#supernatural fanfci

[dragonmuse]

20 Questions for Fanfci writers

I was tagged by @thetragicallynerdy ! Thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

278. Please remember I've been writing for 20+ years and I did port everything over when I left LJ.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

4,491,070, but that is artificially inflated from the 800k repost of Leda Verse in one file, so it's actually 3.6 million give or take.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now just OFMD, but uh...many. So many.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. How (thanks to Gabriel) Dean and Castiel (accidentally) raised each other (and Sam). Supernatural. Dean/Castiel. Sam/Gabriel. I wrote this 11 years ago. It's a juggernaut.

2. A Mountain I'm Willing to Die On. Zootopia. Judy Hopps/Nick Wilde. I have no defense, I was compelled as soon as I saw the movie.

3. (Redacted because fuck J.K. Rowling, but I refuse to take down work and pretend that I was never in the fandom. The story comes with a very clear disclaimer that I do not support or agree with her in any way.)

4. Jonathan to his David. MCU. Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes. The one were Steve has a tiny penis and Bucky is into it.

5. All the First Times. MCU. Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes. One of those stories where Bucky heals in the Avengers Tower.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

YES! Because I love to stay thank you and it helps build community! <3 Love you all.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Treacherous Waters. The Hobbit. Fili/Kili. I got many shrieking comments on this one, including 'I actually curled around my computer making distressed sounds of horror' Very proud of myself for that one.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

That's pretty subjective. A lot of my fics end pretty happily with personal growth, found family, and parties.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

So far I've mostly managed to avoid being picked up on that radar. I've gotten stray comments, but it's rarely hate. I think it's mostly because I've never quite gotten popular enough to draw that kind of attention. I know the more attention a fic has gotten, the more likely I am to start to get odd comments or asks. I'm also not very active on Twitter which I think helps.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Rarely! I used to subscribe to the theory that if you don't put in smut, no one will read your work, but as birthday present to myself five or six year ago, I just stopped writing it as an experiment and while my hits went down, not nearly as much as you'd think. Now I only write if the mood really strikes me and am much happier for it.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Yep! I don't think it was crazy, but I wrote a short Avengers/Mad Max one that I'm pretty proud of: Fresh Eden

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not stolen. I did have them put on Goodreads without permission which was a weird moment in fandom a few years back. I mean it's possible someone's stolen something and I haven't found out yet, I guess. My book has been pirated though.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Thanks to all the translators out there, you do incredible work for your community.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A few times! Nothing super recent though there's WIP out there.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I don't have one. I'm a consummate multishipper. I will say my most consistent ship over the years is Brian/Bender of The Breakfast Club. I will always go back to that well.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The SMAU I was working on in OFMD. It was a really fun experiment and I don't really have that much left to go, but the amount of work to make it was extensive.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue. I really love writing how people talk to each other and I think a lot about tone and vocabulary and styles.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Plotting. I tend to go by the seat of my pants.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I will generally just note when someone has switched languages. I don't have any confidence in auto translators and unless it's an established canon nickname or endearment, I try to avoid it. I admire multilingual authors so much!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Buffy! I was fifteen and it was a Willow/Spike fic. That was...almost twenty five years ago.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

The answer changes, and for a long time it was this Sam/Gabriel fic where I put my whole philosophy major ass into it. But these days, it's definitively Leda House and the Kraken Verse. How could it not be?

---

Thanks so much for the tag, this was a lot of fun!! Neat to look back, too.

I'm gonna tag (but only if you feel like it friends!) @internerdionality @museaway @napneeders

If you didn't get tagged but see this and want to do it, consider yourself tagged!!

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

Fever

[gif credit to @heytheredeann​, I couldn’t find a gif perfect for something like this, I got distracted by a certain someone’s gorgeous face.]

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: all the icky feelings of being sick, fluffy Jensen, sweet Jensen, just Jensen being adorbs!

Word Count: 1,017

Summary: The reader is sick, and Jensen treats her to a unique way to having breakfast in bed.

Square: Breakfast in Bed ( @supernatural-jackles Tell me a story bingo)

Bingo Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

~

She turned onto her side with a plugged up groan.

The side of her bed cold and empty. Telling her, her boyfriend has been up for a while now.

She and Jensen had a fun night last night hanging out, outside on his balcony. Having a chill date night. Chatting, whine, and the cool night air at his apartment in Vancouver.

She had decided to visit him while he had the weekend off. Maybe being out in the cold for however long was enough for her to get sick with the cold.

She heard the door open.

“You awake babe?” Jensen whispered.

“Barely.” She grumbles.

“You sound awful.”

“I feel awful.”

She felt a warm hand on her head. Jensen furrowed his brow. “You’re running a bit of a fever, how about you stay, rest up. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“Okay.” She says, turning her face into the pillow, passing out.

Jensen shaking his head, chuckling.

She’s too wore out to stay up long enough to eat just yet. He thought.

Maybe later when she’s up for it.

 She managed to wake up for the day around noon. Jensen no where to be found in the apartment. But a note in the kitchen.

‘Went to get you a few things, rest up, maybe soak up in a nice hot bath. I’ll be home before you know it. – J’

She read his note with a sweet smile growing on her face.

“A bath sounds amazing right now.” She says with a sigh.

She gathered herself a change of  comfy clothes, getting a hot bath going. Not too hot but enough for her to tolerate.

Dumping a bath bomb in the tub, letting it fizzle and fill the tub with bubbles and the calming scent of lavender.

Undressing quickly she dips her naked body in the tub. Letting out a sigh of relief and content. The warmth of the water relaxing her muscles. The steam opening up her sinuses.

She slides further down the water, letting her head rest on the tubs edge, the water only getting to her neck. She closes her eyes, content with sleeping in the tub of warm water.

 She woke up to feeling a hand stroke a finger across her forehead.

She opened her eyes slowly, not feeling all that better but better than she did originally, seeing Jensen sitting on the tubs edge, brushing dry strands of her hair from her face. Even playing with her hair. She smiles with a hum, leaning into his touch.

“How are you feeling hon?”

“Still sick but better than I did.”

“Well that’s good at least.” He says. Getting up, walking out and coming in quickly with a towel.

“Better get out of there before you turn into a prune.”

She begins to move, the water being a lot cooler than it was when she first got in.

She got up tiredly but with ease. Getting out, walking into Jensen’s awaiting arms as he wrapped the towel around her, drying her off.

She didn’t care too much. She was still too exhausted to care that he was doing what she was well capable of doing.

“Lets get you dressed and in bed.”

“In bed? But it’s three in the afternoon?”

“Yeah, and your still sick. You need your rest. Besides, I got stuff for a killer soup I want to make you if you’re up for it?”

“Sure, soup sounds so good right now.”

She managed to get her clothes on herself, Jensen had changed her bed with clean and fresh sheets, a bottle of Gatorade on her nightstand.

She didn’t protest that she wanted to do other things, she allowed him to guide her to bed and she got herself comfortable.

“I’ll be right back; I just need to check the soup.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Well, I got home probably not long after you got in. I check on you when I got home, and the water was still hot then. So I figured you just got in at that point. So I started cooking the soup, and once it got close to being done I figured it was time to wake you up.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Turned into a prune,” he says with a sweet smile, chuckling. Earning a giggle from her.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I got your game system set up on our TV in here if you’re not sleepy, and if you’re wanting to play some games, watch YouTube or Netflix, we could watch it on there.”

“Got to remind me to go to Best Buy to get our Apple TV fixed.”

“Yeah, been meaning to, just been busy lately.”

“I know, but I still say it needs to be updated.”

“I just think it’s something else.”

“Jensen, I’m telling you when apps crash, it’s a compatibility issue with the software. It’s nothing more than a computer.”

“Such a nerd.”

“I know, you love me.”

“Yes I do.”

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving to check on the soup.

Coming back with a tray, sitting it on her lap she see’s two bowls of soup,  her favorite fruit juice she likes to drink when she’s sick, and small potted plant. The tag saying it’s a sweet blossom, a white spotted Aloe looking plant.

“Aw, thanks Jay.”

“Figured with your allergies, you’d like this type of plant instead.”

“I do like it, but place your bets on how long it’ll take me to kill it.”

“It’s a type of cactus honey, it might take you a while.” Jensen says chuckling.

“Never know, I’m not much of a green thumb.”

“I know.” He says. Kissing her cheek again.

“Nothing like a little breakfast in bed though.” He adds.

“Breakfast? Dude, it’s almost four, and it’s soup.”

“This is your first meal of the day. It’s breakfast.” He says with a smile.

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes laughing.

“Dork.”

“I’m your dork, and you love me.”

“Yeah I do, thanks babe. For taking care of me.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

~

A/N: What’d you think? But seriously, place your bets, I do have my first plant that I think I’m gonna end up killing unintentionally. But let me know what you thought of the story, Feedback is always appreciated. :3

~

Jensen Girls:

@luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles​, @becs-bunker​, @jayankles​, @jeaniespiehs20​, @mlovesstories​, @winchesters-favorite-girl​, @salt-n-burn-em-all​, @backseat-of-deans-67chevy​, @moonlight-on-her-skin​

Dean Girls:

@akshi8278​, @flamencodiva​, @misfit0118​, @shawnie74​, @lyarr24​

Dean and Jensen Girls:

@akshi8278​, @lyarr24​

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 4/11/2021

#spn #supernatural #spn fan fic #spn fanfic #spnfanfic #spn rpf #supernatural rpf #jensen x reader #jensenxreader #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfci #supernaturalfanfic #spn fan fiction #spn fanfiction #spnfanficiton #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernaturalfanfiction #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles x reader fic #jensen x reader fic #tell me a story bingo #tell me a story

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Begins

Part 2

Chapter Summary: The reader receives some less than stellar news from her assistant about her company.

Warnings: Language, angst

Word Count: 2.7K+

Author’s Note: Thank you all for the positive feedback on the first part. It made me smile like an idiot. I wasn’t kidding when I said feedback is like crack to writers. So, here is part two! I hope you enjoy and don’t forget to let me know what you think!

Check out the series masterlist and Alexandra’s Library for more works from yours truly!

“You gonna answer that?” Jensen’s eyes flickered from her to her phone vibrating away on the counter. She shook her head. 

“It’s probably just emails and updates. They can wait.” She continued dabbing the purple on his left cheek bone, setting the base for a bruise. 

