from dad to dean

“Growing Up a Winchester”  Sam/Dean x Sister Reader

Word Count: 3,867

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister Reader, some Castiel x Reader

Summary: While on a long road trip to a hunt, you reminisce about your memories growing up with your brothers, from the best ones, to the worst, to the most awkward.

Warnings: Mentions of death, language, angst, light smut between Cas and the reader

Flashbacks are in italics.

Originally posted by whoeveryoulovethemost

                                                            -

You’re sitting in the backseat of the impala, looking out the window at the scenery. Dean, of course, is driving, and Sam is sitting on the passenger side, sleeping. You have a hard time sleeping in the car, so on long car trips like this, you have a hard time. Thankfully, Dean is usually always awake as well, and serves as your entertainment.

Growing up as the youngest Winchester sibling was not always fun and games, especially being a teenage girl. As much as your brothers love you, they know absolutely nothing about teenage girls. You more often than not felt like you were raising yourself, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your brothers are your rock, and you would never leave them.

You can barely remember the first time you’d met Dean. Your dad, John, had gotten your mother pregnant and throughout the first four years of your life, he was very in and out of your life. He’d only show up at your house once a year, normally on your birthday. He’d call on holidays, but you were too young to hold a conversation. A little after your fourth birthday, your mother had passed away from cancer. You had nothing and no one else, and your dad John came to your rescue.

“Hey, kiddo.” John had told you, picking you up from the hospital. He looked tired, the bags underneath his eyes more prominent than you had ever seen them.

“Hi.” You say quietly. You didn’t really know what was going on. All you knew was that your mommy was in a better place and you were going to live with your dad. You remember being nervous, because to you, your dad was like a stranger. You knew nothing about him.

“Do you have your stuff? You’re comin’ to stay with me and your brother, Dean. Dean’s excited to meet you, you know.”

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3

how weird is our favourite show that it feels completely normal having capital G making pancakes while wearing apron and drinking from a “World Greatest Dad” mug? oh! also, lucifer is sulking in sam’s room. hahaha

Break a Little - Part One

Summary: You’re an Alpha Female, and that means your entire life you’ve been an outcast, an abomination. It’s been so long you don’t remember what it is like not to feel raw, angry and hurt. You’re aggressive, a little wild, and don’t play well with others. So when your only friend’s brother Dean calls and says Sam is missing, you are hesitant to work with him. After all, you have always been alone.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Characters: Alpha!Reader, Beta!Sam, ??!Dean

Pairings: Alpha!Reader x ??!Dean

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: language, fighting, self hate, a/b/o dynamics, no smut yet but there will be some eventually ;)

A/N: This is my first A/B/O fic and I would like it to be a small series. 

You sit at the bar, consumed in your own little world. The whiskey you sip on is just fuel, fuel for how much you hate everything, hate what you are, who you are, how you hate the world around you.

It’s after a hunt, and just like every single damn time the violence has you on edge, running on adrenaline and nothing can fix it, nothing ever will. But the hunts themselves are good for you, they help focus that rage that is always there.

“Hey gorgeous,” some asshole sits beside you, and you wind him first, a fucking alpha.

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How dare he steal that from me? How DARE he steal my childhood from me?
— 

Jensen on Dean and his Dad.

“At an early age [Dean] was like, ‘This is way more interesting [than a normal life]. I’m on hunting  trips with my father. I’m not going to recess!’
…it wasn’t until later in life when he started doubting that and thinking, like, ‘How dare he steal that from me? How DARE he steal my childhood from me?’ And I think that’s probably a conversation that he will have one day with his father. Which… I’d love to film that scene. (x)

There goes my life

A/N: I heard the song There goes my life by Kenny Chesney & got smacked with feels about a Dean x daughter!reader. It’s an AU. Enjoy.

Listen to it here

 Dean x Daughter!Reader

Seventeen year old Dean stared at his girlfriend Lily, not wanting to believe what she just told him. They were the stereotypical high school couple; he was the captain of the football team, she was the head cheerleader. They were the homecoming king and queen, the high school sweethearts of their class, but they knew once school ended Dean would be headed to California and Lily would be going to New York.

They both had dreams bigger then Lawrence, Kansas.

However it seemed like it all might be crashing down on them.

“Say it again.” Dean stated as tears of fear began to flood his eyes.

“Dean, you heard me.” Lily said as her own tears began to fill her eyes, she was worried how Dean would take the news. She was already terrified herself and was scared of how Dean would react.

“Lil’-just say it again.” Dean responded.

“I’m pregnant.”

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The Pain of Loss

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warning: Angst, miscarriage

Word Count: 365

A/N: This is rough. I apologize.

The minute she told him she lost the baby, Dean’s walls crumbled. Seeing her so broken and so distraught, rendered him incapable of protecting himself against the onslaught of emotions that was currently overwhelming him.

She was his rock. To see her the broken shell of the woman she once was completely and utterly destroyed him. His eyes filled with tears, his bottom lip quivering as he locked eyes with her.

Her eyes weren’t filled with tears, but rather desperate and helpless, begging her hero, the love of her life to fix it all. When she finally spoke again, it broke Dean completely.

“Fix it,” she whispered, a small, broken prayer to the only person she’d ever really trusted. “Please,” she begged, her eyes filling with unshed tears, her resolve cracking under the weight of the news.

Dean rushed to her then, his arms engulfing her, practically crushing her with his weight. She didn’t seem to mind, melting into him, her face falling against his chest and soaking his shirt in seconds. She sobbed quietly then, finally mourning everything she had lost.

She had never realized how much she wanted a family until the moment she found out she was pregnant. Dean was the father. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Dean would make the perfect dad. From that moment, she wanted nothing more than to have a family with the man that she loved more than life itself.

Now she lay crushed in his arms, those hopes washed away with grief and despair. She couldn’t see past the moment. She couldn’t see past the loss.

“I love you,” Dean choked out, pressing his lips firmly against her forehead. “I’ll see you through this. No matter what,” he promised fiercely. “We will have a family, Y/N,” he managed through his own ocean of emotion.

She nodded feebly in his arms. She wanted to believe the words he said. Desperately.

Only time would tell.

For now she’d let Dean hold her together. If not for him, everything would come crashing down without a sound.

She clung to him then determined not to let that happen.

Fragments - Part 6

Word Count: 6811 - omg I’m so sorry

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Canon divergence, drinking, some self loathing, mentions of suicide attempt

A/N: Unbeta’d and unedited. Mistakes are all mine. Constructive feedback is always welcome. 

Fragments Masterlist


Your phone vibrating across your nightstand pulled you from a restless sleep. Truth be told, you hadn’t slept soundly since you’d been back except for the night you’d fallen asleep in Dean’s arms. You’d been plagued by dreams of all the hunts you’d been on, the woman you’d killed, the spirits of those little kids, Magda, and her horrible mother. You reached your hand out into the darkness and fished around for your phone, finally finding it and pulling it back to your ear. “Hello?”

“Sorry to wake you, Y/N, but this is important.” Cas answered hastily. “I may have found a lead on the pieces of your soul.” You sat up, resting your back against the headboard and pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Ok.” You breathed. “Spill. What’d you find?”

“I’m hesitant to tell you over the phone, Y/N, I’m sorry, but someone could be listening.” Cas explained. “What I can tell you is we may need to talk to your father.”

“But he’s…he’s dead how are you gonna -“

“We can make it happen.” Cas cut you off before you could finish. Whatever he found out wasn’t good news and it was making you nervous. “I’ll be at the bunker soon.”

After Cas’ phone call you tried in vain to go back to sleep, tossing and turning, before you finally gave up. You changed your clothes and went to the kitchen, pouring yourself a tumbler of whiskey and making your way to the library, sitting in one of the chairs and thinking about what the angel had said.

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Giving Up

Request:  Hi! Can you a sis fic based kind of like 11x12 in which the reader is staying with Jody, Claire and Alex because she screwed up a few hunts and when Sam and Dean come they see she is sad because she doesn’t have many friends and gave up hunting because Dean told her she was bad at it? Just basically really fluffy and angsty. Maybe she ends up saving Sam and Dean? I know it’s kinda long but I hope you take it into account :)) @newyorkrebel

A/N: As always, sorry for being dead to the world. I literally have hardly any free time and the free time I do have I don’t have the inspiration to write. Would love your feedback if you have any to give! Thanks guys I appreciate you for sticking with me even though I’m not a frequent writer. 

Characters: Sister!Reader, Dean, Sam, Claire (mentioned), Alex (mentioned), Jody, John (mentioned)

Warnings: swearing, angst, violence, arguing, self doubt/harsh words about self to self?, Dean being mean, fluff, mention of death but no dying.. I think that’s it, as always let me know if I missed anything

Tagging: @winchesters-favorite-girl @mycuddlycorner @percussiongirl2017 @wonderange @leenasleena-blog @tolaughistolove 
If you wanna be added/removed let me know!

