Though the hour was late, Dean sat awake on the edge of the motel bed cleaning his gun. It was pristine, almost shining, but he kept on it. It was habit, something his father had already instilled in him. Idle hands are the devil’s playthings or something like that. He kept his eyes on his brother while he worked, though. Sam was sitting with the television on in front of him, but it was clear from his expression that he wasn’t watching any of it. He still wore his suit jacket; it wasn’t clean the way it was when he’d left for the dance earlier that evening. There was a tiny hole in the sleeve where it had snagged on a bush outside that girls’ house. There was some dirt on the back of it from leaning against it, pressing flat so that they’d remain unseen by neighbors.
Sam was looking down at his palms, at the tiny scratches there from when he’d nearly fallen over after jumping the fence from your backyard. The blood had dried but he ran his fingernail over the fresh scrapes.
“Quit picking at those,” Dean barked at him and Sam startled, turning to look behind him at his older brother.
“Her life’s never going to be the same,” Sam said, turning to sit on his knees on the couch, leaning over the back of it. Dean put his gun down beside him and focused on Sam, letting out a heavy sigh. He didn’t need to ask what had been on Sam’s mind all evening; it had been clear from his silence, broken now.
“No, it won’t be.”
“What do we do?”
“What do you mean ‘what do we do’? We got the thing. We move on,” Dean said. Sam seemed displeased with his answer and Dean leaned over to put his gun away. “We’re hunters, Sammy. Hunters leave messes everywhere they go. You just have to hope to hell you’re leaving a smaller mess than the one you came to clean up.”
Sam shook his head at Dean and stood from the couch, walking to his backpack on the floor near his bed. It was full of notebooks and pencils, homework he’d never do for teachers he’d never see again. He dug through to the bottom of it and pulled something out, clutching it tight in his fist, and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to go back, just for a minute,” Sam threw over his shoulder. Dean was up in a minute, shutting the door before Sam had it open more than a few inches.
“What are you going back for? She wasn’t there, Sam. She’s fine.”
“Her parents died,” Sam said firmly. Dean glanced down at Sam’s clenched fist and after a short struggle, got him to open up.
“Seriously?” Dean asked. Sam closed his hand again and shoved it in his pocket.
“I found it at Uncle Bobby’s. He said I could have it, so I punched a hole in it in shop class. Made it myself.”
“If dad gets back and you’re gone, he’s going to kill me,” Dean said.
“Please, Dean. I’ll be back in half an hour. Dad’s at the bar, he won’t even know I left.”
Dean looked at his younger brother who, though he had almost surpassed him in height, seemed very small tonight in his suit jacket. Dean shook his head and let out a breath, stepping away from the door.
“You are in and out of there and then straight back,” Dean said. “No detours, I’m serious, Sam.”
“I’ll be fast, promise. Thanks, Dean.” And with that, Sam was out the door, running through the parking lot fast as he could under the bright moon.
Dean: “Can you believe this guy?” You: “Careful, Dean. He already has his suspicions, don’t make it worse by throwing a fit.” Dean: “Excuse you, I’m not ‘throwing a fit’.” Sam: “Y/N’s right, Dean. We have to be more cautious.” Castiel: “Throwing a fit? Is Dean well? Should we go to the hospital?” Dean + Sam + You: “No, Cas…” Supernatural | Grimm Dean Winchester | Sam Winchester | Castiel | Nick Burkhardt Requested/Submitted by Anonymous
*~Who said perfection isn’t a thing? You’re looking right at it. This crossover imagine is perfection~*
I claim no credit for the gifs. All credit goes to their rightful owners and creators. You did well, you wonderful person, you :)xx
Author’s Note: Part one for the request! It was getting long so I split it into two halves. The reader is a kind of like Sam, in that she likes research and books. I did a lot of research for the backstory on this one! A Nykkjen is a real creature in Norwegian folklore. Not sure how I feel about this one yet. Let me know what you think! Second half will have more fluffiness. Warnings: vengeful creature, near death experiences
“Why do you get to stay inside?” My voice was whinier than usual and Dean raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.
“Because I’m meeting with the families of the victims. And because I have so much alcohol in my blood, if I went outside I’d probably turn into a frozen cocktail.” A rumbling laugh from the opposite side of the room signaled that Sam had returned from cleaning snow off the Impala. He stomped his feet, sending bits of white fluff in all directions. I instantly felt the chill from the frigid air outside and clutched my arms.
