#spn sister

[hahahahahangst]

The Cake

Tags (as per my masterlist): ❓👨🏻‍👨🏻‍👧🏻💖

Requested by: @themerakisstuff (happy birthday!!!!💕💖 )

Summary: it's your birthday! Sam and Dean seem to have forgot about it... but have they really?

AN: omg my first request AND my first reader insert ❗❗ i am beyond excited!

Sam and Dean have been gone the entire day. They left you in a random motel room. On your fucking birthday. Those two are un-fucking-believable. 

Leaving you alone on your birthday has to be one of the worst things they have done recently. 

You cross your legs on your bed and turn on the TV. Surely, there must be something to watch, right? 

The light of the television lights up your skin in the dark as the sound of the telenovela makes you roll your eyes - you never understood how Dean can enjoy this shit.

You change the channel. Doctor Sexy. Really? Another one of Dean’s favorites. 

Just when he has forgotten about your birthday. The universe really is trying to mess with you. You change the channel once more to land on a documentary. 

Know what? It’s good enough. Documentary on bees? On your birthday? Why would it be the pinnacle of sadness? Speaking about bees… Maybe Cas is available to spend some time together. 

Maybe, since it’s your birthday, you can try and convince him to bring you some cake from that bakery in Fort Wayne. You close your eyes and think of the cake fondly, your stomach growling. 

God, you are hungry. You haven’t eaten anything, thinking Sam and Dean were going to be back before evening, that they were just late, that they didn’t forget your birthday. 

Stupid of you to think that. 

You check the time on your phone. 3 AM. 

“Cas?” You say, closing your eyes and feeling kind of stupid for talking to yourself like that. “Are you free? It’s kind of my birthday, and nobody is around.” You open one eye, expecting to hear Cas’ wings flutter any moment. But you don’t. The bee documentary keeps going in the background.

So, just to recap: your brothers seem to have forgotten about you, Cas isn’t answering your prayers and the most compelling thing on TV is a documentary on bees.

That’s the premise for a very trashy, filled-with-drama teenage movie. 

You lean against the headboard of the motel bed and close your eyes. At this point, you might as well sleep.

“I told you we would never be back here in time!” Sam’s voice woke you up. “Fort Wayne isn’t exactly a short way from here.” You remain in bed, refusing to move. You don’t feel at all rested, just a slight pain in your neck from sleeping against the headboard. “You know how y/n is about her birthday!” Whispers Sam. “She surely thinks we’ve forgotten.”

You hear the sound of the door closing lightly and plastic bags being placed on the table. “We haven’t!” Complains Dean. “It was just… an organizational delay.” 

Sam sighs. “I’m not saying it wasn’t worth it, just… maybe next year we can take a case closer to Fort Wayne if you really want to go get that cake for her birthday.” 

You open one eye. “Can you guys shut the fuck up?” You mutter, mouth still dry and brain still clouded by sleep. You’re hearing their words, but you’re not really registering anything they're saying. “I’m trying to sleep.” You feel a hand on your shoulder and open both your eyes. 

“Happy birthday y/n!” Sam smiles widely. All of a sudden, you feel awake. You drag your hand over your eyes, surprised. “We brought you something.” That’s when you finally see the cake. It’s that cake. The cake from Fort Wayne you love so much. You snap into a sitting position Dean grins. 

“Always that look of surprise.” He says. “What? You thought we forgot about your birthday?”

You feel your cheeks fill with embarrassment. “Kind of.” You whisper. “You were gone all day.” 

“We took the day off to get you your favorite cake.” Dean smiles, satisfied. “I can’t believe you thought we forgot about your birthday!” He repeated. You smile so hard you almost hurt yourself and stand up from the bed. “Sam also brought you something.” 

You turn towards Sam, excited. He hands you a box a little bigger than your hand, wrapped in christmas-themes wrapping paper. “Sorry about the wrapping.” Says Sam, embarrassed. “They- they were out of birthday wrap and I had to improvise.” You smile at him and gently open the gift. You quickly realize it’s several DVDs of your favorite tv show. You force yourself not to start jumping in excitement. “Sam, this… this is amazing!” You look up at your brother and hug him. “Thanks.” You feel Sam’s arms around you as the comfort and familiarity of being close to your brother goes through you, flushing all anxieties and worries out of you. 

“Of course, kid. Anything.” Says Sam. How could you ever think they had forgotten about your birthday?!

“Alright, my turn now.” Says Dean, opening his bag. “I got two things for you.” He announces. You let go of Sam to turn towards him. “First of all, I made you your own copy of Baby’s keys.” He throws a keychain at you. You stare at it, completely overwhelmed by the fact Dean is giving you free access to his precious car. “And then, since you’re now technically an adult, I purchased this for you.” He hands you a small envelope. You open it and almost choke. 

Gift card valid for the purchase of 1 (one) DVD in our adult section

“I didn’t know what you liked, so…” Dean trails off. You look at the three objects you have in your hands and smile. A stack of DVDs, the keys to your brother’s car and a porn gift card. 

Well, maybe the gift card isn’t as emotionally valuable as the other two things, but it’s still… a gift? A well thought one for that matter. It’s not like he gave you his used magazines. You also hug Dean, who seems not to be expecting it, taking a couple steps back. “Thanks.” 

“Kid, I will never forget your birthday.” He says before kissing your hair. “Happy birthday, y/n.”

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #sister winchester fic #supernatural fanfiction #sisfic #supernatural fic #supernatural oneshots #sam #dean #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #supernatural fanfic #supernatural oneshot #winchester sister #spn sister #supernatural sister #supernatural sisfic #spn sisfic #oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #masterlist #supernatural masterlist

[thewnchstrs]

The Letter

Pairing: Winchester!Sister(OC Ellie)

Disclaimers: n/a

Word Count: 754

A/N: sorry this one is so short omfg. also, this would take place at the beginning of season 3 :)

M A S T E R L I S T

REWRITE MASTERLIST

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“Are you sure it’s in here?” Sam said, rummaging through the glove box of the Impala, running a finger through the neck of his shirt that clung to his back. 

Dean grumbled, sifting through the visor above the driver’s seat in search of the same damn insurance card that seemed to go missing every year. “Check the visor.”

Sam pulled down the visor, two white pieces of paper flittering into his lap. Sam picked one of them up, showing the insurance card to Dean who snatched it from his hands. Sam chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed the small white envelope, going to put it back in its place when he noticed the large, looping handwriting across the front. Handwriting he immediately recognized as Ellie’s.

“What’s this?” Sam asked, holding it up.

Dean narrowed his eyes, reading his and Sam’s names across the front. He shrugged, taking it from him and ripping it open. He unfolded the thin notebook paper, glancing to Sam in confusion before looking back down at it again.

Sammy + Dean,

Fuck. I guess I’m dead. I mean…if you’re reading this, then I probably am. Or maybe Dean went looking for that insurance card he loses every year. Sorry for dying, by the way. That really sucks and it was kind of shitty of me, leaving you two alone. I’m sure you’ll manage.

Sam and Dean glanced up at each other from the note and up to the motel room where they could see Ellie through the window, packing her clothes into her duffel bag. They both looked back down at the letter.

At the time that I’m writing this, I only have about six months left. It’s strange, knowing that every day that passes on the calendar I’ll never see again. I’ll never see the fireworks on the 4th of July, or the leaves changing in the fall. I’m just trying to soak it all up while I can. My birthday’s coming up. And to be honest, I never thought I’d see 22 years of my life. I’ve lived much longer than I ever expected to.

I’d never say to your faces, but thank you for all you’ve done for me. No matter what happened or where in the world we were, I always knew you guys would be right behind me, every step of the way. We never had any stability growing up. No home, no school, no friends. But in the end, none of that really mattered, because I had you. And that was more than enough.

So, please, for the love of god, don’t sit around moping. I mean…maybe a few days is okay just for you guys to remember how fucking cool I was and all that…but then, you need to move on. Hunters die every day, but that doesn’t mean the job does. I lived a good life, despite it all. I’ll be okay. And maybe one day we’ll see each other again.

Kick some ass for me.

Love,

El

Dean let the paper fall in his lap as they reached the bottom, sitting silently back in their seats. They watched her move across the motel room, unaware of what they’d found, something she’d intended for them not to find until she was long gone.

“We can’t let her go,” Sam whispered, looking over to Dean. “We can’t let her go to Hell.”

Dean had been telling himself this ever since he found out about Ellie’s deal. That he couldn’t let his sister be dragged to the worse place he could imagine, but nothing he tried was working. Either Ellie died and went to Hell and Sam lived, or vice versa. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself either way.

He glanced over at his brother, nodding. “We’ll figure something out.”

“You have to promise me, though, Dean,” Sam said in a serious tone. “You need to promise me that whatever we do, we do it knowing for sure that we all live. No more deals, okay?”

Dean wished he could keep the promise, but he knew better. He’d already been down every avenue, looked under every rock to figure out a way to get Ellie out of her deal, but nothing was working. He knew that if it came down to it, he would sell his soul for Ellie’s in a heartbeat. 

“Okay,” Dean agreed guiltily. Sam continued to watch him, like he didn’t believe him. Dean nodded, folding the paper again and sliding it back into the envelope. “No deals.”

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#supernatural #supernatural oneshots #supernatural rewrites #Ellie winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam #dean #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural oneshot #sisfic #winchester sister #spn #spn sister #supernatural sister #supernatural sisfic #spn sisfic #supernatural season 3 #oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #masterlist #supernatural masterlist

[writer-insomniac-extraordinaire]

Hello! I love your Winchester sister series! I’m not sure of you take requests here but I have one of you’ll take it lol. I was imagining a teen Anna trying to break up an argument between Dean and Sam but by the time she tries to break it up either Dean or sam try to punch the other but accidentally punch her in the face instead and she passes out and her nose is broken or whatever. Followed by lots of fluff when she wakes up?

Thank you so much <3 I usually don't turn around requests this quickly, but I loved your idea so much, and I just couldn't help myself.

Here you are, sweetheart! I hope it's what you wanted :)

You Shouldn’t Hit Sammy Either

Anna is fourteen

It had been almost two weeks since the boys had been home. So, when the bunker door finally announced their arrival with its usual squeal, Anna couldn’t help her excitement.

She dropped her phone on the table and raced through the library and war room to meet the boys at the bottom of the stairs.

She watched Sam drop his duffel and caught the square of his shoulders. He was angry about something.

“Hey,” she said, hoping to lighten the mood with her presence. She ignored the tension and wrapped her arms tightly around Sam’s waist from behind.

Sam turned just enough to give her a one-armed hug back.

Dean muttered something under his breath, and Anna turned in his direction. His jaw was clenched, a sure sign that he was angry too. So, they’d been fighting.

“If you have something to say, Dean, then say it.”

Yeah, hugging Sam hadn’t resolved the situation. Anna puffed out her cheeks and looked awkwardly at the ground. Couldn’t they have finished this before getting home?

“I didn’t say anything,” Dean said and raised his hands in surrender.

Okay, so they were at least going to pretend to keep the peace. That was good. She could work with that. Anna stepped over toward Dean and gave him a careful hug.

He smiled down at her and hugged her back. But then her muttered something again. Something about Sam that was not very nice.

“Really, Dean?” Sam snapped. “That’s nice.”

“What?” Dean asked, feigning innocence.

Anna sighed and stopped hugging him. She couldn’t deal with this. “What happened?” she asked, taking no nonsense. She put her hands on her hips. “Are you guys seriously fighting like middle schoolers?”

“Anna, this has nothing to do with you, okay?” Sam said earnestly. “Just… ignore us.”

“It has to do with me if you’re gonna act like this all day,” she argued. “Either talk it out or shut up.”

“Oh, I’d love to shut up,” Dean said and looked over at Sam with the purest annoyance on his face. “But Oprah over here wants to talk feelings.”

“What is your problem?” Sam demanded. “You’re allowed to be pissed off, Dean. You just don’t get to take it out on everyone.”

“See what I mean?” Dean said. He looked at Anna but threw a hand in Sam’s direction. 

Anna suddenly wished she hadn’t put herself in the middle of this. When had she become the marriage counselor? She made an awkward face and looked at Sam, begging him with her eyes to stop the fight where it was.

Sam barely spared her a glance, though. “You know what your problem is, Dean? You still think I’m twelve years old.”

“Come on, Sammy, don’t start with that bullshit.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Sam shouted. “You brush me off. You call me ‘Sammy.’ And you still think I can’t handle myself out there.”

“I never said that,” Dean snapped. “But there’s a chain of command out there, man. It’s always been like that. You don’t take the hits for me. It doesn’t go both ways.”

Anna was piecing things together slowly. And she didn’t like what the puzzle was looking like. Had Sam gotten hurt trying to save their brother? Was he okay? He looked okay. There were some bruises and scratches on his face, but that was normal after a hunt.

She was about to ask if he was good, but she was cut off before she could open her mouth.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about, Dean! You think you have to protect me. Like- like I’m some kid. I’m your partner. We’re equals. And no, I’m not gonna stand by and watch while some vampire rips your throat out!”

Dean’s anger was calm, and Anna knew what that meant. That meant things were getting worse.

“I don’t care how old you are, Sam. It has nothing to do with that. Ever. Protecting you? That’s my job.”

“No, it’s not!” Sam argued. “Dad put that on you, but-”

“Don’t bring Dad into this!” Dean shouted, stepping closer. “This has nothing to do with Dad.”

“It has everything to do with him!” Sam stepped in too.

Both boys were breathing heavily, both enraged. But neither of them seemed to know what to say next. Which meant only one thing. 

It was gonna get physical. Anna knew the formula. Sam would say one more thing, which would set Dean off, which would get Sam punched, which would get Dean punched, and so on.

She inched closer, trying to figure out how best to break things up.

“He’s been dead for ten years, and you’re still following his orders.”

Shit.

Anna leapt between them, “Guys-!” She didn’t get to finish her sentence, though, because Dean’s fist hit her instead of Sam.

()()()

She couldn’t have been out more than a minute or two. Anna blinked awake with a throbbing head and blood trickling from her nose.

“I can’t believe you!” Sam shouted from over her.

As her eyes focused, Anna realized he was crouched over her, trying to see her eyes.

“Is she okay?” Dean was asking. “God, I didn’t even see her.”

Anna wrinkled her nose, which hurt. She made a grossed out face as blood slipped past her upper lip into her mouth. “Ugh,” she groaned and started to sit up. “Ow.”

“You okay, Ladybug?” Sam asked gently. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Anna looked down. “Seven.” She frowned. How many fingers were on one hand? “No, that doesn’t make sense. Five.” Yeah. That was it. “I’m fine.”

“That was really convincing,” Sam said sarcastically. He squinted at her bloody nose and rubbed his thumb against her face to get the blood off. “You could get a towel or something,” he said scathingly.

“Oh brother,” Anna groaned. “Are you two still fighting?”

“You, don’t worry about anything, Sweetheart,” Dean said thoughtfully. “Just sit- Don’t move. I’ll be right back with a cloth.”

“I’m fine,” Anna argued. “I was disoriented, okay? Do the finger thing again. I’ll get it right.”

“Technically you did get it right,” Sam said with an apologetic smile. “It just took you two tries.”

Anna rubbed her cheek right beside her nose to try and get the soreness out. “He hits hard.”

“Well, it wasn’t meant for you,” Sam assured her.

Anna grinned. “You’re welcome.”

Sam snorted at her and stood up. He reached a hand down and pulled her easily to her feet. 

The change in altitude made her head hurt worse for a minute. But the pain faded back to a dull throb.

“You sure you’re okay?” Sam asked her. “You don’t feel dizzy or anything, do you? You went down pretty hard.”

Anna pursed her lips and tilted her head. “I’m fine. I’ve been hit before.”

“Not by Dean,” Sam reminded her. “Dean’s got a strong right hook.”

He sure did. But Anna wasn’t about to say so. “I barely feel it,” she said.

“Anna, he knocked you out.”

“He didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t defend him,” Sam warned her.

Dean ran in with a wet cloth, looking frantic. “Why are you standing?” he asked quickly. He hurried over to the table in the map room and pulled out a chair. “Help her sit,” he told Sam. “Are you dizzy?” he asked Anna, trying to see into her eyes. “Sit down.”

Anna rolled her eyes but sat down obediently. “I’m fine, Dean. I know you didn’t mean to.”

“I’m so sorry,” Dean told her sincerely.

“I know. It’s fine,” Anna said.

Dean started to move the cloth toward her face, but Sam spoke up. 

“Let me do it,” he said.

Dean glared at Sam. “I got it, Sam. You act like I hit her on purpose.”

“It doesn’t matter, Dean. I don’t trust you.”

“I’m fine,” Anna reminded them both irritably. “I can wash my own face. I’m not a toddler.”

“Just take it easy, Rugrat,” Dean instructed and wiped gently at her nose. “I’m sorry,” he said again as he cleaned the blood away. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you, right?”

“I know,” Anna reassured him. “I’m really fine, Dean.”

“I still can’t believe you,” Sam said, shaking his head in disapproval. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t know!” Dean said defensively… and loudly.

Anna wrinkled her nose at the volume.

“I’m sorry,” Dean told her again. “You okay? You need some Tylenol? Sammy, get her some Tylenol.”

