#Dream Warriors | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fanfictionalraven · 21 hours

Text

Dream Warriors Chapter 4

Title: Dream Warriors Chapter 4

Summary: Sam and the reader discuss her dreams. Dean and the reader make some progress on the case and their relationship.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, other original characters

Word Count: 3,700

Warnings: Mentions of miscarriage, angst

Read Chapter 3 here.

You and Sam both continue to stare at your perfectly healed hands. All traces of the burns were now gone. You look up at Sam, tears stinging your eyes.

“You saw that, right?? I’m not going crazy. You saw that too,” you practically beg. He nods his head slowly, trying to process what he’d just witnessed.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” He asks. You shake your head quickly, looking back at your hands.

“I wish I knew,” you mumble. You flex your hands slowly, wiggling your fingers as well. “I’ve been having these dreams. We thought it was just stress from the miscarriage and due date but now…”

“Dreams?” Sam asks, watching you closely. You look up at him and nod.

“It’s all so normal. No monsters. Our families are alive. Dean and I are very clearly in love but I married someone else who’s been cheating on me. You finished school and you’re getting married to Jessica,” you tell him. He frowns a little more and nods. “When I’m there, when I’m in the dreams, all of this is just a dream. A dream I hardly pay attention to. And it all feels real, holding my daughter feels real.”

“The burns?” He asks, cutting his eyes to your hands.

“I went to get a pie from the oven in a rush and forgot potholders,” you explain. He nods again then shrugs his shoulders.

“Okay, ugh…normally, I’d agree that it’s just your subconscious but…” He trails off and you nod. “What are you thinking? A spell? A djinn maybe?” He asks as he makes his way back to his laptop. You frown, pulling your knees into your chest.

“I don’t know what to think, Sam,” you tell him. He nods and starts to type on his computer. You sit in silence for a moment before looking around. “Where’s Dean?”

“Went to talk to the sheriff again,” he says, picking up John’s journal. You roll your eyes, throwing the blankets off of yourself.

“The sheriff isn’t going to talk to him. Why didn’t he wake me?” You ask as you move to your bag. You open it to find that Dean had taken your fed clothes last night and put them away neatly.

“He wanted to let you sleep as much as possible. You really scared him last night,” he says. You stop what you’re doing and look at him, confused. “When you heard that baby crying?”

“That was Ella,” you say. He raises an eyebrow in question and you sigh, looking back into your bag. “My daughter. I mean – the baby in my dreams.” Sam frowns as he watches you.

“Y/N, she isn’t real,” he reminds you. Rolling your eyes, you rise to your feet, clothes in hand.

“I told you, Sam. When I’m in the dreams, she’s the realest thing in the world. I’d give my life for her in a heartbeat,” you tell him. He nods slightly.

“Well try not to do that. Minor injuries may heal but dying?” He asks. You frown and nod, turning for the bathroom. “Want me to call Dean?”

“I’m not gonna tell him,” you inform Sam before closing the door behind you. You hear his chair scrape the floor before he approaches the door.

“What do you mean you aren’t telling him?” He asks. Sighing, you begin to change clothes.

“He’s already worried about me enough. I’m not giving him more reason to,” you call through the door to him.

“Y/N, something is hurting you in your dreams. That’s not something you should hide from him,” he says. You finish buttoning up your shirt and pull the door open again.

“Please. We can figure this out. Me and you,” you plead with him. He shakes his head slightly, conflicted.

“Nothing good ever comes from any of us keeping secrets, Y/N. You tell us that all the time,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. You reach out and place your hands on his arms gently.

“Sam, I’m begging you. Just…one day. Let’s see what we can find in one day and if we don’t get anything or if things get worse tonight, then I’ll tell him,” you say. You bite your lip, waiting for his response. A car door closes from just outside the room and your pleading look turns to panic. “Sam, please.”

“Okay. Fine. One day,” he relents, turning back towards his table in the corner. You let out a sigh as the door to the room opens and Dean steps in. He’s got three cups of coffee and a white bag in his hands. He smiles widely when he sees you.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty finally woke up,” he teases, setting the breakfast he’d picked up down on the table. Sam takes one of the coffees and looks into the bag.

“Find anything out?” He asks, pulling a glazed donut from the bag. Dean picks up the other two cups and starts towards you.

“Well, they finally got an ID on one of the victims. Monica Lester. Married. From a town about an hour east of here,” he informs you both. He holds one of the cups out to you and you smile a little, taking it. You thank him and he winks at you before sitting on the edge of the bed. “Sheriff Anderson has so graciously agreed to let me do the notification.”