Originally posted by winchester--bros-4-life

You were laying in bed with your headphones on, blocking out the world, listening to your favorite song that helped you forget how much your life sucked right now. You were thankful that Claire wasn’t in the room you both shared and both frequented, since you had a somewhat similar outlook on life. Pushed away and abandoned by those you cared about most, and hating your life. You had one difference, and that was that you no longer wanted to hunt, whereas Claire wanted to hunt more than anything, in fact, that’s where she was right now, investigating for a possible hunt. You figured that Claire only wanted to hunt because no one told her she sucked at it. She was a good hunter for sure, and you thought you were, but according to your brothers, who you loved more than anything, you were no good.

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You Got Out

Characters: Sam x oldest Winchester, Dean, John.

Words: 2500

[Light swearing]

A/N: I wrote this in one sitting. Crazy. Anyways, this idea was provided to me by a nonnie, so thanks for that. 

Also, if you want any music to listen to, here’s a song that I like to listen to while I write. It’s pretty much instrumental, but it gets me emotional anyways haha. You - Petit Biscuit.

Originally posted by hunterchesters

Your name: submit What is this?

The relief hit you like a truck. Or a train. Or whatever. It doesn’t matter.

The relief envelopes you like an emotional but warm blanket. It fills you up from inside. Radiates from you. Touches and colors your everything.

You lose your breath. The paper you’re holding onto is slightly trembling because you are.

This is it; the paper you’re holding onto. The sweet escape. Sam’s sweet escape. Sam’s safety reassured in printed words. The ticket to his new life. The ticket out of yours.

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Huntress- Part Sixteen: Wayward Daughters

Sam x Daughter!Reader, takes place in S12 E16 so warning: SPOILERS

Part one
Part two
Part three
Part four
Part five

Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve

Part Thirteen
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen

Perched on the table, your legs swinging underneath you shared a bored look with Uncle Dean as he paced the room. Your Dad had his arms folded, but hadn’t given up yet. You knew Mick would come, he’d never turn his nose up at a meeting with the Winchesters- you could only dream.

“That’s it I’m waiting in the car-” Uncle Dean declared, readying himself to leave. Only, Dad stopped him. “Wait, come on-”

“No. Okay I didn’t sign up for this reporting for duty crap!”

“Just wait.” You sighed, not bothering to deal with any conflict.
“Sorry I’m late.” Mick’s voice made Uncle Dean turn round, shooting him a frown. “My report ran over. Everything’s been a bit hectic till uh…well,” he glanced down at the blood stain “Well. Best not to dwell.”
“Must be so hard for you.” You rolled your eyes.

“Okay, enough. What’s the deal?” Dad silenced the argument before i escalated any further.

“Case in Wisconsin. Looked like an animal attack. The girl’s in the hospital, but her brother lost his heart. We recon it’s a werewolf.”
“That left a survivor?” You raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe it got scared before it could finish the job?” Uncle Dean suggested. Mick shook his head doubtfully “Perhaps but it usually takes more than just a fright to put a werewolf off it’s meal.”
“The hell do you know that?” Uncle Dean scoffed.
“I studied them at Kendrick’s.”
“Kendrick’s?” Dad echoed.

“It’s where British Hunters train. Kinda like Hogwarts.” You explained.
“Cool.” 
“Not cool.” You countered.

“The case sounds easy enough.” Uncle Dean shrugged, ignoring any more points to be made.
“Then you won’t mind if I tag a long?” Mick tilted his head, aware he’d get some serious reactions out of that statement. You snorted, “Nice one, mate.”

“Mick, hunting isn’t really what you’re suited for…” Dad was trying to be a little more nicer about it than you had been. “There was a reason Mum never taught you.” You smirked- no doubt offending him in the process.

“I’m a fast learner.” He remarked “Our team were thinkers. We need to be ready for whatever happens next.

“One moment.” Uncle Dean threw his head back, gesturing for you and Dad to have a “talk” about it. When you were outside he rolled his eyes “No way this is happening.”
“Dean, these people have some serious knowledge.”
“I have that same knowledge, though!” You protested.
“Y/N’s right. Besides, you can’t learn this crap in a book. You put on a flannel, you pick up a gun and you go out there and you get good fast or you get dead faster.”
“He might come in handy.”
“What if he get’s himself killed?”
“I heard that.” Mick appeared at his side, making Uncle Dean back away a little from him: “Good.”


Unfortunately, Mick was in the back of the Impala next to you so you sat on one side, staring at your phone screen. To add to the excitement, Mick had one of his stupid podcasts playing. Sure, you liked interesting facts, but this was just torture. “Had to listen to one of his podcasts?” Uncle Dean frowned at his brother. Mick paused it, not wanting to miss anything.
“It’s educational. Besides, I’ve been wanting to listen to this one.” Dad sighed.
“And there I was beginning to think you weren’t so bad.” You rolled your eyes, getting a smile from your Uncle.

After they continued to argue over hunting, you took a headphone out and decided to see if it was worth getting into. “I’d take a handful of silver bullets any day over that crap!”
“That crap, meant that the last werewolf seen in England was in the 20s.” Mick sassed. You mimicked Mr K’s posh accent “The last serious werewolf case in the United Kingdom was in 1923. I can’t believe you listen to him.”
“Thank you for that, Ketch.” Mick rolled his eyes.
“Any time, Davis.” You sassed.

“Were they all evil?” Dad asked, going back to the werewolves.
“I’m sorry?” 
“Well not all werewolves are. We had a friend who was bitten, but he learnt to control it. Alongside lots of others.”
“Werewolf’s are natural born killers. Monster’s don’t just stop becoming monsters.”
“Mick-” You wanted to stop him, but he kept going.
“They live to kill!”
“Not everything’s in black and white you know.” You sighed.

Mick might have ignored you. Or perhaps he didn’t care: “Turn here.”


After flicking through endless lore books on all sorts of mythology, Dad, Uncle Dean and Mick arrived back from the hospital. They’d gone for more information, but it felt like they’d gone for a holiday at the speed they were taking things. They got in and began to explain what had happened.
“She wasn’t bitten?” You were surprised to hear that “You sure?”
“Positive.” Mick didn’t look at you when he spoke.
“So now what?”
“Well. You remember Jody?” Dad turned in his seat a little to face you.
“The Sheriff Hunter?”
“That’s her. She has two uh…adopted daughters. One of them, Claire Novak, is here working on the case. She’s gotta be about your age actually.”
“Novak?” You repeated it, you could have sworn you’d heard that name somewhere before. “Isn’t that…Cas’ vessel’s name?”
“Yeah…” Uncle Dean nodded “How did you know that?”
“He told me.” You shrugged.

Not that you’d admit it, you were excited to meet another Hunter your age. You just hoped she wasn’t a jerk…but, if Jody brought her up how bad could she be?

You sat down next to Dad on the sofa, Dean sitting the other side of you. Opposite was who must have been Claire. She had long blonde hair and the sort of eyes that changed from blue to green. She wore a jacket like yours, only it was green. She had the Hunter look for sure. Her head tilted and eyes furrowed in your direction “Who are you?” She asked. 

“Y/N.” You answered, not sure what else to say.
“Claire, this is my daughter.” Dad explained. Her eyes widened and she smiled a little “Daughter?”
“Sup.” You nodded.
“Your accent…British, right?”
“Which one?” You rolled your eyes.
“There’s more than one?” 
“Yeah-lots.” 
“Oh…sorry.”
You smiled “That’s cool.”

“You hunt?” She asked, obviously curious.
“Duh.” You smirked, making her smile.

“Beers all round.” Mick appeared, placing beers down on the table. “Who are you?” Claire was now even more confused.
“Mick Davis. British Men Of Letters.” Mick took her hand, shaking hers and his at the same time.
“Long story.” Dean sighed.
Long story.” You agreed.

You and Claire both reached for a beer when Dad and Uncle Dean stopped you. “No.” They both said, dragging the bottles away from your grasp. You both shared a look before sitting back.

“Either way. That alibi…massive lie.” Claire continued.
“Hayden’s Mom said the same thing.” Dad nodded. “Where was she?”
“Local dive bar. Eating trash…anyway she was on a date. But the guy was a total douche-bag. Motorcycle, weird-ass hair, snarky…grabby.”
“Grabby?” Uncle Dean echoed, he did not like the sound of that.
“I’m a big girl,” Claire assured him “I handled it.”