“Dude,” Anna moaned. “You need to chill out, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

“I hit you,” Dean said, his face painted with guilt once more. “Oh my god, I hit you. I hit my baby sister. Are you okay?” he asked her for the millionth time.

“Dean!”

“Sorry,” he repeated. “Sorry. I just- Are you okay?”

“Oh my god,” Anna grouched. “Shut up.”

“Okay,” Dean surrendered. “I get it. You’re okay. Just-” He stood up and tossed the wash cloth on the table. “Alright. What do you want?” he asked. “Anything. Hit me back,” he said. “Well, actually, you should probably have Sam hit me back so it’s more of an equal blow.”

“Hey!” Anna shouted and stood up. “I can hit you myself! I mean, I don’t want to. I’m not gonna. But, like, I could if I wanted to.”

“Then Sam can do it,” Dean told her. “He’ll hit me. He’s pissed at me anyway.”

“That’s not gonna make it better,” Anna said reasonably. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean to. It was an accident. Accidents happen.”

“Not this kind of accident. I always said I would never ever hurt you.” It was clear Dean was having a full blown crisis over this.

“You know, you- you shouldn’t really hit Sammy either,” Anna told him shyly.

Dean didn’t say anything to that. But he did step over to her and gently push her back into her chair. “Sit down,” he urged. “What do you need? You want a sandwich, or an iced coffee? You name it, Rugrat.”

It was both incredibly sweet and unbearably annoying. Anna figured she might as well take full advantage. She shrugged one shoulder. “I’d take a beer.”

“You’re funny,” Dean said shortly. “What do you really want?”

“Nothing,” Anna told him. “I’m fine. I can get my own coffee.”

“You want coffee?” Dean asked and ran with it. “Comin’ right up!” He hurried for the kitchen and Anna rolled her eyes and sighed. This was going to be a long ass day.

Sam came back in with a cup of water and Tylenol. “Here, take these,” he said. “Do you wanna lay down for a while?”

“No, Sam, I’m fine,” Anna said grumpily. “I’m not on my deathbed, alright? You guys both need to chill.” She swallowed the Tylenol, though, because her face did hurt pretty bad. “By the way, if I find out you punched Dean, I’m gonna be really mad at you.”

“He deserves it,” Sam said, “But no, I’m not going to. He feels pretty guilty anyway.”

“Oh, geez, I hadn’t noticed,” Anna quipped and set her cup of water on the table.

“Do you need anything else?” Sam asked then suddenly perked up. “You should ice your face,” he said. “I’ll get you some ice. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh my god,” Anna groaned as he ran out of the room. This was getting out of hand. There had to be some way she could convince them both that she was fine. She got out of her chair and headed for the library where she’d left her phone.

Maybe somebody else could talk some sense into them. Somebody who wouldn’t be as insanely overprotective as her brothers were. 

Jody was pretty reasonable. Usually she would have gone for Bobby, but… well, he wasn’t around anymore. She couldn’t think of anyone else.

The phone rang three times before Jody picked up.

“Sheriff Mills.”

“Can you tell them I’m fine?” Anna requested.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s Anna. Can you tell them I’m fine?”

“Who’s they?”

“My brothers. They’re being dumb.”

“I’m gonna need a little more to go on, Sweetie.”

“I got punched,” Anna said. “And now Sam and Dean are, like, running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to give me everything I could possibly want. Just tell them I’m fine, okay?”

Jody had a different agenda, though. “Who punched you?” she asked. “If you want to press charges, I can help with that. You’re a minor, so they’d pay for it.”

“Jody!” Anna said indignantly. “You’re supposed to be reasonable.”

“I am being reasonable. Anybody that would hit a young girl should be behind bars.”

“Even if it was Dean?” Anna challenged.

“What?!” Jody hollered. A door slammed on the other end of the line. “Put that boy on the phone right now.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose! He was aiming for Sam, and I kinda stepped in the way.” Anna buried her face in her hands. “Please be the reasonable one.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll tell them to give you some space.”

“Thank you,” Anna said. She went back into the war room just in time to see Dean and Sam bullying each other out of the doorway to get into the room first.

“I got your coffee,” Dean told her and set it on the table.

“Here’s that ice for your face,” Sam added and held it out to her.

“Jody has something to say to you,” Anna said and put the call on speakerphone. “Okay, Jody.”

“Dean Winchester, I don’t believe you.”

“Jody!” Anna cried. “I told you he didn’t mean to!”

“Sorry, Anna. I just had to get that out of my system,” Jody told her. “You boys need to give your sister some space. Smothering her isn’t gonna help, okay? Dean, she knows you’re sorry. Nothing you do is gonna change what happened.”

Both Sam and Dean looked slightly embarrassed. 

“Thank you,” Anna said with a massive sigh of relief. She hung up the phone and looked at the boys, waiting for them to admit they’d been overreacting.

“You’re sure you’re good?” Dean asked her after a minute.

Anna nodded exaggeratedly. “I don’t need special treatment.” She reached slowly toward Dean’s hand. “I’ll take the iced coffee, though.”

La Fin

#supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural family #supernatural #spn #spn oc #spn sister #sisfic #supernatural sister #supernatural sisfic #supernatural oc #fanfiction #requests open #requested #sam winchester #writing #my writing

[hrast-ika]

gaslighting all of you (and myself) into thinking this was the real spn finale, where the fam and wayward sisters go to the beach and have a good ol time (i am never gonna finish these so i might as well post them on this special day)

#spn #supernatural #the real spn finale #nov 5th #my art #my stuff #destiel #fanart #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #jack kline #wayward sisters #eileen leahy #deancas #digital art

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Y/N: Can I have more some candy, De?

Dean: What did Sam say?

Y/N: He said no

Dean: Then why would I say yes?

Y/N: Cause he’s not the boss of you

Dean: *internally* It’s a trap, it’s a trap, it’s a-

#supernatural incorrect quotes #spn incorrect quotes #supernatural #spn #spn x reader #supernatural x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader platonic #dean winchester x sister reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x sister reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader platonic

[inlovewhithafairytale]

POV: Dating Dean Winchester....

#supernatural #castiel x dean #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #castiel novak #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #supernatural memes #supernatural family #supernatural fandom #spn #dean winchester x you #sam winchester fanfiction #sam and dean #sam winchester imagines

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Protector

Requested by @captaincvans

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, a little bit of Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Synopsis: your big brother Dean has always been your protector

It started when you were four years old. Dean answered one of John’s phones, and was shocked to hear your tiny voice on the other end.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?”

“My mommy,” you were sobbing into the phone, and Dean’s heartbeat picked up. Had someone hurt the little girl on the other end? “My mommy said to call if-if bad things happened. She said it was my daddy’s number.”

To say Dean was shocked would be the understatement of the century, but he forced himself to remain calm, if only for the little girl who clearly needed help. John had gone out on a job, and Sam had walked to a nearby store to grab some supplies.

“Ok, well where’s your mommy?”

“The monster…he-he…” you broke down into sobs, and Dean didn’t need to hear anything else.

Dean was usually used to waiting for John’s orders before doing just about anything, but somehow now he knew just what to do. Every instinct inside him screamed to help you from the moment he heard your voice.

He didn’t know then, but that instinct would follow him for the rest of his life.

…

Dean’s relationship with you was different than his with Sam. Dean had practically raised Sam, but he literally raised you. The older the boys got, the more John left them for hunts. And there was the age difference; he was only four years older than Sam, but Dean had already grown up and started hunting by the time you came into his life. And after John died, the two of you became closer than ever, and he took on his role as caretaker even more seriously.

So, needless to say, hunting wasn’t in the cards for you. Of course Dean taught you how to defend yourself, but he knew that once you started hunting, you’d be stuck in that life forever, and that wasn’t a choice he was going to let you make as a teenager.

A part of you always wanted to fight him on it, not because you thought you’d love hunting, but because your big brothers risked their lives on an almost-daily basis, and you wanted to be there to help them. However, it didn’t take long for you to realize that being on a hunt would just put them in more danger; Dean would be so worried about you that he wouldn’t keep his head on straight. You weren’t going to be the reason he got distracted and killed on a hunt.

So you stayed behind.

But that didn’t mean that you were always safe.

…

“Crowley I swear, if you touch one hair on her head-“

“Let me guess, they’ll never find the body?”

“Oh no, they will,” Dean’s fists were clenched so hard, his palms were going numb. “They’ll find it, and they’ll keep finding it. Little bits, everywhere, maybe I’ll even drop you in a couple of different states. I’ll cut you up nice and slow, it’ll take weeks before you’re dead, and that’s if I’m feeling generous enough to let you die at all.”

“My my my, someone is very protective about his little pet. However, your mummy should’ve taught you some manners, because you see…” Dean flinched when he heard your screams over the phone. “I don’t like to be threatened, squirrel.”

“Ok, ok!” Dean relented. Your screams stopped.

“Good. Now, here’s my ultimatum,” Crowley’s voice rose in anger, “If you ever want to see this little runt again, the first thing you’re gonna do, is drop the attitude, and show some respect!” Crowley cleared his throat, and returned to his easygoing, neutral tone. “After all, I am the king of hell. And then, after that, you’re going to stop meddling in my affairs. That’s not so bad, is it?”

Dean was about to throw out a snarky response when your voice broke in.

“Don’t listen to him, Dean. He’s just a liar, he’ll betray y-“ your desperate, frightened voice cut off with a high-pitched scream, and Dean could swear he heard Crowley laughing.

“Now now, darling, that’s not very nice. Name-calling is for children. Oh that’s right,” Crowley’s laughter started up again. “You are a child.”

“Stop it!” Not seeing what was going on was driving Dean insane. He could only imagine what Crowley was doing to you. “Alright, Crowley, you get what you want. Just let her go!”

The screaming stopped again.

“Now, that’s sweet, Dean. But I’m afraid I don’t exactly trust your word. So, I’m going have to keep your little rugrat here for a little longer, just to make sure you make good on your promise. Deal?”

“No no no, Crowley you can’t just-“

“I think we’re done here.”

The click that followed might as well have been an atomic bomb.

…

“We got a location.”

Dean had never jumped up that fast in his entire life.

“Finally, let’s go.”

“Dean, hold on,” Sam placed his hand out, stopping Dean in his tracks. “We don’t know how many demons are guarding it.”

“You know what, Sam? I don’t really care. There could be a thousand demons in there for all I care. She’s in there, so I’m going.” Dean brushed past Sam, who reluctantly followed him into the Impala.

“I’m just saying, it would be nice to have a plan.”

“I have a plan.” Dean peeled out of the driveway and sped along the road.

“The plan is get her back.”

…

You heard them before you saw them. It would be impossible not to; the screaming of demons and the thud as bodies hit the floor wasn’t exactly quiet.

However, when the door burst open, it wasn’t your brothers who came in.

Crowley rushed toward you, his hand outstretched to grab you and teleport you with him. A split second before his hand reached your shoulder, the demon blade whizzed past his ear and struck his arm, throwing him off balance and onto the floor. Before he could get back up, Dean was on him, not even bothering with the knife as he pounded on Crowley’s face. Sam rushed in after him, grabbing Dean by the shoulder and pulling him off.

“That’s enough, Dean! Just use the kni-“

Before either brother could move towards the demon blade, Crowley had disappeared.

“No!” Dean slammed his fist against the wall, and was about to do it again when he heard it.

“Dean?”

Never, not even when you were little, had Dean ever heard you sound so small; so fragile. He turned, his gaze instantly softening, his fists relaxing as he rushed to your side. He quickly untied the ropes holding you to a metal chair, and as soon as you were free you collapsed into his waiting arms.

“You’re ok,” Dean’s eyes stung as he gripped you tightly to him. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”

“Is she ok?” Sam stepped up behind Dean, and Dean reluctantly pulled away to check you for injuries.

There was a gash along your cheek, and he saw several cuts on your arms and legs, but what really worried him was the blood covering the front of your shirt.

“Baby, can you…” Dean touched the pool of blood dripping down your stomach. You lifted your shirt a few inches, and he saw a deep cut running along your ribs. Blood was still gushing freely from the cut, and Dean quickly removed his top layer of flannel, pressing it against the wound.

Sam flinched when you cried out, and Dean winced.

“I know, I know it hurts honey. I need you to hold it there, though.” You took the shirt from him and he nodded, “Yeah, good, press it tight.” He glanced around one more time to be sure no demons were coming, before he scooped you into his arms. You cried out again when he jostled you, and he tried to ignore you as he turned to Sam.

“You gotta watch my back, I’ve got her, but I don’t know if there are any more demons still here.”

Sam nodded, taking the demon blade.

“Alright, I’ll drive.”

…

“Do we need to take her to a hospital?” Sam glanced to the back of the Impala, where your head was resting in Dean’s lap as he held his shirt against your cut.

“I’m ok,” your voice was quiet, almost sleepy.

“We should take her in,” Dean insisted.

“It doesn’t look like she’s lost that much blood,” Sam hesitantly argued.

“Dean, I’m ok,” you turned your gaze from your injury to your big brother. “Really, just stitch me up. I’ll be fine.”

Dean relented hesitantly, mostly because he didn’t put it past Crowley to try to alert local authorities to all the bodies he’d left in his wake saving you. The last thing you needed was to be stuck in a hospital while Sam and Dean got arrested.

“Alright, ok. But you gotta stay awake, understand?”

You were silent for a few seconds, and when your voice lifted he could hear the tears you were trying to hold back.

“He wouldn’t let me sleep.”

Dean felt the white-hot anger rising in him, but he forced it down.

“You…but you were gone for three days.”

“I know. But ev-every time I tried to sleep…” you picked at one of the cuts, and Dean got the picture. He glanced up to see Sam gripping the steering wheel with all his might, his knuckles turning snow-white.

“I’m sorry,” Dean’s soft voice was only beat by the softness in his eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m so sorry. But you gotta stay awake just a little bit longer, I’m sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t just apologizing for that.

“Dean, it’s not your fault.”

He turned to look out the window, and you knew he didn’t believe you.

“Dean,” you tried to raise your voice, but it just sent you into a fit of coughing. His head whipped back to look at you, and he squeezed his hand under your head, lifting you up a little so you could breathe.

“Honey, don’t talk, don’t talk. You’re ok, just breathe.”

“Dean,” you took a deep breath, “Dean it’s not. It’s not your fault-“

“Shh, shh,” he insisted, eyes flitting nervously over your face. “Kiddo please, don’t talk.”

“Then say it.”

Dean sighed, and you knew he wouldn’t mean it, but you wanted him to say it anyway.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

…

“I’m sorry,” Dean winced when you sucked in a breath, trying desperately to stay still as he sewed you up.

“I’m ok,” you insisted.

“Ok, I’m done,” Dean tied off the last stitch, and you hesitantly stood and headed to your bathroom to shower off the blood that was all but covering you.

Dean sat on your bed while you were gone, staring down at the blood on his hands, disgusted but somehow unable to get up to wash it off.

He stayed there until you returned, a clean shirt and your pajama pants on. You stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. You tugged on his arm without speaking, and he followed you mechanically as you pulled him into your bathroom.

You turned on the sink water and guided his hands under the flow, rubbing his hands until they were clean and your blood was running down the drain. You handed him a soft towel, and he slowly dried his hands.

The two of you stood there in silence, unsure of whether to move or not. Then suddenly, the two of you moved in sync. He opened his arms just as you moved towards him, and he wrapped you into his arms. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, while the other rested on the small of your back. You felt his chin rest on the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but you knew that you could scream it til doomsday and Dean still wouldn’t believe it. So instead you said what he needed to hear.

“I’m ok.”

…

You weren’t the only one who hadn’t been able to sleep during your captivity, and you knew it. Dean looked horrible, his eyes dark and his hair greasy and sticking out in strange angles. You didn’t think you could convince him to eat or shower, not yet at least. He hadn’t left your side in the hour since you got back, and you figured he would want to watch over you while you slept.

So, if you couldn’t make him eat, you figured you at least knew a way to make him sleep.

You let him tuck you into your bed before grabbing onto his arm as he turned to go.

“Stay with me,” you insisted. He nodded and reached to grab a chair.

“No, with me,” you lifted a corner of the blanket. Dean didn’t speak, he just climbed in next to you and let you lean against his arm.

After a few minutes, Dean’s breathing evened out and you smiled.

He was your protector, always.

But maybe there was some ways that you could save him, too.

#dean winchester x you #the winchester brothers #dean winchester x reader #spn sam winchester #dean winchester #dean and sam #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean x you #dean x reader #sam and dean #sam x sister!reader #supernatural sam #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural dean #supernatural

[crocodilenjoyer]

he's our little brother. take care of him.

anne carson - antigone / alec benjamin - if we have each other / dan pearce - single dad laughing: the best of year one / kodaline - brother

#dean winchester voice we're gonna fix you up. that's my job right? to look after my pain in the ass little brother. #[guy who's not over marineford voice] yeah i'm sooo over marineford #tried to read the manga for reference. got sad about ace and luffy again. thus the cycle continues #asl brothers #ace #luffy #sabo #riko.txt #one piece #op spoilers #kinda???? it's been out for over a decade. everyone talks about it #btw you have NO IDEA how much it took for me to not include the spn gif i made for this. or the shinazugawa bros scene. you know the one. #anyway. hahaha. heehee. hohohoho. i'm an older brother. i have a younger sister. and. i get it. #she was having a bad time a few months back and i remember telling her i'd do anything for her. i don't think i've ever meant anything more #so. yeah. i get it.

