Sam and Dean x sister!reader, mentions of John Winchester
Warnings: None that I can remember, except some fighting?
A/N: This was not the one I was planning on writing and posting but here it is! I hope you all like it, and thank you so much for your support! Let me know if you would like to request something, or you would like to be added to the tags! 😊
You were pulling yourself from the ground. The fist of a girl a grade above you had slammed into your shoulder, and the prying hands of her groupies had shoved you to the ground. You stood up with a slight stagger, and shook your limbs to knock your instincts to tear her throat out off. She smiled devilishly at you, and you could hear your Dad’s voice in your head. Y/N be brave for me, and remember you are the thing that holds those two boys together.
The crowd around you was watching, and hanging on to every quiver your bruised limbs made. That’s when your hands shook, and you could hear their laughter as loud as the ringing in your ears. You saw his face, his eyes, his smile. He was gone now, and you were alone. He wouldn’t come driving up in his impala, he wouldn’t come save you from this, or help clean you up. You were not going to let him down though, you would continue to hold everything together. You would stay strong, and keep your brother’s heads above the bloody water. You would not create chaos or pain. You were going to continue to be the good girl, and push your emotions down. You were going to be strong without your father. You went to pick up your bag.
“What’s the matter Winchester? Do you feel a little scared, want to run home to Daddy, you little-,” you suddenly looked up to face her.
Her preciously lined lips, with her plastic shaped nose, and perfectly placed hair. You couldn’t hear anything else except that one word. Daddy. Anger lined your skin with a new found red that wasn’t the shade of bruised. You charged at her, and brought her straight to the ground. You jammed your fist into her gut, and whipped the knife out of your boot. You popped the blade up into sight as you finally regained your senses. She was screaming, and someone was pulling you off her.
You quickly pushed the others off, and grabbed your bag. You ran off the school steps, and looked back. Teachers and supervisors were calling after you. Your body hurt from the beating you had taken, and tears stung your eyes. You stopped when you were little ways down the road. You slid the knife back into your boot, and placed your bag on your shoulders. You winced once the strap touched where she had thrown her fist. You took a breath, trying to calm your beating hard. The memory helped intensify the panic however, and you continued to walk down the road.
You replayed the images of the scene in your head. You had desperately tried to make friends, and get good grades. You were supposed to make your brothers happy and they seemed happy when you had those aspects of school in your life; after all, your life mission was to please your family. Your Dad had always said you were their care taker, and the glue that held them together. After he had passed, you tried harder than ever to please your brothers. You were the only one who hadn’t talked about your father’s death, whether that be to keep him alive in your mind, or to show how strong you were to your older brothers was unknown. You were supposed to be good, and you were supposed to be brave, like your father had said. You had failed today, and you let the rage of pain and anger flow through you and control your actions.
You were trying to dry your eyes as you entered the motel room. Your brothers were out, interview day was today. They were on a pretty tough case, and you three would be held up in this town for a few weeks. You went straight to the bathroom, looking at your bruised body. You slowly removed the clothes surrounding your bruises, and rinsed the blood off some of the scrapes. You were crying again, making the scar around your eye even more red. You slowly put on your clothes after bandaging up your injuries. You were in a lot of pain, and your eyes just wanted to close in exhaustion from the emotions and events of the day. You continued though, your father’s words echoing in your head. You had to be strong for Sam and Dean, and you had to hide what had happened. You emerged from the bathroom, and sat at the table. You pulled out your books, and papers.
You were trying to focus, but you had no strength to control the thoughts running through your head. You couldn’t go back to that school tomorrow. You couldn’t even face the outside world, and barely the one face you saw in the mirror. You had a handle on your tears, and continued to push through and finish your math problems. You were in the middle of an essay when your brothers walked through the door.
“Hey bunny,” Sam smiled.
Dean dropped a bag next to your pile of books. You kept your face away from the light, and their vision lines. You continued writing, with the intention of greeting them but no words would form on your tongue. You heard your Dad’s voice in Sam’s, and Dean’s hand reminded you of your Dad’s hand. The brothers curiously tried to look at your face, but you just looked in the downward direction even more.
“Y/N, look at me,” Dean said, starring at you from the other side of the table.
You quickly tried to make an escape to the bathroom but Sam stepped in front of you, and grabbed your face. His eyes widened, and you felt his body tense. Dean came around, and instant anger flashed into his green eyes.
“Who did this to you?” he demanded.
You shook your head and pushed Sam’s hands away. You had no ability to create sentences. Your Dad flashed into your mind.
“Y/N, what happened?” Sam asked, slightly demanding.
You wished your dad were there, able to hold you, and help you regain the stick you needed to hold everything together. You looked back at your brothers, who’s faces held so much of your father. You started crying, and felt the sobs shake you inside and out. You were letting go. The grip you had on all the pain and grief of your father’s death suddenly escaping through the two little slits in your eyes.
“I, I,” you started. The two brothers were suddenly shocked at this new emotion. “I miss Dad,” you cried out.
Sam had tears in his eyes, as Dean starred at you in a helpless gaze. They both wrapped their bodies around yours. You were between them, and the warmth of their concern was making the tears come more rapidly. You weren’t supposed to be crying.
You were sitting on Sam’s lap as Dean knelt beside you. Your sobs had slowed and your eyes only watered now. The tears had made the cut around your eye painful, but in a cleansing way.
“Little girl, you’re gonna be fine. Me and Sammy, we aren’t going anywhere, and Dad will always be looking out for you,” Dean stroked your cheek.
You closed your eyes and snuggled into Sam a little more. “You’re okay Y/N/N,” Sam cooed.
“Sammy, De?” you called out.
“Yeah baby?” Sam asked.
“I’m so sorry,” you wiped your eyes, forgetting about the cut, and hissing.
“No, darlin’ we’re sorry,” Dean responded, getting up to get things to tend your cut.
“But I-,” you started.
“No buts, baby you are so strong, and you never ever break. You’re allowed to snap sometimes. You’re allowed to have emotions and to feel sad. You’re allowed to miss Dad,” Sam said, stroking your hair. You nodded.
“Even though you have some nasty scars, I would say you won against those girls,” Dean smiled.
Sam’s eyes went wide, “Dean she almost sliced a girl with a weapon she wasn’t even supposed to have!”.
Dean looked to you, as you shrunk a little. “Eh, you were always a Daddy’s girl, and he would’ve done the same,” he smiled.