“Better call it a night.” Mick rose, having barely been seated for a minute.
“It’s 5:30.” You frowned.
“My reports due in at six sharp. Nice meeting you.”

You watched him go, becoming more and more suspicious but it was too ealy to say anything. “So…” Claire spoke up “Your foreign exchange student it totally lame.”
“Which one?” Uncle Dean joked. You hit his side, making him almost drop his beer. “Ow!”

Anyway,” Dad cleared his throat “Why aren’t you with Jody?”
“She’s busy with Sheriff stuff. Said to call if anything came up.”
‘Sheriff stuff’ sounded incredibly vague to you.


You watched in fascination as Claire dressed herself up to look twice her age. “Why do you keep staring at me?”
“How?” You asked in amazement.
“It’s so I pass as FBI. Why what do you usually do?”
“Wait in the car…” You admitted, realising how pathetic that sounded.
“That sucks.” She chuckled “Come here, I’ll show you.”


The Hospital was pretty big with endless corridors and hallways, but you found your way to the right room. Last night Hayden, who was in the hospital before, had died.”
“Any idea what happened to her?”
“The autopsy isn’t till tomorrow…it’s hard to tell. Perhaps a heart attack.”
“At her age?” You asked, well aware she was probably similar age to you.
“Well…yeah that’s what’s weird. Also, when we first found her she had gashes all along her arms. Now…” The Doctor pulled back the sheets to reveal her bare arms. There was no sign of any sort of wounds.

“Excuse me.” The Doctor left the room, leaving you all to ponder over the case.
“What the hell?” Claire started off with the same words that had been running through your mind since you’d arrived.
“What if she…turned?” Dad suggested.
“I guess that would explain how she healed…but then how did she die? And you said she wasn’t bitten.” You pointed at Mick who stuttered for words.
“Not that I saw.”

“None of this is making any sense.” Uncle Dean shook his head.

“But if she did turn then that means the werewolf wanted her turned.” Mick suggested. “So it’d have to be friends…family…”
“Someone from the bar.” Claire finished.

“Okay, Sam, you and Claire go talk to the girl she was supposed to be crashing with. Me and Mick’ll hit the bar. Y/N, pick a side.”
You rolled your eyes and followed on after your Dad.


Claire grabbed her headphones from the back of the car before putting her hand on the door handle. “Okay, so you wait here.” She ordered your Dad, making you chuckle.
“What?”
“You really think she’s gonna want to talk to some old skeezer…or us.” 
“She’s got a point, Dad.”You patted his shoulder before spelling aloud “B r b.”


After getting the information you needed from her friend you headed back out, only you paused in the doorway. “You coming?” Claire raised an eyebrow, turning round.
“I will be. Just need to uh…make a phone call.” You said, heading round the back.
“Okay.” 

You hovered over the caller ID before pressing “call”. It rang for quite some time, reaching the point where you almost didn’t think they were going to pick up.
“Y/N? What’re you doing?” He answered.
“You called me yesterday,” You began “Why do you keep calling me?”
“I can’t say it to your face..your Dad might overhear me and then that’ll just spark even more questions.”
“So what if he does hear you? All you do is say dumb stuff.” You sighed.
“I’m sorry. I should never have intruded on your family.” He sighed.
“You keep saying that. In every damn voice mail you’ve left.” You snapped. “I’m fed up. Just say it to me. It’s ridiculous! We see each other every other bloody day and you ignore me. But the moment you’re not near me you call up to say sorry for everything!” 
“You’re right…I’m not as brave as you.” 
“I swear to God the next time you call me I’m going find you and throw your phone off a cliff. Stop it. Stop leaving voicemails I never listen to and stop apologising. I don’t care anymore.”
“Y/N…”
“Mick. Grow up.”

You hung up. Fed up of Mick calling you. So what if he had things to say? If they were that important he’d say them to your face. He’d left those messages a few months back…he kept apologising and you’d had enough.
When you turned the corner you were greeted with the sight of Claire walking off in a huff from your Dad. Oh boy.
“What did you say?” You asked, looking impressed he’d managed to piss her off that quickly.
“Jody thinks she’s looking at colleges.” Dad sighed.
“And?” You shrugged, earning a shocked look.
“And?!”
“Yeah. If she wants to hunt she wants to hunt. She’s not stupid.”
“I know. It’s just not as simple as that.”
“It should be.” You sighed.

You were about to add to your point when you noticed he wasn’t fully convinced, but froze when a cry of pain erupted from the nearby woodlands. After worriedly glancing at your Dad, the pair of you leapt into action. 

You raced down towards the noise, fiddling with the inside of your jacket t grab your knife from the pocket. Only, when you reached the incident there was no obvious threat. “Claire!” Dad shouted, kneeling down beside her and clutching her close to him. She was still just coming out from an unconscious state, her eyes blinking into reality. You knelt down in front of her and examined her for wounds. Your eyes landed on her shoulder. The army-green jacket had a rip where the rims of the tear where dyed crimson. Blood was pouring from the scratch…no…bite

“Dad…” You managed, trying not to make it anymore painful for her. Dad glanced down to where you were looking and his face fell. “Oh God…”


“How long do I have?” Claire’s shaken voice filled the tense air.
“Sometimes it takes a full moon and sometimes it just takes time.” Dad answered.
“Can I help?” Mick asked.
“Stay out!” Uncle Dean snapped.
“I understand you’re angry-”
Dad didn’t let him finish “Listen. You killed a kid. We’re not angry we’re done!”
Mick turned his helpless eyes to you and you glared back “Don’t look at me I’m not helping you.” You spat, drawing your attention back to Claire. You sat down next to her and peeled the bandage back a little, examining her wound like you could help.

It had worsened considerably more since you’d last seen it. Now a deep red with swelling purples surrounding the teeth marks. You stuck it back over, patting her back gently. 
“Listen to me,” Uncle Dean knelt down in front of her and clasped hold of her hand. “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but you can live with this.” He assured her.
Claire shook her head, “No…not me.”
“All you have to do is lock yourself up a couple nights a month. Other than that you’ll be just you.” He carried on, ignoring her protests.
“Dean listen to me!” She cried, making him stop “I can barely keep it together on a good day. I don’t want to hurt Jody…or Alex…I’d rather die.” 

You watched her eyes glisten with tears as she spoke, her hands shaking a little. You understood her completely, if you ever reached that a point in your life you know which route you’d take.

“Mick…there’s an experiment…it says here one out of nine subjects were cured.” Dad read over your shoulder.
“That experiment was on mice. It doesn’t work.” Mick sighed, but when he saw Uncle Dean’s stern glare he explained “We experimented with the blood of some werewolves.”
“You can reverse the early stages in rodents.” You piped up “Not humans.”
“How do you know?” Uncle Dean snapped, angry you were so against the idea.
“Because we tested on a human once.” Mick answered for you.
“And?” Dad pushed, his eyebrows raising expectantly.
“She died in agony.” You whispered, not looking anyone on the eye.

Claire hadn’t given up, it seemed: “Second time lucky?”
“No.” Uncle Dean stated “You don’t get a vote in this.”
“It’s my life.” Claire protested “I get all the votes.”
“Sam…Y/N…wanna back me up here?”
“It’s her life.” Dad agreed.
“Don’t, Claire.” You sided with Uncle Dean, not wanting Claire to die the same way the last one did.
She glared at you “Why should you get a say and not me?”
“Because I’ve seen what happens.” You argued, trying not to shout at her.
“That was one time.” She scoffed.
Please.” You were out of reasons “You can’t.”

“Watch me.”

“Okay….what do we need?” Uncle Dean changed his tune, having decided.
You stared at him in shock, feeling very much in a corner. Mick hesitated “Uh…blood from the werewolf that bit her.”
“Okay, me and Sam’ll go. Y/N, you stay here and make sure he doesn’t kill again.” Uncle Dean pointed at Mick.
You nodded reluctantly, you couldn’t believe they were actually going along with this. When the door closed you slumped back in the chair, lost for words and to tired to say anything if you knew what to say.

After a few minutes of silence Claire spoke up- “Why are you so against this idea?”
“Like I said, I’ve seen it happen. It didn’t end well. Not for anyone.” You sighed, sharing a worried glance with Mick. Then, you got angry. “Why did you tell them. If you’d have kept your stupid mouth shut none of this would have happened!” You shouted at him.
“I-I didn’t mean…”
“Shut up! I’m fed up with you and your-” Your rant was broken by Claire hissing of pain, she stumbled over some furniture as she tried to turn in the mirror to see her bite-mark.
You held your tongue, forcing yourself into silence so she didn’t feel anymore stressed. “This is your fault.” You murmured before helping Claire.