[almondcroissantsandink]

i don't even know what to say

#sam winchester #sam winchester fanart #spn #supernatural #jared padalecki #supernatural fanart #art #digital art #artists on tumblr #csp #clip studio paint #THE TEXTURES #i figured out how to do the nice little vintage newsprint texture and oo la la #i love textures sm #my younger sister and i are rewatching spn and if sam winchester were a real person I would so be shooting my shot like HUH

[deanspunchingbag]

so you are gonna sit there and tell me claire doesn't just show up to the bunker at random times. sometimes covered in blood, sometimes yelling about needing help getting rid of a body, and sometimes just because she hasn't had a lead in a couple days and got bored. she makes jokes like 'it's giving daddy issues' and the boys get so mad because they cannot understand what the hell she is trying to say. that's usually followed by an old man joke, and cas saying something like 'having a difficult relationship with your father is probably the reason you tend to respond with violence over compassion'

#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #castiel #sam winchester #spn shitposts #claire novak #i am obsessed with claire being like a little sister to them #or more like a neice who secretly thinks they are cool but would never admit it #destiel

[jasmines-library]

Hiii!! Firstly, I love your writing and I hope you’re having a great day!! I was hoping to request a Winchester sibling fic where the reader is really comforted by physical touch but is really observant and receptive to the fact their brothers are emotionally constipated and touch starved so the reader has never really asked for it but then one day either just a bad day or bad hunt and the reader just asks the boys to hold them or one of them to sit in the back of the Impala with them? Thank you so so much and I hope you have a lovely day!! 🫶

So close, yet too far.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Summary: You just really need a hug.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Touch Starved, character death mentioned, swearing

p.s. Sorry for the long wait! I've got exams at the moment so they're taking up a lot of my time.

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Life as a hunter was never still. You were constantly moving. Constantly looking over your shoulder. Constantly chasing what could be your last day on earth. And you wouldn’t ever have said you regretted it. No. In fact, you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. Hunting creatures and saving the world? It was all You couldn’t have imagined a better life…

But sometimes you found yourself wanting life to just slow down for a minute. It was so hectic and you just needed a breath. A hug. With such a busy life, there was no time for just spending quality time with your brothers. Or anyone for that matter. It was an endless cycle: Wake up. Research. Hunt. Drive. Sleep. There was no time for sitting on the couch and watching cheesy movies together. Nor was there any time for curling up together like you used to do when you were smaller. You found yourself yearning for it. For a hug or simply just a gentle arm around your shoulder. It used to bring you so much comfort. But times were tough with all that had happened recently. The three of you were even more on edge than ever before. 

Your brothers had always told you that you could ask them for anything. That you could tell them whatever you wanted… but this wasn’t just something you could ask them for. You had seen how they often shunned away from touch. From relationships. Having seen so much pain and having lost so many people…they struggled to allow themselves to let their guard down enough to enjoy a tender moment. Even with you. So no matter how much you yearned for it you could never bring yourself to push the want from your mind and into words. 

So when the hunt went worse than you could have imagined you kept quiet. 

Dean’s hand was right there; peeking out from the hem of his flannel. His fingers were bloody and calloused, scarred and covered in small cuts and yet his touch was still tender. You felt your own fingers itch to reach out and lace them between his. You wanted for him or Sam to wrap you up in their arms and hold you close. To squeeze your hand. Or a shoulder. But you knew that they had much more pressing matters to deal with that overshadowed “needy little sister”. 

You trailed behind them, dragging your feet ever so slightly to kick up the dirt and leave trails between the orange leaves. You did not look up at your brothers because you knew you would see Dean's set jaw and Sam’s pinched eyebrows as they too mourned the hunt. 

A small boy had been caught by a shtriga. He had been no older than 5 or 6 with these big, blue eyes that got impossibly wider as the creature stalked toward him. And his scream…it pierced through the air like a beam of light: clear as day yet providing no clarity. No safety like light should bring. Instead it was cold and filled with a gripping terror. 

The three of you had been too slow. No matter how hard you dragged your stubborn limbs you couldn’t get to him fast enough. So now you trudged along in silence. 

The sight of Baby did not, in fact, provide you with the relief you thought it would. Instead the gleaming of the bonnet against the moonlight just made your stomach churn. You knew that you would all try to bury the memory in a box, deep in the back of your mind. But it was never that easy. They tried hard, but you would hear them late at night. Dean hardly slept as he tried to drink his troubles away and Sam barely left his room. And then there was you who lay awake staring blankly at the ceiling as you wept softly, wrapping your arms around yourself to curl up in a ball. It didn’t bring the same comfort as theirs did, like it had done when you were small and naive when you crawled into their bed after a nightmare. When things weren’t so fucking complicated. 

Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as you reached for the metal handle. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t sit in silence to be left with your own thoughts. You couldn’t be alone. Not right now. 

“Sammy…”  Your voice was quiet. Hushed. Barely a whisper pushed out on cracked lips that trembled. 

Sam paused, his hand halfway between where he had been picking at the hem of his jeans and the handle of the passenger door. He lifted his head, humming softly in acknowledgement. 

“Sit with me… Please.”

“Of course.” His face melted and he moved in one swift movement. 

He slid in the backseat, leaning against the door frame and stretching out across the seats. He pulled you in to lean against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You lay your head on his shoulder, snuggling into his side. And began to weep. 

“Kiddo?” Sam asked gently. “What’s up?” His hands traced small circles on your arm.

Dean reached over the back of the seat with a concerned look, though part of it could be easily mistaken for fear. “It’s not your fault, Sweetheart-” He started.

“Just…hold me. Please.” You clung onto Sam, your other hand reaching out to settle atop of Dean’s. Their touch was comforting, yet you couldn’t help the wavering as you wept. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

And so they did. Sam nestled you further into his side, tucking your head beneath his chin and Dean clambered out of his seat to join the two of you in the back. He settled down on your other side, sandwiching you between the two of you. And they held you. They ran their fingers through your hair, held your hand and spoke to you. They held you tight and the three of you stayed close together, with no intention of moving any time soon.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr

@aestheticdaisies

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@inlovewhithafairytale

@harleycao

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

#supernatural x reader #supernatural #spn x reader #spn x sister reader #supernatural x sister reader #supernatural x little sister reader #supernatural fanfiction #hurt/comfort #touch starved #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x sister reader #Sam Winchester #Sam Winchester x reader #Sam Winchester x sister reader

[castiwls]

"sacrifice, that's what we do for the people we love"

being the middle child in the winchester family...

I’d imagine you being like two years younger than Dean and two years older than Sam. So like literally the middle child

Your memories of your mum are fuzzy but you can recall a few things

When Mary died you were only two so you didn’t really understand what was going on for a while.

When you all first left Lawernce you spent most of that first night in a motel room crying because you wanted your mom and your bed. (Dean had to comfort you cause John left his two toddlers and baby alone in a motel #dadoftheyear)

When you were like ten your dad told you about what he had been doing for the past eight years. You were terrified but he made you promise not to tell Sam. He also made sure you knew that it was your job to keep Sam safe. 

Basically, you stopped being a child at ten.

You and your brothers were really close.

You and Dean basically trauma-bonded over hunting and also having wayyyy too much responsibility at a young age. 

Out of you and Dean, you were more emotionally available so Sam tended to tell you more.

As he got older he would talk to you about getting out and stuff. While your dad and Dean were very much into hunting you and Sam were more of on the sidelines. 

Sam got his love of reading from you. He’d always tell you about the books he was reading and what he was doing in class.

You’re the mediator for the family. It was always you who broke up fights. You were also able to calm your father down.

Mentioning in a passing comment that you didn’t want to hunt when you were like 15 and John flipped.

“If you don’t want to help kill the thing that killed your mom then you can get out.”

So you did. You left at 15 for 6 months.

In reality, you went to stay with Bobby but you never told your dad that.

Dean begged you to stay and would call every day. So would Sam.

Around this time Sam also started to want to leave. 

“I wanna come stay with you.” You sighed leaning against the wall. The phone rested between your ear and shoulder. “You can't Sam. Dad would flip your too young.” He let out a frustrated noise but let the topic go. (for now)

Dean would also call often and beg you to come home.

“Look he didn’t mean it, alright. It was just a heat of the moment thing.”

You did eventually come back. (Bobby wasn’t happy but let you go)

Your brothers were overjoyed and you actually got an apology from your dad (shocker.)

Things were ok for a few years and then Sam got a bit older and started talking about school. He’d only talk to you about it though. It wasn’t that Dean hated the idea but he didn't understand.

One day when you were 18 and he was 16 Sam asked to talk in private. So you took him to a dinner near the motel and he told you about Stanford.

“One of my teachers thinks it's possible.” He pushed the pamphlet towards you. “I just need a signature from an adult and I know Dad won't sign it.” You quietly looked over the pamphlet for a moment. A sense of pride washed over you as well as relief. This was his way out. “Of course, I’ll sign it.”

You both kept it quiet for the next year and when his acceptance letter came in you both kept it to yourselves but you were so proud

#proud parent moment.

Though eventually, Dean found the letter. 

“Did you know about this?” He asked holding up the letter. You felt your blood run cold as you grabbed the letter from him. “Yes. I did know.” You admitted. “It was me who signed the papers.” Your brother's eyes widened a look of betrayal crossed his face. “Why would you do that?” His voice began to rise as he spoke. “Because Sam deserves a future Dean.”

You two didn’t speak for a while after that. Dean got over it though.

When it came time for Sam to leave that's when all hell broke loose.

You’d never heard your dad yell so loud. He and Sam went back and forth for hours until your younger brother just walked out. You and Dean both followed him. After calming him down you went with him to the bus and said goodbye.

Dean was kinda non-plussed (inside he hated it and was worried sick). You were worried but happy that he was getting out.

When you and Dean went back to the motel John was furious. He blamed you (of course)

“This is your fault. You're the one who put all those ideas in his head and look what happened.”

Dean jumped in front of you and told him to back off. 

“Sam’s his own person you can’t blame her for this!”

After this, you and Dean get closer. John starts taking more hunts alone meaning that you and Dean spend a lot of time just driving around.

You would probably class this as the first time in your life you felt truly happy. Hunting with Dean was easier and there were fewer arguments.

Sam would call u often to update you. When he told you that he’d met a girl you were so happy for him. (it really seemed he got out)

But then your dad went missing and Dean insisted on getting Sam to help.

You were glad to have both your brothers back but at the same time felt insanely guilty as you watched Sam fall back into hunting.

#supernatural #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester headcanon #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #spn #spn headcanon #spn fanfic #spnfandom #platonic!reader #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #john winchester x daughter!reader #.mine #.spn #.dean winchester #.sam winchester #.middle!child

[thewnchstrs]

Malleus Maleficarum

Pairing: Winchester!Sister (OC)

Summary: Sam, Dean and Ellie travel to Sturbridge, Massachusetts and discover a coven of witches that has killed two people.

Disclaimers: self-harm, suicide, angst, blood, mentions of death

Word Count: 7.4K

S E R I E S   M A S T E R L I S T

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

Sturbridge, Massachusetts

"She was so scared. I couldn't help; I couldn't do anything to stop it,” Mr. Dutton whispered in regret, staring off into space between Sam and Dean who were questioning him. His eyes flicked back up to them. “And I've talked to the police, and I've talked to the medical examiner and no one can explain it."

I shined my flashlight around every inch of the master bathroom that Janet Dutton died in, only half listening to their conversation as I searched for anything out of the ordinary that could give us a reason to believe this was our kind of job. "Well, that's why they put the call in to us Mr. Dutton."

"But the CDC, that's disease control, right? What do you think; it's some kind of virus?"

"We're not ruling out anything yet,” Dean said. I began searching through their medicine cabinet, pushing aside prescription bottles and bandaid boxes, but nothing was in there, either. “Mr. Dutton did Janet have any enemies?"

There was a beat of silence behind the bathroom door as Mr. Dutton processed the question. "I'm sorry?"

"Anyone that might have a reason to hurt her?" Sam asked this time. I rifled through the tall pantry, shuffling through the neatly folded towels, baskets of small perfume bottles, extra toothbrushes, hand soap. Absolutely nothing of interest.

"Wait, what are you saying? That somebody...poisoned her?"

"I'm just saying we have to cover every base here."

"Well, I mean, what kind of poison? You think a person could have done this?”

I nearly gave up on the search before I spotted the double cabinets beneath the sink. I squatted down, pulling them open where sure enough, a hex bag was stuffed between the pipes. I sighed, pulling it free and placing it into my pocket.

“Would anyone want to?" Sam was asking as I returned to the room. Mr. Dutton was standing now, looking horrified.

"What?! No, no, there's just no one that could've—" He paused, looking off into space again in thought.

Dean raised his eyebrows at us before waving a hand in front of his face. "Mr. Dutton?"

Whatever trance Mr. Dutton was in, he seemed to snap out of it quickly. He blinked twice, looking back at us. "Uh, everyone loved Janet."

Yeah, totally not weird and suspicious at all. Sam nodded once. "Okay. Thank you very much; I think we've got everything we need. We'll get out of your way now."

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

Sam, Dean and I stepped out onto the wet porch of Mr. Dutton’s house. "That dude seem a little evasive to you?" Dean asked.

"I don't know I was under a sink, pulling this out,” I said, tossing it to Sam who caught it before it could drop to the ground. "Hex bag."

"Awww gross,” Dean groaned as Sam opened it up in his palm.

"Yeah, there are bird bones, rabbit's teeth. This cloth is probably cut from something Janet Dutton owned."

Dean shivered at the thought as we kept walking. Sam looked over to me. "So we're thinking witch?"

"Uh, yeah, and not some new age wicked water douser either. This is Old World black magic, I mean, warts and all,” I said as we slid into the car, the rain coming down harder now.

There was a beat of silence in the car before Dean turned in his seat toward us. "I hate witches." Sam and I chuckled at the rant we knew Dean was about to go on, the same one he always went on when we dealt with witches. "They're always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere. It's creepy, you know, it's down right unsanitary."

"Yeah, well someone definitely had it out for Janet Dutton."

"Yeah, someone who snuck into that house and planted the bag,” Dean said, glancing up at the home. “So what are we thinking, we're uh, looking for some old craggy Blair bitch in the woods."

I shook my head, "No it could be anyone. Neighbor, coworker, man, woman—that's the problem, they're human, they're like everyone else."

"Great,” Dean exasperated. “How do we find 'em?"

I thought about it, the brutal way in which Janet died: choking on her own blood after all of her teeth fell out, seemingly out of nowhere. "This wasn't random; someone in Janet Dutton's life had an ugly axe to grind. We find the motive—"

"We find the murderer,” Sam finished. Dean nodded once before peeling away from the curb.

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

I sighed, tapping my fingertips against the door with my chin in my hand, people watching the patrons walk in and out of the pub just across from our stakeout spot. “I’m telling you guys, give me five minutes in that bar to hustle some pool money-”

“El, we’re working,” Sam reprimanded. I looked over Dean’s shoulder toward Mr. Dutton’s car that we’ve been tailing for the past four hours. He was parked in an empty lot after we’d just followed him through a drive thru.

“Yeah, and it’s thrilling,” I said sarcastically as I let out a puff of air, crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t think anything’s going on here, you guys.”

“Wait,” Sam shushed me and just seconds later, Mr. Dutton’s car flew open as he fell to the ground. Dean immediately put the car into drive, barreling across the two lane road and skidded to a stop just inches from Mr. Dutton who was kneeling on the ground, gasping for air.

"Check the car!" Dean shouted to Sam and I. Sam ran toward the driver’s seat as I pulled open the back, reaching shoulder-deep under the seats, my hands searching blindly.

"Hurry up!" Dean called from behind us where he was kneeled beside Mr. Dutton who was trying to cough but couldn't, his wheezes for air becoming more and more desperate.

"Got it!" Sam suddenly shouted, holding the hex bag up. He grabbed his lighter, catching the hex bag ablaze before dropping it to the road.

"Come on.” Dean lifted Mr. Dutton off the ground as he grasped his chest, finally able to breathe again. "You okay?"

Mr. Dutton looked at us with wild eyes. "What the hell is happening to me?!"

"Someone murdered your wife and now they're trying to kill you, that's what's happening to you,” Sam said.

"That's impossible! There's no way—"

"If we hadn't have been following you, you'd be a doornail right now. Now who wants you dead?" Dean demanded.

Mr. Dutton looked at us as if we were crazy but wracked his brain for an answer, "I-uh..."

"Come on think."

"There's a woman—uh—"

"A woman, okay?"

"An affair—a mistake, she was un-balanced, she was blackmailing me and I put an end to it a week ago."

I raised my eyebrows at this. An affair would make sense, why this woman would want Janet dead. "What's her name?"

Mr. Dutton looked at me, confused, "Wha–what could she have to do with—?"

"Paul! What is her name?"