“I’ll go with you,” you tell him before taking a drink from the coffee. He frowns at you and shakes his head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. The man just lost the woman he loved and their unborn baby, Y/N,” he says. You sigh and nod, walking over to the table.

“And if anyone can understand at least part of that, it’s us,” you tell him as you reach into the bag yourself.

“Yea, just part of it, sure,” Dean mumbles, rising to his feet. You look at him quickly.

“What?” You ask. He smiles a little and shakes his head, walking over as well.

“Sammy, you good to stay back and keep digging?” He asks. Sam glances between the two of you before nodding.

“Yea, I’m fine,” he says. You give him a pointed look and he nods his head once. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

The two of you load into the front seat of the Impala and begin the hour-long drive to the first victim’s house. The ride is quiet, neither of you saying much at all. The invisible wall between you, that you had just started to believe could be torn down, now seemed to be reinforced and even bigger somehow. Dean parks the car on the curb in front of the house and the two of you look over at it.

“You sure about this?” Dean asks. You look over at him.

“Oh, now you’re talking to me again?” You ask. He stares at you for a moment, seemingly stunned. “Yes, I’m sure. Come on.” Pushing the door open a bit too violently, you climb out of the car and slam the door. Dean gets out quickly and rushes around.

“I don’t know why you’re mad at me, but you don’t have to take it out on the car,” he says, fixing his tie. You stop in your tracks halfway across the yard. Dean gets only a few steps ahead of you before stopping and looking back.

“I just wish you’d talk to me,” you tell him. He shakes his head, taking a step towards you.

“Talk to you? Y/N, I try to talk to you all the time. You shut me down,” he huffs, exasperation clear on his face. You stare at him before walking to the front door quickly. “See??”

“We’re on a job, Dean,” you insist, reaching for the doorbell. He grabs your hand before you can make contact with the button, holding on to you tight.

“Y/N,” he pleads. You pull your hand away from his and press the button, hearing the bell ring inside. Footsteps quickly approach the door and Dean straightens up, reaching into his coat pocket as you do the same. The door opens and a man, around the same age as you and Dean, looks between you.

“Chris Lester?” Dean asks. The man nods, panic quickly spreading across his face. “We’re with the FBI. Agents Wayne and Prince. Could we speak with you?”

“Oh God,” he prays, voice trembling. You reach out and place a comforting hand on his arm.

“We should sit down,” you tell him. He nods his head slightly before turning to lead the way. You two follow and Dean pushes the door closed, glancing around the house. Mr. Lester leads the two of you into what seems to be the living room of the house. He sits on the edge of an arm chair as you and Dean take seats on the couch. The man leans forward and wrings his hands nervously.

“Is this about Monica?” He asks. You glance at Dean and he sighs, looking down at his own hands.

“Mr. Lester, we’re sorry to have to inform you but…your wife’s body was found three days ago about an hour from here,” Dean tells him.

Chris’ face falls slowly as each word is processed. You can see the moment his heart breaks in his eyes. He slumps forward with a wail and Dean quickly reaches out, catching him. You allow Mr. Lester a few minutes with his grief before Dean speaks to him again.

“I know it’s hard but we need you to answer a few questions so we can catch whoever did this.” Chris nods and slowly moves himself back into the chair. Dean sits back on the couch and straightens his jacket.

“Can we get you anything?” You ask. Chris shakes his head and wipes at his cheeks.

“No. You, ummm, you have questions?” He asks, voice still thick with tears. You nod and look at Dean.

“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your wife?” He questions. Chris shakes his head, looking at his hands.

“No one. Monica is…” He stops and swallows back more tears. “She was an amazing woman. Everyone loved her. What happened?” You frown and shake your head.

“We’ll spare you the details for now but it doesn’t appear that she suffered,” you tell him. He nods slightly, running his hands over his face.

“Why would someone do this?” He asks, starting to lose it again. Dean reaches out, placing a comforting hand on Chris’ shoulder.

“It’s not going to make sense. No matter what we find out. Believe me. I know how you feel,” he tells him. Chris looks up at him and you bite your lip, looking down at your hands. “About three months ago, my girlfriend went to the store. Broad daylight in a crowded parking lot, a man stabbed her. She was six months pregnant. I lost them both that day.” You look at Dean quickly, fighting back tears. Chris shakes his head slightly. Before you can say anything, the sound of little feet running causes you all to sit up straight.

“Daddy.” A little girl, about four or five, runs into the room. “Who are you?” She asks, looking between you and Dean. Chris wipes at his eyes before forcing a smile.

“They’re friends,” he tells her. You put on your best smile before rising and walking over to her.