“Close the door before we all freeze to death!” The younger Winchester smiled as he slammed the door shut and began to remove his snow caked layers. I thought about making a comment about how much he looked like a yeti, but decided I’d let Dean do it for me. I strolled into the kitchen and started brewing some coffee for us all. It was nice having a fully furnished house to stay in for once, even if it was just temporary. When we found out we’d be hunting in northern Maine we knew our typical motel room wasn’t going to cut it. It was a good call, since we were still riding out a three day nor’easter. I rubbed my hands together over the coffee pot. Growing up in Texas didn’t teach me a lot about building a tolerance to cold.
“Dean, did you throw a few more logs on the fire?” I yelled blindly to the adjacent room. I heard footsteps approaching but didn’t turn around. Suddenly a shock landed on my lower back, skin cold as ice grazing against mine. I yelped and almost spilled the coffee in my hands. Only one person in this house had palms that large and a laugh that deep. “Sam! Stop!” I hurriedly yanked the edge of my sweater down and turned to face my assailant. He was grinning wickedly and blowing on his hands.
“I couldn’t resist.” Pieces of snow still dotted his long hair, the white standing out like confetti. It was hard to deny that expression on his face or his bright pink cheeks. I narrowed my eyes and retrieved the coffee from the counter.
“Well warm your hands on this please, instead of me.” I cocked an eyebrow at him, to which he smiled wider. When his fingers brushed mine I shivered again, they were frozen. He sighed relief at the sensation of warmth and lifted the mug close to his face, eyes falling shut in satisfaction.
“Thank you.” I continued to pour cups for myself and Dean, but Sam stayed behind me, the occasional sipping noise breaking the silence. I could feel his towering presences close by. Sometimes I think he forgot just how larger than life he was. “Hey, did you two do more research while I was shoveling?” So like Sam to cut straight to the books. I motioned him to follow me and headed in the direction of the living area. Dean was already napping on the couch. I waved the cup over him gently, the smell immediately opening his eyes. He snatched the mug from me without a word.
“You’re welcome.” I sat down at the desk and began sorting through papers. Dean mumbled something incomprehensible as I thumbed through the research. I lifted a book titled “Norwegian folklore” over my head and it was taken away quickly.
“Really?” Sam’s voice was tainted with intrigue. I nodded and pointed to a newspaper clipping circled in red ink.
“Another body found underneath the ice of Eagle Lake.” I read the title aloud and scrolled through a website on Sam’s laptop. “On Saturday ice fishermen found the body of an unidentified male floating UNDER the surface of the ice. How he got there is yet to be determined. This marks the third death by drowning this winter.” I punctuated my narration with suspicion and did the same with the other similar cases. I could tell Sam was engrossed when a hand came down on the table beside me, allowing him to lean over me and closer to the screen. Droplets of water slid down my collar. “Ugh, you’re melting.” I squirmed and cocked my head to face the underside of Sam’s chin. His hair was wet with melted snow that ran down the muscles of his neck. He laughed and ran his fingers through his shaggy mane, making it slick and uniform. It was surprisingly attractive.
“The bodies were under the ice, on a lake? But, it’s been absolutely freezing for months. There’s no way they fell through… Not without a stick of dynamite.” I watched his eyebrows furrow as he sorted through the facts in his mind. He always got a distant look when he was deep in thought. A cold trail of water ran down his clenching jaw.
“Considering an ice fishing hole is about as wide as a dinner plate, they probably didn’t fall in.” Dean’s deadpan voice was muffled from across the room. He probably had his face buried in the pillows of the couch. Sam nodded in agreement and began flipping through the pages of the book I handed him.
“Don’t bother, I’m already on it.” I did my best to look cocky, although I’m sure my smile was giving me away. He hated not being the first to figure something out. I pulled at the binding in his hands and was met by a bit of resistance as he wrinkled his brow.
“Are you?” His voice was a challenge, to which I responded by tugging the book from his strong grip.
“Yes, Winchester. I am.” I pursed my lips in sarcastic pity as I flipped open the a particular page in the lore. I could feel his eyes on me the whole time, I had piqued his curiously. Once I found my mark I turned it to face him. “Sam, meet Nykkjen. Also known as a Nyk.” Large fingers covered mine as he took the edges of the book into his hands, as if it would help him see it better. Before I could explain he was reading aloud, his voice fast.
"Nyk: a water shapeshifter who thrives in cold climates. Sometimes seen as a white horse, although usually remains under he surface of lakes or ponds. Staying true to it’s ‘siren cousin…” Sam’s eyes lit up in excitement. “It lures it’s victims on to the ice with music, where it then drags them to their frozen death.” By the time he was finished his face was glowing. It was hard not to giggle at the joy discovering new things gave him, even when those things were dark and horrible to most. We stood beaming at each other for a moment, the book still shared in our hands. I heard Dean scoff from the other side of the room.