“It burns!” She managed through her deep breaths. The three of you watched as her wounds began to heal- she was beginning to turn.
“Claire, we need to tie you up so you don’t hurt anyone and so we don’t have to hurt you, okay?” You said calmly.

She ignored you and reached for the gun, Mick grabbed it in the nick of time and held it out in front of himself. “Please, you don’t understand.” Claire hissed through the pain “It’s happening. Give it to me!”
“No.” 
You froze. You didn’t know what to do anymore. Death by a bullet would be less painful than what was to come…but what if she was right? What if it did work? “Then you do it!” She begged. Her desperate eyes then fell on your gun in your pocket “Or you! If you want me dead so bad!”
“That’s not what I want…Mick put the gun down.” You ordered him.
“I know a man that would shoot you right now without second thought. Every instinct I have tells me to do the same…but my instincts haven’t been so grand of lately…” You listened curiously as Mick explained “So sit down. I’m not gonna shoot you.”
You offered your hand as she stumbled towards the sofa, helping her sit down. She didn’t let go.

“With any luck, when you wake up this will all be over.” Mick trid to reassure her as he put everything together ready to restrain her.
“If I wake up.” Claire corrected.

A loud crash tore your attention away from her as a man with a skull mask opened up the doors. “Stay back!” Mick shouted. He attempted to shoot the man with his pistol, but the man was much quicker. He dodged and slammed his fist into Mick’s head, making him unconscious. You and Claire shared a worried look, she smashed a vase onto his head, but it didn’t seem to phase him. You reached for your gun yet realised halfway that this must be a werewolf. Bullets meant nothing and you were out of silver. That hesitation was your mistake, a heavy object smashed into the side of your head and you were out cold.

“Claire!” A familiar shout dragged you into reality. “…Y/N!”
You felt two strong arms haul you up off the floor, forcing you to look into their eyes. “Dad..” You groaned, feeling the dried blood on the side of your head.
“What happened?” He asked, running a thumb over your wound. You winced but didn’t complain as he made sure you were okay “The wolf…I think he took her.”
“Three versus one and you couldn’t stop him!” Uncle Dean shouted. He wasn’t just angry at Mick but you as well. “Dean, come on. That’s not fair.”
You ignored your Uncle. “We need to find her.” You tried to ignore the pain on the side of your head as you dragged yourself up, not accepting the help from your Dad.

“I put a tracker in her pocket.” Mick said.
“You planted a bug on her?!” Dad shouted in disbelief, making you flinch a little.
“You can kill me after we find Claire.”


Ready for a fight, you charged into the building. Dad went straight for the werewolf, tackling him to the floor. You followed Uncle Dean to where Claire was tied up, only as he reached for the rope you grabbed onto his jacket and tugged him back. “She’s turned!” You warned over the timpani of clatters. She growled, her sharp teeth and bright eyes revealing how there was no more Claire.
Despite her reins she broke free and lunged at the pair of you. Immediately, Uncle Dean stepped out in front of you and threw her against the cabinets behind. “Sorry, kid.” He apologised.

A blur appeared in your peripheral vision and you ducked just in time, parrying to the left before kicking the wolf away from you. You then leapt over to where a gun, fully loaded with silver bullets, was lying. You reached for it in a panic, cocking it and aiming. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

The shot rang out, followed by the wolf collapsing in front of you. You watched as it fell to the floor, the needle still sticking out of it’s neck.
You handed Mick his gun back without bothering to look at him. He took it before kneeling down next to the werewolf, taking out the needle to extract the blood.

“Move.” You warned him, watching as Claire began to waken.
He side-stepped away, joining your Dad and Uncle. “Is that thing ready?” Uncle Dean barked.
“Ready.” Mick handed it to him, stepping away once more.
Just as she fully regained consciousness she lunged at Dad, who blocked, allowing Uncle Dean to inject the blood.
She hunched over in agony before staring upwards, her eyes somehow even more yellow than before. Somewhere between a scream and a growl erupted from her throat before she collapsed.


You couldn’t bare this any longer. Minutes, that felt more like years, of watching as Claire shook and cried out and shifted and screamed. You tore your eyes away.
This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

“I need some air.” Uncle Dean mumbled then left the room.

You held your head in your hands, not wanting to watch any longer.

Her cries grew louder as she adjusted her position in a constant cycle. She growled and hissed and cried. She whined and groaned and jolted. She twisted and shouted and…

She fell still.

You glanced up, Dad managed a quiet “Claire?” before raising his voice “Dean.”

Uncle Dean walked back in, he noticed your pale face, your Dad’s blank stare and the silence. His eyes fell on Claire’s still body and his heart sank.

A small murmur made you properly look up. You watched in amazement as her sharp claws retracted and her body stirred. Claire’s eyes, her eyes, opened slowly. “You guys look like crap.”


The drive back to the Bunker was silent on your part. You half listened as the brothers upfront bickered about nonsense and lightly argued over small-talk. You didn’t wear headphones.
Your eyes followed the scenery outside back and forth along the roadside, but your mind was elsewhere.

You barely noticed that you’d made it home until the slam of Uncle Dean’s door dragged you back to reality. “You coming, kid?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
‘no’ you wanted to say, thinking about curling up into a ball and falling asleep there and then just to prove a point: “…Yeah.”

Part 17: Power

Masterlist
I do not own these gifs

(Tag list after cut)

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Dean,

I want you to know that I never wanted to leave you like that. I know I hurt you, I saw it on your face, and all I wanted was to walk over there and kiss you and tell you that it’s not you that I’m leaving, wanted to tell you how sorry I am for not telling you sooner that I was going away. I tried so many times to tell you but I couldn’t -  couldn’t look at you when you looked at me like that, like you always do, and tell you that I’m walking away. Dean, I couldn’t.

I’m at Stanford, and my bed is cold and awful. I need to live my life, but I don’t want to do it without you. Please Dean, come here.

Always yours, Sammy

John’s fist curls around the letter, his knuckles go white around the thing as the color drains from his face: all his nightmarish suspicions confirmed.

“Dad? Who’s the letter from?”

Dean looks at him from the door opening, and the practiced nonchalance in Dean’s slouch and the poorly stifled hopefulness suddenly makes a horrible sense to John, who might be sick on the floor. 

He rips the letter into little pieces, and says tightly: “A case. Wyoming. We leave in thirty minutes.”

Hot Roommate

Written for: Supernatural Hiatus Writing Challenge - Week 4

Prompt:  “ You’re supposed to talk me out of this ”

Relationship: Dean x Reader

Words: 1023 

Warnings: Fluff, Language, Just Dean being wonderful, AU

A/N: Week four down. This is a sequel to my week three challenge but I also feel it can be read alone. Tags are at the bottom. Feedback is greatly appreciated.

Summary: A sequel to Hot Neighbor, reveals Dean asking the reader an important question. Is the reader ready or are they moving too fast? 

Read Hot Neighbor here! 

   “And it is with my pleasure to introduce for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Samuel and Jessica Winchester. You may kiss the bride!”

    You threw the handful of glitter over Sam and Jess as they kiss the church erupting in applause. You’ve never seen Jess look so happy and Sam and his big dimples is a sight to behold. But the moment is short lived for you as you focus to the other Winchester, your hero Detective Dean Winchester. He smiles at you as he approaches taking your arm following the bride and groom. You were lost in your thoughts so you’re glad he was paying attention. He’s warm pressed against you and it reminds you of the night four months ago. He’d helped you get your stuff from your cheating boyfriend’s place and then you’d fallen asleep watching Die Hard, practically inseparable ever since then.

    He leans down in your ear as the photographer starts snapping photos, “You look beautiful.”

    “You’re bias, Detective,” you giggle as the photographer orders you to face the camera and quit flirting.

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Happy Birthday, Sam!

Characters: Sam, Little sister!reader, Dean, Jess, John [mentioned]

Words: 2600+

A/N: So I started writing this today, without any idea in mind at all, because I completely forgot it was May 2nd today (yes it’s been a lot lately haha. In my head it’s like a month left to May, but apparently not). I just finished writing this and it’s getting kinda late, so I apologize if there’s any errors and stuff. Also, the first two parts are flashbacks, kind of. Hopefully it’ll make sense.

Originally posted by frozen-delight

Your name: submit What is this?

You love birthdays. Always had, ever since you were a kid. And although it was fun to have your own birthday, you mostly meant other people’s birthdays. You just loved seeing smiles on their faces as you tried your best to make their special day, just that, special. It surely was something magical about that.


”(Y/N)?” Dean whispered, as his hands gently shook your narrow shoulders to awake you.

You tiredly rubbed your eyes with your fists, blinking hard to regain your vision, wanting to return to the dreamland with blue skies, funny-shaped cotton candy-like clouds and all kinds of pretty, colorful animals including unicorns with rainbow mane and tails.