“My name’s Y/N. What’s yours?” You ask, kneeling down in front of her. She smiles back at you widely.

“Claire,” she says. Your smile widens a little.

“I have a friend named Claire,” you tell her. “Could you show me your room?” She nods quickly and takes your hand, pulling on it. She leads you up the stairs and into an adorably decorated princess bedroom where she immediately runs over to her dollhouse.

You take a seat at a little tea table in the corner where you spend the next several minutes being introduced to a number of dolls. This is immediately followed by a Barbie fashion show, Claire showing off all of her outfits. While you smile and laugh at the young girl, you can’t help but think back to what Dean had said. I lost them both that day. It felt like the final nail in the coffin that now held your relationship.

After a few minutes, a gentle knock at the door draws your attention. It opens and Chris steps into the room, a sad smile on his face. He tells you that Dean is outside and you say goodbye to Claire before going downstairs. Stepping out onto the porch, you find Dean in the yard on his phone, presumably with Sam.

“Yea, sounds good. We’ll see you later,” he says before hanging up. He drops his phone back into his coat pocket. “He’s got the names of the other two victims. They’re from the same town the opposite direction so he’s gonna go see their families.” You nod slightly and cross your arms, looking down. “Y/N…”

“I’m not dead, you know,” you cut him off. He scoffs a laugh causing you to look up.

“Yea, I know. Do you?” He asks. You stare at him, stunned. “I tried talking to you in the car and you were practically catatonic. You’re mourning. I get that. I am too. But I’m not the one doing the pushing.” You shake your head slightly.

“I’m not…”

“You are! You flinch away from my touch. You barely speak to me. I want to hold you again. I want to kiss you again. I want to make love to you again. And if you aren’t ready for that yet, that’s fine. I get that. But…tell me what I need to do to fix this,” he pleads. You shake your head again, fighting back a sob, and move to walk past him. He reaches out, catching your elbow. “Y/N, talk to me!” You spin to face him, jerking your arm from his grasp.

“Get mad!!” You snap at him, shoving at his chest. He stumbles a step back. “You never got mad!!”

“I’m mad as hell. If you’d seen what I did to that demon when I found him…” He trails off and you wipe at your eyes quickly.

“Not at the demon, Dean!! Get mad at me!! Blame me!! It was my fault!!” You scream at him through your sobs. He stares at you, wide eyed, and shakes his head. “It was. I was her mother and I should have protected her better.”

“Sweetheart, I could never blame you for that. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me,” he says, reaching out for you.

“No, you’re not!! You weren’t even there!!” You insist as he gently takes your arms in his hands.

“Exactly. If I hadn’t been out on a hunt, if I had been home with you, I could have stopped him and we’d have our baby right now,” he says. You shake your head as you stare at him, bewildered.

“That’s ridiculous. We agreed you’d continue to hunt,” you tell him. He nods slightly, slowly pulling you closer to him.

“What’s even more ridiculous is you thinking I could or should blame you. From the day you found out you were pregnant, you were in full mom-mode. And it was the greatest thing I’d ever seen. You stopped hunting, stopped drinking, stopped eating junk. You were already an amazing mom and she wasn’t even here yet,” he says, his voice soft and calming. His arms hesitantly and slowly wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Your firsts clench at the lapels of his jacket, as though you’re clinging on for dear life. “Let me fix it,” he pleads. A sob breaks through as you bury your face in his chest. Dean’s chin comes to rest on top of your head as he holds you close, rubbing circles into your back.

The two of you stand in that same spot, clinging on to one another, for what feels like forever. Your sobs eventually begin to subside and Dean’s arms loosen enough for you to look up at him. His lips brush your forehead and you feel yourself smile.

“Sam’s out for a little while. What do you say we go back to the room and talk some more?” He asks, looking down at you. You nod, wiping at your cheek.

“I like the sound of that,” you tell him. He smiles a little and leaves one arm around your waist as he pulls you to the waiting Impala. He opens the door for you and you slide in all the way to the middle.

After closing the door, Dean goes around and slips into the driver’s seat. He looks at you and smiles widely as you wrap your arms around his, laying your head on his shoulder. His hands come to rest on your knee, his thumb rubbing back and forth slowly as he sets out for the motel again.

The ride back is quiet again but a different, comfortable silence. You stay tucked into Dean’s side, holding on tight to his arm as he drives. Occasionally, he turns and places a kiss on top of your head. Each time, you respond with a kiss to his shoulder. For the first time in a long time, things actually begin to feel right again.

