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the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
author's note: putting this part together was difficult, but i loved the result; you'll see dialogues taken out of both shows... also i had to change the format of the posts because the app kept limiting me a lot with the word count.
warnings/tags: canon divergence; spn canon violence | angst; hurt / litttle comfort, platonic fluff| mentions of injuries, blood, death, grief, family arguments, demonic possessions, infidelity (kinda), accidents, daddy issues, john winchester himself is a tw | language.
⭐️ pics aren’t mine, credits to their owners.
🚫 please do not copy, repost or translate my work without my permission.
without further ado, enjoy, my loves! 🩷
To say that Mila felt uneasy about her father's return was an understatement. He had left once again after insisting they had to let him go, that this fight was too dangerous for them. And then… a couple of days later, he reappeared.
This time, he wanted their help retrieving a gun, claiming that it was very important, but refusing to explain why. The secrecy gnawed at Mila. It didn’t help that Sam was just as anxious too, a lot more irritated even, at their father’s half-truths.
The four Winchesters were on their way to clear a vampire nest and get said gun. Sam and Dean were driving the Impala while John and Mila were on his truck.
John was on the phone with Dean, directing them to pull off at the next exit when Sam gunned the Impala forward. The car roared past them and screeched to a stop directly in front of John’s vehicle. Mila’s stomach dropped as John slammed the brakes, tires screaming loudly against the asphalt.
Sam shoved the door open and stepped out, his face set with grim determination. He approached the truck just as John climbed out to meet him, irritation radiating off him as well.
Dean and Mila got out of the cars too, muttering ‘Oh crap’ under their breaths.
“What the hell was that?”
“We need to talk.” Sam squared his shoulders, his jaw tightening as he stepped closer to John.
“About what?” John’s eyes narrowed, planting his boots firmly on the ground.
“About everything!” Sam’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but his voice stayed steady. “Where are we going, Dad? What’s the big deal about this gun?”
Mila watched their glaring contest and, for a second, she swore they were about to bump foreheads, like reindeers ready to lock antlers.
“Sammy, come on.” Dean intercepted before it could escalate. “We can Q&A after we kill all the vampires.”
“Your brother’s right. We don’t have time for this.”
Mila lifted her eyebrows in disbelief. John agreeing with Dean? That was definitely a first.
“Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous to be together... Now, out of the blue you need our help? Something big is going down and we wanna know what!” Sam’s voice kept getting louder and louder.
“Get back in the car.”
“No.”
“I said, get back in the damn car.”
“Yeah, and I said no.”
“All right, you made your point, tough guy. Look, we're all tired, we can talk about this later. “ Dean shoved Sammy in the Impala’s direction. “Sammy, I mean it. Come on.”
Mila didn’t even have a second to sigh in relief, thinking the fight was finally over, when Sam muttered something under his breath. She couldn’t catch it, but John’s head snapped up. He had.
“What’d you say?”
“You heard me.” Sam’s eyes locked into John’s, steady and defiant.
And just like that, the air thickened again, only ten times heavier this time.
“Yeah. You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. YOU walked away, Sam.” John jabbed Sam in the shoulder, his voice rising with his anger.
“Stop it, both of you.” Dean stepped quickly in between, but neither listened or moved back.
Sam’s throat tightened as he leaned forward and his voice came up sharp and loud through the night air.
“You’re the one who said ‘Don’t come back’, Dad. You’re the one who closed the door. Not me.”
Dean shot a pleading look at Mila, silently begging her to step in. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could do so, John’s jaw clenched and it was her turn to receive a deadly glare.
“You don’t get to say anythin’ either! You just followed him like a lost puppy… without lookin’ back.”
Mila froze, her breath caught in her throat. For a heartbeat she couldn’t move, her pulse hammering in her ears. But beneath the shock, her blood boiled inside of her.
“No! You don’t get to put this ON ME!” She snapped and the three men turned toward her with stunned expressions – even Sam. She couldn’t believe it either, that she was capable of talking to John Winchester like that, full of anger and bitterness. But... she was her father’s daughter after all. “Even if Sam hadn’t gone to college, you still would’ve lost me, Dad! I had NOTHING. I had NO LIFE. I had NO AIR. YOU STRANGLED ME!” Mila's heart was beating so fast she thought it was going to burst out of her chest.
“Yeah, yeah. I was so horrible. I was so controlling," John narrowed his eyes as he sneered. "Well, tell me, Camille, if I was so controlling, why couldn’t I control both of you going away and flushin’ the last four years of your life down the drain?”
For a fraction of a second, Mila’s hand twitched at her side, the urge to slap him was becoming overwhelming. Dean saw it; he instantly recognized his sister’s fight mode activating, and stepped in fast, his voice sharp.
“Stop it! That’s enough!” Dean made Sam and Mila back off and then turned around to look at John. “That means you too.”
Sam stormed toward the Impala, slamming the door as he dropped into the passenger seat. Mila followed, sliding into the backseat, unwilling to sit anywhere near John. Not that he cared, though. He simply turned around to walk to his truck without a word.
Dean lingered for a moment wondering how the hell was he supposed to survive this delightful family reunion.
“Terrific.” He muttered before climbing behind the wheel.
The next day, Dean received a call from John, but since he was in the shower, it was Mila who picked up the phone. She knew it was him because Dean had his number saved as Burt Aframian.
“Hi, you’ve reached Winchester’s Inc.” Mila answered, faking a higher-pitched voice. “Major Disappointment speaking.”
There was a pause and a frustrated sigh on the other end.
“Mila, this is serious.” His tone was low, clipped.
Oh so now we’re back at nickname basis, she thought.
“So am I, Dad.” She leaned back against the wall, her grip tightening on the phone. Her heart was still mending from the fight the night before. Her sarcasm was a way of shielding herself, of letting him know she wouldn’t let him off easily. Especially after the way he talked to Sam and her. “What do you want?”
After taking care of the vampires, the four Winchesters went back to the cabin they were using as a hideout place. John started loading all his stuff into his truck while his children finished with their own packing.
“So, kids…” John muttered as soon as he opened the cabin door. Sam, Mila and Dean turned around to look at him.
“Yes, sir?” Sam was the first one to speak. The uncertainty and hesitation lingered in the three pairs of eyes, though.
“You ignored a direct order back there.”
“Yes, sir.” Sammy replied, with a breathy voice, a sign of feeling resigned.
“Yeah, but we saved your ass.” Dean added just as quickly and both Mila and Sam tilted their heads to steal a look at their older brother, eyes wide, not fully believing what he had actually said, and also fearing their father’s reaction. Dean clenched his jaw, cursing himself for not keeping his mouth shut.
“You’re right.” John admitted, barely blinking.
“I am?” Dean’s brows shot up. A hint of disbelief could be detected in his voice. He wasn’t really sure if his father was actually agreeing with him or if he was once again being ironic.
“It scares the hell out of me.” John’s voice softened, and he let out a long exhale, rubbing the back of his neck. For a brief second, his always stoic posture faltered, his shoulders sagged, and his gaze flicked between each of his children. “The three of you are all I’ve got, but I guess we are stronger as a family. So, we go after this damn thing. Together.”
Mila let out a shaky laugh, her shoulders finally relaxing as if a weight had been lifted.
“Yes, sir.” The three Winchester siblings replied at the same time, a proud smirk plastered on their faces.
During the next couple of days, John kindly took the time to walk his children through all the information he could gather on the yellow-eyed demon. They were still staying at the cabin, and John had just finished setting up a board on the wall with newspaper articles, torn book pages with relevant lore, and several pictures. He sat on the chair behind the makeshift desk, posture stiff, and started narrating the events as he remembered.
Dean stood in front of him, listening attentively, but shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Sam leaned against the window on the other side of the room, eyes narrowed and shoulders tense. Mila sat on the couch in between the three men, indirectly feeling like the glue that joined them altogether.
Sadly, it was also then when Sam found out more details on his mom’s death.
“l was 6 months old that night?” Sam’s voice slightly cracked as he spoke.
“Exactly 6 months.” Their father replied, no hesitation whatsoever in his tone.
“So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me?” Sam’s hands tightened into fists on his knees, knuckles white. John didn’t say anything so Sam took the silence to keep going. “So Mom's death… Jess…. it's because of me?”
“We don't know that, Sam.” Dean’s jaw clenched, his voice firm but his gaze settled in his little brother with unease.
“Oh really? Cause I’d say we’re pretty damn sure, Dean!” Sam snapped, his voice breaking into a yell. He pushed off the window frame, giving one step forward. His whole body trembled with guilt and fury.
“Sammy, no.” Mila exhaled sharply, pushing herself up from her seat and crossing the room towards her younger brother. She wrapped one arm around his shoulders, trying her best to comfort him. “Don’t blame yourself.”
Sam stiffened under her touch. He didn’t shove her away, but his shoulders shifted slightly – a subtle, unconscious brush that broke her hold. Mila froze for a second, her arm falling back to her side. The rejection stung, but she steadied herself.
“Yeah, you’re right! lt's not my fault, but it's MY problem!”
“No, it's not your problem.” Dean didn’t step forward, but he did shift his body to fully look at Sam, hoping to make him understand. “It’s OUR problem!” He shot back, his voice sharp and his fists clenched, chest rising fast. His eyes burned, not with anger, but with concern.
“Stop, yelling, guys! You’re freaking out!” Mila raised her voice as well, her brows furrowed. “Okay, we gotta calm down here.” She glanced at Dean, then back at Sam, her own voice cracking with tension.
“So, set an example” Dean muttered, his tone biting, though his eyes flicked toward his sister with a challenge.
“Hey, I’m human, too.” Mila retorted, lifting her hand in exasperation. She shook her head. “Ok, let’s just take a breath.” She took a deep breath, visibly forcing her shoulders to relax. “This freaking out is not good.”
“It sucks.” Sam whispered, his voice breaking and shoulders slumping. Mila’s heart sank as she looked at him. Suddenly, she didn’t see her grown-up younger brother; she saw the little kid she used to look after in dirty motel rooms and lonely cold nights.
“We’ve got this, guys.” Dean said, his voice softening and his fists unclenching. His gaze fell back on his dad again. “Maybe we need more information. Maybe we could talk to the locals, to check if they had seen somethin’ we haven’t during the last couple of days, before the house burnt down.”
“I think we need therapy,” Sam whispered again, half to himself, half to Mila. This time, his tone was laced with a playful sarcasm.
“And booze.” Mila added in the same hushed tone, her lips twitching into a faint, weary smile. She nudged him lightly with her elbow.
“Okay. Enough.” John said firmly, his voice carrying finality. He rubbed his temples and his shoulders fell a little, starting to wonder if working with his kids was a good decision.
One morning a couple of days later, Mila accidentally overheard her father talking to somebody on the phone. She couldn’t make out who or about what, but it definitely sounded weird, too secretive. So, she decided to do what any sane person would… She followed him. She was supposed to help Sam and Dean with research about the type of bullets the Colt needed, but right when they were with their noses buried in books, she snuck out of the library and took the Impala – she’d have to sit through Dean’s lecture about stealing Baby later, but she couldn’t care less.
She ended up following John towards Windom, in Minnesota. She couldn’t really understand why he’d go there – she found herself thinking he had found another clue on the demon and didn’t bother to tell his children again. Aw, how innocent. And stupid. What she discovered couldn’t be further from that.
Mila saw how John picked up a blonde-haired teenage boy and took him to the park to play catch and then to a dinner to get some burgers and beers. She didn’t want to read much into it or think something it wasn’t, but from the way John talked and treated this guy, anybody could tell they had some kind of bond. She tried to ignore how similar to her father the kid looked and how that thought twisted her stomach.
Right when John left the guy back at his house, when they parted with a “Bye, Dad” and a “Take care, Adam”, and the boy closed his front door, that’s when Mila revealed herself. She stood in front of John, shaking her head, her eyesight blurred by the millions of tears. John was briefly taken by surprise and mumbled a swear word. His expression then stiffened, and he tried to talk to Mila, but any attempts were deflated by her. She got in the Impala and drove off, leaving him with his pathetic explanation and excuses on the tip of his tongue.
Mila wanted nothing more than to find Sam and Dean. She wanted to tell them what had happened, get a big hug from them, and hate their father together forever. But the more she thought about it, the more against the idea she became. Sam was still harbouring some anger and resentment towards John after the arguments they had had over the last couple of days, and she didn’t want to keep adding things to the list. And Dean... with his blind faith in the old man, would maybe even get mad at her instead. She decided it wouldn’t be her who’d break the news to them, but she couldn’t deal with the hole in her chest on her own, so she took the way to Sioux Falls, to the only person who'd be able to provide her with some comfort in a situation like this.
Bobby hadn’t hesitated for even a second in opening the door to her and hugging her, especially after he saw her puffy eyes and the fresh tears falling on her cheeks. He wasn’t a touchy-feely guy, but everybody knew that she had carved a special place in his heart. He made her a cup of coffee and sat with her, wrapping a cozy blanket around her shoulders, and listened attentively as she poured her heart (and eyes) out.
The problem came later when John Winchester knocked rather angrily on Bobby’s door.
“Bobby, I know Camille is here. I need to talk to her.”
“Now’s not the best time, John. You know it.”
“Oh, so now I need your permission to talk to my daughter?” He let out a dry laugh. “Let me in.”
Bobby had to fight the urge to kick John’s ass right in that moment, but he stepped aside. He knew Mila wouldn’t let him down gently anyway. A smirk formed on his mouth when he realized he had front-row seats.
Bobby pushed the thought aside and walked towards the kitchen, trying to give them some kind of privacy.
“We need to talk.” John said in his usual firm and fed-up tone, making her feel she had no right to be upset about their current situation.
“What are you doing here?”
“You weren’t returning my calls.”
“Oh, I wonder why that would be.” Her eyebrows briefly arched.
“Camille, listen…”
“No. I don’t wanna have this conversation now.”
“You wouldn’t pick up the damn phone, so now seems the only time to have this conversation.”
“I’m tired," she sighed. "I just wanna catch some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Well, sure, I believe that.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the one lying here. There’s no reason to doubt my word, isn’t it? Now please... Go.”
“No. You don’t get to dictate this. You can’t shut me out like this. It’s wrong and-”
“And what do you expect me to do, huh?” she rose from her seat, the blanked slipping from her shoulders. “You want me to tell you I’m not pissed and heartbroken about you having another kid and hiding him from us? You want me to go back with you and act like nothing has happened in front of Sam and Dean?”
“I’m sorry. I did what I had to do.”
“Oh, yeah, OK. You surely needed to get into that woman’s pants…”
“Do not talk to me like that.”
“I’m soooo sorry, I didn’t get the memo on how to react when you find out your father has another family. I promise I’ll do better next time.”
“Camille…”
“Does he… Adam… know about the Winchester family business?” John lowered his head and shook it. Mila scoffed, her chest tightening. “That’s awesome. Really. Fucking unbelievable.”
“I had to protect him.”
“Well, joke’s on you because he’s a Winchester – the curse comes with the family package.” Mila retorted, and just when John opened his mouth to reply, she cut him off. “And tell me one thing… who the fuck was supposed to protect US, dad?” Her voice rose, higher and higher, as the words tumbled out faster and angrier than she could control. “What about Sam, Dean, and me? Huh? What is so special about Adam that he gets to receive your fatherly love? Why weren't we worthy of the trips in the park, ice-cream, ball games, hugs, and the time with you?” Her breath hitched and her shoulders trembled as she struggled to get the air in and out of her lungs. She pressed a hand against her ribs, trying to steady herself, but the fury kept spilling out. “Why can’t you see us as more than your little army of obedient soldiers?”
A broken sob escaped her lips and John instinctively reached towards her, his tone low and commanding.
“Honey, calm down.”
“You don’t get to call me that,” she hissed sharply, even venomously, but then she took a deep breath, her eyes glistening with tears. “I – you should go.”
“Mila, please understand…”
“No! I always understand and right now I don’t wanna understand! I don’t wanna talk or see you. I’ve got Sam, Dean, and Bobby. That’s all I need.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do. You don't need to care about me. Go be somebody else’s dad!
John’s reaction was pretty weird – his face hardened, but at the same time, he flinched, as if the words had landed heavier than he had expected. His shoulders jerked back and his eyes widened in shock.
Mila stormed out of the living room, walking with heavy footsteps towards the room Bobby used to let her stay in when she was a little girl. As if on cue, Bobby reappeared from the kitchen with his arms crossed and a steady gaze.
“Give her some time. She wants to be alone and cool off. Respect that. I'll even talk to her later.”
