hand to knock on his door was harder than fighting a goule.

He answered as quick as he always did, and his confused look on his face was the worst of everything, because I knew he would never expect this from me.

"You're a mess, kid." he said softly. I just stared at his feet, unsure of what to actually say. "Hey," he tried, "are you okay?" he asked, reaching a hand out nervously before withdrawing it, as if I would break at the touch. Holding back the same tear that had been threatening to fall for years, I managed to choke out the only thing I could think to say.

"I think I need you to brush me off..."

Just like that, everything the two of us had been taught to do went right out the window. Dean's hand finally made contact with my shoulder and he tentatively pulled me into the room and into his arms. He held the back of my head and tucked his chin onto the top of my head. I wanted to cry, but those pesky Winchester genes were still holding onto every unshed tear. So I just closed my eyes and tried to ground myself instead. "We'll get you cleaned up, kid, don't worry about a thing."

All I could do in response was let myself drop further into his arms, and he held up my weight without complaint, starting to walk me towards the motel bathroom.

"I'm so sorry..." I whispered, feeling the deepest guilt for not being as strong as my brothers yet again. "Not a thing to be sorry for, kiddo.", he answered, "we all break every once in a while." "You don't." I spat back as he lowered me onto the edge of the tub and turned the faucet on. "Oh I wish that was true, kid, but we all do, even dad." he answered again.

I just looked at him like he had two heads. "I'm not a kid, and you're lying.". He just chuckled and wet a rag to start rinsing dirt and grime off my arms. "Why are you being so nice? You should be mad at me." I asked, wincing just slightly as the rag went over some raw skin that I hadn't noticed before. "It's what I'm here for, you know that, sister. There's a reason you came to me. Obviously, you knew that you could." I didn't respond. I didn't even acknowledge that I heard him. He was right, but I didn't know how to admit it. He was always the one there, silently patching me and Sam up. He had been brushing me off for years, but neither of us were allowed to acknowledge it. He was nursing my fevers and helping me walk since before I could remember. It stayed quiet for some time. Dean didn't ask anything of me, he washed my hair, he got all the blood off of me, and even tried drying my hair with the shitty motel hairdryer. When I was all cleaned up, he grabbed one of his less worn shirts and helped me slip it on. Once I was finally sat on the bed, he sat next to me and sighed.

"Alright, kid." he started, before I cut him off. "I'm not a kid." I demanded. He chuckled again in a way that made me feel so small. "baby, you will always be a kid to me." he said, I huffed, and he continued quickly, "not because I don't respect and admire the incredible adult you're becoming, but because you will always be my kid sister for as long as I'm alive. Just like Sam will always be my kid brother, wherever he is. I raised you two."

At the mention of Sam I visibly stiffened, Dean blinked down at me.

"Oh, hey," he softened his voice, "Is that what's got you so upset?" he pried. "I really don't want to talk about Sam right now." He nodded. "I know.", and he didn't press it. "But I have a feeling you didn't come to me for help just because you were caked in blood. I've seen you looking a lot worse and a lot happier." I wasn't sure how to answer him. He was right again, I was usually so much stronger than this. "I don't know what's wrong with me." I finally chirped out. "There's a lot wrong with us, kid. That's what makes us Winchesters." I just barely cracked a smile. "I know, that's the problem, De. I'm not good enough to hold that name." He cocked his head and put an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side. "I know you won't believe me, but you are more of a Winchester than any of us combined. You are strong, and you have put up with so much for so long." I just lowered my head and stayed quiet. "Hey," he shook my shoulder, "what's going on inside that head of yours?" "I don't know.". I didn't know. He just nodded. "That's okay, we'll figure it out.", and it fell into silence again.

"How do you do it, De?" I finally piped up. "Do what?" "Brush yourself off." He tightened his grip on my shoulder. "Same way you always do," "Don't lie to me again, Dean. How do you KEEP doing it." He sighed. "I had no other choice, kid." he answered bluntly. I didn't answer, hoping he would continue. "Someone had to be there for you and Sammy." he continued. "And what about you?" I asked, guilt settling in the pit of my stomach. He smiled down at me. "You were there for me too, pipsqueak. If I didn't have you, I would have broken a long ass time ago. That's why I gotta keep your annoying ass around." I cracked a smile. "There she is," he quipped at the sight of my smile. "Is that why you can't sleep when we don't share a room?" I asked him. "Hey! Share a back seat with someone long enough and unfortunately you get used to their presence!" he smiled back at me, defensively. "You never shared the back seat with me!" I argued, "It was always Sam and I in the back!" "You clearly have some memory loss, kid. Must've gotten knocked in the head one too many times." he joked. "Bullshit!" I scolded and smacked his shoulder. "You always sit up front with dad!" "And you're always wrong!" he fought back, "when you were little you used to refuse to sleep next to anyone else! You would cry until I would crawl into the backseat with you. Even dad couldn't get you to bed without me." I didn't want to believe him, but I had to admit that it made sense. I always had trouble when dad and Dean went out on hunts together and I stayed with Bobby. Even now that I fought for my own room, I never really slept when I couldn't hear Dean on the other side of the wall cleaning his guns. "Well that wasn't my decision, I was a baby, it doesn't count." "You're still a baby." he shot back. "Am not!" he nudged my shoulder and I nudged him back. "How you feeling?" he asked suddenly. I shrugged. "I don't know.", I said again. "Are you gonna be okay?" he asked. I was quiet. "I don't know." I said once more. "Do you need anything from me?" I was about to say no, but he interrupted. "Don't give me the Winchester answer. Give me the baby sister answer, please. I don't need you hiding from me the way Sam always did." "I said I didn't want to talk about Sam." I said harshly. "I know.. sorry. Is there anything you need from me?" He repeated. I had to take a second to think. I never really knew what I needed. The hunter side of my brain knew that I wasn't allowed to think of my owns needs, only the needs of the civilians. "I'm tired.". It was all I could think to say. "and I'm worried about dad." I added. "Don't worry about dad, he's always okay." "I know." I said. "I-..." I paused to take in a deep breath, not sure if I was allowed to say this. This whole feelings thing was new to me. "I miss dad." I blurted out.

