change the road you're on

Change of Identity

Warnings: some language

Word Count: 2006

Request: “Oh my gosh! You NEED to do a second part to ‘You’re a Winchester’! It was so amazing!”

A/N: Here is Part Two to the 'You’re a Winchester’ series! Thanks for all the love on Part One. Please let me know what you think of this one, and if I should keep going with the series! (See Part One for the summary)

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |

It had been one month since you saw your mother for the first time. One month since you saw her lying dead in own blood. One month since you read those three words written into her flesh.

One month since you had started living the life of a hunter.

After discovering your dead mother, you knew that you had no other life to go back to, or at least any life that meant something. You felt that by following in your father’s footsteps, (even if you had never met the man), your life wouldn’t be so meaningless. You could help others. Save others.

Becoming a hunter of a world full of evil that you knew next-to-nothing about, would require some research. You spent days upon days sitting in the library, flitting your eyes from lore books to books on mythology to historical records.

By the end of the week, you had only gotten a few hours of sleep and your brain felt like it was going to explode at any moment.

After the initial adrenalin that fueled your days of intensive studying of the supernatural, you hotwired a low-key car, and fled the state, leaving all memories of your mother and the orphanage behind you in Illinois.

With a stolen credit card as your currency, you booked out a motel room in which you intended to stay in for a while, as you trained up and continued to research about the odd evil beings of the world.

During that month, you created some twisted form of a life for yourself. You bought yourself new clothes, would exercise every day for a few hours, train with various kinds of weapons, and would spend the fall of night expanding your knowledge and exploring articles online to see if there was ever any weird happenings going on in your area.

But most of all, you created an identity for yourself. You decided that Y/N Fulligan was going to run you into trouble down the line, as it was the name you had used all your life for all sorts of files across the board. It was too risky. So instead, you decided to take up your father’s name, as it would carry a further hunting aspect into your new life. And you also thought that Y/N Winchester had a nice ring to it.

So it had been one month since your entire life changed.

You felt like you had read all that you could, and had become a much healthier and fitter person who was actually in a shape to fight off monsters. But you felt like there was almost some unfinished business that you needed to attend to.

And that was to find your father, John Winchester.


One week. Turned into one month. Which turned into three months.

And still, you were barely any closer to finding your father.

You spent months travelling around various towns of different states, when you decided that staying in Iowa was getting you nowhere. So you packed your few belongings into your hotwired car, and drove off to various states.

At first you were totally lost, as you had no clue on how to track down John Winchester, as the only information you had to go on was his name and that he was a hunter.

After a little thinking and planning, you decided the best way to go was to keep an eye on the newspapers, articles and police radio for any mysterious cases that could be right up your new line of work.

By working on these cases, you were bound to find other hunters possibly working the same case as you, therefore you could ask about John Winchester and his whereabouts. In addition to hopefully gaining some knowledge of your father, you would be able to make a start into committing yourself to the job of a hunter, as you would be able to assist any other hunters with solving the case and killing the evil behind it.

So that’s what you did. For three months.

You travelled around searching for cases, and most of the time would meet up with other hunters. You asked about what they knew about John Winchester, but unfortunately most hadn’t heard from him in years. But nevertheless, you never gave up.

In the meantime, you acted like a true hunter: researching for cases, imposing as an FBI agent, and killing whatever evil son of a bitch was causing mischief. You felt a new kind of adrenalin you had never felt in your life. It was exhilarating, exciting, frightening and tiring all at once. But you loved it.


It was just a regular day for you. You had come across a case in Ottawa, Kansas, where three victims in the past few days had been murdered, with their heart missing. You knew it had to be a werewolf, but you needed to research into the case deeper before going after the mutt.

You discovered a dusty motel room to accommodate you for a few days while you worked this case out. Bringing in your duffel bag to the room, you threw it on the ground as you slumped onto the bed. You felt drained and somewhat exhausted from the constant demand that the hunting lifestyle involved.

However, against your body’s desires, you snatched the keys from your pocket and headed to your car, in search of a local bar.

Entering the bar was not a new experience for you, as it was a place where you could come and take your mind off hunting and the ever-continuous search for your father. Although, it was also a place where other hunters would do the same, allowing you to gather any scraps of information you could on John Winchester.