It had been two weeks since she had uprooted her life from Texas to Vancouver to help out the studio. She had been happy to do it when they asked. Even with her makeup line getting off the ground, she missed being on set. She missed getting to hone her special effects skills. Not that they did anything too crazy on Supernatural, but she had fallen into a rut doing her YouTube tutorials on more everyday looks that she had forgotten how fun it was to cover someone in blood. Especially when that someone was Jensen. No one should look that good covered in blood.

His hand grabbed her wrist, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Y/n, answer your phone. We have plenty of time before I have to be on set.” 

She bit her tongue, Jensen and her both knew that they did not have any spare time. They were already the last ones left inside the trailer. There was no point in arguing with him, it would just take up more time that they didn’t have. With a sigh, she set down the sponge in her hand and picked up the ringing phone. 

“Hey Abby.” 

“Thank god you picked up! We lost Ashley for our spring collection.” Abby, her office manager, spit out the words so fast that she barely caught them. Jensen was watching her closely, though his expression remained neutral. 

“What do you mean? What the hell happened?!” She turned away from Jensen. Landing Ashley Graham after she dropped her contract with L’Oréal had been a miracle. Not only was Ashley her primary spokesperson now, but the two of them had collaborated on the spring collection. It was the upcoming collection that she was most excited about. The two women had become quick friends in their few business meetings. This was the last thing she needed right now. 

“Well, she’s pregnant now and her contract stated that she would have to be present for press around her due date. Her team called to let us know and the lawyers dropped her.” Abby explained. 

“Seriously? They dropped her because she got pregnant? That can’t even be legal!” She spit out. She could feel the anger resonating in her chest, her whole body flushing. “I’ve built this whole company on empowering women and you are telling me that the lawyers I hired dropped her because she got pregnant? Are they trying to bury us into the ground?” 

“They said because she breached contract…”

“Was there no contingency at all in her contract? How could she have breached her contract? This is insane.” She didn’t even let Abby finish. She was fuming. Not only did she have a long day on set today, but now she was going to have to spend all her free time doing damage control with Ashley and speaking with the company’s public relations officer to make sure this didn’t get out. 

“Listen Abby, drop the law firm we have. I want a new one by Monday. Send me everything you’ve got on who you are looking at and I’ll weed out the ones I want. I want portfolios for the best of the best in my email by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes ma’am. I’m sorry.” Y/n could hear Abby scribbling down every instruction. 

“It’s not your fault, Abby. Also, please have Carrina call me as soon as possible.” She softened her tone. The last thing she wanted was to take it out on Abby. 

“Got it.” Abby hung up and it took everything in Y/n not to chuck her phone across the room. This was absolutely the last thing her company needed. Being so new, they could not afford a scandal like this situation could become. 

“That didn’t sound so good.” She had forgotten that Jensen was in the trailer with her and his voice startled her. 

“Just my fucking lawyers trying to bury my company into the ground.” She grumbled before going back to creating the bruise on his cheek. 

“Do you need to go deal with some stuff ‘cause I can grab Trish.” He was just trying to help, she knew that, but the anger boiling inside her took over her rational thought. 

“No! I’m here to do a job and I’ll do it.” She set her mouth in a hard line. Her comment shut Jensen up quickly. Immediately, she felt horrible about her outburst. It wasn’t his fault, and he didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that. Her voice was lower this time. “Sorry.”

“You wanna talk about it?” He tried. He could tell she was stewing. She was still applying his makeup, but she wasn’t present anymore. Autopilot had taken over as her thoughts ran rampant.

“I hired this model to collaborate and model my coming spring collection. Well, I guess she informed my company that she is pregnant now and her due date comes around when we are supposed to do a press circuit for the collection. The lawyers said she breached contract and dropped her.” She explained as she put the finishing touches on him. She turned to grab the powder to set the makeup before looking back at him. 

“I’ve staked my whole reputation on the empowerment of women and what message does that send my customers? We have to walk the walk you know?” She leaned against the counter, her body coiling in on itself. 

“Yeah I know. Every little move is scrutinized by people who don’t even know you.” Jensen agreed. He shifted in his chair, straightening himself as he waited for her to continue. 

“It’s just frustrating. We have a long day today and now I have to deal with this on top of it. I’ve got to call Ashley personally and apologize and then work with my public relations officer to make sure it doesn’t get out before we can fix it. Oh and to top it all off, I have to find new lawyers.” She smiled, the action disingenuous. She was fighting back the tears. Being an angry crier was one of the most frustrating things she had dealt with all her life. Not only did anger and frustration generate the tears, but then the frustration over the tears had it all spinning in a vicious cycle. There was no way she could let them come now, not at her place of work and certainly not in front of Jensen. She was the boss, and she could not let that front down. 

“I’m sorry I pushed you to answer your phone.” Jensen said honestly. He could see her chewing on the inside of her cheek. 

“It’s fine.” She waved him off. “It’s better that I know now. Gives me more time to get ahead of it.” She dabbed the brush in her hand against the setting powder, shook off the excess, and then lightly brushed it across his cheek. 

“You’re all done. Go kick some demon ass.” She was teasing, but her tone was still heavy with the weight on her shoulders. She turned and busied herself with picking up his essentials into his bag, looking everywhere but at him. Her distraction meant she didn’t see him stop and turn as he opened the door, trying to decide if there was anything else he could say to make her feel better before deciding against it, giving her one last look before finally leaving. With the door shutting behind him, he didn’t see her gaze flick up to the door in the mirror, hoping to see him one last time before she let the tears fall. 

****

The cast and crew broke for lunch just a little before noon. Today, they were on the stages and inside most of the day. She didn’t have to worry about freezing her ass off on top of everything else, at least for now. Normally, she could handle juggling everything. Her company was still young, barely crawling and that meant every movement had meaning. The whole situation looked bad to any company, no matter if it was new or not, but it could be especially damaging to hers. It made her look like a hypocrite. 

“Hey, do you know what’s up with Y/n?” Trish sat down empty handed across the table from Jared and Jensen. 

“No.” Jared turned in his seat, following Trish’s gaze to his sister pacing back and forth, her phone glued to her ear. Her mouth was set in a hard line and her brows were wrinkled together. They couldn’t hear her from where they were, but they could see she was talking animatedly. 

“It’s probably about this morning.” Jensen said nonchalant, not even looking up from his phone. He shoved a large bite of his lunch into his mouth. 

“What happened this morning?” Jared turned back around as he asked.

“Something about her company dropping a model because she’s pregnant. Y/n took it pretty hard. Honestly, she looked like she was going to cry.” Jensen put his phone down this time. Trish and Jared were both staring at him. “What?”

“She does that.” Jared explained after a beat.

“Does what?’’ Trish didn’t fully understand what he was trying to say. 

“Cry. When she gets really angry or frustrated she cries. We used to make fun of her when we were little, you know how mean big brothers are. It would only make it worse. Not to mention she doesn’t like people to see her cry. She is very guarded when it comes to her emotions. She’s always felt like she has had to put up the devil may care attitude.” Jared explained.

“She snapped at me when I asked her if she wanted me to grab Trish so she could take care of it.” Jensen added.

“Not surprising either. She thinks she can handle everything, that asking for help is a sign of weakness. I mean this company is her baby. She created it all on her own and if she felt that that was threatened, she’d definitely lose it.” Jared snuck a look back at his sister again. She was looking at her phone now, her foot tapping against the concrete. “I feel bad, ‘cause I asked her to do this, and now I’m worried she is overwhelmed.” 

“Just give her the weekend to sort out this problem. I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Trish left the table then, and headed to grab her own lunch. Jensen had finished his plate, standing just as Trish did.

“Where you going?” Jared looked up at him, his brows knitted together. 

“I’m done eating, and I doubt your sister has had anything.” Jensen shoved his phone in his pocket and grabbed his empty plate. 

“So you’re grabbing her food?” Jared didn’t understand. “She’s an adult. If she wants to eat she will.” 

“You’re right, you are a mean big brother.” Jensen shoved Jared’s shoulder and headed off back towards the caterer. Jensen wasn’t exactly sure what she liked to eat, but he knew she had to eat something. He heard her stomach growling this morning while she was fixing his makeup and he hadn’t seen her eat anything in the hours they had been filming. They had turkey chili today, and he figured it was a safe bet. He got a bowl and topped it with cheese and sour cream before taking it over to where she was now pacing again. 

****

Emails and texts had her phone vibrating non-stop all day. She was going back and forth with Carrine and Abby over everything. She even had to find her external battery to charge it back up once already and it was only lunch. 

When lunch had finally come around, she had a chance to call Ashley. Profusely, she apologized for the misunderstanding. Ashley was a saint about it, fortunately. She told her she knew it had to be some kind of mistake. After having gotten to know each other personally, she couldn’t see Et Cetera dropping her just like that. The call was quick and sweet and she promised Ashley she would have a new contract for her by the end of the day on Monday. 

The call with her relations officer was less enjoyable. Carrine had explained to her that somehow it had been leaked already. It had been barely twenty-four hours since the whole debacle and somehow news outlets had gotten wind of the story. She would most likely have to make a statement, Ashley too. People would want to hear both sides of the story. 

She was typing an email to Ashley, apologizing again and explaining that she would come up with a statement for her to approve by the end of the day so they could both say something when movement to her left caught her eye. 

“How’s it going?” Jensen flashed her his dazzling smile, the food he had grabbed for her in his hand. 

“Better, I guess. I talked to Ashley, but somehow it got out already. I’m thinking it was her team. So now we have to do damage control.” She finished her typing and locked her phone with a sigh. 

“That sucks. I brought you some turkey chili though.” He set the bowl down on the table not far from her. 

“I’m good, thank you.” She smiled weakly, going back to doing something on her phone. 

“Y/n, your stomach was growling at seven this morning and I know for a fact that you have not eaten yet.” He crossed his arms and sat down at the table.

“What are you my dad?” Her eyes narrowed at him. “I’m not hungry.” She insisted, only to be betrayed by her stomach growling again. Jensen laughed to himself, cocking that one eyebrow.

“You sure about that? If you don’t like chili I can grab you something else.” He tried.

“I love chili actually.” She admitted as she slipped her phone into her back jean pocket before sitting down across from him. Being so preoccupied, she hadn’t even realized she had neglected to eat. Now, with the smell wafting from the bowl, she was suddenly ravenous, her mouth watering. She unwrapped the plastic spoon and dug in. The chili was exceptional, and she moaned around the spoon. 

