Sam was in the library, researching an old symbol that he has never laid eyes on before for Garth. He had been slaving over it all day while his brother was out on a supply run and Y/N was cleaning up and doing laundry. He really didn’t mind doing the research for Garth, but he certainly didn’t enjoy doing it on his own.
He ran his hand over his face in an attempt to wake himself up a little more but no avail. He needed something strong, something more effective that would give him the burst of energy he needed to push in an extra couple of hours. He knew for sure the bunker was still stocked up with coffee. The last time they ran out, both Dean and Y/N grabbed as many bags as the store would allow them to purchase and touch wood, they haven’t ran out since.
He got up from his chair, shutting off his laptop before heading towards the kitchen to fix himself a nice snack and a fresh cup of joe. He reached for his mug and the pot of coffee when he was instantly broken from his thoughts by a scream.
“FUCK!” he heard.
He practically slammed he mug on the counter and reached to the back of his jeans for his gun before wearily making his way through the bunker halls, following in the direction of the scream. By the time he found the source of the abruption, to say he was confused was an understatement.
“Y/N? What happened? Are you injured?” he questioned all at once. Of course she wasn’t okay. She had tears welling in her eyes and she was on the ground.
“No I’m not okay,” she replied angrily. “I stubbed my freakin’ toe and it hurts!”
“You- you stubbed your toe? Really?” He said, completely taken back. He thought you had been shot or something worse.
“It was the baby toe. I think I broke it,” she muttered. Sam pushed the hair away from his face and looked at the girl on the ground in front of him. She looked so small in that moment. He did feel bad for her though. Stubbing your toe hurt like a bitch. But the way she carried on made him smile a little.
“You want me to carry you?” he offered.
“I’m a big girl Sammy,” she stated. “But I’m going to need your help getting up… and walking.” He let out a chuckle before helping her up off the ground.
A/N: It sucks in general, this is out of control, even for me. Blame it on the alcohol, doods.
When Sam went to the cage, you were left alone. You never thought Dean would take off on you, but he ran straight to Lisa, just like he promised Sam he would. It tore your heart apart because you lost Sam too, but your pain didn’t seem to matter to him in the midst of his own crippling grief.
Then, a day after Dean disappeared, Sam turned up at your motel room door.
He was different. Something was off, you could tell from the start.
Not to mention the fact that he immediately pinned you against the wall, kissing you breathless, like he needed your lips more than air itself.
He was ravenous and hungry, desperate in a way you had never seen him. You didn’t stop him. You had always loved Sam and the fact that he was back from hell, claiming you as his, dominating you in a way you didn’t know he was capable of, did things to you that you couldn’t explain. Things you should have been ashamed of.
He stayed with you. You anchored him when he was careening over the edge. You were there to pull him back when he couldn’t make the right choice, whispering in his ear that he should stop. It’s like you were his conscious. His own Jiminy cricket.
He made you promise him one thing. There was one thing he cared about more than anything else, besides pinning you to a bed and fucking you senseless.
He made you promise not to tell Dean he was back. He said he’d leave if you did. He knew that would be your catch 22. You had him now, no matter how fucked up he was. You couldn’t lose him again.
“I promise,” you whispered, your voice hoarse and desperate. He’d had his way with you that night too and every night since then.
There was something about the way he carried himself now. Something about him screamed out to you. And apparently something about you screamed out to him because he couldn’t get enough of you. Even in public his appetite for you couldn’t be satisfied. He had his way with you in allies, in bar bathrooms, in houses that didn’t belong to you, in bar booths where anyone could see.
You knew Sam needed to be fixed. You knew something was terribly wrong, but each time he tied you to the bed and told you what a slut for his cock you were as he slowly stroked himself, all you could do was writhe desperately and beg him to teach you a lesson. Beg him to punish you for being such a slut.
“With pleasure,” he smirked, something in his eyes making your skin crawl and your arms jerk at the bindings, desperate to reach out and touch him. You couldn’t, so you took what he gave you, his cock stretching you perfectly, causing you to cry out his name like a curse in the night. Sam Winchester was back in your life in a way you could have never imagined, his weight heavy on top of you as he gave as much as he took.
Even if he was fucked up, he was yours. You knew it was wrong, but as he ravaged you nightly, you couldn’t be bothered to care.
Dean eyed his brother with a growing frown, that sentence already worrying him. You leave for like 15 minutes to get some food just down the street and something bad has already happened. Of freaking course. This was about the Impala, wasn’t it? Dammit. "I told you to stay away from the car! What happened to her?!“ Poor Baby had suffered enough!
"What? No, this isn’t about the car.”
“No?” Dean chuckled in relief. “Why would I get pissed off then?” He asked with the hint of a smile on his face. What could ever be that bad?
Sam looked at him, grim, before revealing the secret, “Y/N’s here,” and watched his brother’s eyes go wide. “Dean, listen-”
“You called her?! I can’t believe you right now! Why would you - no, don’t even say a word to me!”
“I didn’t call her, Bobby did. And I think he’s right, we should -”
“Shut up. Right now,” the elder Winchester interrupted him, pointing a threatening finger. “Where is she?”
His brother winced a little, “Our room.”
Dean nodded angrily, then stormed into the motel room, finding you nose deep into a book as your free hand mixed ingredients into a bowl. To someone who didn’t know, it might have looked like you were baking. But he did know.
“Hey, Dean,” you said, without looking his way.
“You got three seconds to grab your things and leave.”
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you. How are you?” You asked with sarcasm but didn’t move from where you were standing. The only thing you did was pick up the bowl and pour its content on a map, watching the liquid dissolve, aside from one little spot, where it got darker and darker.
“I don’t think I’ve made myself clear,” Dean said with false calmness.
“I don’t care. You lied to me, for months. I don’t trust you.”
That’s when your eyes finally rose to meet his. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Dean, I’m a witch, but since we’re sleeping together it’s all okay. It’s not like you’re gonna dump me as soon as you find out.’ Oh, wait. You did.”
“Only because you lied.”
“Right, yeah,” you scoffed. “You hate witches. You told me that. So, how was I supposed to tell you? I figured I would just enjoy it while it lasted.”
“Yeah, well, it didn’t last long, did it?”
“Your choice, not mine.”
“Stop giving me all the blame here. I trusted you and you hurt me.” His voice wavered at that, against his intention.
“And you hurt me. And you keep doing it every time I see you.”
“And yet you’re still here, aren’t you?”
Letting out a sigh, you picked up the map and handed it to him. “That’s the coven’s location. Tell Bobby I had to go.”
He grabbed your arm, without even thinking about it, and stopped you before you could reach the door. But he didn’t say a word; he just looked at you, and looked at you, and looked at you… His lips parted and something almost escaped, bet he didn’t let it and clenched his jaw again as his hand released you.
Then, with a sigh, he looked down and kept his eyes there until you left the room.