Mr. Dutton paused, watching us. “Amanda...Amanda Burns.” 

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

Paul Dutton cracked pretty fast when it came to giving us Amanda’s address. I quietly picked the lock of the front door, leading the way into the dimly lit house.  I entered the living room first, keeping my gun held high as I rounded the corner where a brunette woman in a black dress laid face down over a glass coffee table. I tilted my head at the blood pooled beneath her. "That's a curveball."

"Yeah."

Dean approached her, using his gun to rotate her wrists to the side as he confirmed what I’d suspected: "Three per wrist, vertical. She wasn't foolin' around."

Sam held a hand over his nose and mouth as he lowered himself to the floor beside the table. I followed his line of sight to a knocked over spell book and a plate of rotting food, maggots crawling in and out of it. There was a board with a sigil painted across the front, a knife, and a denim shirt beneath it all that I assumed was Paul Dutton’s. "Yeah, looks like she was working some heavyweight evil here."

"Oh god!” Dean shouted suddenly. I drew my gun towards Dean who’s eyes were wide, staring at the rabbit suspended by his feet from the ceiling behind him. I sighed, dropping my gun. “Fuckin' witches! Seriously man, come on!"

"Guess we know where she got the rabbit's teeth from,” Sam said. The rabbit was long since dead, its once-white fur now matted with dark blood.

"Well, Paul sure knows how to pick 'em huh? It's like Fatal Attraction all over again,” Dean said, looking back at the rabbit, his face falling. “And why does the rabbit always get screwed in the deal?! Poor little guy."

"You know what I don't get?” Sam said, making Dean and I look to him. “If she was so bent on revenge, why do this?"

I shrugged, "Well, she got Janet Dutton, thought she finished off Paul, decided to cap herself and make it a spurned lover's hat-trick...I mean, this doesn't exactly look like the TV room of a bright and stable person, you know?"

Sam kneeled down to the floor, inspecting beneath the coffee table. "No, but then...there's this.” Sam stood, throwing me a small object, wrapped in brown leather.

"Another hex bag? Come on!" Dean groaned, shaking his head. "Looks like we got a hit, huh? A little witch-on-witch violence?"

"I guess,” I said, tossing the hex bag onto the coffee table.

Dean pulled out his phone, dialing 911. "Hi, I'd like to report a dead body...309 Mayfair Circle...My name? Yeah, sure my name is—” Dean cut himself off, snapping his phone shut. “Why are witches ganking each other?"

Sam sighed, "I don't know, but I think maybe we got a coven on our hands."

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

"You must have a green thumb,” Sam said as we approached Elizabeth’s house where she was out in her garden, digging in the dirt. This was our first suspect, someone Amanda had been friends with for years. 

“Excuse me?” She said, looking up at us.

“Getting these herbs to grow out of season like this, quite impressive,” Sam said before stopping. “I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself first. I'm Detective Bachman, this is Detective Turner and Detective Thornton.” He motioned to each of us as we flashed her our fake badges.

“Hi-ya,” Dean smirked.

“We're following up on Amanda Burns' death, going around the neighborhood and talking to neighbors, stuff like that,” I said.

Amanda stood, watching us in what I believed to be feigned confusion, “But didn't she— I mean...she...killed herself...right?”

“Maybe, maybe,” Sam said, vaguely. “We heard you were friends with the deceased right?”

Elizabeth shrugged, obviously anxious at the questioning. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Did you have any idea about her practices?”

She furrowed her eyebrows at my question. “I'm sorry, what kind of practices?”

“Well see, her house was littered with Satanic paraphernalia.”

“A regular Black Sabbath,” Dean added.

“No, the— but she was an Episcopalian.”

“Well, then we're pretty sure she was using the wrong Bible,” Dean chuckled.

“Elizabeth, you alright?” A voice asked from behind us. We turned, two women coming up the driveway. They rounded us as they stood on either side of Elizabeth.

“I'm fine...Renee, these are detectives,” Elizabeth hesitated. “They say Amanda was— she was practicing-”

“I'm sorry detectives; you can tell that Elizabeth is a little bit upset,” the blonde woman said, running a soothing hand down Elizabeth’s arm.

I narrowed my eyes at them. Something was definitely fishy about these three. “Of course, Miss…?”

“Mrs. Renee. Van. Allen,” she said, punctuating each part of her name. “Would you like me to spell it for you?”

I raised my eyebrows at her, biting my tongue. “I'll get by, thanks.”

“This Amanda business has been hard for Liz,” Mrs. Renee Van Allen said. She tightened the grip she had on Elizabeth’s arm. “For all of us.”

Elizabeth seemed frightened to even speak for herself as the other brunette woman spoke up this time, “Yeah. I mean, you think you know a person.”

“Well, I guess we all have secrets don't we?” Dean said. I could tell him and Sam both had their suspicious about them, too. 

“Well, thanks,” Sam said, maintaining intense eye contact with Elizabeth that she couldn’t return. “We'll be in touch.”

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

Dean’s POV

After leaving Ellie at the motel to research more into what we didn’t already know about witches, Sam and I went out to see if we could find anything else on these women. It was nearly pitch black as we made our way back.

“Well, I'm already sold on that Elizabeth chick. Did you see that victory garden of hers?” I said as I drove. “Belladonna, wolfsbane, mandrake, not to mention that little flinch she threw when we mentioned the occult.”

“Well, she's definitely had a good run lately, gone up a few tax brackets; won almost too many raffles. Kinda thing a little black magic always helps with,” Sam said as he read through the local paper and other files we were able to scrounge up. “I don't think she's alone either. I looked into 'Mrs. Renee Van Allen'. She’s won almost every craft contest she has entered in the past three months.”

“Yeah, a regular Martha Stewart, huh? Except for the devil worship, I'm thinking that was the coven we met back there, minus one member,” I said, shaking my head. “Amanda was clearly going off the reservation. What do you think, they killed her to keep up appearances?”

“Seems like an appearance kind of crowd, don't you think?” Sam said.

“Yeah...if they killed the nut-job, should we uh, thank them or what?”

“They're working black magic too, Dean. They need to be stopped,” Sam said, folding up the paper.

I paused, glancing over to him as I suddenly remembered mine and Ellie’s conversation. “'Stopped' like stopped?” Sam shot me a look saying he was serious. It was never like him to think that way. “They're human, Sam.”

“They're murderers,” he corrected.

Pushing aside how out of character it was for Sam, it seemed justified to me. I looked back to the road, satisfied. “Burn witch, burn.”

Then, the car began to rattle and sputter. I looked down, confused, as I took my hands off the wheel. “What the hell?”

The headlights began to flicker. One second, they were off, and we were drowning in darkness and the next second they turned back on, there was a figure, illuminated in the golden light. The car rolled to a stop right in front of a woman, her arms crossed over her chest. I felt for the Colt in my jacket, gripping it by its hilt. We stood from the car, the woman unmoving.

“Ruby?” Sam said in confusion. I raised my eyebrows, looking back at her.

“Sam, listen to me, there's no time,” Ruby urged.

"For what? What are you talking about?"

"You have to get out of town."

"So this is Ruby, huh? Never had the pleasure,” I said, bringing the Colt out and aiming it at her.

"Dean!"

"I was hoping you'd show up again."

Ruby only watched me, unfazed. "Point that thing somewhere else."

"Hahahaha! Right,” I said sarcastically.

She sighed, looking back to Sam, "Sam, please. Go. Get in the car and don't look back."

"Why? I don't understand."

"Hey, hot stuff, we can take care of a few kitchen witches, thanks,” I said, making Ruby roll her eyes as she turned her attention back to me.

"I'm not talking about witches, you jackass. Witches are whores,” she spat. “I'm talking about who they serve."

I furrowed my eyebrows, looking to Sam for answers when his face fell. "Demons. They get their power from demons."

"Yeah. And there's one here, now."

I scoffed, "Oh, what, you mean besides you?"

"Sam, it knows you're in town and it's gonna come after you and it’s way more than you can handle."

I looked to Sam who suddenly seemed worried. I widened my eyes. "Oh come on, what is this, huh? Please tell me you're not listening to this crap!"

"Put a leash on your brother, Sam, if you wanna keep him."

"Dean, look, just chill out."

"No...no! She's messing with your head, god knows why, that's who they are!" I shouted, waving the gun in her direction. I was not going to let Sam make me feel like the crazy one.

"I'm telling you the truth,” Ruby interfered.

"And I'm telling you to shut up, bitch."

"I'm sorry, why are you even a part of this conversation?!" She yelled, stepping closer.

"Oh, I don't know maybe because he's my brother, you black-eyed skank!"

"Oh, right, right. You care about your brother so much. That's why you're checking out in a few months, leaving him all alone?" 

My heart sank, praying Sam hadn’t heard her, but in my peripherals I could see Sam whip his head toward me. I tightened my hand on the gun. "Shut up."

Ruby knew she hit right where it hurt. She leaned forward, only inches from the gun now. "At least let me try and save him, since you won't be here to do it any more."

"I said shut up!"

I brought my finger back on the trigger, but Sam was faster as he bent my arm upwards, shooting a round into the sky. I opened my eyes, looking around, but Ruby was nowhere to be found.

“Damn it!” I shouted, shaking my head, turning away from Sam. I could feel his eyes on me.

“What did she mean, Dean?” He nearly whispered.

I ran a hand down my face before turning to him, acting like I hadn’t heard him when in reality I was buying myself time to think of an excuse. I didn’t want him to find out like this. I didn’t want them to find out at all, not until I was already gone. “What?”

Sam took a step closer. He was angry. “What did she mean...when she said you were checking out- what did she mean!?”

“Sam, c’mon, I have no idea!” I lied through my teeth.

Sam’s face shifted into realization. “What did you do, Dean?”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. Guilt corroded my insides. Guilt because I’d been lying to them, guilt because I know what I was going to put them through would kill them. I scoffed, shaking my head. “Sam...”

“You took her deal, didn’t you?” 

I slowly looked back to him, fear clouding over his face. There was no use in lying to him anymore. I’d done that too much already. “I couldn’t let her go, Sam...” Sam’s shoulders fell in defeat and shock. “You said it yourself...we couldn’t let her go.”

“I didn’t mean take her place, Dean!” He shouted, his breath coming out in smoke against the cold air. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say a thing. “So...what, now we have to lose you? Our plan this whole time was to come up with something so none of us would die! Did you forget that part!?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” I shouted back. “It was me, or her and if not one of us it was you, Sam! There was no way out of it so I...” I stopped myself, lowering my voice. “I had to do it. I have to protect you two.”

Sam shook his head, tears brimming his eyes. “Does Ellie know?”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat before shaking my head. Sam nodded once, looking away from me. “She can’t know, Sam. She can’t.”

“You can’t ask me to do that.”

“Well, I am,” I said. His eyes flicked to mine. “You have to promise me. You won’t tell her. Promise me that, Sam. Please.” He clenched his jaw, walking back toward the car before slipping inside. I looked up at the dark sky, wishing Hell would open its flaming mouth and just pull me under now.

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

Ellie’s POV

The silence in the motel room was almost serene. I plopped myself onto the motel bed, a cloud of stale stench floating into the air from the ancient comforter. After nearly six hours of research on witches, my hand was cramping and my ass was sore from the motel’s hard wooden chairs. I stretched my legs out, clicking the small TV set on just as the door flew open, Sam and Dean arguing loudly.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Sam said as he came in behind Dean, slamming the door. I rolled my head backwards onto the wall, annoyed, switching the TV back off.

"What?! What the hell was I thinking?" Dean shot back, yanking his jacket off his shoulders and throwing it roughly onto his bed. "She's a demon, Sam. Period. Alright? They want us dead, we want them dead!”

“What happened?” I asked, watching as they moved across the room in a flurry, Sam hot on Dean’s trail.

They ignored me as they continued to go at each other. "Oh, that's funny; I remember that demon chick in Ohio, Casey? You didn't want her dead."

"Yeah, well she wasn't stringing me along like a fish on a hook."

"No one's stringing me along! Look, I know it's dangerous, that she is dangerous, but like it or not, she's useful."

"No! We kill her before she kills us."

"Kill her with what? The gun she fixed for us?"

"Whatever works."

I closed my eyes, absentmindedly rubbing at the side of my abdomen, chocking the dull pain up to the two day old takeout I’d eaten out of desperation.

"Dean, if she wants us dead, all she has to do is stop saving our lives,” Sam retorted, making Dean roll his eyes as he went to the bathroom, splashing water on his face. “Look, we have to start looking at the big picture Dean, start thinking in strategies and – and moves ahead. It's not so simple, we're not – we're not just hunting anymore...we're at war."

I peeked an eye out, glancing at them in the momentary silence. “Are you guys done-”

"Are you feeling okay?" Dean interrupted, making Sam shake his head as he sat on the end of our bed.

"Why are you always asking me that?"

"Because you're taking advice from a demon, for starters. And by the way, you seem less and less worried about offing people. You know, it used to eat you up inside."

"Yeah, and what has that gotten me?"

My eyes bounced between the two of them, rubbing rhythmic circles over my stomach. I was still trying to figure out what the hell had happened while they were gone.

"Nothing, but it's just what you're supposed to do, okay? We're supposed to drive in the fuckin' car and fuckin' argue about this stuff. You know, you go on about the sanctity of life and all that shit."

The pain in my stomach began to grow more intense. I sat up further on the bed, hoping my position would relieve some of the pressure, to no avail. I pushed my palm against it, wincing.

"Wait, so– so you're mad because I'm starting to agree with you?" Sam asked, looking up at Dean who was tossing the contents of his pocket onto the table.

"No, I'm not mad, I'm— I'm— I'm worried, Sam— I'm worried because you're not acting like yourself.”

"Yeah, you're right, I'm not. I don't have a choice."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, stopping his movement. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Look, Dean...things are changing. And the way I see it, if I'm gonna make it, if I'm gonna fight this war after...” Sam paused, him and Dean sharing a strange look. A silent conversation that I couldn’t quite place. “Then I gotta change."

"Change into what?"

"Into you,” Sam said after a beat of silence passed. “I gotta be more like you."

I sat up further on the bed, holding my side as I leaned forward, my face contorting in pain. Dean looked over at me as if he’d just noticed I was there. "What's going on with you?"

"I don't know,” I groaned as the pain quickly grew sharper until I gasped, feeling like I was being stabbed from the inside. “Something's wrong—"

"Ellie?" Sam said quickly, rounding the bed and kneeling in front of me. He gripped my shoulder.

"Son of a bitch—" I groaned, wrapping my arms around my midsection.

"Ellie, hey,” Dean said this time.

When I opened my eyes they were both in front of me, watching me worriedly. I panted, the pain just becoming more and more intense as I thought of the only solution I could come up with: "The coven...it's gotta be the coven."

I reached a hand out toward anyone and anything, grasping for air before finding Sam’s jacket, twisting it in my hand before they quickly pushed off the floor, turning the room upside down for the hex bag that had to be in here somewhere. 

Sweat began to bead down my body as the sound of cabinets opening and closing filled the room, chairs being overturned, and our things being dumped from our duffle bags. I coughed, leaning forward as I felt something climbing up my throat. I dropped to the floor between the two beds, gagging as blood spurted from my mouth and down onto the linoleum floors. I quickly got onto my hands and knees, trying to clear my airways before my arms collapsed under me, sending me sprawling to the floor.

I didn’t have enough energy to pull myself up. I watched Sam above me as he threw the blankets off the bed and dug his knife into the mattresses, calling to Dean, “Did you find it!?”

"No,” Dean said as he came beside me, rolling me onto my side. "Sam, what are you doing?"

I opened an eye between fits of coughing up blood to where Sam was counting the bullets in the Colt, not saying a word to either of us. He threw the motel door open and all we could hear was the Impala’s engine roar to life.

"Sam!” Dean called after him, but once we could no longer hear the car he turned back, cursing Sam under his breath. “It’ll be okay. It’s okay.”

Blood continued to poor from my mouth and onto the floor, the pain only becoming more unbearable by the second.

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

Sam’s POV

I made it back to Elizabeth’s house in nearly half the time it should’ve taken me. I kicked down the front door, barging in, gun drawn at the coven standing around a seance table in the middle of the living room. They let out shrieks of surprised as they quickly stood with their hands in the air.

"Let her go." I couldn’t waste a second. I knew Ellie wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.

"Let who go? What are you doing?” Renee asked, obviously startled. “You're insane, get out!"

"Look, if you know about me, then you know about this gun. You're killing my sister. Now let her go,” I warned. “Get away from the altar."

"What?"

"Now!"

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

Ellie’s POV

I sat hunched over on all fours as Dean sat beside me, unsure of what to do except pray that Sam was doing something useful. Then, the motel door was kicked inward. Dean and I whipped our heads toward the door where a woman with long blonde hair sauntered in.

“Ruby?” Dean questioned.

"Ahh, you’re Ruby? You wanna kill me? Get in line bitch,” I groaned, blood smeared across my face. Ruby came deeper into the room, making Dean stand in front of me.

“Get back, Ruby.” “You want me to save her sorry ass or not?”