“I think I’ll leave you two alone.” Jensen laughed and began to stand. Her face flushed pink as he sat back down.

“Shut up.” She chided. She took another bite, relishing in it, silently this time, before continuing. “Really, though, thank you.” 

“You’re Jared’s little sister, and that means you are family. Family takes care of each other.” 

“Oh yeah then why didn’t my brother bring me this?” She challenged before taking another bite. 

“Cause your brother is obtuse, frankly.” Jensen crossed his arms and leaned onto the table. 

“Obtuse?” She wasn’t quite sure where he was taking this.

“He’s not the one who noticed you didn’t eat all day, or that you’ve been distant.” Jensen pointed out. 

“And you did?” His comment stuck something inside her. He had been paying close attention to her, an idea that made her suddenly self-conscious. It was probably just because he had been there when Abby had called this morning, but a part of her couldn’t help but hope it was more than that. 

“And Trish.” He attempted to back pedal, not wanting to sound creepy. She couldn’t deny she was disappointed by that. 

“Well, my brother is busy, and he’s got his own problems he’s dealing with.” Could she really blame him for not noticing? Years of practice had made her nearly an expert on pushing down her feelings and expressing this aurora of nonchalance. Clearly, it worked better on her brother than Jensen, a fact that had her stomach rolling. 

“Apparently so since I had to take over big brother duty for him.” She let out a huff of air. Every comment Jensen made had her mind in a tug of war. On one side, he is kind and flirty, and then he will quickly revert to big brother mode, all teasing and protective. All of it was giving her whiplash. Her crush was growing with every kind gesture, like bringing her lunch, only to be squashed back down with comments like these. It left this weird emptiness in her chest every time. 

She took another bite of her chili, mumbling to herself, “Just what I need, another big brother.” 

Part 3

Again, if there is a line through your URL i don’t know why Tumblr is being a little bitch. If you don’t want to be tagged, just let me know xoxo

Forevers: @spn-impala​​ @22sarah08​​ @turtlepad​​ @callmekda​​ @chaldei​​ @hobby27​​ @casualfestivaltrashpainter​ @cowboysnwinchesters​​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @pikabootoyouchu​​ @dawnie1988​​ @fallenlux @grease222​​ @frackinawesomeninja​​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @polina-93​​ @clarinette07​​ @moonlight-babeh​​ @suckerforfanfic​​ @witandnargles​​ @sleepylunarwolf​

Et Cetera: @jbbarnesgirl​ @hillface89​ @arses21434​ @thevelvetseries​ @xoxogibbs @sslater34​ @princess11296 @mrsirishboru​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @spnfamily-j2​ @encounterthepast​ @waywardprincesa @facadeformyrealblog  @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​​ @rebeccathefangirl @squirrelnotsam @heartinmyhead1​ @1d-killed-me​ @spn-impala​ @samsgirl93​ @deans-baby-momma​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @woodworthti666​

#jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x plus sized!reader #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfci #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles smut #supernatural rpf #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn fic #jared padalecki x sister!reader #supernatural #alex writes #mine #happiness begins

[thewnchstrs]

Yellow Fever

Pairing: DeanXsister!reader, SamXsister!reader

Disclaimers: minor mentions of depression and suicide, blood, vomit, heart attacks

Word Count: 10.7K

M A S T E R L I S T

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

My chest burned with the pressure of my racing heart as I pumped my arms and legs, propelling myself forward and away from the incessant barking coming from behind me.

I chanced a look over my shoulder, fear inching its way through every bone in my body as it chased me, figuring this would surely be the end if I couldn’t pick up my pace.

I rounded a corner down the long, dark alleyway I’d been running down when suddenly I was crashing to the ground after having collided with a shopping cart full of trash. I groaned, flopping onto my stomach as I pushed myself to my feet. My eyes bounced up to the man whose cart I’d fallen over, “Run! It’ll kill you!”

The man looked from me and down to where I was pointing where the small Yorkie looked back up at me with those beady, dark eyes. The pink bow nestled in between its ears could’ve fooled anybody- but I could see right through it. I could picture it now: the minute it got a hold of me, it would tear me apart. I’d be dead within minutes.

Quickly, and with adrenaline still pumping heavily through my veins, I turned quickly on my heels and began to sprint in the opposite direction, desperately trying to outrun that tiny, vicious ball of evil.

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

Rock Ridge, Colorado.

43 Hours Earlier

“Agent Tyler, Agent Perry, Agent Kramer, meet Frank O’Brien.” the coroner said as he unzipped the body bag, revealing the face of a middle-aged white man.

“He died of a heart attack, right?” Sam asked.

The coroner nodded, “Three days ago.”

“But O’Brien was 44 years old and, according to this,” Sam opened up the manila folder in his hands as he read from it, “a marathon runner.”

“Everybody drops dead sooner or later,” the coroner simply shrugged, “it’s why I got job security.”

“Yeah, but Frank kicked it here.” Dean said, “Now just yesterday, two perfectly healthy men bit it in Maumee...all heart attacks. You don’t think that’s strange?”

“Sounds like Maumee’s problem to me. Why’s the FBI give a damn, anyway?”

“We just want to see the results of Franks autopsy,” I said, nodding to the coroner who gave me a confused look.

“What autopsy?”

I smiled the best polite, fake, smile I could, the one that suggested he really didn’t have a choice in the matter, “The one you’re gonna do.”

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

Sam, Dean, and I watched on as the coroner began the first incision, beginning at the base of the chest cavity and down to the middle of Frank’s abdomen. “First dead body?”

“Far from it,” Dean said as he watched on, his arms crossed. They always seemed so unfazed by the entire cutting open of a dead person gig. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.

“Oh, good,” the coroner said as he pulled back the sides of Frank’s stomach, unsettlingly reminding me of the time I had to dissect a frog in high school, “’cause these suckers can get pretty ripe.” the coroner nodded toward the metal table next to me, “Hey, hand me those rib cutters, would you?”

My hand hovered over the tools when I spotted the one that most resembled a pair of pliers, handing them over to the coroner. I winced as he broke numerous ribs in order to get through to Frank’s chest.

The coroner pulled out layers of muscle, piling it up in his hand as he looked to me again, “Hold this for me.”

“Oh, I��d really rather not-”

Before I knew it, I had a handful of muscle as Sam and Dean smirked at me as I held it far, fat away.

“Is this from a wedding ring?” Dean asked as he eyed Frank’s hand where, sure enough, a small patch of skin on his ring finger looked as if he were still wearing it, “I didn’t think Frank was married.”

“Ain’t my department.”

Sam picked up Frank’s arm, revealing his skin that looked as if it’d been burned off. However, as I looked closer, they weren’t burn marks at all. They were scratches.

“You know what? When you drop dead, you actually tend to drop. Body probably got scraped up when it hit the ground...huh.”

“What?” We said in unison as the coroner peered inside the body.

The coroner shook his head, “I- I can’t find any blockages in any of the major arteries.”

We watched as the coroner then stuck nearly his entire forearm into the chest cavity. My eyes went wide with horror as he felt around for something and, when he successfully grabbed a hold of it, tore it from the body, eliciting a wet and cracking sound. He held Frank’s heart up under the spot light.

I gagged slightly, covering my mouth with my upper arm in an attempt to keep my lunch down, the muscle in my hands feeling heavier than ever.

“Heart looks pretty damn healthy.” the coroner said, looking to Dean as he held the heart out, “Hold that a second, would you?” Suddenly, he shoved the heart into Dean’s hands, making him look to Sam and I in confusion.

I smirked at him this time, mocking him for making fun of me. Sam smiled beside himself at the picture of Dean and I as the coroner went back to work, cutting something deep in Frank’s chest when is spurted upward and directly into Sam’s eyes.

“Oh, sorry.” The coroner apologized, “Spleen juice.”

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

Sam, Dean and I sat in the police station silently as the lower-ranking officer sat across from us at a large desk, smiling as if to distract us from how long we’d been waiting to speak to the Sheriff.

“Hell’s bells, Linus, have you seen my-” the Sheriff asked, poking his head from his office, stopping as he spotted the three of us. Sam, Dean, and I stood from our seats. “Who are they?”

“Federal agents, I uh-”

“And you kept them waiting?”

“You- you said not to disturb-”

“Come on back, agents.” The Sheriff said, ignoring him as he motioned us inside, stopping us before we could enter his office. “Shoes off.”

We raised our eyebrows at the odd request, but, nonetheless, kicked our shoes off on the welcome mat outside the door. The office was lined with showcases of trophies and medals, framed achievement awards and a file cabinet. He obviously kept busy.

“Al Britton,” he introduced, shaking each of our hands. “Good to meet you. Take a seat.”

Pulling the chairs out on the opposite side of his desk, we sat down, watching as he pulled a large bottle of hand sanitizer from his desk drawer, pouring a generous amount into his hand, watching the three of us in uncomfortable silence before he finally decided to sit down. “So. What can I do for Uncle Sam?”

“Well, we’re looking into the death of Frank O’Brien.” Sam said, looking to Dean and I before looking back to Al. “We understand a few of your men found his body.”

Al’s face fell slightly, “They did...me and Frank, we were friends. Hell, we were gamecocks.” Dean wheezed slightly, quickly closing his mouth as Al raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s our softball team’s name. They’re majestic animals.”

I nodded slowly, “So, uh, how long have you known Frank?”

“Since high school. To be honest, I just this morning got up the strength to go see him. Frank was...he was a good man.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “big heart.”

“Bigger muscles,” I confirmed, nodding as Al nodded along in agreement.

Sam quickly interjected, “Before he died, did you notice Frank acting strange, maybe, scared of something?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” Al said as he clasped his hands together on his desk. “Real jumpy.”

“You know what scared him?”

“No. Wouldn’t answer his phone. Finally, I sent some of my boys over to check on him, and, well, you know the rest.”

Al coughed twice into his hand after that, a labored cough that nearly sounded like someone who’d been smoking for years, at least. We watched, eyebrows cinched together as he poured more hand sanitizer into his hands, vigorously rubbing them together. “So, why the feds give a crap? You don’t really think there’s a case here?”

Dean looked to us, opening and closing his mouth, unsure of what to say, “No, no. It’s probably nothing. Just a heart attack.”

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

“No way that was just a heart attack.” Dean said once we exited the police station.