”Come on,” Dean whispered again, helping you sit up in the bed. ”We gotta surprise Sammy!”

You remembered, and instantly you were wide awake and alert. Sammy’s birthday.

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Huntress- Part 11: Remember

Sam x Daughter!Reader, takes place in S12 E11 so warning: SPOILERS

Part one
Part two
Part three
Part four
Part five

Part Six

Part Seven
Part Eight

Part Nine
Part Ten

It had been a few days since you’d told your Dad and Uncle the truth…as much as you could bare to say. You were currently sat at the Motel, your Dad was typing away on his laptop, no doubt looking into some lore for the case they were working. 
Uncle Dean had gone to “get a burger”, but you weren’t stupid. He’d be gone all night no doubt. Ever since that conversation, you’d become a little more distant with your Dad. Maybe it was embarrassment, you never wanted to tell him in the first place, maybe guilt that you hadn’t told him or maybe you’d just been thinking too much.

Despite your distance, your Dad was now more determined than ever to stay close to you. You’d never been a talker and had always kept most things bottled up so to tell someone a story you kept to yourself and considered very personal was a huge step for you. You’d barely said a word to anyone since, but that was just how your body worked. You need time to recharge and build up to confrontation. A hunt would bring you back, something to keep your mind away from anything else.

You thought back to the conversation, the confused face your Dad had given you…

“Your daughter” You’d said, knowing full well it’d do nothing but increase his curiosity. 
“Wh-what?” Your Dad’s eyebrows knitted together, his eyes focused intently on yours.
“You had two daughters.” You managed, your voice quivering.

“How…?” Your Dad was now much more hesitant to ask you anything.

Your lips trembled “Max was…” You could hardly breath.

…“Hey, Y/N, could you pass me the charger?”
You broke out of your daze, unaware of how long you’d been sat there, staring at nothing. Nodding, you handed your Dad his charger, still not saying a word.
“You okay, bug?” He tilted his head, you saw him do so out of the corner of your eye.
Again, you nodded. But he wouldn’t take a nod for an answer. Sighing, he got up from the chair and sat down next to you on the bed. You felt a dip in the bed, but still didn’t look up.

“It’s okay if you’re not.” He softly spoke, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands hanging in between.
You nodded again, lost for the correct words to say. “I know you’ve got a lot going on, Y/N. You can just stay here for the hunt.”
The way he spoke made it sound like an offer and left you wondering if it was an order. Instead of nodding, you shook your head, causing him to sigh again.

“Y/N…”

“Please.” You begged “I want to. I need….something to do.” You tried to explain it, finding each word harder to say without breaking down.
“You sure?”
Back to nodding, you hummed a “Yeah.”

Defeated, he stood up, planting a kiss on your forehead and sitting back down at his computer. You went back into your daydream…

“You had a twin.” Your Dad said the words for you. You nodded “She was my best friend, my only family when Mum died. She was all I had…” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at anyone.

“What happened to her?” Your Dad asked, only his tone of voice was different this time. It was as though the question was optional, he understood you didn’t want to talk about it. 

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You couldn’t bare to think about it, her bloodshot eyes and pale complexion, her cold hands and lifeless body. You took in a deep breath “It doesn’t matter. She’s dead.”

…You hadn’t noticed until your Dad moved back down next to you that you were crying. It was silent, tears lightly trickling down your face, your eyes blinking a lot. This time he sat much closer and didn’t say a word, enveloping you into a hug, his head resting on yours and his arms holding you close. 
“Hey, come on. It’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He cooed, rubbing your back gently with one of his hands, the other held your head.
You sobbed, finally giving in to his embrace. He stayed there, holding you and keeping you close to him, you clung on to him as though your life would fade away if you loosened your grip at all. 

You’d managed to convince yourself that you were okay, you’d be able to wake up every morning and smile without waiting for your sister to come and have breakfast with you. You could walk to school with two headphones in listening purely to the song rather than only having one in with your main focus on Max as she rambled on and on about nothing. You could fall asleep on time instead of texting your twin who was only a few feet away in the other room, so close you could hear each others giggles. You could walk the dog without sharing the lead or cross the road only looking out for yourself. You could hug your Mum without Max laughing and joining in the embrace: “Room for one more?”.

You couldn’t. 

Blinking your eyes awake, you felt more tired than the night before. After allowing your eyes to get used to the light you noticed there was no one else there. The curtains were still closed, but the morning light was creeping through the sides they hadn’t covered. Your Dad’s laptop was on the table by the window.

You sighed, quickly getting dressed and putting on your combats. When you went to open up the curtains a post-it-note caught your eye, it was stuck to the laptop and curling slightly at the corner: “Having breakfast with Dean…Sorry, didn’t want to wake you up. Be back soon xxx”

You managed a smile and looked out of the window, noticing Baby was still there so he can’t have gone far. For most people, this situation would be a nod and go back to bed, only you weren’t most people. You were a Winchester.

You opened up the laptop to see the page open on ‘Waldos’, it seemed to be some sort of waffle-place. You took note of the street name, grabbed your gun for extra caution and headed towards Waldo’s. 
It wasn’t exactly hard to miss, with a huge flashing sign and a massive waffle logo on every wall of the building, you slipped in through the front and walked up to where Dad and Uncle Dean were. 

They had your backs to you, Uncle Dean was downing painkillers with coffee and your Dad was offering a disapproving look. You pulled up a stool next to Uncle Dean and smiled. Uncle Dean looked at you for a moment as though you were a stranger, his eyes were narrowed and his head tilted.
“Y/N..?” Your Dad looked concerned if nothing else. At the mention of your name Uncle Dean relaxed and looked back at his waffles.
“Hey…”
“How did you find us?”
“You had the page open on your laptop.” You shrugged. To your amazement, Dad smiled to himself, something told you that leaving the website up wasn’t completely unintentional.

“So you’re saying you really can’t remember anything?” Your Dad frowned, watching Uncle Dean inhale about fifty waffles. “Not squat.” Uncle Dean shook his head in disbelief “Why did I even leave the Motel room…?”
“You wanted a burger.” You said.
“Huh…figures.”
“Well, I’ll text Mom to let her know I’m the emergency number…And Cas, in case he gets some more info on Kelly.”
Uncle Dean frowned and mouthed “Kelly?” At you. You sighed and frowned back before saying “You know, the girl with Lucifer’s bun in her oven.” 
“Eh?”
“Lucifers love child.” Dad added, standing up from the stool.”

“Oh, right yeah.” 

“Okay, well I’m gonna go work the case. You and your waffles can have some alone time, come on.” Dad tited his head back to gesture for you to come with him. You rolled your eyes at your Uncle before standing to join Dad.

“Okay I’m coming.” Uncle Dean tore himself away from the plate and stood up to leave. Just then lady made her way over, she was smiling at your Uncle and took in a deep breath before saying “Hey.”.
“Hey.” Uncle Dean replied, looking between her and you two “Who are you?”
Her face instantly turned to rage and she slapped him there and then, turning on her heel in a huff and returning to her friends.
“Damn.” You mumbled to yourself, slightly impressed.
“Hell of a night.” Uncle Dean coughed.


One of the worst things about being a young hunter was the fact that you couldn’t pass as an FBI agent, so for the parts of the case where Dad and Uncle Dean were busy faking their jobs and working the case you were stuck in Baby, You got out and leant against the bonnet, whipping your phone out for something to do. 

Half an hour later Dad and Uncle Dean came back, discussing something about the case no doubt.
“Looks like we’re dealing with Witches.”Your Dad explained, briefly filling you in.

Once again you were greeted with a strange expression from Uncle Dean, his head tilted to the side and his eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?!” You asked, making your Dad turn back around to see what you were talking about.
“I don’t know. kid.” Uncle Dean coughed slightly when he sad Kid.

“Kid?” You echoed, the way he said it didn’t sound right.
“Where?” Uncle Dean frowned, turning slightly. 
“What?” 
“Huh?”
Sighing, you got in the back, ignoring Uncle Deans confused face.


“I said I’m fine!” Uncle Dean argued, getting out of the car.
“What’s my name?” You asked, standing in the way of the Motel door.
“What?”
“My name. Now.”
“I don’t have to do this.” He decided.


“You don’t know do you..?” Your Dad looked amazed.

“Of course I do.”
“Then what is it?” You raised an eyebrow. he opened and closed his mouth a few times before shaking his head “I don’t know…”
“I’m only joking.” Uncle Dean laughed, but he looked incredibly confused, his mind deep in thought trying to remember what your name was.
“Uncle Dean-” You started to say before he interrupted you.
“Who?”

You and Dad shared a worried look.

