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)
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
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
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
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.
“You are hunters, aren’t you?!” you exclaimed
Again, they looked
taken aback, with their faces showing hints of confusion and maybe even some
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
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
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
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?”
stopped pacing, and looked straight into Dean’s eyes, as you replied, “Because
I’m your sister.”
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 :)
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
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
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
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.
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
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
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
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