“Definitely no way.” I said, shaking my head, “Three victims, all with those same red scratches, all went from jittery to terrified to dead within 48 hours.”

“Something scared them to death?” Sam joked. “Alright, so, what can do that?”

“What can’t?” I clarified. “Ghosts, vampires, chupacabra, it could be a hundred things.”

“Yeah, so, we make a list, start crossing things off.”

“Alright. Who’s the last person to see Frank O’Brien alive?:

“Uh, his neighbor, Mark Hutchins.”

As we continued down the sidewalk, I caught sight of the group of people in front of us, huddled together at the end of the road. I quickly grabbed Sam and Dean’s arms, pulling them back, “Hang on.”

“What?”

I glanced from them to the ground, trying not to make eye contact with the group, “I don’t like the looks of those teenagers down there. Let’s walk this way.”

Before they could intervene I quickly darted across the road, keeping my head low as I approached the other side of the street, crisis averted.

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

“Tyler, Perry, and Kramer,” Frank’s neighbor, Mark Hutchins said as he stroked the long garden snake that was resting over his shoulders, “just like Aerosmith.”

“Yeah, small world,” Sam said. Mark’s living room was littered with every animal known to man. Small ones and big ones, skinny and fat, long and short, scales and tongues that darted out against the glass enclosures they were encased in. I caught the eye of a lizard who whipped his head to mine, making me jump slightly, returning my attention back to Mark, “so, the last time you saw Frank O’Brien?”

“Monday. He was watching me from his window.” Mark gestured with his head toward the window across from us, “I waved at him, but he just closed the curtains.”

“Did you speak to him recently? Did he seem different...scared?”

“Oh, totally. He was freaking out.”

I wrung my hands together as I side-eyed the small crocodile in the tank next to me, his beady eyes always watching me, trying to keep my focus on what they were talking about while fear pumped through my veins.

“Do you know what scared him?” Dean asked as he crouched down to look at a bearded dragon.

Mark thought about it before answering, “Well, yeah, witches.”

“Witches?”

“Well, ‘Wizard of Oz’ was on TV the other night, right?” Mark began. He gestured wildly with his hands and I kept my eyes trained on the snake around him. “And he said that green bitch was totally out to get him.”

Sam, Dean and I raised our eyebrows at the odd accusation, nodding slowly. This Frank guy was beginning to sound bat shit crazy, “Anything else scare him?”

“Everything else scared him. Al-Qaeda, ferrets, artificial sweetener, those Pez dispensers with their dead little eyes, lots of stuff.”

As Mark listed everything off, I began to bounce my leg in anxiousness, unconsciously cracking my knuckles as I surveyed the area around me, my heart picking up more and more speed as I noticed a new animal each time I looked around the room. A tarantula, a bullfrog, a chameleon that constantly changed colors.

“So, tell me, what was Frank like?” Sam asked.

Mark hesitated, “I mean, he’s dead, you know? I- I don’t want to hammer him, but he got better.”

“Got better?”

“Well, in high school he was- he was a dick.”

“A dick?”

“Like a bully.” Mark clarified, “I mean, he probably taped half the town’s butt cheeks together,” I couldn’t help myself but laugh lightly at the thought of it, quickly snapping my mouth shut when Mark gave me a deadly glare, “mine included.”

“So he pissed a lot of people off,” I said, “you think anyone would have wanted to get revenge?”

“Well I don’t...” Frank paused, eyes darting across the floor before looking back up at us, “Frank had a heart attack, right?”

Dean came back around the room after having examined each reptile before sitting back down in a chair next to Sam, “Just answer the question, sir.”

“No...I don’t think so.” Mark shook his head in confusion, “Like I said, he got better. After what happened to his wife.”

“His wife?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow to Sam and I, “So he was married?”

“She died, about 20 years ago,” Mark said, sadly, “Frank was really broken up about it.”

I grimaced at the snake that now laid still in Mark’s arms, feeling as if at any moment it could strike. I sat on the edge of the couch, trying to settle my racing heart. Mark looked at me, confused before laughing, “Don’t be afraid of Donny. He’s a sweetheart. It’s Marie you gotta look out for. She smells fear.”

As if on cue, a fat, yellow spotted python began to peek over the couch, its body slowly slithering over the cushions next to my shoulder. I snapped my head forward, inhaling sharply as I felt it nudge my arm, its head nearly the size of my fist. I watched Sam and Dean in desperation, took scared to move as the snake came down over my shoulder and down across my lap.

My eyes trailed to Mark pleadingly, my words coming out in short bursts of air, “Little help here.”

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

I sat in the back of the Impala, repeatedly itching my inner arm mindlessly as Dean read through article after article in the front when he dramatically groaned, “Y/N would you stop scratching that thing already?”

My hand suddenly stopped, not realizing how loud the material of my jacket was. “I’m telling you Dean, it was one of those dumb animals.”

Sam pulled the car door open then, sliding in next to Dean, “Any luck at the counter clerk’s office?”

“Not sure I’d call it luck.” Dean said as I scooted to be in between their shoulders as Dean passed me a printed copy of an article of a missing woman, “Frank’s wife, Jessie, was a manic-depressive. She went off her meds back in ‘88 and vanished. They found her two weeks later, three towns over, strung up in her motel room- suicide.”

“Any chance Frank helped her along to the other side?” Sam asked, nicking the article from my hands.

“No, Frank was working the swing shift when she disappeared.” Dean turned the engine over, the Impala rumbling to life, “Airtight alibi.”

Dean immediately sped off down the road, making me grip the door handle as I watched him fly down the road with no regard to the speed limit. I swallowed roughly, my heart beginning to race again. What if he got into a wreck? What if he hit someone walking across the road?

I tried my best to push all of the bad thoughts out of my head and tried to focus on something else, “How was Frank’s pad?”

“Clean,” Sam said, “searched it top to bottom. No EMF, no hex bags, no sulfur.”

“So probably no ghosts, no witches, no demons.” Dean said, “Three down and 97 to go.”

As we entered the city limits, Dean began to go faster, the cars and buildings on the other side of the road looking like smudges as he gassed it. I gripped tighter onto the door, “Dean, you’re gonna get us killed.”

Sam turned halfway in his seat to look at me, his eyebrows cinched together in confusion as Dean’s eyes darted to mine through the rearview mirror. “I’m going five over.”

“Is safety a crime now?!” I nearly shouted, “And why doesn’t this damn car have seat belts, anyway?”

Dean widened his eyes slightly as he shook his head, coming to a stop at an intersection. I nearly stuck my head out of the window to see the oncoming traffic.

“Y/N, get back in the car!” Dean nearly shouted as he slammed on his breaks. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Dean, were you really going to make a left-hand turn onto oncoming traffic!?” My wild eyes darted to Sam who stared at me in confusion, “Is he suicidal!?” I sat back against the seats as Dean turned anyway, as I held my breath, thinking about what I’d said. “Did I just say that? That was kind of weird wasn’t it?”

As we pulled in front of the motel room, a low whining came from the front seat, almost like static, making Sam look around the car, “Do you hear something?”

Dean and I looked over to Sam who felt around his jacket pockets before pulling out the EMF detector, holding it out for us to see, the lights on top going crazy as he moved it over him and Dean, the lights disappearing. However, as he hovered it over the backseat, the red lights lit up like a Christmas tree.

My heart fell as I stared at them, wide-eyed. “Am I haunted?” When Sam and Dean didn’t say anything, I began to panic, “Am I haunted!?”

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

I laid against the Impala’s seats, the warm sun beating down on my face through the back window. Sam and Dean had gone across the street to get breakfast, but the last thing I was going to do was walk across a busy street just for some donuts and possibly encountering a bakery robber? No thanks, I wasn’t insane.

Eye of the Tiger began filtering through the car speakers, the bass rumbling beneath me as I started to play the drums along with the beat, getting ready to belt out the chorus when two rhythmic slaps on the roof of the car made me fly up in my seat. I muted the music, laying a hand over my chest, Sam and Dean watched me in confusion from outside the car.

I quickly threw the door open, “You guys, look at this.” I rolled the sleeves of my shirt up, revealing three short scratches on my inner arm that almost looked like they’d come from a cat.

“I told you to stop itching that thing, Y/N,” Dean said, cocking an eyebrows as he grabbed a donut from the box in his hands. “We talked to Bobby.”

“And?”

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, having one of their silent conversations, “It’s ghost sickness.”

“Ghost sickness?”

“Yeah.”

I leaned back against the car, sighing, just the name of it giving me the creeps, “God, no...” I shook my head, “I don’t even know what that is.”

“Some cultures believe that certain spirits can infect the living with disease, which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses and started taking them off to funeral homes-” Sam began, but I really wasn’t interested in a history lesson at this point.

“Okay, get to the good stuff.”

“Symptoms are you get anxious,” Dean began, his voice muffled as he spoke around the donuts coating his mouth, “and scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out. Sound familiar?”

I ran my tongue over my teeth, watching the two of them, “Yeah, but, we haven’t seen a ghost in weeks.”

“Well I doubt you caught it from a ghost. Look, once a spirit infects that first person, ghost sickness can spread like any sickness through a cough, a handshake, whatever. It’s like the flu.”

Dean threw the box of donuts into the open window of the car, licking the powder off of his thumb, “Now, Frank O’Brien was the first to die, which means he was probably the first infected. Patient zero. Our very own outbreak monkey.”

“Right.” Sam confirmed. I switched my attention to him, worrying my lip between my teeth now, “Get this- Frank was in Maumee over the weekend. Softball tournament...which was where he must have infected the other two victims.”

“Were they Gamecocks?” I asked, thinking back to the Sheriff.

“Cornjerkers.” Dean clarified, rolling his eyes at the name.

I sighed, “So, let me get this straight. Ghost infected Frank, he passed it on to the other guys, and I got it from his corpse?”

“Right.”

“So now, what, I have 48 hours before I go insane and my heart stops?” I asked, already feeling my impending doom.

“More like 24.”

I nodded, “Super...how do we stop it?”

“We gank the ghost that started all this. We do that, the disease should clear up.” Sam said, making it sound like a simple task.

“You guys thinking Frank’s wife?” Dean asked.

“Who knows why she killed herself, you know?” Sam shrugged. I ran both of my hands through my hair as I crossed my arms over my chest.

“What are you doing waiting out here, anyway?” Dean asked, eyeing me.