Back at the motel, you take a seat on the edge of the bed you’re sharing and watch as he makes his way around the room. He removes his suit jacket and lays it across the back of a chair before starting to loosen his tie. You smile as you watch the muscles in his shoulders through the tight dress shirt he’s wearing. You’re on your feet before you have a chance to second guess yourself. Slowly, you wrap your arms around him from behind. He tenses up for only a split second before relaxing in your arms. Standing on your toes, you press a kiss against his shoulder blade.

“I love you,” you whisper into the fabric of his shirt. His fingers ghost over your arms before he turns to face you. You pull your arms in between the two of you now, your hands resting on his firm chest. He caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers before quickly closing the distance between you. Your lips move together in unison as he grips at your hips, pulling you impossibly closer.

************************************************************************

Later in the afternoon, you’re lying on top of Dean, your arms crossed over his bare chest as you watch him. He smiles at you sleepily and you can’t help but laugh.

“Wear you out?” You ask. He shakes his head, his hands running over your exposed back slowly.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says. You smile as you watch him for a moment. He reaches up and pushes your hair behind your ear gently.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away,” you apologize. He smiles a little and shakes his head.

“We’re gonna be okay, Sweetheart,” he assures you. You nod slightly before stretching up and catching his lips with yours once more. He smiles in the kiss and threads his fingers into your hair.

The door opens suddenly and you pull away from Dean with squeak as Sam comes into the room.

“Hey – come on, guys!!” He says, turning his back quickly. Dean smirks at you as you scramble to pull the sheet across your chest. “I asked if you wanted a separate room for a reason.”

“Calm down, Sammy. What ya got?” Dean asks, pushing himself up in the bed. Sam glances over his shoulder slowly to make sure you’re covered before turning to face the two of you again.

“I’ve got a pretty solid lead on the Manananggal,” he says, handing Dean a brochure. You look over his shoulder at it and frown.

“That’s just a Lamaze class, Sam,” you tell him. Dean nods slightly, opening the pamphlet.

“Yea, Y/N and I were looking into some,” he says. Sam nods quickly.

“Exactly. What better place for a monster to find pregnant women than a class for pregnant women? I checked and all the victims attended this class at least once,” he says. Dean hands the pamphlet back to him then leans over the side of the bed, picking his previously discarded jeans up.

“Worth a shot. You coming?” He asks, looking at you as he pulls them back on. You bite your lip before shaking your head.

“I don’t think that would be a good place for me right now,” you tell him. Relief washes over him before he rises from the bed and rushes to the bathroom. You watch him go before looking at Sam. “Did you find anything?” You ask him quietly. He shakes his head, frowning.

“Nothing yet,” he tells you. You frown as well and nod, looking down at your hands. The memories of the burns come back to you. “If you go to sleep, just be careful, okay?”

“Yea,” you say, nodding slightly. Dean comes back out of the bathroom a few minutes later, fully dressed in his usual plaid and jacket combo. He smiles at you before giving you a quick kiss.

“We’ll be back. Get some rest,” he says. You smile your best and nod.

“Just be careful,” you tell him. He kisses you one more time before following Sam out the door and to the car. You fall back onto the mattress with a heavy sigh and run your hands over your face before pulling the blankets up around yourself. Your hands slips down to your stomach and you feel the scar. You know it’s real. The pain and grief. The love you have for Dean. It’s all real.

“This is real,” you repeat to yourself over and over, a steady mantra as you drift off to sleep in the late evening.

“This is real,” you mumble as your eyes open to the darkness of the very early morning. Your hand still on your stomach, you feel the smooth skin before sitting up and looking around Dean’s bedroom. “This is real,” you tell yourself, looking at the bandages on your hands.

***

Forever Tags: @roseblue373

Jensen Tags: @lostin-jensenseyes

Dream Warriors: @aylacavebear @winharry @djs8891 @suckitands33 @rickgrimeswifeu @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @foxyjwls007 @cutiesarah @urinternetmom @justrealizedimmascifygurl @kr804573 @thej2report @just-levyy @snowayumi @alisyacsa

#fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #reader insert #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dream warriors

34 notes · View notes

fanfictionalraven · 15 days

Text

Dream Warriors Chapter 2

Title: Dream Warriors Chapter 2

Summary: Dean suggests a possible explanation for the reader’s dream. The couple and Sam head out on a potential case.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, other original characters

Word Count: 3,992

Warnings: Angst, mentions of a miscarriage, canon typical gore

Author’s Note: If miscarriages are triggering, I would proceed with caution.

Read Chapter 1 here.