This was such uncharted territory for me and I half expected to get smacked in the back of the head by dad just for saying it. That's when it all suddenly dawned on me. I've been with dad for so long, that he had taken away the one thing from me that made me human. I was afraid to feel. The tears welled up in my eyes before I could register what was happening. I wiped desperately at my eyes, hoping I could somehow hide it from Dean.

"Hey hey hey!" he cooed, as if I was truly a baby again. "You're okay!" he stressed as all Hell broke loose in my emotions. "I know, I know, you're okay, I've got you." he pulled me in closer and tried to help me wipe away my tears.

I was panicking. This had never happened to me before, and if Dean was being completely honest, he was panicking too. He couldn't remember the last time I cried. Even when I was badly hurt on hunts I hardly let a tear fall.

"I-.." he started. "I miss him too." he lied. He truthfully couldn't say that he missed him, more like he was scared. Scared of what could possibly keep dad from contacting us both. He never went more than a week without reaching out somehow. All Dean knew was that he had to take care of you. He had to take care of dad's little girl. That was always his job, before anything else.

"No!" I shouted through broken sobs. I shoved Dean away and stood from the bed, backing away quickly. Dean raised his hands in a surrendering motion and stood up. "This isn't right!" I screamed. "I don't know why I feel this way! I should feel happy he's gone! I should feel RELIEF! Why do I miss him?! He's the reason I'm like this! He's the reason I'm broken! He broke me!". I was an absolute mess. Dean never saw me like this, not once, and he was scared.

"I know, I know, kid. Please. Come here." He took a slow short step toward me, "Please. We can figure this out together. You don't have to be scared. He's not here, he can't hurt you or get mad at you. It's just you and me, kid.". He spoke to me like I could break at any moment. Like I was made of glass. I felt like I was. "Dean I-..." I didn't know what I needed. "I'm..." I tried to breathe through a sob. "I'm tired." I finally choked out pathetically, defeated.

He looked at me like I was breaking his heart. He took another step toward me and opened his arms slightly. "C'mon then, kid. Let me brush you off, please."

I all but collapsed in his arms again, my sobs now falling into his chest. "I miss him..." I choked out one more time. "I know. We'll find him." "No-..." I connected, "Not dad..."

Dean took a breath and shut his eyes, tilting his chin up off my head for just a moment. "I know." he whispered. "I miss him too." I tried to catch my breath. "I don't understand how he could leave us... He knows how dad is. He left us here with him." Every word out of my mouth shocked me to my core. Never in my life had I said a single word against my father. Dean didn't know how to answer me this time. He had his own trauma with dad, and even though I was breaking, he never could. Dad was still a saint in his eyes, but he also couldn't argue with me. Not when I was so broken up. "You wouldn't have left even if he had tried to take you with him." I nodded and cried. "Then he should have stayed..." I explained. Dean brushed a piece of hair behind my ear. "I can't speak for Sam, pipsqueak. But I can promise you that I will never leave you. Under absolutely no circumstances are you ever getting rid of me." he pulled my head up at the end of his sentence and looked in my eyes. I just nodded and tried to hold more tears at bay. "Do you hear me, kid?" he asked. "I hear you, De." "Good. And you better not ever forget it." he kissed my forehead and then held my head to his chest again. I soaked in the scent of motor oil and gunpowder and tried to find my breath again.

"Hey kid?" Dean asked. "Yeah?" "Since-.." he paused. "Since when do you call me 'De' again? You haven't called me that since you were a kid."

I froze. I hadn't even registered that I had said it. "Well..." I tried to think up an excuse to not seem vulnerable. "I'll... I'll always be a kid to you, right? You just said that." He smiled over me. "Yeah. Yeah, kid, you're right." He held me a little tighter. "Hey Dean?" I asked. "Yeah, kid?" he sounded so soft. "Can I stay with you tonight?" I asked shyly. He shifted slightly. "After all that fuss about having your own room?" he teased. "Please?" I looked up at him with red rimmed eyes and for just a moment he could've sworn I was four again in the back of the impala. "Yeah, yeah of course you can, pipsqueak. Anytime you need to." He let go of me and I climbed into the bed. He sat atop the covers near me and turned on the shitty motel TV. Scooby-doo was playing, and I finally felt at home.

"Dean?" I asked much later, and my eyes began to get heavy. "Yeah?" he responded, still very much wide awake. "Are we gonna find dad?" I asked. "Yeah, baby, we are." he told me, confident. I paused. "And what if he's not okay?" I continued. "We'll do what he taught us to do." he said firmly, taking his eyes away from the TV and looking at me finally. I looked at him confused.

"We'll brushed him off too."

#winchester #spn #supernatural #supernatural fandom #fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural original story #ana winchester #anastasia winchester #dean winchester #sister winchester #daughter winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #SPN fanfic #SPN OC

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