My eyes bounced up to his and then to the motel behind us. I stared up at the tall building, the numerous floors. Just the thought of being all the way up there made me queasy, “Our room’s on the fourth floor. It’s uh...it’s high.”

Sam and Dean laughed lightly, raising their eyebrows at me, “I’ll see if I can move us down to the first.”

“Thanks.” I said quickly, shaking my head as I slid back into the Impala, ready to get rid of this sickness.

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

I sat at a table in the motel room, an open lore book sitting in front of me. I was supposed to have been reading it while Sam and Dean were out talking to victims families. Now just the idea of having to get into that hunk of metal Dean called a car looked more like a moving death trap to me.

I desperately tried to focus on the pages but I found myself reading and rereading the same three sentences over and over again because the clock above me continued to tick, tick, tick as if it were reminding me just how little time I had left.

I stared at the clock, shaking my head as if to clear the noise. I looked back down at the book which now seemed to be on a completely different page. Two graphic images looked back up at me, a man, vomiting pools of blood onto the ground and the other, a woman’s chest looking as if it’d been ripped from the base of her throat to the middle of her stomach.

I coughed twice, my throat suddenly feeling raw. As I leaned in closer to the book, where in the middle of a sentence, the words, You’re dying. stood out among the page. I cinched my eyebrows together as I continued to read. Again. I rubbed at my eyelids, I was just tired. Yeah, that was it.

I looked back down at the pages. You gonna cry? I pushed the book away, my heart racing as the ticking of the clock above me seemed to become louder and louder until it sounded like atom bombs dropping. I covered my ears with my arms, clasping my hands behind my head but the ticking only increased, faster and faster, I could nearly feel myself fading away-

In one swift motion I flew up from the chair, nearly knocking it to the ground as I punched a fist right through the middle of the clock, glass scattering as I threw it onto the floor, the ticking finally ceasing.

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

I laid across the couch, staring at the dirty motel ceiling, my hands clasped over my stomach, enjoying the silence when they came back. I felt their eyes on me as they looked from the shattered clock on the floor to where I was put up.

“Everything okay?” Dean asked, setting plastic bags of takeout onto the table.

“Oh yeah,” I sighed, “just peachy.” I sat up on the couch, throwing my legs over the side as I held my head in my hands, “Find anything?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, coming to sit across from me, “Jessie O’Brien’s body was cremated, so we’re pretty sure she is not our ghost.”

“Hey,” Dean said, nudging my foot that was propped on the coffee table now, “stop picking at that.” I looked down to where I’d been subconsciously scratching at my inner arm, my hands falling to my sides. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Awesome,” I smiled sarcastically, “it’s nice to have my head on the chopping block again. I almost forgot what that feels like.”

“We’ll keep looking.”

I raised my eyebrows slightly as I began to cough again into my hand. Bringing it away, it was splattered with blood, my eyes going wide as I continued to choke, bringing my hands to my chest as I punched a closed fist around it.

“You okay?” Dean asked, the two of them at the edge of their seats now. “Hey!”

I gagged, unable to answer them from something blocking my airways as I ran to the bathroom, the two of them close on my heels as I hovered over the sink, my hands gripping the counter. I dry heaved multiple times, desperately trying to get air past the thing clogging my throat when suddenly, it flew from my mouth.

Sam, Dean and I stared at it as I picked it up, rinsing the blood away under the faucet as I held it up. A small, rectangular wooden piece with strange engravings on the front.

Sam examined it closely, “We’ve been ignoring the biggest clue we have...you.”

I rolled the block in my hand, “I don’t wanna be a clue.”

“Sam’s right,” Dean said, eyebrows raised in understanding. “The abrasions, this, the disease...it’s trying to tell us something.”

“Tell us what?!” I nearly shouted, holding up the block, “Wood chips!?”

Sam laughed halfheartedly, “Exactly.”

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

Dean drove up in front of the rundown lumber mill, throwing the car into park. As we filed out, I stared up at the abandoned building, running my teeth over my bottom lip as I surveyed everything that could go wrong in there. Bodies, ghosts, one scratch against a rusty nail and one of us could get tetanus.

“I’m not going in there,” I said, shaking my head as I turned to them.

“We need you in there, Y/N,” Dean said as he rounded to the trunk, pulling open the weapons arsenal, “c’mon, it’ll be good for you!”

I scoffed slightly, rolling my eyes as I stuffed my hands into my pockets, “Yeah, real good.” I watched as Sam and Dean each pulled out their guns as they passed mine to me. Usually, I would’ve taken it with no hesitation, but this time, a feeling of dread washed over me at the sight of it, “Oh, I’m not carrying that.” Sam and Dean cocked their eyebrows at me, “It could go off!” My eyes raked over the trunk before reaching for what looked the safest, holding it close to my chest, “I’ll man the flashlight.”

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

I followed close behind Dean who lead the way into the lumber mill, sandwiched between him and Sam. I made sure to keep a firm grip on the back of Dean’s jacket. The last thing we needed was to get separated. I shone the flashlight over the high walls and outdated machinery that sat unused for what had to have been more than fifty plus years.

We made it nearly a hundred feet into the building when the EMF detector in Sam’s jacket went off, the lights going crazy as he held it out in front of him.

“EMF’s not gonna work with me around, is it?” I asked, slightly hopeful they’d send me back to wait in the car.

“You don’t say,” Sam said as he pocketed the EMF detector, “come on.”

I groaned slightly as we walked deeper into the dark when suddenly, Dean stopped, the quick movement making me jump. He leaned down close to the ground as he picked up a small, silver ring, reading the engravings, “To Frank, Love Jessie.” He looked to Sam and I, “Frank O’Brien’s ring...What the hell was Frank doing here?”

“No idea,” Sam shrugged as we pushed ourselves up off of the ground as we rounded a corner. It was much darker down this hallway, the only light coming from small windows high up on the walls.

We seemed to be walking aimlessly, randomly picking which doors to go through and which to avoid. It was an extremely dangerous method if you asked me, but I couldn’t find it in myself to mention that to either of them.

“You know, this isn’t so bad-” I began when, as if on cue, a loud rattling came from fifty feet ahead of us, the noise nearly making me jump out of my skin. I gripped Sam’s shoulder for leverage as I watched with wild eyes, Dean walking toward the source.

A row of lockers sat in a small, square room where the noise seemed to be getting louder, my heart rate picking up as I watched Sam slowly reach for the locker. I whimpered lamely as he counted down from three and I suddenly wished I’d taken them up on that gun.

“One...” Sam began counting, “two...three!”

In one swift motion, Sam yanked the locker open, a cat flying from the top shelf, making me scream horror, my voice incredibly high, the screeches echoing through the small room. Both Sam and Dean watching me with wide eyes as I panted, my hands resting on my knees as I caught my breath, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I looked at them, “That was scary!”

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

The next room was littered with loose papers, fallen bookcases and empty desks. It looked like it could’ve been an office at one point. We surveyed the area, checking out the everything we could that could lead us to the ghost we needed to get rid of in order to cure me.

“Luther Garland,” Sam said from one side of the room after examining an ID. I looked over his shoulder, shining the flashlight on the picture of the man.

“He’s creepy.”

“Hey!” Dean said from over a desk. He was holding up a drawn portrait on yellowing paper, “This is...this is Frank’s wife.”

“Plot thickens,” Sam said, the two of us coming to look at the picture, comparing it to the missing persons article Dean had in his pocket.

“Yeah, but into what?”

Dean ripped the portrait up from the table when a loud noise filtered through the building, like machinery coming to life. I jumped, turning around as I flashed the light over the room, once, twice-

My flashlight stopped at a figure in the corner, my blood instantly running cold, my heart stopping. He was facing away from us, a big, bald man. My hands shook, I tried to call out to Sam and Dean but to no use. I slowly brought my free hand up to Sam, hitting his arm. “G-ghost.”

Sam and Dean quickly turned around, training their shotguns on the ghost, “Hey!” Dean shouted, “Hey, asshat!”

I saw this as my chance. I dropped the flashlight onto the ground and sprinted out of the revolving doors, pumping my arms and legs until I was outside, quivering as I squatted down low behind the car, but not before snagging Dean’s bottle of whiskey he kept in the driver’s side door, quickly gulping it down, letting the alcohol wash over me.

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

“This is the Garland file,” the deputy said, handing Sam a manila folder. It was the same deputy, the young one who wouldn’t let us see the Sheriff for nearly an hour. Dean and Sam examined the file as I stood back, not wanting to get any glance at the bloody crime scene photos. The deputy’s eyes traveled past Dean’s shoulder and over to me where I was fiddling with my suit jacket, “Is...is she drunk?”

“No,” Sam said quickly as he motioned for me to sit down.

“Deputy, according to this,” Dean said, pointing to a document in the file, “Luther Garland’s cause of death was physical trauma. What does that mean?”

“They guy died 20 years ago- before my time. Sorry.”

“Can we talk to the Sheriff?”

“He’s out sick today.”

Sam nodded slowly, “Well, if you see him, will you have him call us? We’re staying at the Bluebird.”

“Sure thing,” the deputy said as Sam and Dean began to head toward the exit. I shifted on my feet, smiling at him.

“You know what?” I slurred slightly before pointing at him, “You’re cute.”

The deputy blushed, smiling, “Uh, thanks. You too.”

I smiled sheepishly, stumbling before Dean grabbed me by the back of my neck and forced me out of the police station.

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

“I can’t believe you drank half of that bottle,” Dean said as we walked through the nursing home where Luther Garland’s brother was said to be living.

“I can’t believe you keep alcohol in your car,” I said, rubbing my aching head as the alcohol began to wear off. “This isn’t gonna work.” I shook my head, “These badges are fake. We could get busted, we could go to jail!”

“Y/N, shh!” Sam reprimanded, stopping me in the middle of the hallway, “Calm down. Deep breath, okay?” Sam demonstrated the deep breathing, in through his nose and out through his mouth. “There. You feel better?”

I slowly shook my head in fear as Dean grabbed the two of us, “Just- come on!”

Dean lead us into the nursing home’s rec room where a nurse said Garland spent most of his time. Sure enough, at a table by himself, a man with long, thinning hair in a wheelchair sat next to a tall window.

Sam cleared his throat, getting the man’s attention, “Mr. Garland.” He looked up at us, eyebrow cocked, “I’m Agent Tyler, this is Agent Perry and Agent Kramer- FBI. We’d like to ask you a few questions about your brother, Luther.”