Dean looked back down at me as I spit a wad of blood onto the floor. Suddenly, I was being lifted up by my shirt and thrown onto the bed. I kicked her away from me before she pinning my arms down with her knees and poured black liquid into my mouth. I gasped around it, but I instantly began to feel better. Dean yelled something at her, making her climb off of me. I sat up, the excess liquid spilling down my chest. I looked to Dean, and then her in confusion.

Ruby was panting, glaring at me. “Don’t...call me bitch."

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

Sam’s POV

"Go,” I demanded, the three women filing into a line with their hands still raised in surrender.

"What— we— we weren't hurting anyone,” Elizabeth stammered.

"Please, we don't even know your sister!” Renee tried to convince me, but it wasn’t going to work. 

"Stop the spell, or die,” I said firmly. “Five seconds."

"What?” Renee gasped.

I cocked the gun. "Four."

"No, please, please don't kill us!” Elizabeth begged. "We were just getting Renee a lower mortgage rate!"

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

Ellie’s POV

"Next time you point that gun at me, I'm not gonna just disappear, understand?" Ruby said to Dean.

"You...saved my life,” I said, confused as I sat on the end of the bed.

"Don't mention it."

"What was that stuff, anyway?” Dean asked.

“God, it was ass,” I shivered and then thought about it. “It tasted like ass."

"It's called witchcraft, short bus.” Ruby turned, leaving the motel through the broken door.

"You're the short bus...” Dean called after her but Ruby didn’t turn back. Dean’s voice immediately grew quieter at his comeback. “Short bus."

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

Sam’s POV

The women weren’t giving me much to work with and I was pretty sure Ellie that if Ellie weren’t dead already, she would be soon. I gripped the gun, trying to clear my head as I analyzed the women, recalling what I knew about them.

"Okay, maybe it's not you,” I said, beginning at the front of the line with Elizabeth. I trailed the gun to Renee next, “—or you.” That left me with one option: Tammi Benton. The one out of the group we hadn’t been able to dig up much on. I cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe it's you."

Tammi’s eyes widened as Elizabeth and Renee looked to her in fear. "I don't even know what he's talking about. What are you even talking about?!"

"I mean, all of you, everyone in your little coven, you've all had runs of good fortune. Newsworthy good fortune. Except for you, Tammi,” I said, the pieces suddenly clicking together. I stepped toward her. “Now tell me, why is that? You didn't want anything for yourself? Or is it because you're already getting what you wanted – like these women's souls."

Elizabeth and Renee’s eyes grew wider at my words. Tammi continued to stumble, "I can't- I-I'm not- I-I-I don't..." Then, she stopped. Her facial expression changed as she let her hands drop to her sides, her eyes turning pitch black. "Nice dick work, Magnum."

I brought the gun up to her, gripping it with both hands. "Let. My sister. Go."

"What's wrong? Couldn't find my hex bag? Sorry, sweetheart, but your sister’s lungs should be on the floor by now."

I ground my teeth as I lightly pulled back against the trigger and released a bullet from the Colt, but before it could reach her, the demon brought her hand up, stopping it in mid air. I watched in shock as it fell to the floor with a clank. The demon smiled. "You're in a lot of trouble, Sam."

With that, she brought her hand up, sending me flying across the room and pinning me to the far wall. I groaned at the impact, watching in horror as Elizabeth and Renee turned to who they thought was their friend.

"Tammi, what's wrong with your eyes?" Elizabeth asked.

"Tammi, what are you doing?" Renee gasped.

"Renee, shut your painted hole,” the demon snapped.

"What?” Renee said in disbelief. “I- I will— you can't— not in my house, Tammi Benton-" The demon snapped Renee’s neck then, making her instantly fall to the floor in a heap. Elizabeth slapped her hands over her mouth, muffling her screams of terror.

"Look. You got me – let the girl go,” I tried to reason.

"Wait your turn, young man,” the demon hissed and turned back to Elizabeth who was shaking uncontrollably. “Shhh...Lizzie. It’s okay.”

"You're not Tammi,” Elizabeth breathed out.

The demon had her hand running through Elizabeth’s curls. "No, but I'm wearing her meat. I had to break the ice with you girls somehow."

Her eyes were brimmed with tears. "You killed Renee."

"Renee, Amanda...” the demon listed, circling the room like a caged tiger. “That's what happens to witches who get voted off the island."

"Who are you?"

The demon chuckled. "Funny story, actually. You remember all those dark demonic forces you prayed to, when you swore your servitude? Just who did you think you were praying to?"

"This- this isn't – it can't b—"

"What did you think it was? Make-believe? Positive thinking? The Secret? No, it was me. You sold yourself to me, you pig." Elizabeth’s hands were clutched close to her chest as tears silently fell down her cheeks. "All I had to do was bring one good book to book club, and you ladies lined up to kiss my ass."

Elizabeth began furiously shaking her head. "No, no, we didn't know—"

"Oh, yes you did. You knew every step of the way, and now your ever living souls are mine,” the demon smiled. "Comments? Questions?” Elizabeth continued to stare at her silently, frozen in fear before the demon turned to me. “Hmm, Sammy Winchester, wow! Right here in our little town. You know, my friends and I, we've been looking for you."

"Why?” I said before scoffing, rolling my eyes. “Oh, right, 'cause I'm supposed to lead some piss-poor demon army."

"No, not at all. You're not our Messiah. We don't believe in you...But, there's a new leader rising in the West – a real leader,” she said, coming closer. I furrowed my eyebrows at her words. “That's the horse to bet on, Sam, the one who's gonna tear this world apart. Thing is, this demon? It doesn't like you very much. It doesn't want the competition." I watched as the demon raised her hand and I slowly began to slide up the wall, the pressure against my chest becoming heavier and heavier. I grimaced, clenching my fists. "Nothing personal, it's a P.R. thing, so, buh-bye."

The demon pressed her hand forward until it felt like my chest was going to collapse in on itself. The wall behind me began to crack, plaster and drywall falling to the floor below me. I shut my eyes tightly, waiting for the impact when the front door flew open, Dean and Ellie running through, guns blazing. I let out a breath of relief at the sight of them.

Then, demon simply flicked her other hand, sending the two of them flying to two separate walls. From this angle, we could all see each other. They winced at the impact. I looked to Ellie, wondering how the hell she was even alive.

"Three for one. Lovely."

Then, there was another set of footsteps coming into the house. The demon turned to Ruby who followed behind, her hands raised. "Wait. Please. I just...came to talk."

She turned toward Ruby, looking surprised. "You made it out of the gate. Impressive. That was a bitch of a fight, wasn't it?"

"Doors out of Hell only open for so long."

"What do you want, Ruby?"

Ruby stepped closer to her. "I've been lost without you. Take me back. That's why I led the Winchesters here.”

I glanced to Dean and Ellie, feeling guilty. Dean was shaking his head, mouthing: I told you so!

“They're for you...as a gift,” Ruby said, the demon looking between her and us.

"Really?"

"Let me serve you again. I've wanted it – I've wanted you – for so long,” she whispered, making Dean’s eyebrows shoot upward.

"You were one of my best,” the demon whispered back. Ruby smiled sweetly before quickly bringing a knife up and over the demon’s head, but the demon grabbed the blade before it made impact. "But then again, you always were a lying whore."

The demon tossed the blade across the room, making it slide across the floor and stopping in front of the alter. Ruby began throwing punches at the demon’s face, grabbing her shoulders and kneeing her in the stomach. Then, the demon grabbed Ruby’s arms where they were holding her jacket, using them as leverage to slam her forehead into Ruby’s nose. The resounding crunch of cartilage filled the room. Dean, Ellie and I flinched as blood began pouring down Ruby’s face, but she kept fighting, blindly swinging her fists but the demon had the upper hand. She grabbed Ruby, punching her twice over her face before kicking her backwards into the TV, electrical sparks flying upwards.

The demon gave Ruby enough time to roll off of the shattered TV before knocking her to the floor again. Ruby panted, blood coating her face. The demon grabbed her by her jacket, lifted her easily and tossed her across the room into a bookshelf. Ruby went sprawling backwards, the shelf breaking in half as Ruby just laid there, no fight left in her. The demon sauntered toward the fireplace where Elizabeth was backed up against. She grabbed a fire poker, smirking at Elizabeth before turning back to Ruby. "You're really telling me you threw in your chips with the Three Stooges here?"

Ruby struggled to sit up as the demon swung the fire poker, striking her across the face, sending her falling back down. "Come on. Get up." The demon demanded, but Ruby stayed down. There was movement behind the demon then. My eyes flicked to Elizabeth who quietly ran to the alter on the other side of the room, pouring out a bowl of sewing needles. "I said, get up!"

Fed up, the demon threw the poker to the side and kneeled over Ruby, pulling her up by her jacket. "We've been here before, haven't we?" The demon looked over at us. "She didn't tell you? Pretty mortifying, I guess. She was one of mine. I turned her out a long, long time ago.” Ruby’s head started going limp. I watched the color drain from her face but the demon held it up to look into her eyes. “Ruby here was a witch. Of course, that was when you were human. Didn't want your friends to know that all those centuries back, you sold yourself to me? Embarrassing, I guess. But don't worry love, no secrets where you're heading remember?"

Ruby stared back at her as the demon threw her back onto the debris. The demon stood over her, reciting an exorcism. Ruby clenched her fists as the black smoke began to escape her mouth. Dean, Ellie and I trying desperately to peel ourselves off the walls but it was no use. The demon continued the incantation before she suddenly stopped, bringing her hand to her mouth as she violently began coughing. 

I looked to the back of the living room where Elizabeth was sitting behind the alter, her eyes closed as she chanted something quietly that I couldn’t quite make out. We watched as the black smoke returned to Ruby’s body, but the demon continued coughing harder and harder, trying to catch her breath. Each cough made the grip she had on us looser until we each fell to the floor.

I groaned, turning to look back at the demon as she pulled her hand away from her mouth, her palm filled with dark blood and three long sewing needles. Her lips were stained crimson as she looked up, realizing what’d happened to her. She brought up her other hand, clasping it into a fist. Elizabeth’s chanting immediately stopped as she grasped her chest, gasping for air before limply falling forward onto the alter. Then, seemingly from out of nowhere, Dean came up from behind the demon, holding her firmly to his chest as he stabbed her over and over again in her side with Ruby’s knife. The demon’s face was contorted into pain as she flickered orange before dropping dead to the floor.

Ellie stood, rubbing the back of her head where she’d collided with the wall, inspecting the damage inside the house. Dean came around, helping me off the ground. We came to a stop in front of the demon who laid with her mouth wide open, her hand still curled into a tight fist. Ruby stood, wiping the blood from her nose. "Go. I'll clean up this mess."

"Come on,” Dean said, laying a hand on mine and Ellie’s shoulders, leading us to the door when I stopped, looking back over my shoulder to Ruby.

Her eyes clicked to black threateningly. "I said, go."

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

Dean's POV

I was outside of the motel room, throwing our weapons into the arsenal in the trunk when the fluorescent lights outside began flickering wildly. I paused, a low humming filling the parking lot. I looked from my left to my right, trying to prepare myself for whatever the hell was about to show up. I reached around behind me for the Colt. I checked my surroundings again when I spotted Ruby a few feet away form me, her arms crossed.

I let out a small breath of relief as the lights stopped flickering. I let go of the gun. "So the devil may care after all, is that what I'm supposed to believe?"

"I don't believe in the devil.”

I raised my eyebrows as I shook my head, shutting and locking the arsenal. "Wacky night...So let me get this straight, you were human once, you died, you went to hell, you became uh-"

"Yeah,” she said simply as she turned and started walking away.

"How long ago?" 

"Back when the plague was big."

I paused, really thinking about what she was telling me. "So all of 'em – every damn demon – they were all human once?"

Ruby turned back to me, "Every one I've ever met."

"Well, they sure don't act like it."

"Most of them have forgotten what it means, or even that they were. That's what happens when you go to Hell, Dean. That's what Hell is: forgetting what you are."

"Philosophy lesson from a demon. I'll pass, thanks."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "It's not philosophy. It's not a metaphor. There's a real fire in the pit. Agonies you can't even imagine."

I shrugged, "No, I saw 'Hellraiser'. I get the gist."

Ruby ran her tongue over her teeth as she rolled her eyes. "Actually, they got that pretty close. Except for all the custom leather...The answer is yes, by the way."

"I'm sorry?"

"Yes, the same thing will happen to you. It might take centuries, but sooner or later Hell will burn away your humanity,” she said. I felt my stomach flip, watching her to try to see if she were serious or not. “Every Hell-bound soul, every one, turns into something else. Turns you into us. So yeah. Yeah, you can count on it."

I could tell she wasn’t bluffing. I swallowed roughly, realizing now just how bad this was going to get. "There's no way of saving me from the pit, is there?"

"No,” she said simply and for once, I didn’t question her. “I was surprised you'd made it this far, saving Ellie and all. That was smart, what you did."

"Then why'd you tell Sam that you could save her?"

"So he would talk to me. You Winchesters can be pretty bigoted. I needed something to help him get past the–"

"The demon thing? It's pretty hard to get past."

"Look at you. Trying to be all stoic,” she cooed before clicking her tongue. “My god, it's heartbreaking."

I set my jaw, watching her. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"I need your help."

I wasn’t expecting that. "Help with what?"

"With Sam and Ellie. The way you stuck that demon tonight – it was pretty tough. Ellie’s almost there, but Sam...not quite. You need to help me get them ready – for life without you. To fight this war on their own." She turned, walking away from me again.

"Ruby!” I called after her, making her stop. “Why do you want us to win?"

She turned. "Isn't it obvious? I'm not like them. I don't know why. I– I wish I was, but...I'm not. I remember what it's like."

"What what's like?"

"Being human." I held her eyes for only a second longer before dropping them and when I looked back up, she was gone.

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

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[writer-insomniac-extraordinaire]

Grit Your Teeth, Pull Your Hair (RotL Full Story #8) (Supernatural Fanfiction)

Grit Your Teeth, Pull Your Hair

Anna is twelve

She woke up late and was groggy. She felt like there was a film over her eyes, making it harder to interact with the world. Looking around her, she saw that the boys had already gone. There was a note on the table, so she crawled out of bed, shivering in the cold of their motel room. The thermostat was probably broken-- they usually were in these places-- and it was below freezing outside. She shivered and ran across the dirty and frigid motel room floor in her bare feet to get to the table. 

The note said simply: Working the case. Eat breakfast and stay put. 

Anna sighed and looked at the takeout container that had been on the table next to the note. She wasn’t hungry. She hadn’t really had much of an appetite since Sam’s descent, and even before that there’d been times when she had to be coaxed into eating, namely during the time Dean spent in Hell and the subsequent unrestful months in which Sam conspired with Ruby and Dean with the angels. She set the note down and flipped the container open. French toast, a couple sausage links, and a small container of syrup. Normally, it would have been an enticing breakfast, but this morning, it only turned her stomach. She sighed, knowing she would have to eat or face an interrogation and subsequent lecture from her brother later. But she could put it off for a little while.

Skin coated in goosebumps, Anna hurried into the bathroom. There were four nearly threadbare towels there, and she turned the water nearly as hot as it would go, which was surprisingly hot for a rundown motel like this one, and got in the shower. She stayed there for nearly twenty minutes, relishing in the warmth before the hot water abruptly ran out. She wrapped herself hastily in a towel and practically ran to her duffel bag, throwing a long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants onto her bed to change into along with a pair of cotton socks. 

Once she’d dressed in those clothes, she found that she was still shivering with cold, teeth chattering audibly. She hated the shaky feeling she had from the inside out, her skin prickling sensitively in the freezing room’s air. And she was still exhausted despite having just woken up, her eyes feeling glazed over with fatigue. All this wasn’t to mention the headache building behind her eyes. 

Anna sat on her feet on the floor in front of Sam’s duffel, digging through until she found a hoodie in the bottom of the bag. She’d rarely seen him wear his sweaters since his return from Hell. It was one of the many things that had changed about her brother. In fact, enough had changed in Sam that Anna sometimes still felt like she was mourning the loss of her big brother. As she slipped into a huge Stanford University hoodie and let the sleeves cover her hands and the hood swallow her head, Anna felt a little closer to the version of Sam that still seemed lost to them. She glanced at the breakfast on the table, but she felt nauseous at the thought of eating and decided to just go back to bed where she buried herself in blankets.

Sometimes, the motel rooms they stayed in had TVs or other means of entertainment, but this one was barren. So, Anna had coveted Sam’s laptop and curled up with it in bed, cozy but still feeling chilled from the inside out.

Nearly two hours later, she jerked awake to a hand on the side of her face. The laptop in front of her sported a blank screen, having gone to sleep after the movie she’d put on ended. “Wh’appen?” she mumbled in sleepy urgency, fumbling to sit up. She was tangled in blankets and sweating up a storm, though, and it didn’t really work.

“Just me, kiddo,” came the reassurance from above her, and Anna didn’t even bother trying to sit up once she’d heard Dean’s voice. She just relaxed back into the bed and let her heavy eyelids slide shut. Her stomach felt unsettled as it had earlier and was beginning to hurt now too. All in all, sleeping just sounded better than being awake at the moment. 