“So, let me get this straight,” Dean starts, pouring a cup of coffee. He’d just gotten you calmed down enough to move to the kitchen of the bunker. While you’d filled him in on the dream you’d had, he fixed a pot of coffee. He brings two mugs over, setting one in front of you, before sitting across from you at the table. “No monsters. Our families were alive. You were married to some douche of a professor. Had a baby girl with said douche. We were just friends. And you’d just found out that your husband was cheating on you?” You nod before taking a long drink from the mug. Setting it back down, you sigh.

“It felt so real though. And I believed this, my life, was a dream,” you tell him, staring at the mug in your hands. Dean reaches over, his hands wrapping around your own. You’re fighting not to lose control as the memories of the dream rush back to you. “My family was alive, Dean. I – I got to hug them again. And – and my brother was married and they had a son.” Dean squeezes your hands as the tears overwhelm you again. “And Ella…”

“The baby,” he says softly. You nod, another sob escaping you.

“She was so beautiful, Dean. So beautiful and perfect,” you cry. He gets up from his chair and makes his way around the table quickly, pulling you into his arms as you break down.

“Of course she was,” he whispers, kissing your hair. You continue to cry into his shoulder for a few minutes before finally calming down a little. You look up at him, a few tears still falling. He smiles softly as he wipes at your cheeks gently.

“She called you Bean. And she had your eyes,” you tell him. He raises an eyebrow at you and you shake your head. “Well, not your eyes. They couldn’t have been. They were green like yours though.” He nods then runs his fingers into your hair.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we know what caused this,” he says. You look at him, curiously. “You know what today is, right?” He asks. You shake your head slightly as you try to recall the date. Early May maybe. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Oh,” you breathe. Dean nods again.

“Today was your due date,” he says. The tears well up again quickly. Dean sighs and wraps his arms around you once more. He kisses your hair as he rubs your back soothingly. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’m so sorry.” You shake your head, pulling away from him.

“Don’t. Stop,” you tell him, wiping at your eyes. He frowns as he watches you.

“Maybe – maybe you should see someone,” he says. You stare at him for a moment.

“What? Like a shrink?” You ask, disbelieving. He shrugs slightly. “And tell them what, Dean? ‘Three months ago, a demon attacked me, and I miscarried our baby. I’ve sorta had a hard time dealing with it.’ No.”

“Y/N,” Dean starts but you cut him off with a sharp look.

“No,” you repeat. He runs his hands over his face in exasperation as Sam comes into the kitchen now, his open laptop in his hands.

“Hey, guys,” he says before stopping in the door, sensing the tension in the room. “Everything okay?” He asks. You look at him and nod as Dean rises to his feet.

“What ya got, Sam?” You ask. He glances at Dean before speaking again.

“Ummm – potential vamp case about 6 hours from here,” he says. You nod and stand from your chair. Dean looks at you and frowns.

“Are you sure you’re ready to get back out there?” He asks. You look at him and roll your eyes.

“I’m fine, Dean. Ready to kill something,” you tell him, heading for the hall quickly. You hadn’t been on a hunt since you’d found out you were pregnant about 8 months ago, staying back at the bunker and doing research when the guys called. You might be a little rusty but the last thing you wanted to do was sit around the bunker and think about that dream.

You knew Dean was right. Your subconscious had created an alternate reality as a way to escape the inevitable pain of today. You and Dean shouldn’t be at the bunker right now. You were supposed to be in the hospital, giving birth to a beautiful baby girl. One who, you were certain, would have looked just like little Ella from your dream. The two of you had been nervous, of course, about bringing a baby into this life but Dean was determined you could make it work. And you had for a while.

You had gone out for a simple grocery run to the local market. The bunker was running dangerously low on the necessary essentials; coffee, pie, pickles. Broad daylight in a crowded parking lot, a man sunk a knife into your pregnant belly. His eyes flashed black as they met yours before he ran away, other shoppers rushing to your aid. An ambulance was called and you were taken to the hospital but it had been too late…

“Y/N,” Dean’s voice cuts through the memories. You blink back tears as you look over at him. He sighs and makes his way across the room to where you’re standing. Shaking your head quickly, you walk over to the closet, avoiding him.

“Which suit do you want to take? The black one or the blue one?” You ask, flipping between the two. His hands come to rest on your shoulders and you immediately tense up.

“You don’t have to go,” he says. You swallow thickly and nod, turning to face him now.

“I need to go, Dean. I can’t stay here by myself. Not today,” you tell him, your eyes landing on the door to the room across the hall. He follows your gaze and frowns before nodding.

“Okay. But – will you at least stay in the room? You haven’t been out in a while and I – I can’t risk losing you too,” he says, his voice quiet. His pleading eyes meet yours and you nod your head once in response. He lets out a breath before stepping away from you. “The blue one’s fine.”