“Dean, you forgot your own name!” Dad protested, following after his brother in the Motel room. “And Y/NS.”
”Y/N, that was it! I knew it!” 
You followed on behind, wondering what the hell was going on with your Uncle.

“Yeah that was weird…” He couldn’t help, but agree however.

“Look I’m fine, see? This is a coat, this is a bed. This is uh…a….uh light stick.”
“A light sti-” Your Dad sighed, picking up a post-it-note and writing “LAMP” in big letters before sticking it on the “light stick”. 
“Lamp!” Uncle Dean cheered “So close.”

“I’m gonna call Rowena.” Dad sighed before adding “The Witch.”
“Yeah…Rowena this is serious…I think he’s been hexed…he can’t remember really simple things…no….I don’t know and I’m not checking!…how do we fix it?”
You watched in anticipation when your Dad put the phone down “We need to kill the Witch.” He explained, putting his jacket back on.
“Come on.” He added, dragging his brother away from the TV.

“AND, our best friend’s an Angel..Whaaaaaat?!” Uncle Dean exclaimed, hitting your Dad who almost jumped out of his skin. You couldn’t help but giggle, only shutting up when Dad glared at you.
Settling with a smirk, you examined the blood smears on the tree bark, runnng your fingers gently over the dried crimson.

“Sam…Y/N!” Uncle Dean called out, shining his torch back at you both. You hurried over, finding a dead body collapsed behind a fallen tree.
He had whited out eyes, a river of dried blood coming from his mouth and dirt covered him all over. “Is that a dead guy?”
“Yep.” You answered, shining you torch over his body for any more clues.
“Cool.” 
“No, Dean. Not cool. Killing the Witch is supposed to be the cure. But if the Witch isn’t dead then…why aren’t you…you?” 
“Not cool.” He gulped.


A knock at the door made you and your Dad look up from his laptop screen. “I’ll get it.” Uncle Dean declared, heading straight for the door.
“No, Dean. Wait!” Dad attempted to stop him, getting his handgun out.
The door swung open to reveal the Witch you’d met back when you had to capture Lucifer.

Inviting herself in, she put her bag on your bed and turned to face you all.
“Who’s this?” Uncle Dean scoffed.
Rowena sighed “The spell’s progressed I see.”
“Your hair…it’s all so bouncy.” Uncle Dean smiled, his hands hovering over her locks in amazement.
“Why…thank you,” She turned to face you and your Dad “Do we have to fix him?”

After managing to occupy your Uncle with TV, Dad pulled Rowena off to the side. She looked at you briefly before saying “This kind of magic is very high level witchcraft. I presumed them all dead. But, perhaps not. Eventually you forget how to speak, how to swallow,how to breath..well…Dean Winchester’s going to die.”
“Suck’s for that guy.” Uncle Dean chimed in. Sadly, you looked between the three of them, wanting someone to say something positive for once.

Uncle Dean went to the bathroom and your Dad instantly lost his ‘everything’s fine’ face, he sat down on the Motel bed, perching on the end. You sat next to him, not speaking. 
“I’ve seen my brother die…but this, watching him become not him. This might be worse.” 
You looked down at the floor, not sure what to say.

“We need to kill the Witches, Samuel.” Rowena declared, ignoring his comment.
“Yeah, an important spell book is up for grabs and here you are. I should have known.” Dad shook his head.
“True…” She hissed “But it’s nice to have a Winchester owe you one. Anyway, you’ll need me there not babysitting your brother. They’ll kill you both.” 
You reached into your backpack, bringing out witch-killing-bullets in a loaded gun “They can try.” Dad raised an eyebrow, heading towards the door. Only, moments before he opened it he turned back around and looked at you. “Y/N, this could be really dangerous.”
You squinted skeptically at where this was going.
“I’m trained for really dangerous.” You retorted, putting a jacket on.
“I don’t doubt that…I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Me neither.”
“Y/N…” He frowned, not sure what else to say. Only he didn’t argue when you left the Motel with him. 


“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.” Dad looked at you with stern eyes, his hands resting on your shoulders. You sighed silently and nodded “I promise.”
With a tight smile he nodded, handing you a gun and taking the lead.

With two Witches down you made your way into the main house. “Okay, stay back.” He whispered.
You nodded, your eyes scanning the area.

Dad called Uncle Dean and Rowena, putting his phone is his pocket for when Rowena was able to perform the spell. You crept through the building, becoming more suspicious as the halls were empty. Eventually you found a lady, her blonde hair was curled slightly and she was carefully placing butterflies on a sort of plaque thing. Your Dad told you to stay put outside and went in, closing the door behind him.

You stood in the closed off doorway, your gun out ready for an attack. Only, not ready for the kind of attack that came. “A Baby Winchester, how quaint.” A male Witch chuckled, but you couldn’t see him. He was close, no doubt using some sort of invisibility spell, you watched the floor and saw a tiny cloud of dust as a footstep sounded. In a blind panic, you shot toward the culprit, the mirror behind didn’t smash which meant you’d hit something. You heard a cry of pain, a man with glasses and a bleeding side slowly appeared into vision. Before you could react he shot his hand out, sending you towards the wall behind. You smashed into it, feeling your arm scrape against some sort of metal, it sliced down your arm making you grunt. But, you got back up. He grabbed hold of you, his magic holding some sort of super strength as there was no way of getting out of his grip.

He kicked one of the doors down, dragging you in the room where your Dad was on the floor, his gun aimed at the Witch. As the man bled you felt his grip getting weaker- his magic was dying with him.
“Y/N!” Dad called, shooting the man a glare.
“Kill her.” The Witch laughed, her eyes full of nothing but hatred.
“I can’t, she shot me.” He revealed his wound, his shirt dyed deep crimson around the bullet.
“I thought you were invisible?!” She didn’t seem too worried about this.
“That didn’t stop her…the bitch.” He tried to grip you harder, but if anything he was losing all of his strength. You waited until he was barely holding on and threw him over your back, leaning forward as you did so. 
He cried out when he hit the floor, his body close to death.

You looked at the Lady Witch as she held you where you were with her magic. You fell down, unable to get back up this time. Her hand closed as blackness entered your vision, knocking you out.

You woke to her walking around the corpse of the dead Witch Uncle Dean had found earlier. “…We’re going to swap his soul for yours.” The Lady finished, looking between you and Dad. She looked back to you and smiled “Or yours.”
“Don’t you dare!” Dad warned through gritted teeth.
“But she’s young and fit and so much stronger than some old man.” She hissed at your Dad.
Instead of retaliating with some snarky comment you glared, unsure of what could make the situation any worse. “You’ll do just fine.” She laughed, walking towards you. When she knelt down in front of you a loud crash sounded, turning her attention away from the pair of you for a second. A second was enough.

Immediately you rose to your feet, kicking her to the floor and sprinting out to see if your gun was where you fell.
You thought you Dad was right behind you, only he insisted on fighting the bitch. Deciding to leave him to it, you raced down the stairs in the hopes to come across some sort of effective weapon, when you turned the corner you came face to face with…Uncle Dean?

He looked at you strangely, holding up a gun fully loaded with Witch killing bullets and aimed. With only a second to react you ducked behind a chest of draws when he fired, his bullet scraping the back of your hand. You winced, hissing at the pain, but knowing he didn’t actually mean to shoot you. “I’m your niece! Don’t shoot me you bastard!” You shouted, hesitantly coming out from behind the draws.

“Oops…” Uncle Dean smiled awkwardly and you sighed, rolling your eyes.
“Is the Impala outside?” You asked, looking around warily.
“The what?” He frowned, having even forgotten Baby.
“The car!” 
“Oh…yeah it is.”
“Okay good,” You put your hand on his arm and guided him to the corner of the room “Stay.”
“Where are you going?” The way he asked was like a five year old.
Sighing, you quickly said “To get another gun. Be right back.”


After not finding any more guns in the boot, you raced back to the house. The back of your hand was soar, blood still oozing from the sides of where the bullet had torn your skin, no doubt hitting your bone. Ignoring the pain, you peered round the corner to see…no one. He’d gone. Of course he’d gone, he can’t remember anything…”Should have written a bloody post-it-note.” You mumbled to yourself, following the sound of voices.

You walked in on the Witch and Rowena having some sort of stare-off.Their heads snapped towards you, making you take a step-back. Without a gun you were ten times more cautious. Uncle Dean ran in, holding up a gun and aiming at at the Witch. Your Dad then ran in,making Uncle Dean confused as to who to shoot.

“No,” Your Dad pointed at himself “Brother” then you “Niece” then the Witch “Witch.”

Uncle Dean nodded, cocking the gun and frowning at her. She laughed “You really think that’d going to work on me?”
Uncle Dean tilted his head, smirking as he held up a post-it-note which read Witch-killing bullets.