Mr. Garland sat back in his chair, clasping his hands in front of him, “Let me see some ID.”

I whipped my head to Sam and Dean, shakily opening my badge as we handed them to him. Mr. Garland studied them closely before eyeing the three of us.

“Those are real.” I assured, “Obviously.” Dean cleared his throat, giving me a deadly glare. “I- I mean, who would pretend to be an FBI Agent, huh? That’s just nutty!”

Sam stomped lightly onto my toes making me stop mid sentence as I grimaced at Mr. Garland who handed the badges back, “What do you want to know?”

Sam held up the folder given to him by the deputy as we all pulled out chairs across from Mr. Garland, “Well, according to this, your brother Luther died of physical trauma.”

Mr. Garland scoffed, shaking his head as Dean raised his eyebrows at him, “You don’t agree.”

“No I don’t.”

“Well, then what would you call it?”

Mr. Garland ran a finger over the rim of his coffee mug, “Don’t matter what an old man thinks.”

“Mr. Garland,” Sam said, “we’re just trying to get the truth on your brother. Please.”

Mr. Garland hesitated, reaching across the table toward the file as he plucked the ID we’d found in the lumber mill, “Everybody was scared of Luther. They called him a monster. He was too big, too mean-looking. Just too...different.” Mr. Garland ran his thumb over the picture as he described his brother, “Didn’t matter he was the kindest man I ever knew. Didn’t matter he’d never hurt no one. A lot of people failed Luther,” he said, tears brimming his eyes, “I was one of ‘em...I was a widower with three young’uns, and, I told myself there was nothing I could do.”

Sam nodded sympathetically as he unfolded the portrait of Frank’s wife, “Mr. Garland, um...do you recognize this woman?”

"It’s Jessie O’Brien,” he confirmed, “her man, Frank, killed Luther

I raised my eyebrows as Dean took the words right out of my mouth, “How do you know that?”

“Everybody knows. They just don’t talk about it.” Mr. Garland looked to the three of us, and when he realized we wanted the full story, he sighed at the memory, “Jessie was a receptionist at the mill. She was always real nice to Luther, and he had a crush on her. But Frank didn’t like it. And when Jessie went missing, Frank was sure that Luther had done something to her. Turns out the old gal killed herself, but Frank didn’t know that...they found Luther with a chain wrapped around his neck. He was dragged up and down the stretch outside that plant till he was past dead.”

“And O’Brien was never arrested?” I asked, finding it hard to believe someone could get away with doing something like that.

“I screamed to every cop in town. They didn’t want to look into Frank. He was a pillar of the community, my brother was just the town freak.”

“You must’ve hated Frank O’Brien,” Dean said.

Mr. Garland nodded, “I did for a long time, but, life’s too short for hate, son. And Frank wasn’t thinking straight. His wife had vanished. He was terrified. A damn shame he had to put Luther through the same, but...that’s fear.” Mr. Garland’s gaze settled on me, as if he knew what was happening in me, “It spreads and spreads.”

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

“Now we know what these are- road rash,” I said as we exited the nursing home, motioning to my inner arm, “and I’m guessing Luther swallowed some wood chips when he was being dragged down that road.”

“Makes sense,” Sam said, setting the case file onto the top of the car, “you’re experiencing his death in slow motion.”

“Yeah, well, not slow enough, huh? I say we burn some bones and get me healthy.”

“Y/N, it won’t be that easy,” Dean cautioned.

“No, no. It will be that easy.” I clarified, my eyes darting between him and Sam, “Why wouldn’t it be that easy?”

“Luther was road hauled. His body was ripped to pieces. He was probably scattered all over that road. There’s no way we’re gonna find all the remains.”

My breathing quickened at Sam’s logic, steadying myself on the car, “You’re kidding me.”

“Look, we’ll just have to figure something else out.” Dean said as he pulled his keys from his pocket. I slowly pulled the backdoor open before slamming it shut again.

I shook my head, taking off away from the car, “You know what? Screw this.”

“Woah, woah!” Dean nearly shouted, him and Sam following me, “Come on-”

“No! I mean...come on, you guys.” I stared at them both wide eyed, feeling lost and confused and angry because I didn’t want to die. Of all the ways I thought I’d go out, dying of an illness was not one of them. “What are we even doing!?”

“We’re hunting a ghost,” Sam said slowly as if to help me better understand.

“A ghost! Exactly! Who does that!?”

Dean squinted his eyes at me as if trying to figure out if it was a trick question, “...us.”

“Us? Right.” I panted, feeling like I was going crazy. Every detail of our lives hitting me like a train, “And that- that is exactly why our lives suck! I mean, come on. We hunt monsters! What the hell!?” Sam and Dean watched me closely as I ranted but quietly listened nonetheless, “I mean, normal people, they see a monster, and they run but not us- no, no, no, we- search out things that want to kill us. OR EAT US! You know who does that? Crazy people! We, are insane!” I began to walk circles around the car, ticking off everything on my fingers as I rambled, everything I’d kept inside about our lives finally bubbling up, “You know, and then there’s the bad diner food and then the skeevy motel rooms and then the truck-stop waiter with the bizarre rash, I mean, who wants this life?! Do you actually like being stuck in a car with me eight hours a day, every single day? I don’t think so! I mean, I get car sick and I belt out the same five albums over and over and over again, and I’m annoying, I know that. And you two- you’re gassy! And it’s not just Dean, either, Sam, you eat half a burrito, and you get toxic! I mean, you know what, you can forget it.”

I panted, throwing my hands in the air as I walked toward the sidewalk, away from the car as Sam and Dean called after me, “Where are you going?”

I quickly turned on my heels, pointing at them, “Stay away from me! ‘Cause I am done with it. I’m done with the monsters and- and- and the hellhounds and the ghost sickness and the damn apocalypse. I’m out. I’m done. Quit.”

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

I wiped the sweat from my forehead as I fell down on top of the motel bed. That damn dog from hell with it’s damned pink bow chased me all the way back to the Bluebird, giving me no choice but to come back.

The motel door was thrown open, Sam and Dean confused but relieved nonetheless at the sight of me, “We looked for you everywhere, Y/N! How the hell did you get here?”

I ground my teeth, trying to keep the dog out of my head, “Ran.”

“Don’t ever do that again,” Dean warned, pointing to me as him and Sam came to sit on the beds.

We sat in silence, knowing our options were slim-to-none. I glanced at the two of them, “What do we do now? I got less than four hours on the clock...I’m gonna die.”

“Yeah, you are.” Sam agreed, Dean nodding his head along with him. I sat back slightly, cinching my eyebrows together, “You’re going back.”

“Back?”

“Downstairs, Y/N. Hell,” Dean clarified, not a trace of sadness in his voice, “it’s about damn time, too. Truth is, you’ve been a real pain in our ass.”

At his words, Sam and Dean looked to me, Dean’s eyes pitch black while Sam’s were glowing yellow. I quickly stood from the bed but was thrown back against the wall, a pressure on my chest so strong I could hardly move my fingers.

“Get out of my brothers!” I yelled, only eliciting a laugh from them, “Bitch!”

Sam and Dean stood to their full heights as they smiled, “No one’s possessing us, Y/N. This is what we’re going to become.” They drew closer until they were inches from my face, “This is what we want to become.” Sam laid a hand on my shoulder, “and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I can take this from here,” Dean said this time, coming to stand where Sam was as he suddenly gripped me around the throat, squeezing, cutting off every airway-

“Hey, hey, hey! Y/N!” Dean shouted and suddenly, I could breathe again. I scratched at my throat, my eyes flying up to him as I pushed them both away slightly, their eyes back to their normal colors. Sam and Dean watched me closely, “You’re okay. It’s alright.”

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

*Sam’s POV*

I leaned against the Impala, waiting for Bobby to bring me the lore book he said could be of some use. Y/N was too scared to even stay alone in the motel by herself, the threat of a burglar in the middle of the day too big of a threat for her that she insisted Dean stay with her.

The low rumble of a car came up behind the Impala where Bobby came to a stop, “Howdy, Sam.”

“Hey, Bobby. Thanks for coming so quick.”

“Where are the other two?” Bobby asked, referring to Y/N and Dean.

I laughed lightly, trying my best to make light of a pretty dark situation, “Uh, home sick.”

“So, have her hallucinations started yet?”

I nodded, thinking back to how she’d freaked out on Dean and I, “Few hours ago.”

“How we doing on time?”

“Well, we saw the coroner about 8 AM Monday morning,” I checked my watch, the realization of just how little time he had hitting me, “so just under two hours.”

Bobby nodded as he handed over the lore book, a small, blue leather bound. “’Encyclopedia of Spirits’, dates to the Edo period.”

I flipped the book open, staring at the foreign lettering, “You can read Japanese?”

“Not the point,” he said, “this book lists a kind of ghost that could be our guy. It uh, infects people with fear. It’s called Buruburu.”

“It say how to kill it?”

“Same as usual: burn the remains.”

I sighed, fearing he’d say that, “Wonderful. Is there a plan ‘b’?”

“Well, the Buruburu is born of fear. Hell, it is fear. And the lore says we can kill it with fear.”

“So we have to scare a ghost to death?” I asked. This job just keeps getting weirder and weirder.

Bobby shrugged, “Pretty much.”

I nodded slowly, “How the hell are we gonna do that?”

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

*Y/N’s POV*

I sat at the edge of the chair I was in, mindlessly scratching my inner arm over the gauze Dean had wrapped over it, blood seeping through the bandages.

“How many times do I have to tell you to knock that off?” Dean asked from the other end of the couch.

I groaned, rolling my eyes as I watched the cartoon on the small TV, smiling slightly when the cartoon donkey was wrung around the neck by a rope, getting dragged away by a buggy.

I grimaced slightly, snatching the remote off of the table, “Not helping.”

Dean’s phone began to ring, Sam’s caller ID lighting up. Dean quickly reached for it, putting it on speaker, “Hey.”

“Hey. So, uh, just have Y/N ride out the trip, okay? She’s- she’s gonna be fine. We got a plan.”

I cocked an eyebrow skeptically as I switched the TV off, “What is it?”

“Uh, just a good plan, alright? Hang in there.”

Sam ended the call, leaving Dean and I to helplessly look at one another, praying it would work.