"Well now that you two nerds have thoroughly embarrassed yourselves, we should probably go stop this water hag from icing another Mainer.”
“I can’t believe Dean gets to interview the families, in their warm homes.” I glared at Sam from my side of the Impala and rubbed my white fingers up and down my jeans, desperate for warmth. He shrugged and tapped on the heating controls.
"I don’t know why this thing is acting finicky… Dean’s going to say I broke it.” Honestly I couldn’t care less who broke it, I just wanted it to work. We had been driving for what felt like forever now and the ice on the road was only making the trip longer.
“How much farther?” I could see my breath in the air around me, easing out in large puffs of moisture. If it wasn’t below freezing outside I’d be suspicious there was a spirit in the backseat. Snow covered pine trees seemed to extend along the road for miles and miles.
“See that marker there? Eagle Lake, we aren’t far.” Our first priority was putting up some signs to keep locals out if the area, so there wouldn’t be any more deaths. The shifter was water bound and if it didn’t have anyone to victimize, it was stuck in its icy fish bowl, or at least that’s how Dean worded it. When we pulled into the long dirt driveway and reached a rest area I yanked off my seatbelt and stuck my hands under my arms.
“Sam, I am SO cold. I can’t feel my fingers.” The man at my side stuck his lower lip out slightly in sympathy. I could see that he was worried. He began to blow loudly on his hands before he shoved them out in front of me, face up. At first I didn’t know how to respond to the offering, my eyes flicking between his face and his extended hands. After a moment he raised his eyebrows as if to encourage me to partake.
“Come on, you want to warm them up?” His voice was so pure and childlike that I couldn’t resist a smile as I carefully complied. My fingers looked small and fragile against his larger ones. The skin of his palm was scarred but softer than Dean’s, it was used to leather bound books instead of pool sticks. I let my digits curl into his in a desperate search for warmth. “Wow, you are freezing.” Sam folded both of my hands into one of his and used the other to encircle them. I immediately felt my bones beginning to thaw. Suddenly he began to lower his head, eyes on mine as he blew into the cage of fingers we had made. The hot air flooded my senses and seemed to set off every nerve in my skin. I sighed and shivered, my cheeks red with cold and embarrassment. He smiled and repeated the action, this time his lips skimming my wrist. I squirmed uncomfortably but couldn’t bring myself to pull away from the sensation.
“Sam…” I uttered his name, a little breathless. He just grinned and squeezed my hands. I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew what he was doing, or if that innocence in his wide eyes was true.
“Is that better?” I nodded and was restracting my arms when he stopped me. “Wait.” He dug around his the duffel bag on the floor and produced a shiny blade. It felt icy as he placed it flat in my hand. “It’s strong, if you feel like you’re going to fall through anything that’s not sturdy, you rip this from your pocket and stab it in to the edge of the ice. Locals do the same with metal stakes, it keeps you from slipping under. Got it?” His sudden seriousness caught me by surprise. I placed the knife in my pocket, sobered at the reminder that our job was a dangerous one.
“Thanks.” As we excited the Impala I kept a hand on my jacket where the slight bulge of my weapon rested. The chill in my bones didn’t seem quite as important anymore.
How we were going to jam no trespassing signs into the frozen ground had been an oversight. I watched Sam struggle with a hammer for a while before I wandered down the snowy path beside us. “Hey, stay close!” He yelled after me in between the crashing noises of the mallet hitting the wood. I rolled my eyes and continued through the overgrown mess of green trees laced with white. I felt like I was walking through Narnia. When the thick foliage parted wide enough I got a glimpse of the lake and gasped, it was gorgeous. The ice was just as smooth as glass and gusts of wind blew lacy billows of snow across its surface. I crept forward more, cautious that I didn’t lose sight of Sam and the Impala. Several 5x5 shacks dotted the center of the lake with grey smoke rising from their stacks.
“Ice fishermen” I mumbled, amazed at how surreal the scene looked. Those fires must have been recent if they were still smoldering. I stepped forward again, all too aware that I was out of my partners range of vision. If men were still out there I needed to tell them to leave. I glanced back in the direction of the Impala and considered telling Sam first, but decided against it. I was as much a hunter as any of them, I didn’t need hand-holding to do this.