Her face dropped.

A gun shot rang out.

She fell to the floor.


Waiting with your Dad at the bottom of the stairs, you looked up when Uncle Dean and Rowena climbed down. “Did it work?” Dad asked, leaning forward expectantly. 
“Who’s this hippie?” Uncle Dean frowned. You gulped. Maybe Rowena hadn’t done the spell yet. Maybe it took a few minutes to start working. Maybe-
A laugh tore you from your thoughts and Uncle Dean grinned, “Your faces.” He chuckled, ruffling your hair.
“Not funny.”

Uncle Dean’s face then frowned and he took your hand in his “Sorry for shooting you, kid, Good thing you’ve got quick reactions.”
“Yeah, no thanks to you you twat.” You smirked, tugging your hand away from his.
Dad frowned, tilting his head at your wound “Come on, let’s fine a bandage.” He declared, heading out of the house.


It had been a few days since you’d told your Dad and Uncle the truth…as much as you could bare to say. You were currently sat at the Motel, your Dad was typing away on his laptop, no doubt looking into some lore for the case they were working.
Uncle Dean had gone to "have a drink”, but you weren’t stupid. He’d be gone all night no doubt. Ever since that conversation, you’d become a little more quiet with them outside of hunts. Maybe it was embarrassment, you never wanted to tell him in the first place, maybe guilt that you hadn’t told him or maybe you’d just been thinking too much.

Despite your distance, your Dad was now more determined than ever to stay close to you. You’d never been a talker and had always kept most things bottled up so to tell someone a story you kept to yourself and considered very personal was a huge step for you.

You thought back to the conversation, the confused face your Dad had given you…

“Your daughter” You’d said, knowing full well it’d do nothing but increase his curiosity.
“Wh-what?” Your Dad’s eyebrows knitted together, his eyes focused intently on yours.
“You had two daughters.” You managed, your voice quivering.

“How…?” Your Dad was now much more hesitant to ask you anything.

Your lips trembled “Max was…” You could hardly breath.

…"Hey, Y/N, could you pass me the charger?”
You broke out of your daze, unaware of how long you’d been sat there, staring at nothing. Nodding, you handed your Dad his charger, still not saying a word.
“You okay, bug?” He tilted his head, you saw him do so out of the corner of your eye.
Again, you nodded. But he wouldn’t take a nod for an answer. Sighing, he got up from the chair and sat down next to you on the bed. You felt a dip in the bed, but still didn’t look up.

“It’s okay if you’re not.” He softly spoke, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands hanging in between.
You nodded again, lost for the correct words to say. “I know you’ve got a lot going on, Y/N…”
The way he spoke made it sound like he had more to say, but didn’t want it to come out wrong. You nodded, making him sigh again “Y/N…”.

“I’m okay.” You tried to reassure him. 
“You sure?”
Back to nodding, you hummed a “Yeah.”

Defeated, he stood up, planting a kiss on your forehead and sitting back down at his computer. You hadn’t had a chance to think about Max until after the hunt…You went back into your daydream…

“You had a twin.” Your Dad said the words for you. You nodded “She was my best friend, my only family when Mum died. She was all I had…” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at anyone.

“What happened to her?” Your Dad asked, only his tone of voice was different this time. It was as though the question was optional, he understood you didn’t want to talk about it.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You couldn’t bare to think about it, her bloodshot eyes and pale complexion, her cold hands and lifeless body…If only they knew… You took in a deep breath “It doesn’t matter. She’s dead.”

…You hadn’t noticed until your Dad moved back down next to you that you were crying. It was silent, tears lightly trickling down your face, your eyes blinking a lot. This time he sat much closer and didn’t say a word, enveloping you into a hug, his head resting on yours and his arms holding you close.
“Hey, come on. It’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He cooed, rubbing your back gently with one of his hands, the other held your head.
You sobbed, finally giving in to his embrace. He stayed there, holding you and keeping you close to him, you clung on to him as though your life would fade away if you loosened your grip at all.

You’d managed to convince yourself that you were okay, you’d be able to wake up every morning and smile without waiting for your sister to come and have breakfast with you. You could walk to school with two headphones in listening purely to the song rather than only having one in with your main focus on her as she rambled on and on about nothing. You could fall asleep on time instead of texting your twin who was only a few feet away in the other room, so close you could hear each others giggles. You could walk the dog without sharing the lead or cross the road only looking out for yourself. You could hug your Mum without Max laughing and joining in the embrace: “Room for one more?”.

You couldn’t.


Part 12

I don’t own these gifs
Masterlist
A/N: Aye I wrote a thing, sorry for the angst uwu. Also sorry for the unanswered questions… I love you guys, thanks for staying amazing x
(Tags after cut)

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Who’s this?

A/N: This is the first backstory to my series imagine rewrite (I really gotta think of a better name for this). It could also just be taken as a one-shot, whichever floats your boat.

Dean’s age-12

Sam’s age-8

Reader’s age-newborn baby

Middle & bottom gif is from google search

Originally posted by campbellsaunders

“Boys stay in the car for another minute, there’s something I need to talk about with you.” John says to the boys while putting the impala in park next to Bobby’s truck. He was beginning to regret waiting until the last minute to tell the boys about the newest edition to the family.

“Everything okay Dad?” Dean asked from the passenger seat.

“Yeah Dean, everything’s fine, it’s just…do you boys remember Meredith Porter? I went on a few hunts with her in the past.” John asked his boys.

“Yeah Dad of course we remember her. She always cooks real food whenever she’s around; she’s the one who taught Dean how to grill at that one motel that had the outdoor rec. area.” Sam smiled at the memory of acting like a normal family.

“Why do you ask Dad? Did something happen to her?” Dean asked his father with concern written all over his face.

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starsinoureyescas  asked:

Could I request a destiel au where maybe dean has been smoking since he was in high school, and he's never really had a reason to quit. He's perfectly content to stay in his ways until he meets and falls for Sam's friend Castiel, who is severely asthmatic. He can't be around when Dean smokes, because it's a trigger for his attacks, so dean tries to quit for him? (Sorry this is so long! 😂 I love the seven minutes in Heaven ficlet, but the way!)

This got a little longer than I intended (mostly because I spent way too much time on the backstory) so I hope you enjoy it! Also, I’m so glad you liked the seven minutes in heaven fic! (also on ao3!)

Dean had never intended to become a smoker.

It was just something that sort of happened. Like the fact that he lost his virginity in the backseat of his car when he was sixteen or happened to enjoy wearing women’s panties or fell in love with his brother’s best friend.

He had smoked his first cigarette when he was thirteen.

His mom had been out for the night, having dinner with a few of her friends that she hadn’t seen in awhile. Sam was out of the house, having a sleepover with a few of his own friends.

His dad had ended up falling asleep on the couch after watching a rather intense wrestling match. Gunner Lawless had won, of course.

Dean had been bored out of his mind, desperately trying to come up with some way to entertain himself. Like any thirteen year old red-blooded American boy, he was a little reckless, rebellious for the sake of being rebellious.

Watching TV had been out of the question since they only had one, which was stationed in the living room, and turning it on would mean waking his dad. And his dad could be a grumpy son of a bitch when woken from up, like a crotchety old bear whose hibernation had been interrupted.

Video games were out of the question, too. Mostly because they required the use of the TV and partially because Sam had taken their best games with him.

He ate some leftovers from the night before, using the carved up turkey to make a few sandwiches. But as much as he loved food, it was a poor substitute for worthwhile entertainment.

He was desperately searching for a way to pass the time, to cure his mind-numbing boredom, and satisfy his insatiable curiosity. So, with his dad still snoring on the couch, Dean swiped his pack of Marlboros and a lighter and snuck outside to smoke his first cigarette.

His dad had been a smoker since he was a teenager himself, a trait he had picked up from his own dad. Dean had always secretly suspected it had something to do with maintaining a manly image.

Dean’s mom had been insisting that John quit smoking for years, citing the numerous health risks involved with the dirty little habit. But his dad had always just brushed it off, always claimed it would be his New Year’s resolution, always put it off for another year.

John had finally relented when Mary decided to take a more passive aggressive route.

Whenever John would come home from a long day of work at the garage, covered in grease and grime and sweat, and leaned in to kiss her hello, Mary would twist away. Waving a hand, she would dismiss, “Oh, John, you know I hate kissing you after you’ve smoked.”

That pattern had gone on for weeks. And as much as Dean hated to admit that his mom holding out on his dad in the bedroom — hell, he didn’t even like to think about it — was what finally convinced his dad to quit smoking.