Five and a half hours later, Dean pulls the Impala into the parking lot of a motel. It was a typical stay for the three of you; not too shabby but definitely not five stars either. Sam climbs out of the backseat to go into the office. He leans down to your open window and looks in at the two of you.

“Two rooms?” He asks. You hold back a frown as you look at your hands in your lap.

“Just the one,” Dean tells him. The younger brother glances between the two of you before rising to his full height and making his way to the office door.

Before the accident, you and Dean always had your own room. It wasn’t long after the two of you had gotten together that Sam made the suggestion. You and Dean were very much in love and expressed that love regularly (and loudly according to Sam). It was really no surprise when you’d ended up pregnant. But ever since you’d lost the baby, Dean had barely touched you. Kisses were few and far between. You fell asleep facing opposite walls. He didn’t even look at you the same anymore. And you couldn’t blame him.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice breaks through your thoughts. His hand reaches across the front seat of the car and clasps one of yours. You pull it away almost immediately.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, reflexively.

“You’re crying,” he says, his voice concerned. You shake your head and wipe at the stray tear quickly.

“I’m fine, Dean. Sam’s done,” you say, pointing to the other Winchester as he starts back to the car. You slip out before Dean can say anything else and Sam tosses the room key to you.

“Fifteen,” he says. The two brothers get the bags from the trunk of the car as you unlock the door to the room. You step inside and take a quick inventory. It was nearly identical to the hundreds you’d stayed in before. Nothing remarkable. Sam and Dean come in behind you and Dean deposits both of your bags onto the far bed.

“Hit the morgue first,” Dean says, mostly to himself, as he pulls his fed suit from his bag. You glance at Sam as he does the same before making your way across the room to your own bag. You quickly pull out the black pencil skirt and white button-up shirt you always took on hunts and turn for the bathroom. “What do you think you’re doing?” Dean asks, not looking up from his bag.

“I’m getting ready to go to the morgue,” you tell him casually. He sighs and you watch his hands clench into fists.

“We agreed you’d stay in the room, remember?” He asks. You glance at Sam before taking a step towards Dean.

“It’s just the coroner’s office,” you tell him, your voice soft and almost pleading. He looks up and you can see that he’s torn. Sam clears his throat from the other side of the room.

“You two go. I’ll see what I can dig up on the town,” he suggests. Dean shakes his head slightly and Sam laughs. “You know you can’t stop her.” You watch as something crosses Dean’s face briefly and for a moment you think he might lock you in the bathroom.

“99% of the time, nothing ever even happens at the coroner’s office, Dean,” you say. He lets out a small, sarcastic laugh and nods.

“It’s that 1% I’m worried about,” he says before sighing. He reaches into his bag and pulls a familiar fold of leather before tossing it to you. You catch it and raise an eyebrow at him. Unfolding the leather, you find the fake FBI badge of your favorite alias. “I know you better than you think I do,” Dean says, still riffling through his bag. A wide smile spreads across your face before you take the few steps towards Dean. You place a hesitant kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” you tell him. His eyes meet yours and he smiles a small smile. Not long ago, you both would have taken the opportunity to steal a kiss, a quick nonverbal reminder of your love. Instead, you turn quickly, moving into the bathroom to get ready.

Within an hour, you and Dean are pulling up in front of the small police station. He parks the car outside and the two of you make your way to the door. You’re met by the stereotypical small-town sheriff, a rather large man, close to his retirement for sure. He looks the two of you over briefly.

“Feds?” He asks, crossing his arms. Simultaneously, you and Dean pull your badges from your pockets and flash them.

“I’m Agent Wayne. This is my partner, Agent Prince,” Dean introduces, gesturing towards you. The sheriff nods his head once in acknowledgment.

“Sheriff Donald Anderson. You lost?” He asks. Dean lets out a laugh and runs a hand over his jaw. You glance at him before smiling at Sheriff Anderson.

“We heard you had a few strange cases pop-up. Just wanted to see if we could help out any,” you interject, your voice sweet. Dean tenses up next to you, but you ignore him, continuing to smile at the sheriff as his eyes roam over you once more.

“Well…” He pauses, considering. “A few fresh eyes probably wouldn’t hurt.”

“Could we see the bodies?” You ask. He nods and offers to show you the way. Dean rolls his eyes once the old man turns his back and looks down at you. You smirk at him as you take a step to follow Anderson. “I don’t wear this skirt cause it’s comfortable, ya know,” you tell him in a hushed tone. His eyes run down your exposed legs and he smiles before following you.

Sheriff Anderson leads the two of you down to the basement while filling you in on the details of the case, most of which you already knew from reading the reports. Three dead Jane Doe’s all killed in the same fashion, throats slit and blood drained.

Stepping into the cooler room, you immediately notice a covered female body lying on the table. A young woman, petite and blond with striking green and blue streaks in her hair, is sitting at the desk in the corner.

“Kaylee, this is Agent Prince, and ugh…Agent…” Anderson trails off, looking at Dean.

“Wayne,” Dean tells him, forcing a smile. The sheriff nods and looks back over at the medical examiner.

“Right, right. Wayne. FBI. They’re here to look into the Jane Doe cases,” he tells her. The woman nods and begins to shuffle through some papers on her desk. Sheriff Anderson excuses himself as you and Dean make your way towards the table. Kaylee rises from her desk and comes over, three files in her hands. She hands them over to you and you set two aside, opening the first. Dean looks at Kaylee, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“No I.D.’s yet?” He asks. She shakes her head, pushing her hair back from her face.

“The investigators are looking into missing persons in the local towns but nothing’s turned up,” she tells him. You read over the description of wounds. No defensive marks. Single slice to the throat. Circular incision (?) in the abdomen.

“What’s this?” You ask, pointing the incision comment out to her. She nods and reaches for the sheet, pulling it back. You frown as you take in the poor women’s neck before looking at her stomach. Just above her navel is a perfectly circular hole.

“All three have them,” she tells you both. You look at Dean and he merely shrugs, pulling his phone out to send a picture to Sam. You turn your attention back to the file and skim the rest of it quickly. Three words catch your attention. Fetus heart missing. The file nearly slips from your hand. Dean looks over at your sharp intake of breath.

“What?” He asks. You set the file down with the other three slowly, your hands trembling.

“She was pregnant?” You ask Kaylee. The coroner nods, a sad look in her eyes.

“They all were. And all three of the fetus’ hearts were missing. The police kept that from the newspaper. Thought it was a little too gruesome,” she explains. Dean holds an arm out, reaching to steady you as you take a step backwards.

“I – I’m gonna go call Sam,” you tell Dean, turning for the door quickly. “Get whatever else we need.” You push your way through the door and start up the stairs to the main floor of the building. Stopping about halfway up, you sit down. You squeeze your eyes closed and take a few deep breaths, trying to keep the walls from closing in on you. Your ears start to ring and it isn’t long before you’re sobbing for the second time that day.

A moment later, the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs draws your attention. Through teary eyes, you can just make out Dean’s form as he takes a seat on the stairs next to you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close into his side. Your head comes to rest on his shoulder and he presses a kiss to your hair.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. If I had known, I wouldn’t have let you come,” he says, his voice soft and comforting. You shake your head slightly, unable to form any coherent words at the moment. “You wanna go back home?” Sitting up quickly to look at him, you shake your head again. He smiles gently and reaches up, wiping at your cheeks. “I can take you home then come back and help Sam finish the case up.” You swallow thickly and take a shaky breath.

“No. I – I want to stay and – and help,” you tell him. He nods and leans in, brushing his lips against your forehead gently.

“Then let’s get back to the room and see what Sam’s got,” he says. You nod and wipe the remnants of the tears from your cheek.

“Do I look like I’ve been crying?” You ask. He smiles and shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says. You let out laugh as you rise to your feet.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you tell him. He stands as well and takes your hand firmly in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m a professional liar. I’ve just never been able to lie to you,” he says. You manage another short laugh and look down at your hands as he pulls you the rest of the way up the stairs. Biting your lip, you carefully pull your hand out of his. He looks at you as you reach the door.

“Probably lose my pull with the sheriff if he sees us together,” you explain before slipping through the door. Dean sighs and shakes his head as he follows.

The two of you quickly get copies of the police reports before heading back to the motel, stopping at a diner to pick up some dinner. You unlock the door and push it open for Dean to go inside.

“Hey,” Sam says, glancing up at the two of you as walk in together. He’s sat at the table in the corner with his laptop and John’s journal open in front of him. Dean sets the bags on the table.

“Got anything?” Dean asks, pulling out two burgers. You take one of them before reaching into the other bag and getting Sam’s salad out. He smiles at you as he takes it and nods, switching screens on his laptop. He turns it around towards the two of you to reveal an ancient painting depicting a creature of some sort that was seemingly split in half.

“I think it might be a Manananggal,” he says. You and Dean both look at him, raising an eyebrow. “It’s kind of like a vampire from the Philippines.”

“Seriously?” Dean asks, pulling his suit coat off and tossing it onto a chair. Sam nods, spinning his laptop back around.