Slowly you wandered over to the bar, asking the older-looking barman for a beer. He looked at you up and down before loudly sighing and reaching for a flask.

You’d think that being 18 and all, that bars wouldn’t be allowed to serve you any form of alcohol, but you found that most bars don’t really seem to mind as long as they were getting business. On the odd occasion that they question your age, you’d flash them a fake ID you had made up, before giving a smirk as you accepted your drink.

The barman set down your beer, as you placed a note on the counter, and walked off to an empty table.

You quietly gulped down your beer, as you observed the characters of the bar. You were on the lookout for a potential werewolf, or someone who looked like they could be a hunter. You examined the entirety of the bar with no luck. Until you saw two men enter the bar, and set themselves down at a booth, which sat close by to the table at which you were situated.

The taller of the two pulled out a laptop, and immediately began to type, while the other man pulled out what looked like a file, filled with newspaper clippings and photographs.

Upon further subtle observation, you concluded that these two men were hunters, judging by the type of research they seemed to be doing, they were in a bar, and their chiseled, built physiques suggested that their job or lifestyle was physically demanding.

With a final skull of your beer, you stood up from your chair and wandered over to the pair of men.

You were standing by their table, but the deep gazes their faces showcased let you know that they hadn’t even registered that there was someone beside them. Awkwardly, you gave a small cough before asking, “So what’s that you are working on there?”

Both men looked up at you, looking slightly taken aback, before looking at each other and sharing some form of unspoken communication.

The man with the shorter, lighter-coloured hair, gave you a forced smile before responding, “It’s nothing super important.” He looked at you up and down with judgmental eyes as he continued with a sarcastic tone, “So why don’t you run along to your sorority and study up for your high school finals.”

Your face dropped at the comment. Here you were thinking they could help, but it just seemed that they were some grade A douche-bags, that could tell you were young and therefore didn’t think you needed to know about ‘grown-up’ things. However, you did see the other man give a hard bitch-face to him, which made your mouth curl up a little.

You were about to leave them, thinking that they weren’t hunters as you had previously thought, until a photograph of one of the victims caught your eye. You then had a quick glance at what the long, brown-haired man was searching on his laptop. Werewolves.

“You are hunters, aren’t you?!” you exclaimed to them.

Again, they looked taken aback, with their faces showing hints of confusion and maybe even some fascination.

The smart-arse from before, scrunched his eyebrows as he responded, “Yeah we are. What? Are you?”

“More or less,” you smirked. Both men gave a small laugh, as they motioned for you to pull up a chair and sit with them.

The man with shaggy hair spoke as you began to take a seat, “My name’s Sam. And this over here is my charming brother Dean.” Dean gave a smug smile, as you laughed softly.

You extended your hand to Sam, “Y/N.” He accepted the gesture with a smile, before you retracted your arm and did the same to Dean.

You continued to smile, until you remembered why you came over in the first place. And it wasn’t regarding the werewolf. You cleared your throat before speaking.

“Um, so the reason I came over here is because I was wondering if you could help me out. I’ve been looking for a man all over the place, and I was wondering if you might know him or where he is at the moment, because he’s a hunter, so I figured you might know something.”

Sam continued to type at his laptop as you spoke, but you could tell he was listening intently. It was Dean that responded. “Ah, yeah, I guess so. We’ll do the best we can. What’s his name, sweetheart?”

Your attention focused on Dean as you stated, “John Winchester.”

Dean’s eyes widened at the mention of his name, and you noticed the absence of the sound of Sam typing away on his laptop. When you looked at Sam, his expression replicated his brother’s.

Confused by their reaction, you asked hesitantly, “Why do you know who he is?”

Sam clenched his jaw before answering with a flat tone, “Yeah, actually. He’s our father.”

You just sat there, mouth slightly ajar. Their father. Your heart began racing, as you spoke aloud to yourself, “Sam and Dean Winchester.”

You could see that both brothers were confused by your reaction and, what would be, an obvious statement.

It was too crazy to be real. But then you thought that Winchester could just be a popular last name, as John is a popular first name. You mentally calmed yourself down as you thought of a way to know for sure.

“Wait, what is the date of your parent’s wedding anniversary?” you asked questioningly, as you looked at both brothers.