John had gradually reduced his cigarette consumption little by little. He slowly but surely went from a pack every few days to a pack a week to a pack a month.

But at thirteen, Dean hadn’t been thinking about the fact that his dad was a taking a step to improve his health. All he had been thinking about was trying out a cigarette himself.

With John slumbering on the couch and no one else home to catch him, Dean had tiptoed into his parents’ bedroom where he rummaged around for his dad’s pack of cigarettes. He had eventually found it in the pocket of his dad’s favorite leather jacket along with an old silver Zippo.

Prize in hand, Dean had quietly crept outside to the backyard to enjoy the spoils of his little covert mission. He had hidden in the shadow of a tall pine tree, not wanting any of their neighbors to spot him.

He had shivered a bit, the ground cold beneath his socked feet. Winter would be there soon, hopefully bringing snow days so he could get out of his most boring classes.

He had placed the butt of a cigarette between his lips the same way he had seen his dad do a million times. Flicking the igniter on the Zippo, summoning a small dancing flame, he raised the lighter to the end of the cigarette.

He had only managed to take a few short puffs of the cigarette before he was bent over coughing, hacking up a lung. His eyes had watered from the intensity of his coughing fit, his stomach aching from it.

He hadn’t understood how anyone could get addicted to smoking. It was horrible. And it tasted beyond disgusting.

It definitely wasn’t as cool as everyone in the movies made it look.

Dean had snubbed out the cigarette after recovering from his fit, tossing it over the fence into their neighbor’s trash can to destroy the evidence of his little crime. He hadn’t wanted to get the same lecture about how dangerous and disgusting smoking was that his mother had often given his father.

Slipping back inside, he had returned the pack of cigarettes and the Zippo to his dad’s jacket pocket. Then he brushed his teeth three times and chugged two glasses of water just to get the taste of nicotine out of his mouth. It really wasn’t that cool.

The only people he had ever told included his three best friends and, after swearing him to secrecy, Sam. It remained his dirty little secret for years until more important ones took its place.

He had smoked his second cigarette when he was seventeen, only a few months before he turned eighteen.

He had been at a party celebrating the most recent win of their high school football team, of which he was the star player, voted MVP after nearly every single game they played. One of the other players on the team, a rich kid whose parents were out of town often enough for him to do so, had invited half of the school to his palatial home.

Dean had been hanging out with Benny and Jo, Charlie having already found a pretty girl to disappear upstairs with. They had been sipping on illegally obtained beer in red solo cups, shooting the breeze about school and work and other crap that wouldn’t matter once they graduated.

From across the room, a cute cheerleader had caught his eye. In her bright hot pink tank top and the tiny scrap of faded denim that she called shorts, she was rather hard to miss.

She had winked at him, biting her plump bottom lip between her teeth and beckoning him over with a crooked finger, nodding her head towards the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. He would have had to be an idiot to refuse such a blatant invitation.

With a salute to his friends that was greeted by a round of eye rolling, Dean had crossed the crowded room to her. The pretty brunette had led him outside to a patio where a few other guys from the football team were hanging out, each of them with at least two girls hanging off their arms, all of whom vying to be the next homecoming queen.

All of them were smoking, the lit ends of their cigarettes bright in the shoddy patio lighting.

He had been smart enough to know that smoking wouldn’t make him cool, that he shouldn’t smoke just to fit in with a people whose names he barely knew. But he had also been young and dumb enough to only be thinking with the head between his legs.

So when the brunette, whose name he later learned was Amy, pulled a white and green box out of her back pocket and offered him a cigarette, he had accepted without a moment of hesitation.

That time, he managed not to double over coughing, muffling the few coughs that did escape his lips by laughing a little too hard at the stupid jokes one of the other guys made. It had been a menthol cigarette, the taste of mint soothing the nausea he felt thanks to the plethora of chemicals he was inhaling.

Amy had seemed impressed. Enough so that she blew him in the bathroom later.

He had started smoking regularly after that, at least socially. He would accept a cigarette whenever someone at a party or a bar offered him one, telling himself that it would be rude to refuse.

Women seemed to like it, along with a few guys. They told him it made him seem more mysterious, more mature.

Personally, he had to agree. He thought it gave him a bit of a James Dean quality. Especially when he wore his leather jacket.

He started carrying gum and breath mints around wherever he went, for both his own benefit and others. He didn’t imagine it was all that enjoyable to kiss someone who tasted like an ashtray.

Unfortunately, he had to hide his smoking from his family. At least until he was old enough to buy us own cigarettes and by then, he was a bona fide smoker.

He smoked between classes while in college, attending the University of Kansas for automotive technologies. He always made sure he could sneak out for a smoke break every few hours at work.

When he moved into his own apartment, he was able to smoke freely, not having to worry about the smoke bothering anyone.

The only place he drew the line was his car. His baby deserved better than the stench of nicotine and tobacco that lingered when he smoked, that soaked into every fiber of his clothing.

His mother had been beside herself when she found out. Not a second later, she had launched into a lecture that Dean already knew by heart, detailing the horrible effects of smoking. Meanwhile, his dad had just looked impossibly guilty, more disappointed in himself than in Dean.

Yet while they both clearly disapproved of his smoking, along with Sam, they accepted that they couldn’t make him stop smoking. He doubted that anything could.

He didn’t think he would ever find a good reason to quit. Until he met Castiel Novak.

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Sister Knows Best

Winchester Sister imagine

Dean’s Daughter is having some issues realizing she isn’t the boss of the house, so the brothers make a call to their sister to put the foot down.

Warnings: Language, teen parenting at its best (I strongly recommend)

Characters: Dean//Sam//Dean’s Daughter

——

The drive itself was around a days worth. Meaning you were already in a pretty tight mood from the long drive. Also meaning that the little girl who thought she was grown was about to get her ass totally handed to her.

“Alright guys, I’m here and ready to bitch.” You opened up the Bunker door with flare and quickly walked down the stairs.

“Where’s the little delinquent brat?” You acquired, immediately walking in the direction Dean pointed his finger without saying a word.

Apparently your 16 year old niece had gotten a habit of stealing from her dad, Dean, and disrespecting him. Sneaking out to bars and allowing grown men to buy her drinks. Stealing Baby and popping one of her tires at one point. Why Dean didn’t put his damn foot down, you had no idea. But Momma Sam was done watching her do whatever she wanted, so naturally he called the called the scariest person he knew. His older sister and Dean’s twin, you.

You had no intention of knocking on her door, but when you went to turn it the door was locked. No Time was wasted as you easily took out your hand gun and shot the door knob to get in.

“Dude, what the fuck?” She yelled and ducked her head, still letting the music blast in the room. Practically shaking the walls.

Next your gun aimed at the stereo, shooting it but once before it sparked a little and then turned off.

“What the hell is your problem? And why are you acting like a crazy bitch?” Your niece barked, standing up with no fear as she got in your face.

“I could ask you the same thing little girl. You must be pretty damn crazy for being so disrespectful.” You took a few steps forward, pushing her against the wall without touching her.

“You’re not my mother, so get out of my face, and get the fuck out of my room.” Her hand lifted outward to push you, but out of instinct you put her in a lock where you twisted her arm behind her back and pushed her tightly against the wall.

“I’m only going to say this one time, and one time only, so listen carefully or this conversation is going to go in a whole different direction.” When she didn’t answer your grip tightened, making her squirm slightly and make a sharp noise, grabbing both the boys attention as the came into the room but they both halted at the doorway.

“You are NOT grown. You WILL listen and respect what your Dad and Uncle tell you. You WILL be the respectful little girl I know you can be. Or I WILL kick your ass into the next century.”

Surly Dean didn’t fully agree with your ‘whoop my child into sense’ method, be he sure as hell wasn’t about to stop you.

“Repeat it.” Once again your grip tightened.

“I’m not grown. I will listen to what Dad and Sam say. I will be respectful.” She stopped in a place you didn’t particularly care for.

Or??” For the final time you pressed her harder against the wall and twisted her arm a bit.

“Or you’ll kick my ass.” She added with a groan.

Happy with your work, you let go and stepped back.

“Good, that wasn’t so hard how was it?” You dramatically wiped your hands together as though you were brushing off dirt with a smile.

Before you headed towards the doorway, you patted her shoulder, making her flinch slightly in fear you might hit her. Of course her reaction made you smile, knowing that she would be forever afraid of you.

“And you,” your feet stopped in front of Dean. “Either you grow a pair of balls or you and I are going rounds like we used to as kids. Remember?” You cocked your eyebrow up at the last word, narrowing your eyes slightly to be intimidating.

Instantly Dean covered his privates, knowing damn well what you used to do as kids.

Whenever the Winchester family needed to be whipped into shape, it was always you doing the dirty work.