“Yea. Lore says that they look human but split in half. Their upper torso then flies with bat-like wings during the night to prey on victims. And they’re meal of choice?” Sam trails off, leaning back in his chair. Dean frowns.

“Let me guess…fetal hearts?” He asks. You sigh and sit in the chair across from him, kicking your heels off. Sam nods opening the lid on his salad.

“They apparently have these long, tube-like tongues that can suck them out,” he says. You frown and set your burger down on the table.

“There went my appetite,” you say. Dean smiles a little and pats your shoulder before leaning back against the window sill.

“What else?” He asks his brother. Sam shrugs slightly.

“Ugh, they typically prey on sleeping victims, which would explain the lack of defensive wounds. They do feed on blood as well,” he tells you both. You run your hands over your face.

“Does it say how we can kill it?” You ask. The younger Winchester nods, switching tabs on his laptop.

“It does, actually. Ummmm – the lower half is the more vulnerable one. It says sprinkling salt, garlic, or ash on the lower half can keep the upper half from reattaching and it would die in the sunlight,” he reads. Dean nods, taking a big bite of his burger.

“Sounds easy enough,” he says, his mouth full. You pick at the bun of your own burger, still looking at Sam.

“Now how do we find out who it is?” You ask. Sam’s face falls slightly.

“That’s where I’m stumped. It just says that they’re usually, and I quote, ‘scary, hideous, females’,” he says. You sigh and shake your head, picking up the file with the police reports in it.

“Well we have to find it. And figure out where it’s taking these women from. Three pregnant women up and disappear? Someone has to be looking for them,” you say, opening the file. Dean reaches over and takes the file from you.

“It’s late. You should eat and try to get some sleep,” he tells you. You frown at him. “Y/N, please.”

“I’m not hungry, Dean,” you assure him, reaching for the file again. He pulls it away quickly. “Dean.”

“This will still be here in the morning. We aren’t going to make any major breakthroughs tonight. It’s been a long day. It was a long car ride and then earlier at the coroner’s office. Plus, that dream you had,” he says. You shake your head again, rising to your feet quickly. “Where are you going?” He asks.

“To bed apparently,” you snap at him as you make your way across the room. Grabbing a pair of shorts and one of Dean’s old shirts from your bag, you turn and go into the bathroom. You look at your reflection in the mirror and sigh. You’d already cried off most of your makeup so you wash your face quickly with some warm water.

You begin to undress slowly, taking your time. You run a hand down your abdomen and over the scar across your stomach. The nurses had told you what products to apply to it to help it heal but you’d never used any of them. A part of you didn’t want it to heal, afraid you might forget if it did. You take a deep breath, determined not to cry again and slip into the clothes you’d brought in with you.

As you’re standing over the sink, putting some toothpaste onto your toothbrush, a wave of exhaustion rushes over you. The toothbrush falls from your hand as you brace yourself against the sink to keep from falling over. Your mind begins to fog over and you swear you can hear a baby crying. Shaking your head, you reach over and pull the bathroom door open before stepping back into the room. Dean looks over and rises to his feet before starting across the room towards you.

“Y/N,” he starts but you hold up a shaky hand, cutting him off.

“Did either of you hear a baby crying?” You ask, causing Dean to stop dead in his tracks. The two brothers exchange brief looks before Dean closes the distance between the two of you, taking your arms into his hands gently.

“You okay?” He asks. You look at him as the exhaustion slips up on you again and frown, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“I – I think you were right. I – I must just be – be tired,” you tell him. He nods and slips an arm around your waist, carefully leading you to the bed. He helps you under the blanket as your eyelids quickly become too heavy to keep open any longer. The last thing you feel are his lips against your forehead as the baby’s cries begin to get louder and louder…

“Y/N, Ella’s awake,” you hear a man calling out to you. Ella’s awake. She’s crying. You rub at your eyes as you slowly sit up in the bed before looking at the baby monitor on the bedside table. The door to the master bathroom opens and Jackson steps out.

“It’s about time you woke up. She’s been crying for five minutes,” he says. You stare at him for a moment, trying to process everything. You were back in your bed. Your bed in your house. Not at the bunker. There is no bunker. There are no monsters. There’s just a beautiful house. A beautiful daughter. And a cheating husband.

Read Chapter 3 here.

Forever Tags: @roseblue373

Dream Warriors: @aylacavebear @winharry @djs8891 @suckitands33 @rickgrimeswifeu @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @foxyjwls007 @alisyacsa @cutiesarah @urinternetmom @justrealizedimmascifygurl l @kr804573

#fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #reader insert #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dream warriors

99 notes · View notes