As I walked further out towards the lake the pounding of the hammer grew quieter and quieter. I was mesmerized by the way the sun glimmered on the surface of the ice as I stepped onto it. The wind howled, stinging my cheeks and whistling in my ear. No matter how long I walked it felt like the shacks never got any closer. They remained dots in the distance, still sending their signal fires high into the air. Once I was near the middle of the lake I heard a soft noise above the sound of the snow blowing. At first I thought maybe it was just rustling in my ears, but it became more crisp with time. It almost sounded like music. I stopped so that I could devote my hearing to the enchanting tune. It reminded me of violins, but it seemed to grow nearer and farther away sporadically. Was it… coming from the ice? I looked down at the mirror surface I was hiking across and realized that the sound was louder closer to the ground. I felt compelled to kneel so that I could hear it better, enjoy it more thoroughly. As I crouched the music became deafening. Suddenly I recognized the sound. It was a symphony of scratching, as if someone was using the ice as a instrument.
I ran my hand over the glassy surface in fascination. When my action moved away the snow I tried to scream, but the air was too cold in my lungs. Just below where I cleared the ice, two dark eyes were staring back at me.
I stumbled backwards but my feet slipped out from under me and my head met the lake with a loud “crack.” Blinding pain lit up my vision as I struggled to stand. When I looked down to try and gain a foothold I saw the pair of eyes follow me, a fingernail scratching along the ice as it moved. Oh my god, the fingernails were making that music. Terror gripped my muscles harder than the cold had before and I looked towards the tree covered shoreline. There was no way he would make it here in time, but it was my only hope, “SAM!” His name ripped through my frost covered throat and echoed off the emptiness around me. I cursed myself for wandering off without his permission.
“SAM!” I scrambled to my feet and tried to ignore the demonic looking being that was swimming around below, it’s nails screeching across the only barrier between us. I was running as fast as I could but the Nyk was never any farther behind. It looked like I was sprinting across a funhouse mirror, only my reflection was a terrifying being built of shadows.
Then I heard it, a loud rumble in the distance. The noise echoed above everything else, even my pounding heart. I searched in the direction of the commotion and my mouth dropped open when I recognized the darkness racing through the trees.
“Sam?” The revving of the engine was growing more distinct as the Impala raced down a snow covered boat landing and skidded on to the ice. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but it gave me hope. The tires screeched as the vehicle throttled over the lake in my direction. He was going to do it, he was going to get here. I waved my arms in the air just as something below me shifted. I sucked in a sharp breath of air when I felt the substance beneath my feet seemingly disappear. It was nearly slow motion as I began to fall downwards, my eyes never leaving the Impala growing larger and larger on the horizon. The scratching symphony was deafening as I grew closer to the Nyk and it’s screeching claws. My feet were the first thing to feel ice cold water but soon my entire body was behind engulfed, inch my inch. Somewhere between standing and falling I remember the knife in my pocket, but it was too late. I could just barely make out the shape of Sam’s distant face as I slipped into complete and utter darkness, eerie music my only company.
My first impulse was to gasp at the unanimous contraction of every muscle in my body. The water so cold that it felt like fire poured into my mouth and lungs. I’m not sure how long I stayed suspended like that before I became aware of the creature wrapping itself around my legs and pulling downward. I frantically thrashed my arms towards the ice above me, but to my horror it had already closed up. The Nyk had sealed the lake’s surface and made it my watery tomb. The light was starting to fade from my vision when Sam’s face appeared above me, his massive fist pounding on the glass between us. I could see the desperation in his eyes and read his lips screaming my name. I wished I could feel his hands on me again one more time before it was all over.
“I’m sorry…” Was the only thing I could think to say, even though it would be heard by no one. I was losing the will to fight as my body succumbed to the crippling liquid surrounding me. It didn’t feel very cold anymore, my skin finally reaching a temperature lower than the one I was submerged in. My thoughts became slow and labored, and my lungs burned. My last attempt was to grab the knife from my jacket and lift it as a show of gratitude to Sam. As the gleaming blade left my pocket I heard a screaming noise in the water and streaks of darkness shot out to rip the item from my grasp. Then it hit me, silver. The knife was silver. If this Nyk was really a shifter, it wouldn’t be able to withstand the weapon in my dying grip. With what little strength I had left, I stabbed the blade into the being wrapped around my ankles. A blast of light and sound stunned me as it wailed again, this time so loud that it shattered the ice above me. Everything went black just as a hand gripped the back of my shirt and yanked me upwards into the sunlight.
p.s Before I get crap about Sam driving the Impala on the ice, in really cold places people drive vehicles on the ice all the time. It may sound unrealistic to people from hot climates, but it’s a thing! (: