Sam: As soon as you found out, you began plotting how you were going to tell him. Of course he noticed the slightly different things you did, resulting in him pestering you to see what’s wrong. After you told him the news he began prepping for the baby immediately. Regardless of the fact you two had nine months to get everything ready. Guess excitement overtakes people’s senses.
Dean: The minute-no the second you told Dean, he began to treat you as though you were going to explode. Taking junk food from you because “it could hurt the baby”. Not letting you lift anything. Barley even a book or glass of water. Once you started to show more and more he refused to hug you…or even sleep in the same bed with you once you further progressed because “what if I roll over onto you?”, even though he never had before. Luckily for you, once the baby was born he directed all that paranoid attention to the munchkin.
Castiel: It’s no surprise that he found out before you did. He was in a state of complete shock and awe from the second he heard a second heartbeat lingering inside of you. At first you thought it was cool or adorable how he could check in on you. That was until he was doing it every other hour to make sure nothing was wrong. It only got worse when the little being inside of you grew to be bigger. Any movement you made, or small noise at the feeling of a kick in your ribs, Cas had to give you the full examination. Sooner or later he realized that everything was going to be fine and he could stop worrying so much. That didn’t happen until a week before your due date.
Crowley: From the moment you told The Boy King about your little gift, he had a certain change in him. Whether he saw this as father redemption or was just filled with happiness, you couldn’t tell. The most overprotective he got during your pregnancy was not letting you leave Hell without him. Which was understandable, so you didn’t really put up a fight. Carrying the King of Hell’s child had its perks. Like food whenever you wanted it, and whatever you wanted. Anything you asked for, demons would scramble about trying to get it as quickly as possible. It was really something funny, watching them trip over their fear of not being fast enough. Of course your new little munchkins first outfit had “The prince/princess of Hell” labeled on it. That one you didn’t really have a say on.
Lucifer: It all started when he sat straight up in bed and just looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. Just when you thought your life couldn’t change anymore, it did. On so many levels. Honestly it was really weird knowing that all of Heaven and Hell knew you were with child before you even had a clue. The fact that you had Angels hell bent on killing you, but mainly the baby, didn’t really help with the whole pregnancy stress level chart. As if it wasn’t stressful enough having a human growing inside of you. But Luce was by your side 24/7. Always keeping the Angels or anything that meant to harm you far away. Somewhere between all the baby assassins and pregnancy hormones, the two of you still had time to have a somewhat normal upcoming. Anytime a kick or a movement was going to happen he knew. And he’d be right there to witness it.
Gabriel: Never had you thought that Gabe and his trickster tendencies would be something you would appreciate. That was until it came handy to have to help hide you from those who meant to cause your unborn child harm. Most of your pregnancy wasn’t spent fighting some war against those who intended to harm you. It was spent fighting another war over what the babies name would be. First idea Gabriel had was “Little Ass Kicker” because for some god awful reason that made sense. Obviously you weren’t about to call any child of yours that, but he was persistent. “What about Lak?” He would ask while you were just about to drift off to sleep. “Lak? The hell kind of name is-…it stands for Little Ass Kicker doesn’t it?” There was no way around it. He’d go to pretty lengthy extents trying to get you to say yes just once so it’d be official. Like rubbing your back for an hour. Or getting you a shit ton of the food you were craving. Long story short…you gave birth to a Little Ass Kicker…
Imagine Mary realizing both of her sons, Sam and Dean, are in love with the same girl, you.
“Morning.” Sam mumbled as he walked into the kitchen and saw you, Mary and Castiel there, you still cooking the pancakes and her setting everything else up for breakfast with Castiel’s help.
“Morning sweetie.” Mary smiled up at him as he leaned down to kiss her cheek before he turned to take a good look at you.
“Wow” he breathed out and you looked at him for a second before in the end giggling as you tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear.
“What?” you asked, looking up at the older man as he blinked rapidly, staring at you almost awestruck. You glanced at his mother that was still there but luckily was not looking at the two of you.
“You just- I never thought you’d look this good in my clothes.” he said with an adorable dimpled smile as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
You laughed looking back at the food, after glancing down at yourself for a moment. You weren’t in the mood for trying really hard so along with the messy hair you had stolen one of Sam’s flannels that could work as a dress for you and wore it. It was a nice chance compared to you wearing always Dean’s shirts. There was something similar in this, both their clothes made you feel at peace, they had a certain scent to them that brought the same kind of comfort their hugs did but at the same time that scent was so different. And it reminded you instantly of whose clothes you were wearing.
“Thanks” you bit your lip, opting to look only at the pancakes as you felt your cheeks heat up. You had a soft spot for the younger Winchester, you couldn’t deny that, you were really close and had many things in common. He was sweet and kind, gentle and caring. You knew that when you needed to talk to someone he would always be there for you. You were like a little sister to him, as far as you knew at least, even if for you he meant a lot more than just family. But you weren’t going to do something to risk what you had, you’d much rather bottle up your feelings than ruin all of this.
Besides, he wasn’t the only one involved in all of this.
“But- if you want it back I could give it. I’m sorry I didn’t ask I just- it looked too comfy and I-” you started rambling, trying to find an excuse for yourself but he shook his head.
“No, no no!” he said a little too fast and you bit your lip at his reaction “By all means-” he breathed out “-You can keep it, it looks better on you anyway.” he said adorably and you grinned.
“Thank you Sammy.” you stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek, making his smile even wider.
“So- what do you want with your pancakes, you didn’t tell me?” you asked and he paused in thought for a moment.