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

*Sam’s POV*

“This is a terrible plan.” Bobby said as he loaded the rock salt rounds into his shotgun at the trunk of the Impala. We were back at the lumber mill in the hopes we’d be able to get rid of Luther Garland’s ghost once and for all.

“Yeah,” I said, pocketing the phone, “tell me about it.”

“I know I said ‘scare the ghost to death’, but this?”

“Hey, if you’ve got a better idea, I’m listening.”

Bobby shrugged, shutting the trunk as he followed me into the mill, walking aimlessly around the ground floor, waiting for Luther to make an appearance.

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

*Y/N’s POV*

I ran a hand down my face, trying to block out the sound of my racing heart and the sound of the dogs barking-

Dogs barking?

I quickly looked around the room, the sound eerily similar to that of Hellhounds. I gripped the sides of the chair, mentally cursing Dean for leaving me here to get food from across the street.

My heart rate quickened, listening as the sounds of the snarling dogs seemed to come closer and closer until the motel door began to shake as if the dogs were pounding on it.

I lowered myself onto the floor, hiding behind the chair I’d been sitting in. I watched the door as it shook and shook and shook until it was kicked inward, splinters of wood flying into the room.

This is a hallucination, I’m hallucinating. I told myself but it was all too real when Sheriff Britton stepped into the room, his chest heaving. I slowly stood, “Sheriff? what are you doing here?”

My eyes traveled down to his hand where he was holding a gun, making my body freeze in panic.

“Why are you looking into Luther Garland’s death?” Al asked, his eyes feral.

I opened and closed my mouth, trying to think of something to say when I spotted his arm, his uniform sleeve coated in blood. “Hey, hey, you’re- you’re sick. Just- just like me, okay? You gotta relax-”

Suddenly, Al swung the butt of the gun into my temple, making me momentarily see stars. I shuffled backward against the wall, holding my head.

“Frank O’Brien was my friend.” Al said, “So he made a mistake. So I didn’t bust him. So what? And you’re gonna bring me down over that!?” I rested my head against the wall, balancing myself as he pointed the gun at me, “No, ma’am.”

Without thinking, I smacked the gun out of Al’s hand just from the fear of looking down its barrel. We both stood, slightly stunned that’d actually worked. I only had a few seconds before I was forced against the wall, Al’s arm pressed against my throat. I groaned, pushing his face away from mine, but doubled over in pain as he relentlessly punched my stomach, once, twice.

Focus, Y/N!

I shook my head as if clearing away a fog and took the opportunity when Al’s side was exposed, punching his abdomen with all of my strength, but he was too strong for me.

Al banged my head against the brick one more time, my vision spotting but before I had the chance to black out, I took notice of his now black eyes. It was enough for me to throw his body off mine, sending him crashing onto the glass coffee table next to us.

I stood back, watching hesitantly as Al writhed on the floor, gripping his chest, “Get away from me!”

“Al, you gotta calm down!”

“Step back!”

I watched helplessly as his struggling became worse when suddenly, his movements stops, his fingers unfurling from his shirt as he laid motionless on the floor.

“Y/N!” a voice yelled from the hallway, Dean skidding to a stop in the doorway, his eyes wide at the sight of Al and then looking to me, “Are you okay? What happened?”

I hesitated, the severity of the situation feeling worse than ever. My eyes raked over his lifeless body before looking to Dean, “He’s dead.”

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

*Sam’s POV*

I entered the next room, shotgun held out in front of me when Bobby’s voice came over the walkie-talkie at my hip, “Any luck?”

When I figured the coast was clear I let the gun fall beside me, bringing the walkie-talkie to my mouth, “I don’t know what’s wrong, Bobby. Last time he came right at us. It’s almost like he’s, uh...” I thought about it, really thinking about the kind of person Luther’s brother painted him as when it hit me, “it’s like he’s scared.”

I looked down at the gun in my hand, slowly lowering it to the ground as a sign that I wasn’t a threat to Luther, hoping my thoughts were true.

“So now what?”

I sighed, “Guess I gotta make him angry.”

I ran up to where Dean had found the first portrait of Jessie, remembering how Luther came when Dean had accidentally ripped it. Rummaging through each desk drawer, I found a pile of drawn portraits, all of them of Jessie.

I picked one up, “Hey Luther!” I shouted as I tore it down the middle before crumpling it into a ball, ripping each one multiple times. I began to hear the familiar sound of machinery starting up, the whirring of electricity as it came to life, “Come on, Luther! Where the hell are you!?”

I searched through the desk one last time before finding the last portrait. It was the largest of them all, and by far the most detailed. This was my last chance to get Luther where I needed him. My last chance to save Y/N. I breathed in deeply as I tore that one down the middle, too.

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

*Y/N’s POV*

I sat at the end of my bed, ruthlessly scratching at each of my arms, blood and skin beginning to pool under my fingernails when Dean came back into the motel room, panting after having gotten rid of Al’s body.

“Hey, hey.” Dean said, coming to squat in front of me, gently taking my hands away from my arms. I looked down at him, scared out of my mind as their words echoed in my head.

“You’re going back.”

“It’s about damn time, too.”

Dogs barking.

Pounding heart.

Dean’s ticking watch.

I looked down at Dean’s wrist, “Take it off.”

“What?-”

“I said take it off!” I nearly shouted, making Dean throw the watch into his duffel bag under his bed but I could still hear it, the ticking of the seconds hand winding counting down the moments until my heart stopped beating.

I covered my ears, doubling over so my head was hovering above my knees. I opened my eyes, spotting a black book poking itself out from under the bed frame. I slowly pulled it out, the Bible staring back at me as if to tell me even God couldn’t help me now.

Regardless, I brought the book close to my lips, closing my eyes as I did the one thing I hadn’t done in years: I prayed. I prayed until I could no longer hear the ticking, my heartbeat drowning out when I heard a young voice that shook me so deep into my core my eyes flew open, my heart sinking.

“Hi, Y/N.”

I slowly turned toward Lilith who sat on the bed next to me, “No. No.” I growled as I gripped the Bible tighter, looking around the room for Dean who seemed to have vanished into thin air.

“Yes!” She said, “It’s me, Lilith.” Suddenly, she grabbed me on my shoulder, hugging me, “Oh, I missed you so much! It’s time to go back now.”

I slithered out from under her grasp, standing from the bed, “You- you’re not real!” 

“What’s the matter, Y/N? Don’t you remember all the fun you had down there?” I couldn’t even look at her, just her voice was something that haunted me years after I was dragged out of the pit. Lilith stood from the bed, walking toward me, “You do remember. Four months is like 40 years in Hell. Like doggy years. And you remember every second.”

For every step she took toward me, I took one back, trembling when a sharp pain reverberated in my abdomen, making me double over, “You are not real.” I gasped out, clutching my stomach.

Lilith yanked my head up so I was looking into her now all-white eyes, “It doesn’t matter. You’re still gonna die. You’re still gonna burn.”

I gritted my teeth, “Why me? Why’d I get infected?”

Lilith pulled her hands from my face, bringing her hands to her hips as her eyes rolled back to normal, “Silly goose. You know why, Dean. Listen to your heart.”

“What?” I asked, watching her.

“Ba-boom.” she said making me flinch in pain at the sudden sharpness in my chest. “Ba-boom.” I gasped in pain, falling onto my side, my hand clutching my shirt as my heart began to pound faster and faster, “Ba-boom. Ba-boom! Ba-boom!”

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

*Sam’s POV*

Luther threw me to the dirt floor, kicking my side in. I groaned in pain, reaching for the shotgun just out of arm’s reach but he picked me up by my heels, dragging me farther and farther away.

Luther flipped me over onto my back, rhythmically pounding me into the floor, almost to the beat of a heart.

The third time he threw me to the ground, I reached behind me, grabbing hold of anything I could when I felt an iron chain. Bringing it over my head, I quickly wrapped it around Luther’s neck, his eyes going wide. 

“BOBBY! PUNCH IT!”

I heard the rumble of the Impala outside of the mill doors as the car roared to life. I rolled out of the way just in time fore Luther to be dragged across the dirt floor, getting dragged out of the revolving doors.

I struggled to my feet, running outside where I watched Bobby drive faster and faster away, Luther right on the end. I checked my watch. Five seconds and Y/N would be dead.

Five.

I watched as Bobby maneuvers through light poles as the comes up on concrete.

Four. 

From where I stand, it looked like Luther was trying to unwrap the chain from around his neck.

Three. 

Bobby picks up speed, throwing Luther around like a rag doll.

Two.

Luther reaches again around his neck, nearly has the chain off.

One.

Suddenly, Luther starts to disintegrate, his body coming out in black rolls of smoke until finally, all that’s left is the car, and an empty chain.

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

*Y/N’s POV*

My vision begins to fade in and out as I watch Lilith, eyes wide, thinking surely this is the end. I clutch my chest tighter, struggling to breath as I begin to accept my fate. Who would’ve thought this was how I’d go.

I took one final, shaky breath and my heart stops, a cold, dead feeling of dread washes over me, a blinding white light before suddenly it all comes rushing back, sending me flying forward through space time when I gasp for air. Dean is next to me, holding my shoulders as I cough, gulping in the air greedily.

“Holy shit,” Dean mutters as I desperately search out his hand, gripping it tightly when I find it, gagging for air. Dean pulls me close to him, “you’re alright. You’re alright.”

I slow my breathing, looking around the room, Lilith gone now. I slowly sit up, rolling my sleeves, the scratches were gone, too. “Sammy did it.”

Dean let out something between a cry and laugh of relief, “Yeah, Sammy did it.”

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

“So you guys road-hauled a ghost with a chain?” I asked as we stood around the car, raising my eyebrows at Sam and Bobby.

“An iron chain etched with a spell word.” Sam clarified, drinking from the beer in his hand.

“Hmm,” Dean said, “now that’s a new one.”

“It’s what he was most afraid of. It was pretty brutal, though.”

“On the upside, I’m still alive, so uh, go team.” I said, nodding to them at that point, I didn’t really care how they’d done it, just that the job got done.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “how you feeling by the way?”

“Fine.” I said, not making eye contact with Dean who had to have known I was seeing a hallucination right before I nearly bit it.

“You sure, Y/N?” Bobby asked, “‘Cause this line of work can get awful scary.”

I ran a tongue over my teeth, I wasn’t about to worry them about some hallucination I knew wouldn’t come true, “I’m fine. You want to go hunting? I’ll go hunting. I’ll kill anything.”