“Hey,” she heard and opened her eyes again. Dean was frowning down at her, and after a second of studying her, their eyes locked on one another in a quiet, simple moment, he moved the laptop to the foot of the bed and sat down in its place beside her. “Was gonna ask what you’re doin’ in bed, but it’s pretty obvious you’ve got a fever.” He laid his palm on her forehead again. “How the hell did that happen?” he said more to himself than to her.

Anna gave a lazy shrug and blinked drowsily. Her eyes felt like there was a woodstove behind them, heat radiating through white and green as she looked up at her brother. “Woke up like this,” she grumbled, then started shifting again, suddenly feeling stifled by the layers she’d wrapped herself in earlier. “It’s hot,” she huffed, and Dean pursed his lips, helping her pull the blankets to the foot of the bed.

“That’s what happens when you animorph into a burrito, Anna.”

“Animorph,” Anna repeated, her sluggish brain not understanding. She wasn’t sure if she would have even understood that if she hadn’t had a fever though. “What is that?”

Dean squinted, but seemed to fall short of coming up with an answer. He shrugged disinterestedly. “I’m gonna get you some Tylenol, but you’re gonna need food- And don’t argue with me,” he added sternly, predicting the protest Anna had been ready to voice. “We probably have crackers or something, but you have to eat.”

Anna watched miserably as Dean moved away from the bed and toward the other side of the motel room. She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes and rubbed at the itchy heat there. Swallowing against her stomach pain and nausea, she curled up tighter in bed. She hoped that the nausea and pain was a result of hunger and that eating would make it better, not worse. At the same time, she very much wanted to just go back to sleep.

The door to the room opened and clicked shut, and Anna raised her head to see where Dean was going, but instead she saw Sam walking in. He was wearing his FBI suit and loosening his tie as he moved through the room. “Uh… what are you doing?” he asked as Dean passed him holding a box of crackers and a cup of water.

“What’s it look like?” Dean asked tersely, and it quickly became clear to Anna that he was pissed over something. And because he was being so good to her, she knew it was specifically something to do with Sam, which was nothing new. He’d been strangely cautious about their brother-- even in his elation over Sam’s return-- because there were some clear differences in Sam’s behavior these days compared to the way he’d been before. “Anna’s sick.”

“Oh,” Sam said and turned awkwardly to watch as Dean set the food and water on the bedside table and then placed a pill in Anna’s hand. 

She curled her fingers around it and let him help her sit up, feet still tangled in the rest of the blankets on the bed. A few baby curls stuck to her forehead and cheeks with the sweat of her fever, but all she could focus on as Dean helped her sit against the headboard was the way Sam stood there, body language tensely locked and yet somehow clumsy. She forced herself to look away when a glass of water was pressed into her other hand.

“Take that, and then you can get some food down and go back to sleep, alright?” Anna nodded along to the calm instructions and swallowed the Tylenol down with a few gulps of water. Her nausea didn’t really get any worse with the addition of the medication, so she saw that as a promising sign, though she still felt sick enough not to have any real desire to eat. Still, when Dean handed her a sleeve of Ritz crackers, she started working at pulling the plastic open, irritated by how difficult it was. As he stood up, Dean placed his hand on her head affectionately for a moment before turning away and walking toward the table. “What?” he asked, and Anna looked up to see him looking at Sam looking at her.

Maybe usually she would have repeated the question for herself, but she just felt exhausted, and the chills she’d experienced earlier that morning were making a return. So, instead, she got onto her knees to collect the covers from the foot of the bed and snugly cover her legs lower half with them. 

“Nothin’,” Sam answered, a surprisingly normal-- or at least casual-- reply. “I’m sorry you’re sick, Ladybug,” he added, sounding just enough like himself for it to be sweet rather than weird. 

Anna smiled drowsily at him, cheeks pink, eyes bloodshot and drooping. She nibbled slowly on her first cracker, sinking a little lower so she was only half-sitting up. 

Sam dropped his suit jacket over the back of one of the chairs at the table and retrieved his laptop from the foot of Anna’s bed. “I’m gonna see what time the morgue closes. We should hit it this afternoon.”

Dean sent him a strange look. “You… right now?”

Sam looked up from his computer screen with an expression of confusion. “Well… We could wait until after lunch if you’re… hungry or something.”

“Sam, I’m not leaving Anna here by herself when she’s sick. Are you nuts?”

“Oh,” Sam said in a moment of what seemed like genuine realization. “Right. Yeah. Of course. Well, I can go.”

“You- you want to go to the morgue by yourself?”

Sam shrugged. “Well, unless you want to come with me.”

“Sam, we can put the case on hold for one afternoon,” Dean said with some bite to his voice. Anna squirmed a little in bed, blushing as she realized she’d somehow managed to start a disagreement between her brothers. And she hadn’t even said a thing. “Nobody’s died in almost a week now. We’re not even sure if this is our kind of thing yet.”

“And taking a look at the body could confirm one way or another if this is our kind of thing,” Sam argued with a simple, level rationality that irked Anna almost as much as it seemed to irk Dean. “She’s twelve years old, Dean. And if you want to stay here, that’s fine. But I don’t think she needs both of us holdin’ her hand through a fever.”

Anna glared at Sam, crossing her arms over her chest and pushing herself into a sitting position with her feet, crackers forgotten atop the covers. “Well, I’m not keeping you here, you douchebag.” She slouched back down a little when Dean sent her a sharp look. 

But he turned to Sam with a much sharper one. “You are being a douchebag, man.”

“Alright, you know what, you’re right. I’m sorry,” he said. Anna got the feeling that, hard as he was trying to be sincere, he really didn’t mean it. “She’s a kid, and she’s sick, so you stay here with her. But I’m going to the morgue.”

“I can stay by myself,” Anna announced, face still wound into a frown that almost managed to look more angry than miserable and fatigued. 

Much as she knew Sam probably didn’t care, she felt as though she was in some sort of necessary standoff with him, as if she had something to prove. Namely, that she wasn’t being a baby, that she could be tough like he seemed to think she should be. It was strangely double-sided. In order to prove herself to him, she was going to give in to his insistence that she stay alone rather than telling him to screw off. But she was twelve, and all she could think about was that she didn’t want somebody whose opinion she cared about to think she was weak or childish. Nevermind that Sam had been a little colder and harsher, a little strange, and just all around different since he came back. He was still her older brother.

“See what you started,” Dean fixed Sam with an irritated look, gesturing back at their sister. “Fine. Go to the morgue. Grab lunch on the way back.”

“Yeah, I will,” Sam agreed, snatched his jacket off the chair back, and closed his laptop. 

As soon as the door had closed behind him, Anna deflated. She stared tiredly at the sleeve of crackers resting atop her blankets and let it show on her face how offended she was that Sam had spoken about her like a wimp. She hadn’t asked not to be left alone, so she didn’t know why it bothered her so much. Except that… well, she didn’t want to be alone, so Sam hadn’t been entirely wrong in thinking that she wanted somebody there holding her hand through what was just a little fever. Not literally, of course. Literally, she just wanted Dean nearby. Maybe she’d thought they could sit and watch a movie or something because that was what they always did when she was sick, or even when he was. But maybe Sam was right and she needed to grow up. She was twelve years old, after all.

“Don’t let him get to you, Rugrat. He’s been a real jerk lately.”

Anna knew that. She really did. But she still felt shitty, though half of that probably had to do with being sick and overly sensitive. She sighed and picked up the sleeve of crackers, but her stomach still hurt, so she just set them aside again.

Dean’s own sigh greeted that, but he didn’t push the subject. “You goin’ back to sleep?” he asked, pulling a beer from the mini fridge on the other side of the room.

Anna shrugged and listened to the familiar sound of the cap popping off a bottle, a release of pressure and a gasp of air. She watched Dean grab the laptop off the table and kick off his boots. She smiled blearily because they didn’t get time like this anymore. Seemed like they were always chasing one terror or another. But when Dean walked around in black socks, popped open beer bottles, and opened Netflix, it was a sure sign of an evening in. And if he was willing to sit and watch something with her and relax without looking at her like a childish wimp, Anna had to believe that it wasn’t so dumb or pitiful to get a little clingy when you were twelve years old and sick. She’d always trusted Dean’s opinion as much as Sam’s… and Sam wasn’t quite himself lately.

()()()

The midday dragged slowly into early evening before Sam returned. Anna woke to the sound of the doorknob jiggling to find herself tucked against Dean’s side, under his arm, an episode of Bonanza still playing on Sam’s laptop. Unconsciously, she cuddled a little closer and felt herself inch closer to dozing again, but the door swung open and she blinked her warm, heavy eyes open. She felt better than earlier fever-wise, but her stomach still hurt, and she felt like she could easily start puking.

“You awake?” Dean’s voice rumbled. Anna tilted her head up to look at him, her tired brain slow to process what he’d asked her. “Hate to do this to you, kiddo, but I’ve had to piss for the last hour, so…” he said and eased himself away from her to stand up. Anna mourned the warmth, curling under her blankets and hoping to return to sleep. She’d barely started to doze again before Sam shook her awake. Anna groaned a little and tried to brush him off, but he was insistent. “You didn’t eat this morning, and you can’t kick a bug if you don’t eat.” 

Anna frowned. The way he was talking reminded her of someone, but that someone wasn’t Sam. She stared at Sam’s eyes, dully hazel-brown in the dim lighting of the motel room, and squinted in her fatigue until she realized. Sam sounded like their father. Then she felt guilty for having taken so long to recognize a memory of her own father.

“I got soup,” Sam said. “Chicken noodle, not tomato, because the acid would probably exacerbate your nausea.”

As he turned away to retrieve the food from the table, Anna tried to quietly repeat the word he’d used. “Egg-sir-bait?” She frowned and shook her head, giving up. Sam used stupidly big words all the time. She wasn’t surprised that her sick brain couldn’t understand everything he was saying. 

Sam handed her a styrofoam container filled with soup and pulled the lid off for her, handing her a spoon. Anna wondered why he wasn’t making her get out of bed and sit at the table to avoid making a mess, but she didn’t question it. She had no desire to leave the coziness of her bed. The scent hit her with a strange combination of hunger and painful nausea. It smelled good, but it smelled strong. “It’s gonna make me throw up,” she resisted, only not handing it back to him because he’d already gone back to the table, taking his laptop with him.

Dean walked out of the bathroom, drying his hands on his flannel shirt. “Oh, nice,” he said when he saw Anna holding a container of soup.

“Well, if you’re so excited, you can have it,” she said and offered it out to him, barely managing not to spill any over the sides of the container.

Dean clearly wasn’t impressed. “You’re a class act, aren’t you,” he said dryly.

Anna pouted, but won no sympathy and knew that she wouldn’t. “My stomach hurts,” she complained outright. “Can’t I just drink water or something?” 

“You need to eat something substantial or you’re just gonna get worse,” Dean reminded her and handed her a spoon. “Bon appetit.” 

Anna glared at the soup, realizing that she wasn’t going to get out of eating no matter how nauseous she felt or how much her stomach hurt. She started out slow, but found her appetite a few bites in and so began to eat a little faster. Nearly as quickly as her appetite had appeared, it began to wane, and she started to just stir the soup around without eating anymore before it was even halfway gone. Her stomach was twisting and cramping worse with the addition of food, and Anna knew, just knew that she was going to throw up. She abandoned the soup on the bedside table and hurried to the bathroom, getting there just in time to hit her knees in front of the toilet and start spewing what little she’d eaten.

Dean came in after a few seconds, crouching down beside her and holding her hair out of the way with one hand. “It’s alright,” he murmured, wincing at the sound, smell, and sight of her barfing. It didn’t last long, though, and when she was done, he reached over her to flush the toilet and drop the lid, hoping the smell wouldn’t travel. “You okay?” he asked gently, moving his hand from the back of her head and trying to get a clear view of her face. Anna knew she must be a sight when Dean cringed at the sight of her face and then reached up onto the counter for a hand towel which he wet and then used to wipe her face off from the nose down. “Your fever’s comin’ back already,” he muttered seemingly to himself, sounding vaguely concerned but so much in control that Anna didn’t get scared, just nervous. “You want to take a shower?” he offered.

Anna nodded, but instead of moving to get up, she just fell against him, miserable and hurting, with her face against his shoulder. “This sucks,” she grumbled, slightly embarrassed at how childish she sounded.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean soothed. He let her stay there for a minute before easing her back and giving her a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll get you some pajamas, okay? Just take it easy for a minute.” Anna knew she must look miserable when he hesitated before leaving, looking at her with some serious pity in his eyes. She didn’t have the energy to buck up and try to look a little better for him, though, so she just wrapped both her arms around her aching stomach and curled up until she found a way that it hurt a little less.

()()()

The morning light warmed her face, and suddenly all of her was burning. She felt hollow in her pain, skin sensitive and covering in goosebumps the moment she threw off the blankets. Her body went from stifling hot to quivering with cold in about a second flat. Anna trudged to the bathroom shakily to take care of business, cringing at the terrible smell leftover from last night. She’d spent half the night stuck in the bathroom, throwing up three more times after the first round. For a while, Dean had been adamant about getting food into her, but he’d given up sometime around ten pm. It was almost worse, Anna had realized, throwing up bile or nothing at all, than it was throwing up half a bowl of soup or a handful of crackers. It hurt more just heaving and heaving as if her body were trying to turn itself inside out rather than empty itself.

For the moment, the nausea was bearable, but it was still there, always there. And her stomach hurt even worse than it had yesterday, feeling less like a cramp now and more like a deep, sharp pain. She crawled right back into bed when she’d finished in the bathroom, and she curled under her blankets, but she was so cold that she couldn’t get herself to go back to sleep despite how achy and tired her body was. She realized with a start that Dean was sleeping in the next bed, but that the sofa was empty. At just five in the morning, Sam was already gone. Granted, if any of them should be awake so early, it would be the one who hadn’t been up all night in the bathroom, but Anna was pretty sure, if her blurry memory served her, that Sam had still been awake at one or two when she and Dean finally both went to bed.

Sitting up with her blankets wrapped tightly around her shoulders, she looked around the room for any sign of Sam. He wasn’t there, though, and she frowned in concern. Where could he have gone so early? Maybe for a jog? She stood up and shivered her way over to the door which she eased open and peeked outside. Sam wasn’t anywhere nearby, so she closed the door and turned around to see Dean stirring.

“Sammy’s gone,” she said, feeling irrationally concerned about this development, enough so to wake Dean even though she knew how late he’d been up last night. Because of her. 

In the next second, Dean was leaning up one elbow, one hand discreetly settled underneath his pillow. He saw that it was just Anna, though, and his demeanor changed, his hand coming out from under his pillow. “What’s wrong?” he mumbled, squinting in the early morning light filtering through the windows.

“Sammy’s gone,” Anna said again.

“He’s probably gettin’ breakfast or something,” Dean grumbled, half-asleep again already. “Go back t’sleep.”

Anna pursed her lips, slowly coming to accept Dean’s response. Sam probably was fine. She’d only thought otherwise even briefly because he’d been so different lately. Out of energy and out of worry, Anna sat down on the floor, the thought of walking back to bed a bit too much, and curled around her hurting stomach again. She didn’t know what was going on with Sam, but she was too damn sick to care at the moment. She dozed off shortly thereafter.

The next time she woke, there was a hand on her forehead. She roused enough for a thermometer to be eased into her mouth, and she heard it beep, heard a murmur that it could be worse. She was in her bed, she realized, no longer on the floor. Tylenol and water were coaxed into her, and she woke with sudden urgency a few minutes later to run to the bathroom and throw them up. Then she crawled miserably back into bed where Dean looked sympathetically at her and threw the blankets back over her when she lay there without making a move to do it herself, too tired to put in the effort even though she was shivering with cold.

She woke again an hour or so later. The clock read 11am, and she felt a little more alert, though still nauseous and in a lot of pain, as she uncurled herself underneath the blankets and sat up. Her pain was clear on her face.

“Welcome to the land of the living.”

“Sh’t up,” Anna grumbled, receiving a taken-aback look in return.

“Somebody’s grumpy,” Dean remarked. Sam raised one eyebrow behind him.

Anna realized quickly that they’d been waiting for her to wake up. It was the only reason they both would’ve come to the side of her bed immediately when she woke up. “What?” she asked dreadfully.

Dean sighed and let Sam explain, and Anna saw that he looked unhappy about this while Sam seemed unfazed as he spoke. “We got this hunt down pat. Nest of vamps took over a set of hunting cabins a few miles outside of town, and a lot of the victims that went missing a few weeks ago, the ones whose bodies were never found, we think they’re being kept there, used as feed-bags. We have to go wipe ‘em out, get those vics out of there.”

Anna didn’t need the long-winded explanation to understand the gist of what she was being told. They were leaving to save some people, which meant she was being left alone for a few hours at least. “Could’ve just left a note,” she said and rolled over onto her side.

“That’s what I s-” When Dean shot him a look, Sam cut himself off and his expression grew more sympathetic. “Uh- no, we wanted to tell you before we left so you… um… wouldn’t think that we didn’t care.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the awkward manner of Sam’s explanation. “Pretty much,” he agreed, though. “There’s a package of crackers and a bottle of water on the nightstand. You need to eat something while we’re gone. Watch some more Bonanza, take a nap, suit yourself, but just stay put and rest, alright? We’ll be back before you know it.”

Trying not to dread the moment the door closed behind them and she was left all alone, Anna focused on this moment, stared into Dean’s eyes, tried to think of something to say that would take that guilty look out of his eyes. She didn’t get that far, though, before she leaned over the side of the bed to grab the trash can and puke her guts out.

It was only five or so minutes later that the boys left with another promise to be back soon. 

Anna settled in, curled tightly around her stomach, which only hurt more and more every time she woke up. On the laptop in front of her, Little Joe and Hoss picked mesquite beans, caught wild geese for dinner, and basically got into their usual mess of trouble. But she still felt jealous. Those two would get home to a big, warm, cozy house before long, and Anna was trapped in this itchy, icky motel, her stomach alight with pain, for the unforeseeable future. Not to mention the inevitable breaking point Sam would reach sometime in the near future. She could feel it coming because they hit breaking points so often.

And with that thought, she reached one herself, and her tears melted into the blanket the way Little Joe’s mesquite beans had hit the snowy surface of the ground and sunk into the surrounding white, their meager food blending into the subject of their doom.

Her cold hands slipped under her shirt and pressed hard against her stomach. It hurt worse than she’d ever felt it hurt before, and without somebody standing there, promising her that it was okay, Anna found such a sentiment difficult to believe. Still, she grasped onto it. And as Hoss tried to shake some sense into his little brother on screen, Anna hugged her arms tighter around her stomach and tried to do the same to herself, whispering, “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s just a stomachache. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

When the boys came back as the sun was setting, Anna tried not to cry in relief. And when Dean told Sam to stay with her while he went out to get some supplies-- since Anna was clearly not getting better anytime soon-- she tried, once again, not to cry, but this time out of misery. Sam wasn’t right. He wasn’t right, and that thought ran almost hysterically through her mind as she tried not to cry at the sound of the door latching shut behind Dean. She was successful both times at not crying, but not by much.

Sam sat on the side of her bed for a moment after she ran to the bathroom, threw up, and then crawled miserably back under the blankets and unpaused another episode of Bonanza, this one called Vendetta.

“It’ll be okay,” she mouthed, not even whispering the words anymore. “It’s okay. I’m fine.” But she curled tighter and tighter into a ball, until she couldn’t move any further into herself, but at least her pain felt properly bound within her, chained into its proper place.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, needing to hear the words just once.

()()()

She wasn’t fine. What had once seemed like a vague but sharp pain had become a fire burning distinctly over the right half of her stomach, and Anna could barely distinguish anything beyond that pain. Her senses honed in on it, and before she’d even come fully awake, she was whimpering with it.

Her breathing grew erratic almost immediately. “Sammy!” she cried on a plea. “Sammy,” she whimpered again when he didn’t reply. If her eyes hadn’t been squeezed so tightly shut, she’d have seen sooner that the room was empty. But, as it were, it took her nearly a minute of agonized whimpering to give in and force them open. And then she saw, and her face crumpled in misery. “Sam!” she begged anyway, fully aware of how irrational she was being. There was, of course, no reply, though.

Releasing a pathetic sob, Anna forced herself to move, and froze again almost immediately when the pain dialed up even higher at the slight change in position. Her next few breaths were shuddered through a wide open mouth as she tried to get through the shock of how painful this was. How could a stomach bug have gotten so severe so quickly?

“Dean,” she whispered, not a cry this time, but an idea. She pushed herself to her hands and knees, her breathing breaking in and out of keening as she tried not to scream at how badly her stomach hurt. There was something very, very wrong with her, and the thought made her burst into real, sloppy tears as she dug into the pocket of her jacket, hung on the bedpost. She dropped her thumb onto Dean’s name and hit speaker phone immediately after. The phone fell to lay on the mattress beside her head, and Anna curled tightly around herself again. It didn’t help anymore. The pain just punched at her, demanding her attention and giving her not a single moment of respite.

“Anna?”

“It hurts really bad, Dean. I think something’s wrong.” And well, at least the words had come out somewhat coherent, because she hadn’t even tried to sound less terrified than she was, and every ounce of her panic had come out clearly.

“Wha-? Woah. Alright. Everything’s alright, Anna, I promise. So just- just calm down.”

“No, it hurts!”

“What hurts? Your stomach?”

“Yes,” Anna said as if the word had been punched out of her. She sniffled and curled in on herself as tight as she could, but nothing got better. “Help me,” she begged.

“Hey. Hey. It’s alright,” Dean said so calmly that Anna knew he must be freaking out. “Where’s Sam?”

“I don’t know,” Anna said in a rushed, short breath. “Not here. It- it hurts, Dean, it hurts. Make it stop,” she sobbed.

“Okay, okay. I need you to listen to me, okay? I’m ten minutes away right now even if I break every speed limit between the two of us, and believe me, I’m gonna do it. But I need you to hang up and call an ambulance.”

Maybe the word ambulance should have been the scariest part of that sentence, but for Anna it was the words “hang up,” which meant she would be letting Dean go long enough to call somebody else. “No,” she argued without hesitation.

“Anna, there could be a serious problem right now, so you hang up on me, and you call an ambulance.”

“No!” she argued again, this time more frantic about it. She uncurled herself slightly and picked up the phone. “No, I can wait. I can…” she just breathed for a moment, and she could hear him doing the same. It hurt almost as bad as her stomach did, because as good as Dean was at making his voice sound level and calm, he couldn’t force his breathing into line when his heart was racing in his chest, and Anna could hear how fast he was breathing through the phone. Probably that was because he had the phone gripped tight to his face. “I’m scared,” she admitted more softly into the phone, as if that had been clear since the moment Dean picked up.

“I know. I’m coming. I’m coming,” Dean soothed, and Anna could have sworn she heard Baby’s engine roar a little louder in the background. It was a welcome sound, and it made her feel bad, though that, too, was dulled by the pain. She was getting reassurances every few seconds, and all Dean would be hearing was the sound of her crying, sometimes whispering another plea for him to hurry or make it stop. 

But mostly, it would just be the numb sound of tears hitting a blanket, and the choked whimpering of a little girl trying to take a man’s advice and breathe through a nightmare.

It took nine minutes.

Then, green eyes, bloodshot, hands on her face, on her side, examining her stomach, the right side, then wiping tears off her face. Anna’s hysteria faded into the pain, and she felt herself numbing, but she could hear Dean cursing and making promises. “Don’t, don’t, don’t,” she muttered when he slid his arms under her to lift her off the bed.

“Sorry, kiddo,” came the lying calm. “It’s alright. I gotcha. I’ve gotcha.”

How that helped, Anna didn’t know. But it did, because there was no better alternative. Just this. Just a voice making promises that she trusted would be kept, and arms keeping her afloat on a leather bench seat and in the doorway of an emergency room. Just the whispered repetitions of tests explained as blood was drawn. Just the hand that squeezed hers when the words “emergency appendectomy” filtered in and all Anna could think was surgery surgery surgery. Just Dean.

And then just nothing, her world dark and mercifully numb.

()()()

“-the hell were you thinking?” Anna heard when she first woke up, minus an appendix. It took her a moment to come fully around, by which point Sam was trying to defend himself. Both voices were out in the hallway, but they were loud enough to be distinctly heard.

“Dean-”

“No, Sam. Some things just have to come first,” Dean shot back. “You used to know that.” There was a pause, and Anna thought for a second that whatever this argument was, it was over. But Dean started up again before long. “Whatever’s gotten into you lately, it has to stop, ‘cause, you know, I’m done pretending you’re fine. You haven’t been fine since you got back. If you need to talk about something, cry on my shoulder, whatever, then do it. Do whatever you need to, Sam, but stop being a careless dick!”

He sounded angry. About as angry, in fact, as Anna had ever heard him, at least when it came to Sam. And she understood that, because she’d been scared out of her mind when she called Dean, and he’d probably nearly had a heart attack on his way to her, hearing her cry and beg him to help her, to make the pain go away.

“I’m not careless!” Sam argued. But he sounded so calm, too calm. “I’m worried about her, Dean. I am. I just didn’t know until now. How do you think I felt when I heard that message?”

“I don’t know, Sam. How do you think I felt when you didn’t pick up the phone? Or better yet, how do you think I felt when she called me scared out of her wits because she was alone and in the worst pain of her life?”

“That’s not fair, Dean. How was I supposed to know she had appendicitis?”

“I’m not saying you should have known, Sam. I’m saying you should’ve been there.”

It was quiet for a minute, and Anna hovered in a sleepy state of half-consciousness, pain-free but not numb anymore. 

Finally, Sam spoke again. “You’re right,” he said in that increasingly familiar state of too-calm, too-calm, too-calm. “I messed up. It won’t happen again. Now can we go in and see her? Because I’m sure we woke her up.”

There were no more words, but Anna blinked drowsily at the boys as they entered the room. She was watching at the moment Dean’s deep-seated frown melted into an easy, confident smile. “Hey. You look pretty good considering you’re down an organ.”

Anna smiled lazily at him. “Feel good,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie until the next second, when Sam sat down on the edge of her bed, took her hand, and started to apologize. It didn’t feel all that artificial. That wasn’t the problem. 

The problem was that, as sorry as Sam may be, it didn’t matter that he was sorry. It mattered that he hadn’t been there. Not in an angry, bitter, hold a grudge kind of way-- because Anna was always quick to forgive when it came to family-- but because she couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened. It meant something, Sam running out to do God knew what while she was sick and he’d agreed to play protector for the night. It meant that he wasn’t her brother the way he had been.

Maybe she should have been angry with Sam the way that Dean was, for not being there when she could really have used his help. But she wasn’t angry at him. She was scared for him, because Sam would have been there unless he couldn’t be. She wondered if he was running from something, if he was running from himself. She itched absently at the stitches in her side, wincing when she wasn’t as gentle as she should have been, but there was a hand there-- Sam’s-- to pull hers away from her healing stomach. 

Sam hadn’t been right since his return but… he’d at least seemed like he might still be Sam. It was getting harder to believe, though, that this was the brother they’d lost, come back to life. Even if it was Sam, it wasn’t Sam. Anna felt grief crash over her in the same way it had on an hourly basis for nearly the entire year Sam had spent in hell.

He was right beside her, but he was nowhere to be found. She had him, but she missed him, or at least the part of him that had yet to come back.

La Fin

#spn #spnfanfic #supernatural #dean winchester #my writing #writing #supernatural fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn oc #spn sister #supernatural sister #sam winchester #soulless sam #original character #supernatural oc #supernatural fanfiction

[book-place]

Where You Lead

Warnings: mentions of fighting, hunting, weapons and violence, drinking, hints of parental abuse and neglect, cursing, injuries and blood, gunshots wounds, mentions of death let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x sister reader, Sam Winchester x sister reader

*not my gif*

Summary: Ever since you first came home from the hospital, you and Dean had an unbreakable bond

A/N: Welcome to book place’s one year event!!

Inspired by: Where You Lead I Will Follow by Carole King

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Loving you the way I do

“This is your baby sister, Y/n,” This might be the first time since his mother was alive that Dean had heard his fathers voice be as soft as it was.

“Can I hold her? Please, can I hold her?” Sam begged, bouncing up and down on his toes in anticipation.

“Dean gets to hold her first, Sam,” John scowled slightly, “We talked about this already.”

The- now middle- Winchester sibling stopped jumping immediately and dropped his head slightly, “Sorry,” He mumbled, kicking his shoe slightly against the motel ground.

As gently as humanly possible, nine year old Dean gingerly held you in his arms, supporting your head the way your father had shown him before gazing at you in wonder.

You tossed and turned a little bit in the hospital blanket that was wrapped securely around you, before you blinked your eyes open slightly.

Instead of screaming and crying like he expected you to do, you just stared up at your older brother in the same amazement that he looked over you with; and that amazement soon melted into full adoration on his features.

“Is it my turn yet?” Sam whined, and John finally relented with a small huff.

The hesitation was visible on Dean's face, looking as if it pained him to pass you over to his little brother, something that escaped both Sam and John’s notice.

What John didn’t miss though, was the way his eldest son lingered near you and Sam, looking ready to spring forward at any moment and save you should Sam accidentally drop you.

“She’s fine, Dean, quit hovering.” John told his son gruffly. But for the first time in his life, the boy didn't snap at attention to scramble and do what his father had said. For the first time, he pretended as if he didn’t hear the man as he continued to stare down at you.

I know we’re gonna make it through

“I’ll be back in a couple days, don’t do anything to draw attention to yourselves.” John warned with a small glare before turning on his heel and exiting the motel room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Dean let out a small breath, glancing over his shoulder to where you sat on Sam’s lap on the crammed couch, both of you engrossed in the cartoon before you.

It had been two years since you were born, and Dean was yet to hear his fathers voice grow soft again, even around you. In fact, John began to try and distance himself from you as much as he could.

He had once confessed to Dean when he was almost black out drunk that it was because he had a child with a woman who wasn’t Mary, and while he and Sam could remind him of his late wife, you did no such thing.

It wasn’t your fault of course, and Dean knew that. He knew that it wasn’t fair for your father to distance himself from you for something you couldn’t control, which would inevitably affect you one way or another eventually.

He walked over to the couch before plopping down onto the small cushion beside the two of you and held out his arms, “Giver ‘er here, Sammy.”

The boy did so, and you giggled slightly at being passed around. You looked up at Dean with a wide smile before turning your attention back to the screen.

A small sigh escaped his lips as he watched over his two siblings, both who were completely oblivious to the fact that John had only left a few cans of food in the room and a very limited amount of money without the certainty of when he would return.

He placed a small kiss on the top of your head. He was going to get you all through this, just like he always did.

And I would go to the ends of the earth

“We asked for a parent or guardian of Y/n Winchester.” The principal raised a single eyebrow as he spoke, eyeing the clearly high school level student.

“I’m her older brother,” Dean grunted with narrowed eyes, “Isn’t that good enough if our father can’t make it?”

The older man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Fine, fine. We should get this started, then.” He then beckoned with his hand for you and one of your classmates to come into his office.

You shuffled in, eyes lighting up when you spotted Dean and you hurriedly squealed, rushing over and jumping into his arms, “Hey, sweetheart.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss in your hair.

“What is this about?” The mother of your classmate demanded, shooting daggers at you and your brother from where she sat in a chair a couple feet away.

“I’m afraid we are going to have to suspend the two of them,” The principal spoke.

A look of bewilderment came over Dean's features, “S-suspend? For what? She’s five!”

“Even so, they both must be held accountable for their actions.”

“Which was what, exactly?” He demanded, grip tightening around you protectively.

“The two of them got into a small fight and disrupted the class.” He informed him and the other mom.

“That’s outrageous!” Said mother shrieked, jumping to her feet, “My daughter would never get into a fight!”

“She hit me, I didn’t do anything,” You mumbled into Dean's ear, and he felt his anger begin to boil in his blood.

“Y/n didn’t do anything,” Dean stated, a venomous glint in his eyes as he stared down the mother and the principal.

“Oh?” The woman screeched, whirling around and pointing a finger at him, “And how did you figure that out?” She hissed.

“Because she told me she didn’t,” He said plainly.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes as if he just said the most idiotic thing she’d ever heard, “And how do you know you can believe her?”

Dean stood up immediately, you still clutched to his chest as he glared right back at the older woman, “Because she isn’t lying.” He told her with a dangerous tinge in his tone before simply turning on his heel and striding out of the office.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and you buried your face in his shirt, “Thanks, De.” You whispered.

'Cause, darling, to me that's what you're worth

“What the hell is this?” John snapped with a glare, picking up a doll that had gently been set on the table.

Dean swallowed, eyes flitting over to your sleeping form on the bed beside him, your chest rising and falling steadily.

You hadn’t meant to, and Dean knew that. You were only eight, you hadn’t meant to wander out the store with the doll in your grip as if it was already yours and not something you had just picked up off the shelf.

He had been too preoccupied to even notice until the two of you got home, and he had sighed as he watched your eyes fill with tears and your bottom lip wobble as you stared up at him after telling you that it would have to be taken back.

Reluctantly, he had given in and decided that it wouldn’t even matter if you brought it back now, so he had said he would let you keep it this one time if you never did it again.

Of course, Dean couldn’t tell his father that, then he would be angry at you. And your older brother always did everything in his power to shield you from that side of John.

“I-I took it, sir.” Your older brother cleared his throat, glancing up at his fathers raging form, “I wanted to get her a toy to have.”

The older man let out a loud scoff, rolling his eyes, “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because sh-she needs toys,” He tried to sound as confident as he could without his voice wavering again. You needed him, he would not give you up like that, “I thought she needed toys.” He was more confident this time.

John dropped the doll carelessly to the ground with a snarl, “Next time,” He seethed, “Next time I catch you pulling any of this shit, there’s gonna be consequences.”

He was talking to Dean as if he weren’t seventeen years old. As if he were still just a child.

But the boy bit his tongue and nodded his head once, visibly relaxing once his father stomped out of the room. He looked back at you and let a small sigh loose, relieved that you hadn’t woken up.

Carefully, he pulled the blankets higher on your body that had slipped down from some tossing and turning.

Where you lead, I will follow

“Dude,” Sam spoke up, glancing away from his homework for a split second to give Dean a look, “She’s fine.”