“Uhm I think I’ll go with some eggs today.” he paused in thought.
“Do you want me to make them?” you asked, ready to start on them already but he shook his head with a laugh.
“No you already do enough for us.” he pecked your forehead “I’ll do that myself.” he winked and started working on them next to you as you still laughed and chatted happily.
“You know I love taking care of you anyway.” you mumbled with a shy shrug and he smiled warmly.
“Yes, and I know it. But it’s not bad if you take a break once in a while and let us do all the work.” he said matter of factlyand you just shrugged “You know you deserve it.”
“Not as much as you guys do honestly I-” you shook your head, flipping another pancake.
“Dare you complete that sentence.” it was Dean’s stern voice but the moment you looked at him he had a small smile on. You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to win this fight against both of them so you just shook your head.
Oh and he also happened to be the other person involved.
“Morning guys.” he greeted as he kissed Mary and came towards you, not missing a chance to wrap his arms around your waist.
A small squeak left your lips as he pressed his body against yours and you both chuckled in the end as he kissed the back of your head “Damn smells amazing.” he breathed out as he looked over at the pancakes.
“Thought you’d like them, and in case you are not really into pancakes today I made some cherry pie for you.” you smirked and he looked at you with a wide grin.
“Gosh” he breathed out with wide eyes that made him look like a little kid on Christmas day “Marry me!” he grinned and you laughed.
“You’d have to take me out first, Winchester!” you said as you heard him laugh as he squeezed you, burying his face in your hair.
“Anytime princess.” he mumbled, nuzzling his face before in the end he leaned down and kissed your neck.
You giggled as his morning scruff tickled you and you turned your head to peck his cheek, making him smile down at you. It felt so refreshing to see him like this. It has been such a long while since you saw Dean so carefree.
Of course you had gotten the chance to see him relax sometimes, when it was just the two of you and he’d let loose, but those moments were rare. It mostly was you holding him as you either sat in silence or he talked to you about a nightmare- or whatever was worrying him at the moment.
Your relationship with Dean was different from that of Sam. While with Sam you were all playful, most of the time, and acted all cute together: watching movies, reading books and talking about all kinds of nerdy stuff your relationship with Dean was more contact and less words. You’d spent many nights in each other’s rooms just holding each other, gazing into each other’s eyes like some love-sick couple – well you were love sick you couldn’t deny it at least to yourself – and only sometimes talking. Dean wasn’t really a man of words so when it came to just the two of you he talked about only the things that troubled him. But even the few words were enough for you to get a look into his world. Heck, the mere fact that he trusted you with his thoughts and feelings was enough to let you know how important you were to him.
Of course there were serious moments with Sam as well, he too trusted you with his worries as well, and as that there were funny moments with Dean. Both brothers were very similar but at the same time your relationship with each of them was completely different. Each one of them completed a side of you that in returned completed them as well.
“Hey you two-” Sam’s voice got Dean’s attention. You looked at him to, luckily, see he had a small smile on his face “You’re not alone alright?”
“Sadly” Dean added and you giggled as Sam shot him a bitch-face.
“Why don’t you prove yourself useful and and prepare some bacon huh?” Sam obviously found an excuse to get him away from you.
“Oooh yes, love me some bacon!” Dean said with a glint in his eyes and you chuckled at how childish he was being.
“But first-” he said cupping your face as he leaned down and kissed your forehead, his lips much like Sam’s previously lingered a little longer than they should have. He looked down into your eyes, exactly like Sam had done, and offered you one last gentle smile before going back to playful him and started working on his bacon.
The three of you still talked and laughed as you had each Winchester on each side of you. Her sons’ laughter caught Mary’s attention and this time she took a real good look at the three of you. For a second she smiled fondly at how childlike you were all being, happy that her kids looked so carefree around you, but when realization downed on her hersmile faded away.
“Mary?” Castiel’s low voice caught her attention as she looked at the angel.
“Are you alright?” he asked with a small frown.
“Should I be Castiel?” she sighed sadly “I mean, how can I even be? At first I was happy about Dean but now- seeing this-Knowing that my one son’s happiness depends on the other’s grief- how can I be happy?”
“What- what do you mean?” Castiel frowned with a tilt of his head and she looked from the three of you to him.
“I thought seeing my sons fall in love would be something great. I just didn’t know it was going to be with the same girl.”
Supernatural Preferences: Finding out you've got severe depression
Trigger warning!: If you have problems with mentions of self harm and suicidal thoughts, don’t read or read with caution.
Sam: When depression came a’ knockin and literally all hope seemed to be flushed down the drain, you finally turned to Sam seeking help. His initial instinct was complete and utter fear. For both himself and for your life. You meant so much to him, and the thought that you were on the verge/trying to take your life broke him down. How was he supposed to live on without being a constant in his not so normal life? For his sake and most importantly yours, he kept you at his side like a shadow. Making sure every second of every day was spent showing you how important your life was and that you were here on this dammed earth for a reason.
Dean: You always acted so tough and brick walled around Dean. Trying to match his badass outer appearance (honestly he was like that inside too. Except the soft and squish center). So when you approached him and explained how you were weak and couldn’t bare anything anymore, he was at shock that he was hearing it from you. Never expecting you to be in such a horrible position. “That’s a load of shit. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known, and I’m damn proud to have you in my life. That’s the hard truth.” He gave you a big hearted speech while trying is best not to cry.
Cas: From the start of your downfall into the darkness of depression, Cas knew something was wrong with you. At first he thought you might have been sick because of your ill acting. But after time he realized it was much more and a much deeper sickness than that. When it came down to it, he was the one that confronted you about it all. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” He asked looking so hurt and sad that you were so mentally distraught. “You’re perfect in almost every sense to me, Cas. I felt ashamed to tell you how tainted I was.” He wouldn’t even let you finish replying to him before he pulled you in for a tight hug. “Y/n, I am far from perfect. But you- I could never see you as anything but just that…perfect.”
Crowley: Maybe it started around the same time Crowley began to withdraw a bit from your presence. Maybe it all came to view when ‘work’ became even the slightest bit more important. Either way you felt like a hopeless piece of shit and he wasn’t anywhere to be found. The day came when you broke down to him, yelling at how you couldn’t take it anymore. How you couldn’t take another day being in this god awful body and life. He immediately dropped everything. The Winchesters. Deals. Everything. Whether he blamed himself for partially pushing you think far into this mind set or not, he was there for you unconditionally.
Chuck: He caught you bawling your eyes out at three am. Debating on whether or not to take this life you called pathetic. A blade was in your right hand, and a shaky fist in another. He instantly took the blade from you before you even knew of his presence. “You can’t just force me to live! I can’t do this anymore and you don’t know what it’s like living with my mind. Your God-fucking God. Take it away, make the pain stop so I can be free and happy again to live…” each word you spoke drove into his heart like a blade. Sure he was God, but he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, just take away apart of you. Sure the part sucked, and it was a real life threatening pain in the ass. But he had his own cure for it. “Where are we going?” You asked as he took your hand and led you out off the floor. “To take a look at everything beautiful in the world. It always helps me. But this right here, this is the most beautiful thing that was ever created.” The two of you stood before a mirror, looking at your teary eyed reflection.
Gabriel: The moment you began to act even the slightest bit of odd, he knew. Whether it was a cold or just a bad mood from a period. He knew. So it was no surprise that he figured it off right from the bat that you were struggling daily with pretty much all will to do anything. “Come on kid. You’re badass with a capital A-S-S. I saw you stand up to my bag of dicks brother all for me, you can stand up for yourself all the same.”
Lucifer: Lets just say that it took you awhile to feel comfortable being an open, honest emotional human with the Devil. So telling him “hey, sorry I’m a pain in the ass. But that level of pain assery just upgraded to level depression.” That was how you practiced it all in your head. Of course it came out nothing like that. In fact, you opened your mouth to tell him exactly how your mind and heart were cooperating and he kissed you. For a split moment he silenced every demon lurking in your mind. “Whatever you need me, tell me. You won’t have to ask twice.” He was more than understanding if the feeling of hidden isolation you were going through. “I just need you. I need you to hold on and please not let go. No matter what.” Every word you spoke was mumbled into his chest that he held you into. Yes, the Devil himself was even so caring for just his one not so irritating and worthless specimen of human life.
Dean woke up around 5am on Monday morning. It had been three months since you, his 18 year old sister, had decided to take your own life. Him and Sam never got a note, you were just gone and that was all they knew. They were too late to save you and that bothered him. Every morning since that day he woke up at 5am. He realised there was no going back to sleep so he climbed out of bed and headed to the door. When he opened the door he was surprised to be greeted with a small box in front of his feet. Dean looked left and right and noticed Sam wasn’t around to have just placed the box there. He sighed, picked it up, shut his door and walked back to his bed.
As he opened up the box he was confused as he noticed that all was inside were tapes. Why would someone give him a box of tapes? Dean rummaged through the box on his shelf and found his old tape player that John had given him when he was a kid and wanted to listen to AC/DC. He put the first mysterious tape inside the player and pressed play.
“Hello,” the familiar voice that he hadn’t heard for three months spoke which almost hurt his ears to know that he could hear in tape form. He must have been mistaken… It couldn’t be!
“My name is Y/N Winchester,” your tape continued. “I’m about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended… And if you’re listening to this tape,” The tape paused for a moment and Dean waited in suspense. “You’re one of the reasons why.”
He pulled the headphones off his head and sat there for a moment. He couldn’t believe the voice or words he was hearing. How could this be real? How could he really be hearing it? Having to listen to the voice of his deceased sister was hard for him, but the only way to find out more was listening to the tapes… So he continued. It wasn’t a fast decision, he took a breath and thought about just throwing them away. But then he would never know the reason why. This was like your suicide note, only in the form of 13 tapes.
His shaky hands picked up the headphones and placed them carefully on his head. He pressed play on the tape player and continued to listen. “As there are to every story, there are 13 different sides to this. I’m going to tell you all of them. Each tape is based on one of the people that are the reason my life ended. So, once you’ve listened to all the tapes you need to pass these on to the next person. If you don’t, well, just know that someone is always watching every single one of you and will make sure that all the tapes are listened to by every person. Now that you understand.. Let me begin with my first tape.”
Dean closed his eyes and followed the story you were telling. “First up, we have the thing that started it all… It was a normal day for you maybe, but not me at all. I didn’t know about hunting or any of that, not until you told me. I went to find you after mom had said she saw you earlier that day, I thought maybe it would be a chance for me to meet my father for the first time. Incase you hadn’t figured it out by now, we have our first person of the story. Welcome to your tape, John.”
Dean realised that John could have been the one these tapes outside of Dean’s room. He almost forgot that both of his parents now lived in the bunker with him and Sam. John must have listened to the tapes before him. Or maybe it was Mary? Since you died they both acted weirdly around both the boys, but then again, Mary acted strangely around you anyway so maybe she had something to do with all of this. He didn’t have time to think as the tape continued to play and tell Dean the story of what happened to you.
* * *
You were a nervous wreck ever since you joined your father and his two sons. Your mom insisted on you moving in with John so that you could bond and get to know your father after all those years of wishing you knew him. You knew it wouldn’t be easy meeting him when the day came, but you never expected it to be that hard.
He told you all about hunting and all his excuses of why he left you and your mother. They were stupid and you hated listening to him explaining, you needed someone to take your anger out on and that person was John. You needed to scream and shout at him every now and then for small things just so you could release some of the pain that he made you feel for most of your life.
But that shit didn’t fly with John, you either did as he said or you were gone. “It’s my way or the highway,” you recalled him saying to you a few times after your arguments. Sam and Dean didn’t live with John really, it was more like John lived with them, along with Mary Winchester. They owned this thing called the Men Of Letters Bunker. The place was huge, so many bedrooms you couldn’t count, you could have sworn you found a new room there everyday.
Before John moved in here, him and his wife (who was also the two boy’s mother) had come back to life after so many years. They didn’t fit into the word exactly so they relied on hunting as what kept them grounded. Sam, Dean, John, Mary and you. That’s how it was. Of course, being the youngest meant that you had to follow everyone’s rules and it was for your own ‘safety.’
* * *
“For my own safety? That was complete bullshit,” you spoke smoothly through Dean’s headphones. “You just wanted someone to boss around, dad. You couldn’t control Sam and Dean anymore, so you made sure that you could completely control me. Before that I didn’t have anyone controlling me, I could do what I wanted and act however I thought was right for me. You took that from me… That’s where it all started going down hill, it’s where I started to break.”
Dean once again paused the tape. He checked his nightstand and saw that it was now 6am. How had time moved so quickly? How long had it taken him to listen to this short part of the tape? He knew he had taken it out at the beginning because it was too hard to listen to, but he never knew he was stalling for so long.
A break from this right now seemed appropriate. So, he took the headset off, left it on his bed and headed to the kitchen to get something to eat. Every step he took felt heavier than the last. This wasn’t something new, it had been happening ever since you took your life, but now it was hitting him harder. It made every movement more painful than they had been before; he didn’t even know that was possible until now.
Once he reached the kitchen, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Mary, John and Sam were already there and eating breakfast. Sam was still at the stove, finishing up cooking some eggs and the rest of the bacon while John and Mary sat opposite each other and ate what they already had. “Dean,” John said by surprise. “You’re up later than usual.”
“It’s 6am,” Dean replied with a gravelly voice that he always had when he was tired. Lately, it seemed to be the only voice he had.
“You’re usually up at around 5,” John noted. Sam came and sat down next to Mary at the table and placed a plate down for himself and for Dean.
“You hungry?” Sam asked and Dean joined them at the table. “How you holding up?”
“I feel… Different to what I have for the last few months,” Dean replied to his little brother. “You know, I actually woke up at 5am again today. I stayed in my room because I found something left outside my door.”
All of their eyes widened as Dean spoke. They looked at each other before John spoke. “So she finally finished listening to them.”
“What? Who?” Dean questioned as he squeezed his fork tightly in his hand.
“We can’t talk about this,” Mary recalled before picking up a piece of bacon from her plate and eating it.
“You can’t do that to me! Who are you talking about?!” Dean demanded as he threw his fork down.
“The last person that had the tapes,” John told him which earned a glance from Mary and Sam.
“The tapes… You’ve all listened to them?” Dean looked around at them all. They were faces of the people he knew, they were his family. But they all felt so unfamiliar, like strangers with secrets.
“We can’t talk about it, you need to listen to the tapes,” Sam finished before taking his plate over to the trash can and throwing his food away.
“Are any of you on there? Who is the ‘she’ that you’re talking about? Is it someone else on the tapes?” Dean asked quickly, not giving them time to answer any of them as he continued. “Are you all on the tapes?”
“Dean, we can’t,” Mary snapped. “You have to just listen to the tapes, everyone on there had to.”
He stood up and made his way to the exit of the kitchen but stopped in his tracks.
“It’s hard to listen to,” Dean admitted with a sad voice. He stood in the door way as he spoke to them. “It’s the voice of my dead sister.”
“Dean!” John hissed. He looked at his son standing in there, he looked so heartbroken and vulnerable. “Please son, just listen to the tapes.”
Dean glared at them all. If looks could kill, they would all be dead in a second. He stormed off and went back to his room, it turned out he didn’t get any food or a drink to soothe his feelings of anxiety right now. He returned in the same state he was in before. Dean placed the headset back on his ears and continued to listen to John’s tape.
“But that wasn’t all, was it dad?” You questioned rhetorically. “No, you did more than just boss me around. When you realised you couldn’t do it anymore, you did the only thing that you thought you could do to end the lack of control…”
* * *
It was a few months after you had moved into the bunker and began your training to become a hunter. It wasn’t the physical side of it all because you already knew how to fight after your countless years of being bullied at school. That’s why the boys and your dad were so okay with you going hunting with them; they knew you could take care of yourself.
It was the research of it all. You weren’t used to connecting the dots with how certain monsters acted or what they did with how the victims had died. You gradually became better at it, but you weren’t as good as your brothers because they grew up doing it. You knew that. You understood that.
John didn’t seem to though. All he did was compared you to Sam and Dean and demanded that you become a smarter person. That wasn’t something you could just do, you can’t just snap your fingers one day and get what you want. You have to work for shit like that, it takes time and patience… But those were two things that John lacked.
It was that one day in the motel you were all staying in. The report in the paper said that the bystanders smelled sulphur after the woman was attacked. That was easy enough to figure out, right? Wrong. You weren’t trained enough in the mythology of monsters and you had no idea that sulphur was a sign of demons. You read past it and said there was nothing in there that could have been your kind of thing.
John insisted that you had missed something, just like he always did. You hated when you had to look for cases in the paper. Either you would misjudge it and say you had found a case or you would read past it too quickly and not realise that there was your kind of thing going on. No. You never got it right, so John always checked.
He held the paper in his hand as he sat opposite you at the small table in the motel. You watched nervously as his eyes scanned over the front page and read about the current murder spree going around. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned as he slammed the paper down on the table. “You’re kidding me right, Y/N? You don’t see a case here?”
“Uh, no, sir,” you replied shakily. Sam and Dean noticed your worry from where they were sitting on the beds. Mary was currently out on a supply run.
“It says here the by passers could smell sulphur,” John stated as he looked over at his sons.
“So what are we thinking, a demon?” Dean asked while he continued to clean his gun.
John clicked his tongue and Dean’s answer as if it was obvious. “Exactly… A demon.”
“A demon?” You questioned as you looked between all of them.
“The smell of sulphur is an instant alert for a demon,” Sam told you with a smile. He didn’t mind teaching you, he actually enjoyed it. He liked passing on his knowledge with you and helping you become a better hunter. He had patience… John didn’t.
“Yeah,” John snapped. “Every hunter should know that.”
You hated when he got like this because you instantly knew it was a dig at you and you were tired of it. The boys saw nothing of it because they didn’t pay enough attention. That’s why they thought you were in the wrong when you snapped back.
“Well, I’m still new at this so you can’t expect me to know everything,” you hissed which got John’s back up. You were glad it pissed him off, it was time that he took you seriously.
“You do not speak to your father like that!” He shouted as he stood from his chair and pushed it back aggressively.
You stood up too so you could regain dominance in the conversation. “What kind of father are you? I barely even know you!”
“This isn’t about me,” he replied with a steady tone.
“Yes it is!” You screamed. “This is about you… This is about what you didn’t do. You weren’t there because you were too busy hunting with your other family. And yes, I know that you died when I was a kid, but even when you came back to life you didn’t bother looking for me.”
“I thought we were past this,” he growled with flared nostrils.
“We are. We are past this,” you lied. You weren’t over it, but you had to pretend you were for the sake of everyone else. “I’m not reminding you about it because I’m hurt, I’m reminding you because you need to understand my point of view. I’m not good at researching cases with you because I was never here for it. And you’re not good at being a father to me because you were never there.”
When you finished your statement it was as if the world stopped for a minute. You came to terms with what you had said and realised that you meant it; John wasn’t as accepting towards the statement as you were. The boys both gasped as they saw John’s hand being drawn back.
Before you could react to his movement, John’s hand made harsh contact with your cheek. It was enough force that if pushed you to the floor. You breathed heavily as you stood up; you were holding your hand against your cheek in disbelief.
“You asshole!” You growled as your stood on your feet. “You fucking asshole!”
“What the hell is going on?” Mary demanded as she walked through the door. “Y/N? What happened to your face?”
“It was dad! He slapped me!” You screamed. “You’re a dick, how could you?!”
“Dad, you crossed the line,” Sam said. “You don’t hit your kids.”
“Things just got out of hand,” Dean insisted. “They should never have gone this far, you need to talk about this and sort it out because this shit has been going on for too long. All you do is argue with each other over the smallest things.”
“Dean! He hit her!” Sam defended as he stood up in annoyance.
“We’ve all hit each other! Hell, we’ve tried to kill each other before,” Dean recalled. You couldn’t believe Dean would actually try and defend his father, you thought he had changed.
“Why are you defending him?!” You fumed.
“I’m not,” Dean said calmly. He put his arms up in defence as he continued to talk. “All I’m saying is we have all done terrible things to each other, our family is messed up. This is something that’s needs to be dealt with and then we move on.”
You scoffed at his words. John looked down at you the same way he always did, his eyes full of hatred and boiling with anger. “There’s nothing to talk about. I want you gone, Y/N.”
“No!” John spat. “I want you gone, get the fuck out of here. Go back to living with your mom, the hunting life isn’t for everyone and you’re most definitely not meant to be a hunter.”
You couldn’t believe the words that were leaving his mouth. You looked at your brothers and saw that even they didn’t know what to say. You grabbed your things, threw them into a backpack and walked out like you weren’t even bothered. But of course you were. You were so desperate for one of them to follow you and beg you to come back… But no one ever did.
* * *
“You hit me in the face. It hurt. But not as much as it hurt when you hit me with rejection and hatred. You wanted me gone… I hated you, John, more than I had ever hated anyone. You felt the same way about me and I wasn’t going to stick around for that so I headed back to my moms.”
Dean once again removed the headphones and paused the tape. There wasn’t long left of this tape but it was so hard for him to listen to. He checked his clock on his nightstand once again and saw that it was now 1:35pm. Food. He needed food.
Another walk to the kitchen with pain in his steps led to a nervous feeling in his stomach. What John had done to you was so bad, what if Dean’s was worse? What if he had hurt you but had no idea that it had affected you so badly? Dean was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw his father sitting alone at the kitchen table and drinking a beer.
“Hey, son,” he said with a soft voice. “You doing ok?”
“I’m great,” Dean snapped. “I won’t talk to you and piss you off though, I don’t wanna get a beating.”
John sighed and rubbed his palm over his face. “You listened to my tape.”
“I haven’t finished it yet,” Dean shook his head. “It’s still hard to listen to.”
John didn’t reply to what Dean said, he just took another swig of his beer and stared at the wall. Dean went to the fridge and pulled out some left over bacon that was cooked that morning. He put the plate in front of him and his father at the table as he came and sat opposite him. “Stop staring at the wall and look at me,” Dean demanded. John looked at the disappointment in his sons eyes. “Feeling sorry for yourself won’t bring her back.”
Now he saw something in John that he had never let him see before. It was weakness. “I remember that day,” Dean continued. “I remember that I defended you when you hurt her because I was scared that what you did would make her leave. I was selfish and I wanted her to stay so I tried to justify what happened.”
“I’m not finished,” Dean snapped. “What you did drove her away from our family… The only reason she came back was because she had nowhere else to go after she went home and found her moms dead body. If you didn’t send her away she would never had seen that.”
“You don’t think I know that!” John shouted which caught Dean by surprise. He sighed as he realised his anger had once again got the better of him. “Dean-” his voice was steady and low, “-the reason I did that to her was to protect her.”
“You hit her to protect her?” Dean demanded.
“I pushed her away to protect her,” John said as tears began to form in his eyes. “Before I slapped her I kept snapping at her and being nasty to her because I wanted her to leave so she could be safe. I knew that if I told her that she wouldn’t leave, and no matter how many times I shouted at her or was a complete dick to her she would just get upset… But she would stay. I had to do something that would finally make her leave; I had to make her think that I hated her so that she would hate me. If she stayed with us she would have continued to hunt and I wanted better for her.”
John wiped his tears away before drinking more of his beer. It was as if he thought the alcohol would soothe the sting, but it only made it worse. “I loved my baby,” he cried. “She was my only daughter and she made me proud every day. I’ll never get a chance to tell her that.”
Dean shook his head. He understood why John did what he did and he sympathised with him, but it didn’t matter. That wouldn’t bring you back. It wouldn’t fix anything. “She’s dead because you were too scared to love her.”
Dean didn’t plan on saying it, it was just a thought that popped into his head but he needed to get it out. Secrets were one of the reasons you ended your life, he didn’t want to keep them anymore.
John had no idea how to respond to Dean. How could someone reply to that? He was one of the causes of his daughters death because he was a coward. Dean didn’t even know what to think anymore. He needed to know more. He had one more bite of the bacon before he put the plate back in the fridge and headed back to his room.
They were still there when he got back. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was hoping that the tapes weren’t real and that you were still there in the bunker. When you moved in you told him that you wanted your room next to his so you could knock on the wall if you wanted to talk to each other.
He picked the tape player up, it felt colder than when he last held it. A chill shot down his spine as he thought about the tapes again and how they were all you left behind. Your voice played again in his ears.
“After you kicked me out, dad, I went back for my mom. I ran in to my house, crying my eyes out because of what you did. I wanted comfort from my mom,” you explained. “She was all I needed right at that moment because in my whole life she was all I ever had. But I never got to speak to her… I went into her room and found her covered in blood. She didn’t move… Or breathe… She did nothing.”
Your voice broke as you spoke about your mothers death and Dean closed his eyes at the thought. “And this, ladies and gentlemen, brings me to my second tape. And you know who you are when I say that on my next tape, we’re going to talk about the person that murdered my mother.”
Warnings: the reader’s ex is a controlling/abusive ass, fight scenes, angst, swearing
Word count: 2511
Summary: The Reader is running from her crazy ex and happens to jump into a certain Impala to hide.
A/N: adapted from my other account:)
“Shit!”, you cursed loudly. He’d found you, no matter how far you ran, he always found you. Your ex, Zach, the man who you’d been hiding from for months now. The one who you’d feared for years, who had yelled and hurt you. You’d spent too long running from him, too long looking over your shoulder, nearly paralyzed with fear that he’d be there.
It was a dreary Tuesday night, around 8 PM. Rain dripped down from grey skies, darkened with storm clouds and wet stars. You’d just finished grocery shopping and were walking, bags in hand, back to your motel. It had been two weeks since you last saw him, your ex, and you believed you were in the clear. That you’d finally gotten away. But that false sense of security that had settled over you was ruined when, once again, you turned back and saw him. Wearing a sleazy grey hoodie, peppered with rips and burn holes, his presence chilled your bones. You started walking faster, the motel was close enough that you could make it. But when you heard him yell your name, panic took over. Adrenaline kicked in, and you dropped your groceries. Hearing them clatter to the ground, you took off in a sprint.
When you rounded the corner you saw an empty parking lot, save for a handful of cars. The closest one to you, what you thought was some sort of Chevrolet, already had one of the windows cracked open. It would be easy to shimmy your arms through the slit and open the door, it would only take a few seconds.
So, with that thought, you’d made your decision. You were panting at this point, feet slapping down on the wet pavement in a steady rhythm. When you approached the car, you found the doors were already open. So, without hesitation, you flung them open and practically leapt inside.
Once inside, you sat on the floor of the back seat. Pressing yourself to the ground, you tried to become as small as possible. Your breathing slowed from quick pants to longer sighs while you took a moment to find your bearings. The rain was coming down in buckets now, and you prayed he was far enough behind you that he didn’t see where you’d gone. Maybe he’d stop looking for you, but you knew that wouldn’t happen.
When the two of you were dating, you’d been his. “You’re mine” and “You’re my girl” were frequent phrases he’d use to praise you, to show affection. When you’d tried to leave the first time, you were met with a black eye- which you told your family was from falling down the stairs. The two of you never worked, not even in the beginning. Your personalities and life styles clashed from the get go, but for some reason you stayed- even when you knew you shouldn’t have.
“(Y/N)!!!!”, he bellowed your name through the parking lot and tore you from your thoughts. You shuddered at the sound of his voice, and pressed yourself tighter into the corner. The windows of the car were sprayed with water droplets from the rain outside, you hoped he couldn’t see through the cloudy glass.
Suddenly the front door opened- shit. At first the man entering the Impala didn’t notice you were there. But your cover was blown when he went to retrieve something from the back seat. With a small gasp, you made eye contact with the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. His skin was tanned and practically glowing, even in the dim light. You didn’t even know how to describe the color of his eyes. They were what looked like a dark green. Their color, it was something authors could write books on. Series on even. And never fully capture the beauty, the mystery and mischief dancing beneath the surface, intermingling and fusing with a dark, forest green. With a brief pause you decided his eyes were the color of kelp on the shore, flecked with splinters of driftwood and grains of sand. But when he dropped his gaze to look down at you, the color shifted. It changed from the shorelines of beaches and sea foam, to the oceans themselves. Dark blue and grey and stormy. His eyes shifted into the clouds before a lightning storm, or the smoke before a fire. You were at even more of a loss than before, these beautiful, ethereal, eyes were staring directly into your own. Your gaze trailed to his jaw, firm and powerful, it complemented his pink lips- which were currently pursed in confusion. How god damn attractive he was just made the situation so much worse.
Your cheeks flushed red and you started stuttering, “Um, I can explain, I just, um…” your voice trailed off and you took a deep breath, “I’m hiding from my ex okay? Can you just give me like five more minutes, I’m really really sorry, it’s just, uh, he can’t find me”
You were so flustered at this point, eyes darting around the car and hands breaking into a nervous sweat. But he just nodded with understanding and said, “Is your ex the blonde one yelling your name in the parking lot?”
His voice was deep and sounded as if it was coated in honey. Thick and low, the words bounced off his lips. You nodded your head in response to his question, shaking it furiously up and down.
“Okay, one sec”, he responded in that silvery voice of his.
Your heart skipped a beat as he called out to your ex, still screaming your name, “Hey!”
No, no, no, no you silently panicked, what was this man doing? You were overwhelmed, and had absolutely nowhere to run. You tried pressing yourself even further into the side of the car, to no avail. You were trapped, at the mercy of this stranger you’d only just met.
“Who are you looking for?”, the man asked your ex, Zach, as he ran up to the car.
And Zach launched into a story about how you were mentally ill and needed to be taken home, voice hoarse from the screaming. And you just had to sit there, listening to the rain’s pitter patter interrupting his ridiculous story, and hoping this beautiful stranger wouldn’t believe him. Shivering and shaking, half from the cold and half from fear, you sat there in anticipation. What if the man believed him? What if he opened the car doors and revealed where you were hiding? You shuddered at the thought.
But minutes passed and the man just stood there, nodding his head at various points throughout the story. The mental illness one was common, there was also one where you were an escaped convict or he was a tax collector and you were running away from debt. He never failed to bring a picture of you, everywhere he went it was always brought along. You knew he spent hours stopping people and asking them if they’d seen you around, it was what made you so paranoid. What caused you to constantly look over your shoulder and give aliases whenever asked your name. It was no secret that this man had turned your life into a strung out nightmare of paranoia and sleazy motels. You were always on the run, always on the move.
More minutes passed and then the car door was opened with a click, but the stranger was the only one you saw staring down at you.
“I got rid of him,” he said, voice low and almost annoyed sounding- you wondered why.
“Are you sure he isn’t hiding somewhere?”, you asked, peering out from behind the front seat to look at him directly.
“Yeah, don’t worry he’s gone”, he responded.
“I never got your name”, he spoke again, with a smile this time, leaning over the seats to help you pull yourself from the crouched position you were currently stuck in.
“I’m (Y/N), (Y/L/N)”, you answered, grunting a little as you stretched out your legs.
“(Y/N ) (Y/L/N), I’m Sam Winchester”, he said, again holding out his hand, which you shook awkwardly.
The both of you fell silent; him outstretched in the front seat, leaning over to look at you, and you sitting in the back, fidgeting and glancing around the Impala nervously.
You started to awkwardly shuffled out of the car, but he stopped you when saying, “Wait, um I forgot to tell you, that guy knew the motel you were staying at.”
The same panic from before crept up on you and you starting feeling as if you couldn’t breathe. If he knew where you were living it wouldn’t be long before he caught up to you.
“Wh-what?”, you choked out, running a hand nervously through your hair.
“Do you have anywhere else you can go?”, Sam asked with a sympathetic look.
You shook your head no, but responded with, “I’ll figure something out”
Again you turned to leave, but again he stopped you, this time putting a hand to your shoulder.
“You can stay with my brother and I, we’re in a motel just a few miles from here. We’re only in town for a couple more days, but if you need a place to crash for a few while you figure things out, our door’s open.”
Who was this man? Why was he being so kind to you, you were just a stranger after all. A stranger who had broken into his car and been called mentally ill within five minutes of meeting him. But you trusted him, for some reason. His face was kind, his voice inviting. So you nodded your head, thanked him, and climbed up to the front.
You saw him wince as your booted foot scraped the leather seat as you clambered to the passengers side.
“Oh, I’m sorry, are you one of those guys really in love with their car?”, you asked while hurriedly rubbing your hands over the scuff mark.
He let out a laugh and caught your hands, “No, no. My brother, Dean, it’s his car and he’s definitely one of those guys you just described. Don’t worry though, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”, he replied with a wink. You let out a laugh, something you hadn’t done in weeks. This man had you smiling and giggling as if you were some school girl, untouched by misfortune and hardship.
“Tell me about this Dean”, you responded, making conversation. And even though he was a complete stranger, you found yourself easily talking and opening up to Sam. With him you felt secure, safe even.
“Oh, he’s the less attractive Winchester”, Sam joked, gesturing to himself and rolling his eyes, “I mean that’s what everyone says”
Again you laughed out loud, throwing a hand to your mouth and feeling your lips tug into a smile.
Sam started the car with a turn of his key and a roar of the engine. The entire drive you found yourself watching him. The way he eased on the gas and turned on some god awful rock song while smiling apologetically. Shadows and stray strips of light crawled across his face in the low light of the night. The rain was still tapping on the window and the skylight above, probably not going to stop for a while. And even though cold, rainy nights were your least favorite, you found yourself never wanting this particular one to end.
Throughout the drive you and Sam made conversation, just small talk about your lives and jobs. You lied and told him that you were an accountant, and he lied and told you he was a federal agent. The conversation was easy, never a moment of silence or an awkward pause. You felt everything was easy around this Sam Winchester; talking, laughing, smiling, all of it.
Soon enough you pulled into the parking lot of probably the sleaziest motel you’d ever seen, and you’d seen your fair share. Walking into the room you found the floral wallpaper was peeling and the shag rug was ratty at best. You also saw who you assumed was Sam’s brother, Dean, sitting at the coffee table cleaning a gun. Your body went rigid at the sight of it, you’d never actually seen one in person before.
Sam let out a pointed cough and Dean’s eyes snapped up, meeting your own and then quickly tossing the firearm into his back pocket.
“Dean, this is (Y/N)”, Sam gave a small wave in your direction, you nodded in return. If Sam was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, Dean was the second. His face was stouter than his brothers, but donned the same powerful jaw. His eyes were green. The kind of green that sparkled out of emeralds or freshly cut grass. The kind that brought life back to the plants after long, long months of winter. Paired with them were long ,thick lashes. His lips were a darker shade of red and fuller than his brother’s, you found yourself staring at them absentmindedly.
Those bright green eyes gave you a wink as he said, “Well well well, Sammy finally brought a girl home”
Your cheeks turned pink and you felt yourself inch closer to Sam, who was no doubt feeling the same embarrassment you were.
“Hilarious, but no.”, Sam said back to his brother with a roll of his eyes, and set into the story. He told Dean everything, your ex, the Impala, your motel. When he was finished, Dean’s eyes were narrowed and his lips pursed.
“Who the hell is this guy?”, he responded.
Sam let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah exactly, so (Y/N)’s just gonna crash here for a couple days.”
Looking around the motel room you found only two beds and just assumed you’d sleep on the ratty sofa you saw standing in front of the tv. But Sam started making an actual bed for you, adding more pillows and blankets than you could possibly need.
“Oh no, it’s fine I can sleep on the couch. Seriously I don’t want to take one of your beds”, you said quickly, instantly feeling bad for intruding.
“No way in hell you’re sleeping on the couch. Seriously it’s fine, you can have my bed. Trust me I’ve spent more nights without one than with”, Sam insisted, laughing and nodding.
You shook your head in return with a sly smile, and conceded. If he wanted you to sleep in a gigantic comfortable bed, who were you to decline?
Your smile faded with an abrupt knock at the door. You froze, eyes darting in Sam’s direction. He moved towards the main entrance and cautiously looked through the peephole, you saw the way his shoulders and jaw tensed and knew it was Zach.
“Go hide in the bathroom.”, Sam instructed, the look he gave told you who was at the door. You felt yourself break into a cold sweat and, with one last look at Sam and Dean, you retreated to the bathroom with your hands shaking.
A/N: Yo, preference requests are open! Send in your ideas!!
At around 3:00 AM, Dean rose to you clutching onto his shirt. You were asleep, but clearly distressed as your fingers dug tighter into the fabric. He gently roused you, cringing when he sees the tears in your eyes. “I thought I lost you”, you whimpered, burying your face in his chest. “I’m not going anywhere sweetheart”, he promises, caging you safely in his arms.
Your frantic “Sam!” quickly caught sleeping Sam’s attention. You were sweating and thrashing in your not so peaceful sleep, calling out your lovers name. He quickly wakes you and opens his arms. Your tears stain his shirt as you mumble out nonsense about his death. He presses soft kisses on your head and whispers “I’m here”, over and over until you relax in his protective touch.
Because Cas has no need to sleep, he likes to watch over your dreams instead. When your seemingly calm dream corrupts into a nightmare where Cas lay on with his wings burnt to the ground, he places a hand on your forehead, waking up you. You’re hysterical when you wake as you clutch to his familiar trench coat. He reassures you he’s right here while smoothing over your bed head softly until the daylight comes.
Crowley, much like Cas, didn’t need to sleep and liked to watch over you as you rested. When your once peaceful face morphed into one of discomfort, he shook you awake gently. Once your eyes locked with his, you began to cry and soon wrapped your arms around his neck. “You were dead”, you stutter between sobs. Crowley holds you tightly, whispering “It’s alright, I’m right here” in your ear until your sobs turn into soft snores.