Sam and Dean smirked at Bobby, “Aww.”

“She’s adorable,” Bobby smiled as the three of them laughed. “Well, I gotta get outta here. You kids drive safe.”

“You too, Bobby. Thanks again.”

Bobby waved Sam off as he drove away, dust collecting up under the back tires. We watched until his car was out of sight, until it was just the three of us leaned up against the car.

“So, uh, so, what did you see?” Sam asked. “Near the end, I mean.”

I squinted at him, blocking my eyes from the sun as I glanced to Dean who cocked an eyebrow at me. He definitely knew something. I sighed, “Oh, besides a cop beating my ass?”

“Seriously.”

I chewed on my bottom lip as I looked up at the two of them and, for an instant, I swore I could see their eyes flash. Dean’s, black, and Sam’s, yellow. I widened my eyes slightly before shifting my focus to the ground, “Howler monkeys. Whole roomful of them. Those things creep the hell out of me.”

“Right,” Sam laughed.

“No, no, just the usual stuff,” I said, trying to sound more sincere about this lie than the last. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

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

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[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Merry Me

Title: Merry Me

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 1774

Warning: FLUFF, language here and there.

A/N: This is my submission to Kari (@thing-you-do-with-that-thing​) and Ida’s (@like-a-bag-of-potatoes​) 12 Days of Christmas Challenge. Prompt: December 25 – Opening Gifts

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR! xx

12 Day of Christmas Masterlist

Disclaimer: Not My Gif.

“Hey Dean, I’ve got something to ask you,” Sam slid next to his brother at the dining table where he was sneaking some Christmas cookies.

“What? I’m not eating any!” He jumped, crumbs flying out of his mouth.

“Dean, that’s disgusting!” Sam chided, dusting bits of cookie from his shirt and lap. “No. I don’t care if you eat the cookies.”

“Yeah, well your girlfriend does,” Dean stated, scoping the area just in case. “So what do you wanna talk about?” Dean asked, shoving the last bite of cookie into his mouth.

“Okay. So…” Sam inhaled then exhaled, his chest rising and dropping. Instead of speaking, he reached into his pocket and placed a small box on the table in front of Dean.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Dean opened the little box, his eyes widening at its content. “Dude, sorry, but I’m not about that wincest crap, this isn’t no slash fiction,” he joked.

“Dean!” Sam barked.

Chuckling, Dean shook his head. “I’m kidding! Dude, are you going to ask Y/N to marry you?”

“Shh, keep it down – but yeah. I just don’t know when.”

“Do it tonight! Everyone will be here! It’ll be awesome!”

“Dude, no!”

“Dude, yes!” Dean grinned excitedly, holding onto the tiny jewelry box.

“No, Dean.”

“Why not? Don’t act like you don’t notice it. Y/N loves you. I can see it in the way she looks at you. Sammy she accepts everything that we do and who we are. Hell, she became a hunter for you! A badass one at that. She’ll say yes! And this is the perfect opportunity to do it, right here, in front of our FAMILY!” He exaggerated the last word.

Sam sighed before he snatched the ring back and put it in his pocket, and in good timing too.

“Hey, what are you two chatting about?” Y/N popped into the room, Castiel at her side.

“Y/N!” Sam shouted, startling every one in the room. Dean sent Sam a pointed look, silently telling him to calm the fuck down. “Uh, I mean, nothing,” he mumbled softly. Y/N gave him a weird look, but before she could voice her thoughts, Dean interrupted.

“So, Jody and the other’s here yet?”

“They should be here soon,” Cass announced.

“Great, then let’s get everything set up! I’ll grab the cookies!” Dean beamed.

“Uh, no! I’ll get the cookies. Who knows how many you’ve already eaten,” Y/N assumed.

“Just hand it over. I promise I’ll be good this time. Sam will keep an eye on me, good?”

“Whatever,” Y/N scowled, watching Dean’s retreating form, making sure that he doesn’t eat another cookie.

“Y/N, are you alright? Don’t you think you should let Sam know?” Castiel spoke.

Y/N let out a shaky breath. She was nervous, much more nervous than she expected to be. The thought of having to tell Sam frightened her. She knew that Sam wasn’t the type of guy to abandon her, but with the lifestyle they harbored, there was a chance that he may not be happy of the idea. “Yes, don’t worry Cass, I’ve got it all figured out. Please, just don’t tell any one. I want it to be my news to share.”

“Of course, Y/N. I understand.”

When Y/N and Cass entered the common room, she put her hands on her hips at the tree boys who were each eating a cookie. “Ahem,” she cleared her throat obnoxiously.

“Shit,” Dean cursed under his breath but still loud enough for all occupants in the room to hear.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. It’s just… it looked so good, we just wanted a taste,” Sam apologized.

“Dean said we could have a cookie,” Jack confessed.

“Jee, thanks kid,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“You’re welcome,” Jack beamed innocently, not understanding the sarcastic undertone in Dean’s speech.

“Hello, anybody home?” Jody’s voice echoed through the bunker.

“They’re here!” Y/N chirped, making her way to the war room.

-short time skip-

So far Christmas had been nothing but pure happiness. Having Jody and the girls over, as well as Donna made Christmas this year much more special. Sam, Dean, Cass, Jack, and the ladies were most important in Y/N’s life. Some might say that they were her weaknesses, but she knew better. They were her strength. And now, with the family expanding, she would be having so much more to fight for.

During dinner, which was held in the library since it had more space and seating, Sam had been a little distant towards Y/N due to his nerves. Every time he looked at her or made any physical contact, the butterflies in his stomach whirled into a tornado. Y/N caught on to his odd behavior and was starting to think that Sam knew her secret and wasn’t very thrilled. She had only told Cass about it because he had figured it out before she even did.

“Sammy, are you okay?” She leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Yeah, are you?” He replied gazing back with sincere worry for her in his beautiful ever-changing eyes.

“More than okay, but you seem a little distracted.”

Sam gulped at her observation. “Baby, don’t worry. I’m just really excited to open gifts. I just really hope you like what I got you.”

Y/N smiled and Sam’s heart fluttered like the first time he saw her, the first time they kissed, made love, the first time he saw her in his clothing, and the first time he realized he was in love with her. She was beautiful and she was the one, he was certain. “Baby, even if it was a Christmas card, I’d love it,” she said before leaning in and pecking him on the lips.

“Get a room you two,” Dean teased, a content smirk on his lips. Sam returned the gesture, taking Y/N’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He was starting to feel a little less nervous and maybe a little more confident.

Dinner came to and end and the dessert had been demolished. Next on the agenda was hot cocoa and opening presents. While everyone made their way to the common room, Dean and Y/N fetched the chocolate beverage.

When they entered the room, each with a tray full of marshmallow topped drinks with cocoa powder drizzled on top, they noticed Sam looking a little uneasy. Y/N tried to push down her own anxieties while Dean shook his head at his brother. With the drinks distributed, Dean and Y/N took a seat, sandwiching Sam between them. Alex and Claire sorted out the gifts preparing the finale of the day.

Gift opening so far had been filled with laughter. Jack had gotten a lot of clothes which he needed. Claire had gotten Cass his very own stuffed grumpy cat. Everyone was sure that it was his favorite gift. Dean was opening his gifts, all of which he adored. Sam had gotten him a new gun which was paired with devil-trapped carved silver bullets, handmade by Y/N.

Presents were all unwrapped. Dean stared Sam down while Cass sent a look towards Y/N. “I have one last present,” Sam and Y/N announced in unison, both of then turning to each other at the coincidence. “I’ll go first,” they both said at the same time again.

“Ladies first,” Sam ushered, allowing her to present her gift first.

“Okay,” she exhaled. “This is mostly for Sam, but I know that this will effect everyone here.” She left the room only to return with a small box neatly wrapped in Christmas themed paper, with a red bow on top.

Sam examined the box, shaking it in hopes for any clues. It was light and barely made a noise when he shook it. All eyes were on him, everyone just as curious to know what could be so big in a small box. Sam started to peel the wrapping paper, suspense rapidly building within her. When the paper was torn away and all was left was the box, Dean snapped in anticipation, “Hurry it up, Sammy!” Sam jumped a little before pulling the cover off.

Everyone leaned in wanting to catch a peek. Sam stared into the box along with Dean, who’s eyes widened before he snapped his head towards Y/N. She sent Dean a huge smile, nodding, knowing the question held in his sparkling green orbs.

“What is it?” Jack voiced the question that was flying through everyone’s mind.

Sam let out a quick breath before lifting the little onesie that read, “My first Christmas.” There were confused looks all around before Sam turned it around for all to read what was on it.

“Holy shit!” Claire gasped.

“Oh my gosh!” Alex squealed.

Jody was close to tears and Donna had her mouth hanging open, the cookie slipping passed her lips and falling to the ground.

“I don’t understand,” Jack stated, tilting his head in confusion.

“I’m… me. I… dad. I’m gonna…I’m gonna be a d-dad…” Sam stammered. Y/N began to get anxious. She knew Sam would be shocked but she was hoping for more of an excited and happy reaction. He seemed hesitant and mortified.

“S-Sam…” you trailed before he shot up from the seat exploding with joy.

“I’m gonna be a dad!” He shouted, pumping his fists in the air and into Dean, who joined Sam’s celebration dance.

“I’m an uncle!” Dean shouted.

Sam turned towards Y/N, wrapping his arms around her waist and hoisting her into the air before planting a passionate kiss on her lips. The whole room erupted with cheer, congratulating the couple, even Dean. When Y/N released a giant hug from Jody, she noticed Jody’s eyes expand, looking passed you.

“Oh right, Sam!” You twirled around only to find Sam down on one knee.

She froze in spot, her heart hammering in her chest. Sam stared up at her with tear stained cheeks as he held out a small, crimson colored, velvet box.

“Y/N, you’ve given me everything and so much more than I deserve. Now, you’ve given me the gift of life and I can’t be more grateful in my entire life,” Sam mentioned.

“Hey, I gave my life up for you,” Dean joked, causing the whole room to break into giggles.

“Y/N, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, please, will you marry me?” Sam finally asked.

“A million lifetimes, yes,” she cried, lunging into his arms.

“Merry Christmas to all,” Castiel whispered with a wide grin adorning his face. He spun towards you (the reader) and winked. “And a Happy New Year,” he added before turning away to bask in the warmth of his growing family. It was a Merry Christmas indeed.

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