“There were flower petals and candles and lights everywhere with a teepee with sparkling cider and pillows and blankets inside and a movie screen set up. Aaron pressed play to the movie he had worked on for hours, came and sat by me in the teepee, and started shaking and tearing up. That’s when I FINALLY had an idea that he might be proposing. The movie was so thoughtful, full of our favorite movie scenes, me singing our song, and pictures of all of our favorite moments together.”
last night I think I finally kissed you. in a dream somewhere. another world perhaps. where we aren’t the same people. and your palms are as soft as the inside of roses. where no one turns to look when i hold your hands. where your lips felt like clouds, like kissing soft air; like thick October nights and not being scared anymore.
look, the sky does not sing for us and I know that now. but what if there’s something watching over us, a bird on a distant tree or a green blade of grass. a dust in your room. what if these small things are bringing us together, what if the air pushes against itself to move you closer?
Anon:Hi! Erm I was wondering if you could do a sister Winchester story were one of her brothers accidentally knocks her out during training and while she’s out she has a like a weird dream (completely up to you) and when she wakes up she’s face to face with her brothers and is slightly freaked out//just starts laughing but soon complains about the pain?¿? Sorry it’s long lol I love your writing!!
Nonnie, this was tons of fun to write! Thank you for the idea! As always, feel free to comment with your thoughts. I could really use some constructive criticism.
Summary: Sam Winchester, your brother, accidentally knocks you out during a sparring session. While unconscious, you take a very interesting trip to dreamland…
The air is pervaded with the lovely stench of sweat. BO wafts through the air of the simple training room Dean had set up. A mat lies in the center of the room serving as a safe sparring area. And on that mat, circling each other, are you and your brother, Sam Winchester, both of you holding taped fists in front of your faces. You are locked in yet another combat training session that had lasted for longer than you wanted. Covered in sweat and some new bruises, you’re ready to end this fight.
“C’mon, Sam. You’re not scared to hit a girl, are you?” you taunt.
“I’m not the one who’s been circling for the past few minutes,” Sam retorts back.
You grin peevishly. “Sorry, what was that? Can’t hear you from down here. Your head’s too far up in the clouds! Watch out for any passing planes, Godzilla!”
“Look who’s talking, shrimpy.”
“Hey, Being fun-sized has its advantages. For instance, I can do this!” You dive between Sam’s legs, spring up behind him, and wrap your arms and legs tightly around his torso before he can react. You tighten your grip on his neck. “What’cha gonna do about that, huh?”
Sam’s voice comes out a little strangled. “Just this.” He rolls on the ground so suddenly, you release your grip in shock. Sam stands back up, placing a foot on your chest. “Take that, squirt.”
“Oh, you’re gonna regret that one, moose man.” You drive your hands into Sam’s ankle, twist, and throw him all in one motion. Sam loses balance and falls to the ground while you get to your own feet. You raise your fists again.
“Bring it on, Goliath.”
Sam does something completely unexpected. He launches himself up, throwing his whole body into a punch aimed for your face. You side step and respond with a pleasant right hook to his face. Sam staggers backward a little.
“How’s that for a taste of your own-”
Your cocky remark is cut off by Sam’s fist slamming into the side of your left temple: a perfect knockout punch. You feel weightless as you slam to the mat on the floor, watching everything go dark.
You start swimming up through bright green water. You see a bright sun just up above your head. Instinct tells you to start going in that direction. You break through the surface of the water, only you’re not up anymore. Rather, the water is the sky and the clouds and light are the ground. You drop down into a fluffy bed of a pink cotton cloud. You shred a piece and pop it in your mouth. Cotton candy. Yum. You look around to get an idea of your surroundings. Even in your dream life, your hunting skills kick in. Usually, your dreams were filled with faces of past hunts, nightmares of monsters, the normal PTSD-esque effects of being a hunter. The last time dreamland was like this, you were around 7 years old.
“BLAAAAARGH!!” You turn around suddenly, prepping your dream self to be chased by whatever fictional beast was after you. Right on schedule. But what you saw was surprising even for your mind. Up, towering above you, was a giant version of your brother, Sam, his long hair even longer than usual and moose antlers sticking out from the top of his head. Great big moose legs erupted from beneath his torso, like a Greek satyr. Only with moose legs.
Just when you think it couldn’t get any stranger, out on the shoulder of Moose-Man popped a mini version of Dean. Before you can even comprehend the obscurity of this new development, he starts chittering rather than talking. And a squirrel tail pops out behind him.
“Ooookayyyy…..this one is new.” You reach into your back pocket, expecting to find your normal dream weaponry. A knife, a gun, an angel blade, sword, you have a bit of a versatile inventory normally.
You got an ostrich.
But, hey. Whatever works. You chuck it at Moose-Man and Squirrel-Boy. It kind of explodes in a fury of feathers. You think. You heard some very indignant squawking followed by the sound of soft flapping, similar to when Cas appears. You turn and start running. Well, jumping from cloud to cloud, but same thing. You sort of lunar landing jump from blue cotton candy cloud to pink cotton candy cloud, hearing angry squirrel chittering and mad moose bellowing. You don’t dare look back, lest you start dying of laughter. Or getting squashed by Sam the Moose-Man’s giant hooves. Or dying of laughter while getting squished by Sam the Moose-Man’s giant hooves.