You asked them that question because you knew your father’s wedding anniversary with his deceased wife was May 17th, as it was the same day that he and your mother had the one-night fling where you were conceived.

Dean looked at you confusion still in his expression, but nevertheless answered, “May 17th.”

You instantly shot up from your seat, and began to pace beside the table, taking it all in. It was just too much to take in.

Sam and Dean exchanged worried glances, before Dean gave a nervous laugh, and asked, “Wait. Why are you asking us this? What’s it to you?”

You immediately stopped pacing, and looked straight into Dean’s eyes, as you replied, “Because I’m your sister.”

Changed By the Darkness

Warnings: angst, mild language

Word Count: 2540

Request: “I NEED a ‘You’re A Winchester’ part 7! Pretty please!” “I read your ‘You’re A Winchester’ part 1 just thinking it would be a cool thing that I would find decent, but have found myself ADDICTED! Please as soon as you can make a part 7!”

A/N: Hey everyone! Hope your week is going superb. Here is Part 7 to the ‘You’re A Winchester’ series, as much requested! Enjoy, and I will write the next part as soon as I can :)

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |

Dean immediately retracted himself back to a standing position, in shock of the darkness that lay in your eyes.

Both of the brothers’ hearts began pounding full speed. They couldn’t believe that they had let their guard down for only a minute, and in that time darkness had found you, to transform you into the very thing that they hunted. A demon.

Neither of the brothers knew what to do, as you blinked again to return your eyes to its normal colour. You stretched your limbs out before standing up from the bed, placing your hands on your hips.

“How did this happen, Y/N?” Sam asked with hesitation. You gave a small smirk before taking a step towards your older brothers.

“Well, I would say that it’s your fault,” you said as you crossed your arms, “But, it is in fact, something that I should thank you for.” You were about to continue talking, but Dean interrupted you.

“No Y/N,” Dean stated, “Don’t enjoy what you are. Being evil, and being a demon is not a healthy way to live. Trust me, I know. So let us cure you. We can take you down to the dungeon right now.”

He began to step forward with an outstretched arm, hoping that you would smile with the warmth that you usually did and take his hand. But instead, you gave a look of disgust as you took a step back.

“You will never understand Dean,” you said, shaking your head, “I want this life, and you can’t stop me.” And with that, you ran out from the room.

Sam was about to run after you, but Dean held out his arm to stop him.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, “We have to stop her! We have to cure her!” Dean just turned to his brother, and sighed, “She doesn’t want to be, Sammy.”

Dean slowly walked out of the room, leaving Sammy alone in your room, looking at your empty bed as he heard the front entrance of the Bunker slam close, indicating that there was no chance that he could run after you now.


It had only been a few hours since you fled, and neither of the brothers had come across each other in that time.

Sam was sitting in his room on his laptop, already searching for any signs of demon activity in the hope of trying to pinpoint your whereabouts, because for the amount of time he had known you, he knew that you hated moving around too much, and loved the idea of having a home to come back to every night. He smiled at the thought of you eating dinner in the Bunker with them, completely oblivious to the events were currently unfolding.

Despite his knowledge of you, he hadn’t found anything important regarding your location, so he closed his laptop with a sigh.

He decided to check in on how Dean was going, because Dean had a tendency to drown his sorrows in alcohol. And when Sam walked into Dean’s room, his assumptions were correct.

Dean was lying on his bed, with a half-empty bottle of beer in his hand, and several empty bottles and glasses located on his bedside table. Upon Sam’s arrival, Dean sat up and swung his legs round to the side of the bed.

“Why did you let her go?” Sam asked as he sat beside his brother, knowing that it was better to just get straight to the point. Dean gave a sigh, took another swig of beer and responded.

“Because I was in that same position, Sam. I know how much that power can consume you and change you into something you never even thought you could become. And I’m not giving up, that’s not what I’m doing. It’s just that I almost want to delay curing her, because I don’t want to see her go through the pain of purification and the emotional baggage that she’ll carry after. I can’t watch my sister go through what I went through. I barely managed to keep it together afterwards, so how will she cope?”

Sam noticed tears welling in Dean’s eyes, but Dean managed to brush them away before they could escape. Sam had never been through what Dean had gone through or what you were going through, so it made it even more difficult for him to try and understand what to do.