The man immediately froze, stopped tapping his foot and snapped his head over to his younger brother, “What?”

“Y/n,” The younger boy's head was already facing the textbook again, “She just went out with a couple friends. You can stop stressing out, she's fine.”

Dean hadn’t even realized that he had eagerly been staring out the motel window, awaiting your return with about as much impatience as a toddler.

“I know that,” He shot back defensively, forcing his muscles to relax from his stiff, upright sitting position and relax against the back of the chair.

Sam looked up again, eyebrows raised so high that they disappeared under his hair, “Oh? You’re not staring at the parking lot as if she didn’t just leave five minutes ago?”

“No,” Dean grumbled, sinking down and crossing his arms over his chest.

A sigh left Sam’s lips, “She’s eleven, dude. And she’s just down the road if you need to get to her.”

“Or if she needs to get to me.” He hadn’t even thought as the words slipped through his lips.

There was a pause, “Yeah… yeah, if she needs to get to you, she can easily do it.” He reassured his older brother.

Despite the clear way the words were forced out, Dean still relaxed for real when he heard them, but didn’t move away from the window as he waited for you to return.

Anywhere that you tell me to

You shuffled through the door, head hung low as you dropped your backpack with a small ‘thud’ beside the table. Sam reached out and rubbed your shoulders comfortingly.

Dean looked over his shoulder from where he was preparing dinner, “Hey, sweetheart, hey Sammy-“ He cut himself off when he caught sight of your defeated look and Sam’s pitying one, “What is it?” He immediately rushed out, “What’s wrong?”

You just sniffled slightly and crossed your arms over your chest, kicking at the floor.

“Sam?” He automatically turned his attention to the boy when you didn’t answer, “What’s wrong?” He demanded again.

John had just dropped the two of you off back at the motel after school before rushing off, saying that the hunt was not over even though he thought it had been.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and right as it did so, you took off towards the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind you, leaving your brothers behind.

“Sam.”

“There’s this father-daughter dance going on for her grade,” He sighed, and it clicked into place right away for Dean.

“Dad couldn’t go?” He asked softly.

“He wouldn’t,” Sam corrected him angrily with a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest, “He told her it was a waste of time.”

All at once, a blinding rage boiled up inside of Dean, one of the only times in his entire life that he was anything but scared of his father. For once, he hated the man.

His thoughts snapped back to the present though when he realized that you were still crying in the bathroom, and he immediately reeled his emotions in. You needed him more than he needed to be angry right now.

With a sigh, he crept over and gently knocked on the door after shooting a swift nod of thanks to Sam’s direction, “N/n?” He called softly, “Sweetheart, it’s me. Can I come in?”

There was a moment of silence before the man heard a slight click of a door being unlocked, and he didn’t hesitate to rush in.

Your cheeks were stained with tears and your eyes were bloodshot in a way that made Dean's heart shatter into a million pieces.

“Oh, n/n,” He cooed, sinking onto the ground beside you and pulling you to his chest, rubbing a hand up and down your back comfortingly as you cried into his shirt.

He kept whispering comforting words in your ear until you were reduced to sniffles and hiccups that were an effect of after-sobbing.

“D-dad doesn’t want to go with me,” You choked out, clutching a handful of your brother's shirt tightly.

Dean sighed, unsure of what to tell you. Of whether or not he should lie and tell you that your father really did want to go, he was just busy. But he realized that you were now old enough to see right through that.

“I’ll go with you,” As soon as the thought popped into his mind, he hadn’t even given himself a second to process it before blurting it out loud.

You reeled back and stared up at him with wide eyes, “Wha-“

“I’ll go to the father-daughter dance with you,” He shrugged, “I know I’m not dad, but at least you’ll have someone to go with.”

Slowly, a large grin broke out onto your face and you threw yourself into his arms again, squeezing tightly as you let out an excited squeal, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He laughed, hugging you with the same amount of force, “My pleasure, sweetheart.”

If you need, you need me to be with you

“Y/n?” Dean's eyebrows flew up in shock as the smell of alcohol filled his senses.

“Duh,” You slurred, stumbling slightly to stand upright as you made your way into the motel room, “Who else would I be? Bobby?”

“Are you… drunk?” He had to blink a couple of times to help his brain fully process what he was seeing. You, his baby sister, hardly fifteen years old, drunk out of your mind.

“Noo,” You whined, “God, get off my case.”

“Hey,” He stood up, arm wrapping around your waist automatically as you almost fell over your own feet, “Come on,” Gently, he led you over to sit down on the bed.

With a large sigh of relief, you fell onto your back and cuddled into the sheets, “Thanks, dad.” You mumbled.

Dean's eyes were practically bugging out of his head at this point. He swallowed thickly, “Y-you know I’m not dad, right?”

“Well not biololy-“ You paused with furrowed eyebrows, “Beeolog-“

“Biologically?” He filled in the missing word for you, unsure of where you were trying to go with this as he turned on his heel to get you a glass of water.

You snapped your fingers, pointing a lazy finger at him, “Bingo! You might not be my dad biologically, but you’re more of a father to me than John- John is.” Your head was nuzzling into a pillow by now.

He sputtered, practically dropping the glass before setting it down on the bedside table, “That-that’s not true.” He insisted, “You don’t think that.”

“Sober words are drunk thoughts,” You slurred before opening your eyes and pausing to think, “Wait… that’s not right…”

He sighed, picking up the water and coaxing you to sit up so he could give it to you.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” Dean told you softly, leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead.

Even after you eventually drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t do so himself. Still trying to wrap his mind around what you said. About if you actually believed your own words.

I will follow where you lead

“Dean.” You reached up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m old enough to go on a date.”

He scowled, sinking further into his chair with his arms crossed, “I disagree,” He grumbled.

“Of course you do,” You sighed before turning back to the bathroom mirror and checking your reflection one last time before stepping out.

“Do you have your gun?” He asked automatically. And if it were anyone else, you would have laughed. But this was your eldest brother, and you knew for a fact that he was dead serious.

“I don’t think I need-“

“Do you have your gun?” He demanded again, glowering from across the room.

“Yes, yes, I have my gun.” You reassured him, lifting up your handbag of where it was resting dramatically to further your point.

Silence rang out between the two of you for a moment, having your own mini stare down, before it was his turn to sigh and stand up before striding across the room to you.

He put his hands on each of your shoulders, looking you in the eye, “I just want what’s best for you.” He told you sincerely.

Your hands went up to gently grasp onto his wrists and squeeze, “I know that, De,” You spoke softly, “But you can’t protect me from everything.”

“I can try,” He replied stubbornly, cracking a smile when you snorted.

Taking your hands off of his, you moved your arms to wrap around his torso and pull him into a tight hug.

He was just about to return it when a knock rang through the room. Your date was at the door.

Slowly, you let go and looked up at your big brother with a smile.

If you're out on the road

“Where’s Sammy when you need him?” You groaned, dropping your head into your arms that rested against the table.

“Shut it,” Dean grumbled, “I can help you just as well as he could.”

You rolled your eyes up to the ceiling, “You’ve failed every math class you’ve ever been in, genius.”

“And who told you that?”

“Sam.” You said in a ‘duh’ tone.

Dean scoffed, “Well, Sammy’s a freaking liar.”

You rose your eyebrows and placed your head in your hand, waiting as his eyes raked up and down the paper.

“Well?” You asked after a few moments.

“Well, this is hard.” He snapped back.

You threw your hands up, “That's why I asked for help!”

He seemed to ponder something for a moment before putting the paper down tentatively, “Math was always stupid anyway. I don’t think it would hurt if you didn’t do this one assignment.”

“So, you’re admitting to not knowing how to do this?”

“…no.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“… fine, I failed every math class I’ve ever taken.”

Feeling lonely, and so cold

“You’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be fine.” Dean muttered, not knowing if he was trying to reassure you or himself more as he put so much pressure on the gas that his foot had begun to hurt.

“D-Dean-“ You muttered from the passenger seat, lulling your head to the side to try and face him.

Quickly, he shushed you, doing everything in his power not to focus solely on the crumbled up shirt you were holding against your stomach to try and apply pressure to your wound. He knew if he focused on that for longer than a couple of seconds, he would abandon his mission of getting you straight to a hospital and try to take care of it on his own.

He knew his mind would kick into a protective, frenzy overdrive and he wouldn’t allow himself to wait until he arrived at his destination.

Of course, the one day Sam wasn’t feeling well enough to join the two of you on a hunt- one that was supposed to be so simple that Dean finally- begrudgingly- allowed you to come on, you had gotten shot in the stomach.

As soon as that had happened, everything about the hunt immediately flew as far from Deans mind as humanly possible, even letting the shooter get away in his panicked state as his brain switched to autopilot mode and he scooped you up and rushed you to the car.

Nothing was going to happen to you. Nothing was going to happen to you. Nothing was going to happen to you. Nothing was-

A violent cough raked through your body, making your older brother visibly flinch as he pressed down harder on the pedal, even if he was already going as fast as he could.

“You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart,” He muttered, harshly blinking away the tears that began to pool in his eye ducts.

All you have to do is call my name

“Dean?” You whispered into the darkness hesitantly.

“Wh-What? What’s wrong?” His eyes immediately snapped open and he flew out of the bed at your nervous tone.

He gently took ahold of each of your shoulders and blinked the sleep away from his eyes as they scanned your face through the darkness for any sign of distress.

“I-I had a nightmare…” You muttered weakly, feeling heat begin to spread to your cheeks as you averted your eyes from your elder brother.

“Oh,” He breathed out, relaxing only slightly when he realized that you were in no immediate danger, “Oh, it’s okay, sweetheart.” He quickly wrapped his arms around you and brought you to his chest.

Your own arms snaked around him in return, burying your face in his chest and allowing him to rock both of you back and forth slightly as he rubbed your back soothingly.

“Can I stay?” You whispered meekly, refusing to look him in the eyes from the sheer embarrassment of it all.

“Of course,” He answered without hesitation, keeping an arm wrapped around you as he gently led you to the bed.

As soon as you were both lying down and under the sheets, you cuddled into your older brothers chest and let out a little sigh of content, “Thank you, De.” You whispered sleepily.

“I have nightmares all the time too,” He whispered after a few moments of silence, “They got worse after you almost died on that hunt.”

You felt his arms tighten around you as he spoke, and you held on just as tight in return.

“We’re okay,” He spoke comfortingly, kissing the top of your head again, “We’re okay.”

And I'll be there on the next train

“I-I need help,” You spoke shakily into the phone, wrapping your free arm tighter around yourself as you spoke.

“Alright, I’m on my way.” Came Dean's determined reply.

No, ‘I told you so’. No, ‘You made this mess, you can get out of it yourself’. No, ‘You shouldn’t have gone in the first place’. Just your selfless, loving brother who was willing to drop everything he was doing because you had made a mistake. Because you had insisted that you could finally go on a solo hunt despite his protests and pleas. Because he had been so scared of a repeat from the last time he had allowed you to go on a hunt. And even that time you were with him, this time you wouldn’t be.

And now you were in over your head and you needed your older brother to bail you out.

“Dean?” You sniffled slightly into your phone, “I’m sorry.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He spoke soothingly.

In the background, you hear the car start as if he had just been sitting in it waiting for your call.

You wouldn’t be surprised. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mad at him.

Where you lead, I will follow

“Sam’s gonna kill us ya’know.” You spoke, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into your mouth.

“What Sammy doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Dean replied calmly, leaning back against the couch cushions, eyes trained solely on the Scooby-Doo episode.

“We’re supposed to be researching lore about the case,” Even though you said it, you made no effort to turn off the television and go back to work.

“You and I both know that he’ll do all of it anyway,” He reminded you, “Might as well enjoy our time instead of wasting it.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips as you softly shook your head back and forth, folding your legs underneath you and entertaining your brother by watching his favorite show with him.

Anywhere that you tell me to

“How do you mess up making toast?” You yelled over the fire alarm.

“I don’t know! Okay? I don’t know!” Dean's voice boomed back as he wildly jumped around with a towel while trying to fan the smoke out of the room.

Despite his protests, the alarms screeching didn't come to the halt you had hoped for. If anything, it seemed to get even louder.

“I leave you alone for five minutes and this is what happens!” You scolded, “I swear, I feel like I’m the older one sometimes.”

“Just shut it and help me!” He snapped.

You sighed irritatedly, but grabbed a towel anyway and joined in on his efforts of stopping an almost inevitable fire.

It took a while- and a lot more screaming matches- before the alarm finally died down and the only thing that remained from the fire was the ringing in your ears, the faint smell of smoke, and a burnt beyond recognition piece of toast.

“Let’s… let’s not speak of this ever again.” Dean finally huffed out after catching his breath.

A wicked smile made its way onto your face at his words, “In your dreams,” You told him sinisterly.

His face dropped and he looked at you in horror, “Don’t you dare-“

“Oh, Sam,” You sang, practically dancing out of the room.

“Get back here!” The sound of thundering feet coming bounding after you made you squeal and pick up your pace.

If you need, you need me to be with you

“Y/n?” You ferociously wiped away the tears that stained your cheeks when you door was knocked on, “Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, Dean.” You silently cursed yourself for the small crack in your voice as you spoke. Though you doubted it would even need to be there for your brother to know that something was wrong.

“I’m coming in,” He announced, waiting only a split second to see if you would protest before opening your door and immediately scanning his eyes over you to see what was the matter.

“Hey, hey,” He murmured gently, dropping down in front of where you sat on your bed once he realized you didn’t appear to be in any physical pain, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head when you were unable to speak, averting your eyes from his wide, concerned ones.

“Talk to me,” He pleaded softly. He hated when something was the matter that he didn’t know about, it absolutely killed him.

“It’s just-“ You choked out a small sob, “Why?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he unconsciously swiped a piece of hair from your face, “Why, what, sweetheart?”

Again, you shook your head, “I’m being so stupid-“

“Hey,” He gently grabbed your chin and made you look at him, “Anything making you upset is not stupid. Now what’s wrong?”

“Why can’t we just have a normal life?” His heart dropped, “Why did dad have to drag us into this? We’ve lost so many people because of what we do and I just don’t know if I can take it anymore-“

“Hey, hey,” He shushed you softly, immediately wrapping his arms around you, “Shh, it’s okay, I know. Believe me, sweetheart, I know. It’s not fair. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Dean.” You sniffled, pulling away and wiping your face with your sleeve.

“Still,” Tears began to form in his own eyes and he was forced to harshly blink them away, “I wish more than anything that you could have been spared from this. And I am so damn sorry that you weren’t.”

“I don’t want this for you either, Dean.” You told him softly.

He smiled sadly, “I know, sweetheart, I know. But at least we have each other.”

You were finally able to smile slightly at that, “Yeah, we do. Don’t we?”

I will follow

Humming lightly to yourself, you put the finishing touches on the dish before you and stepped back with your hands on your hips, proudly smiling down at it.

“N/n!” Dean's voice echoed through the halls, “I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!” You echoed back, excitedly jumping to hide the plate behind your back just in time for him to enter.

He entered with a wide smile, “Hey, sweetheart, what’s-“ He froze and eyed you suspiciously, “What are you up to?”

Unable to even attempt to hide your eagerness anymore, you leapt to the side and dramatically put your arms out to the side, “Ta da!” You guestered to the plate you had previously been hiding.

A wide grin automatically broke out onto his face as he came scurrying over to the counter with childlike excitement, “Pie?” He practically squealed, “You made me pie?”

You nodded proudly, putting your hands on your hips.

He rushed over and scooped you in a long hug, spinning you around in a way that made you giggle, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” He gushed while gently setting you down, “Have I ever told you that you’re the best sister ever?” He was already taking a fork and shoveling some of it into his mouth.

“I could do with hearing it more often.” You teased.

“You’re the best sister ever!” He cheered, devouring the dessert happily.

Where you lead

The steady rocking of the car did nothing to help your tired state, nor did the music softly drifting out of the speakers and filling the small space effortlessly.

Dean's eyes flitted over to you for a quick second, “You can go to sleep, it’ll be a couple more hours until we get there.” He told you softly.

You shook your head stubbornly despite the yawn you had to bite back, “I wanna stay up with you,” You murmured, unconsciously cuddling up against the seat.

“We had a long day, just get some rest.” He insisted in the same gentle tone.

Finally, you weren’t able to hold back your exhaustion any longer and you practically melted into the cushions, “Fine,” You mumbled, “But only for a few minutes.”

He laughed lightly, reaching over with one hand and ruffling your hair playfully, “Sleep well, sleepyhead.” He teased.

“I love you, De,” You whispered, eyes already drifting shut and your head lulling to rest against the window.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Idjits 👟- @ineedmorefanfics2 @roseblue373 @popfishjr @kiyomi-uchiha777

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[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Dean: Hey, do you know how to play the trumpet?

Y/N: No, why?

Dean: *shrugging* Sam’s been getting on my nerves lately so I felt like the best way to return the favor would be to learn how to play

Y/N: Technically, you don’t need to know how to play to annoy him

Dean:

Dean: You’ve just opened my eyes

#spn incorrect quotes #supernatural incorrect quotes #spn #supernatural #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x sister reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x sister reader