Either option doesn’t sound too good to dream you.
The heavy thudding of Moose-Man’s footsteps is louder than Kansas tornadoes.You keep running, fearing the prospect of falling behind. But it feels like you’re stuck in slow motion. Legs like jello, you try and try and try to move. Sprint. Crawl. Fly. Anything to get you away. More angry squirrel chatters tell you the mutant version of Dean is closing in on you. You turn your head an impossibly 180 degrees to see what-in-the-name-of-Chuck is going on.
As if it couldn’t get any weirder. Squirrel-Boy now has Wolverine claws erupting from his adorable little furry front paws. He raises one hand up, ready to shred you like a cheese grater. So, you react normally: talking your way out of it. You raise your hands in front of your body, saying the first thing on your dream-addled mind.
“I DON’T SPEAK SQUIRREL!!!”
Furry Dean chitters at you confused. The razor sharp blades from his paws shethe themselves. “CRCRCRCKRRK RKERKRRKCRKCEKR?”
“No hablo Squirrel-o,” you respond, a little desperately.
“KRCERCKEKRK.” Dean scurries up a newly appearing tree with…pie leaves? The towering plant has a trunk of stacked aluminum pie tins, sort of like a palm tree, and up at the top, spreading out from everything, sat steaming, fresh-baked pies of every kind. Squirrel-Boy curls up to where the ‘leaves’ meet together. He snatches the nearest pecan pie and starts munching on it happily.
You brush off cotton candy from your pants. “Well, that takes of Dean. So, what about-” A giant roar interrupts the rest of your sentence, but, hey, you get your answer. “There’s Sam…”
You look up. Sure enough, there’s the demented, furry version of your older brother. You do not hesitate to even try and throw a weapon at him this time. You just turn tail and RUN.
Dreamland really sucks. In the midst of your running, an orange, black winged, guinea pig with Cas’s face pops up in the middle of your path. Being the subconscious dream klutz you are, of course you trip on it. You twist your body and fall straight on your back. The guinea pig of Cas uses his miniature black wings to fly away from you.
Just as you turn your head to watch the fuzzy guinea pig leave, another noise snaps your head back to where it was.
“RAAAAAAARRRRGH!!!” Moose-Man Sam raises one of his giant moose hooves and slams it down on your face-
You sit up, cold sweat dripping off your face. You pretty much immediately regret it though. The pain on the left side of your head hurts to high heaven. You unintentionally gasp out, raising one hand to feel the damage.
“Y/N?” You’re pulled into a great big hug from a brother you hadn’t noticed sat beside you. You recognize who it is immediately.
You notice you’re in your bedroom in the Bunker, soft blankets pressing against the bottom of your arms. Sam sits on the side of your bed.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to go full force on you.”
“Damn right you didn’t. I’m refereeing all your sparring matches from now on.” You hear the gruff, but caring tone of your other brother from elsewhere in the room.
“When you went down, I panicked. We couldn’t wake you up, so we brought you to your room. Dean and I were about ready to take you - what are you laughing about?”
You start laughing hard and loud. Your dream had been so crazy that to actually hear Sam and Dean sends you into a fit of laughter. You couldn’t have been laughing harder if you were sprayed with the Joker’s laughing gas.
“Y/N? What is it??” Dean sounds so confused in the corner of your room. You remember how he was up the pie tree. His voice only stirs you into a deeper laughing spree.
“What?! What’d I say??” Dean shrugs at Sam, both brothers past confusion.
“No hablo Squirrel-o!” you giggle out, quoting your dream self.
“That’s it. Sammy, we’re getting her to a hospital now.”
“Heheheheheh-owowowowowow.” Your laughing turns to painful wincing at the pain in your head. You rub your severely bruised head. “I’m fine, guys.”
Dean looks at you with more incredulity than a teacher who hears the ‘my-dog-ate-my-homework’ excuse. “Uh-huh. Sam, pick her up. I’ll warm up the car. We’re getting your head checked.”
“Ah, Dean. C’mon, man. It was one punch! I’m fine!” you protest. You start to get out of bed, but you immediately trip. Sam catches you before you faceplant on the floor.
“Woah! Yep. We’re taking you to the doctor. C’mon.” Sam hauls you up off the ground and wraps your arm around his shoulder. “Can you walk at all?”
You experimentally place one foot on the ground. “Maybe…” You slip again. “Nope.”
“All right.” Sam scoops your legs up. “What the heck was that about?” he asks you as he carries you up to the door outside.
Your head is lolling around a bit more than you’d like it to, still hurting bad. “I had the weirdest dream, man…” You half giggle when you remember bits and pieces. “I threw an ostrich at your Moose face.”
Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that the duke hath dined. Get your apparel together, good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look o'er his part; for the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and let not him that plays the lion pair his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion’s claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words: away! go, away!