“Look, Dean,” Sam sighed, “Of course I don’t want to see Y/N in pain. I mean, I can’t even think about it because it makes my stomach turn. But I also don’t want to see our little sister as a demon. And I know that you know that the real Y/N would hate to live a life as the kind of evil that she hunts.”

Dean looked towards his brother, and gave a sad smile. He then gave a final swig of his beer, before throwing the empty bottle on his bed and standing up.

“What are you waiting for, Sammy?” Dean exclaimed, “Let’s find us our little Winchester.”


It was nightfall, and Sam and Dean had set up everything they needed in an abandoned warehouse about an hour from the Bunker.

Trying to figure out a way to track you down proved to be a little more difficult than they thought. Because you had only been gone about half a day, there wasn’t any signs of demon activity anywhere. Then they thought about summoning you directly, but they figured that you could easily choose to ignore it.

So they knew they were truly desperate when they decided to summon Crowley.

Once the area was prepared, Sam lit a match and began the ritual.

Et ad congregandom, Eos coram me.

And with that he threw the match into the bowl, setting it alight.

For a moment, nothing happened. But then Sam and Dean were confronted with the sudden appearance of the King of Hell.

“Moose and squirrel,” Crowley addressed, “I didn’t think you two were immature enough to use Devil’s traps.”

Dean gave a scoff, “Maybe it’s because you’re not the most trustworthy guy around.” Crowley gave a dry laugh, as Sam began to ask questions.

“Why is Y/N a demon?” he exclaimed, “We know she hasn’t been possessed because she still has her tattoo intact, so why has she transformed into one?”

Crowley took a few steps forward, which was as far as the Devil’s trap would allow.

“Because she’s a Winchester,” he stated, “Having a black-eyed squirrel made for a good time, so why not try it with the squirrel’s little sister?”

Dean’s body began shaking with rage, hearing the way that he talked about you. Sam seeing Dean’s angry state, continued on.

“Okay, Crowley,” Sam said sternly, “You’ve had your fun, so give her back to us.”

Crowley gave another dry laugh. “I’m not just going to hand over one of my finest creations to you! You’ll purify and cleanse her until she’s back into being another boring normal person in this godforsaken world. Dean somehow got through to the other side, but I’ll make sure that she never does.”

Dean had had it. He grabbed the holy water bottle from the ground, and walked with determination over to Crowley, where he began to empty the contents down Crowley’s throat. Sam didn’t even stop Dean. He just watched as Crowley made a series of gurgling noises that indicated the amount of pain he was in.

When the bottle was empty, Dean threw it aside and walked out of the trap, making Crowley fall to his knees in exhaustion.

“Fine!” Crowley shouted in rage, “If you want the little bitch back, then you can have her. But don’t expect her to be the peachy keen girl that she was before.”

Knowing that Crowley would stick to his word, Sam scratched away a gap in the Devil’s trap using his foot. Crowley brushed off his shoulder before disappearing into the air, and returning only a few seconds later with a confused you by his side. As soon as he arrived, he departed, leaving you behind to take a few moments to find your bearings.

Sam rushed over to you, locking you in Devil’s trap handcuffs, before you could attack either of them or leave. You instantly began to protest and attempt to hit your brother out of the way.

“Y/N,” Sam said calmly, “Stop. We’re going to take you back to the Bunker, and we’re going to get you back to normal, alright?”

Despite Sam’s calm words, you continued to try to wrestle free from his grasp. As he slowly attempted to bring you over to the Impala, Dean trailed behind quietly.


The one hour drive home felt like twice as long for both of the brothers. You were continually attempting to try and break free from the handcuffs, and protesting against going to the Bunker. And naturally, it was painful for Sam and Dean to see their little sister being corrupted by evil. So during the drive the brothers did not say a single word to each other or to you.

When they arrived at the Bunker, you had given up trying to escape the restrictions placed around your wrists and was only guided by the light touch of Sam’s hand, until you had finally been moved to the dungeon. Dean grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and relocated it to the middle of the Devil’s trap, as Sam guided you inside of the trap and into the chair.

“Dean,” Sam murmured with a sadness in his voice, “Can you grab some rope to tie Y/N down?”

Dean managed a small nod, looking at you with sad eyes as he left the room to retrieve some rope. Sam began to set up all the utensils that he needed for the purification on a small table close by the entrance of the dungeon.

On the way home from the Bunker, they had stopped at a church so that Sam could confess in order to make his blood purified.

Once everything had been set up, Sam looked over towards you. You weren’t raging or crying, instead, just smirking towards your older brother.

“Do you really think that this is the best thing for me, Sammy?” you asked, continuing to smirk.

Sam turned away from you, breathing as heavy as his heart felt in that moment. He had done that same procedure to his brother, and now he had to do it to you as well. But what made it harder is that he saw how it affected Dean afterwards. He didn’t know if he had it in him to see you suffer as well. However, he just knew that he wanted his sister back.

Dean returned with the ropes, and walked over to where you were seated. He began to tie you to the arms of the chair, but was doing it rather slowly, because Dean already hated seeing you as a demon, so it made it harder for him to tie you up.

When Dean had finally finished, he stepped back and stood beside his brother, who already had a syringe at the ready. Dean looked at the watch that he had brought in with him, then nodded at Sam. Sam injected the needle into his arm, retracting it back again to fill it with blood. Once full, he walked slowly with hesitation in his step, as he finally came around behind you, and injected the needle in your neck.

Sam stepped away from you to see you slightly squirm from the pain you were feeling.

“Really?” you smirked, “Is that the best you can do? At least make it a challenge.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other, knowing that it was going to be a long night.


Dean looked at the watch, and tapped it to alert Sam it was time for another round. Sam gave a loud sigh, because he didn’t want to see you in pain anymore. It was killing him.

Sam prepared the seventh syringe of the night and pushed it into his skin. The first few times were painful for him, but now the small prick in his arm was nothing compared to the massive punch in his stomach he felt each time he would put the needle into your neck.

He held the needle tightly in his shaking grasp as he walked around to stand behind you. You looked exhausted and weak, despite your continuous attempts to cover up your pain by hurling insults. Sam looked up at his brother whose eyes were red from the tears that had been swelling up and threatening to burst out.

Sam looked back down at you, as he pushed the needle into your neck for the seventh time.

Unlike last time, the pain came instantly and at full throttle.

You began screaming in agony at the blood that ran through your entire body. You tried to wriggle yourself out from the ropes that binded you to the chair. The screaming continued for a few minutes, before finally settling down.

Your shoulders were rapidly moving up and down as you attempted to regain your breath.

And with that, Dean left the room.


It was approaching the eighth hour, so Sam began to prepare himself for the final injection. He looked over at a person who was almost unrecognisable. Your hair was disheveled, your entire body was sweating, your skin was a few tones paler, and you looked like you couldn’t even stand up.

Dean still hadn’t returned, and Sam didn’t expect anything different. He couldn’t blame him for leaving, because, hell, he would if he could.

Sam took a quick glance at the watch, and saw that it was time.

He took a large gulp as he reached for the last syringe that sat on the table, and pushed it into his arm. Once it was full, he wandered over behind you and prepared himself. But when he was about to put the needle in, he heard your voice croak to him.

“Sam,” you mumbled, “Are you sure you’re doing what’s best for me?”

Sam closed his eyes to repress the tears that threatened to fall down, and murmured, “I don’t know. But all I know is that I want you back.”

The needle was injected into your neck for a final time.

The screams that came out of your throat were louder than before, and were even painful to those who heard them. It felt like a burning poison circulating around your body.

Despite it being the most painful of the eight, it only lasted for about half a minute, before the screams ceased and your head dropped down.

It was an uncomfortable silence in the dungeon, as Sam, who had moved back to the corner, walked to stand before you. Dean ran back into the room and stood beside his brother, just watching you for any movement.

Your head began to move upright, and you opened your eyes to reveal the darkness in them slowly fading back to the normal colours that graced your irises.

The brothers continued to watch you, as you attempted to catch your breath, before your head dropped back down.

There's still time to change the road you're on: Free Will vs. Narrative Destiny

Sam, to himself: Only the penitent man shall pass?

Sam, shouting: Cas, wait!

Castiel ducks just in time to avoid two large circular blades that spin lethally through the space where he had just been standing.

Rather than crawl through the space, Castiel stands up and walks through the hall, avoiding the still - spinning blades.

Sam: The Last Crusade? Okay.

Supernatural, Season 9, Episode 22: Stairway to Heaven

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