“You’re gonna talk to her?” John let out a laugh, humourless and absolutely dry, but his voice cracked under the weight of the situation. “‘Cause you do know how to deal with my kids, right, Bobby? That makes me feel a lot better.
“You need to leave.” Bobby stepped in closer, his tone firm, almost threatening. “Right now.”
John shook his head, but guilt and defeat flashed across his features.
“No. She needs her father.”
“I know she does, but she feels like her father bailed on her. And she’s mad and hurt, and nobody can change that in a couple of minutes!”
John took a look towards the hallway where Mila had disappeared, and then stared back at Bobby. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the door, the slam echoing like a final punctuation mark to the fight.
After a well-deserved nap and a chocolate bar, Mila got a call from Dean. He said that he and Sam were on their way to Bobby’s.
After he seized his opportunity to tell her off for stealing his Baby and forcing him to hotwire a random, very uncool car, he explained that John went to see Meg to give her the makeshift Colt, but the bitch realized it was fake, so she took John God knows where. It was very likely she was coming after the Winchester siblings as well. Hence, the need of a plan.
When she hung up, Mila told Bobby the news, and after hearing him mutter 'Balls' under his breath, they started researching all the information they could on devil’s traps. Mila was in charge of learning the Latin incantations while Bobby gathered all the materials they needed to build one.
Needless to say, the words on the pages of the Key of Solomon turned out to be harder for Mila to memorize; not because she wasn’t smart enough – she actually knew enough Latin spells to exorcise a good amount of demons – but because her mind kept circling back to her argument with John. Even if the fire of their last fight was still burning in her heart, she would never let anything happen to him. She couldn’t let that awful fight be their last conversation; she’d never forgive herself.
As if on cue, a couple of hours later, Meg blasted through the door when the four of them were fairly ready. Luckily, she took the bait and walked right inside the devil’s trap, and just like that, the questioning and exorcism began. They ended up learning John was being kept in a building by the river, called Sunrise Apartments. They parked the Impala a few meters away from the back doors and as Dean and Mila prepared their guns and the holy water flasks, Sam started copying something from the book Bobby had lent them on the trunk door of the car.
“Dude, what are you drawing on my car?” Dean asked as he swiped a finger over the drawing, checking if it faded.
“It's called a devil's trap.” Sam replied, not tearing his eyes away from his task. “Demons can't get through it or inside it.”
“So?”
“Basically turns the trunk into a lockbox.” Sam moved to the other side and repeated the drawing.
“So?”
Mila closed her eyes, cursing to herself. She knew where the conversation was leading and she knew Dean wouldn’t like it one bit.
“So… we have a place to hide the Colt while we go get Dad.”
“What are you talking about? We're bringing the Colt with us.”
There it was.
“Can't, Dean. We only got three bullets left. We can't just use them on any demon. We gotta use them on THE demon.”
“No, we have to save Dad, Sam. Okay? We need all the help we can get.”
“Dean, do you know how pissed Dad would be if we used all the bullets?”
Dean gave Mila a ‘can-you-believe-what-he’s-saying questioning look, but she sighed.
“Sam’s right, Dean. Dad wouldn’t have wanted us to bring the gun.”
“l don't care. I don’t care what Dad wants.” The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched upwards in disdain. “Since when do the two of you care what Dad wants?”
Mila was ready to call Dean on that low-blow, but Sam beat her to it.
“We wanna kill this demon. You used to want that too. Hell, you're the one who came and got us in the first place. You were the one that dragged us back into this. We’re just trying to finish it.”
Dean looked down and shook his head, a dry smile forming on his lips.
“You and Dad are more alike than l thought, you know that? You can't wait to sacrifice yourself for this thing. But you know what? I'm gonna be the one to bury you.”
Sam looked to the side, at some faraway point, but said nothing, so Dean continued.
“It's selfish, you know that? You don't care about anything but revenge.”
“That’s not true, Dean,” Mila cut in, patting her brother in the back gently. “We both want Dad back.” She shot him a small lopsided smile. “But they are expecting us to bring the gun. If they get the gun, they will kill us all. That Colt is our only leverage and you know it. We cannot bring that gun. We can’t.”
“Fine.”
“We can’t.”
"We're serious, Dean.” Sam pressed.
“I said fine, Sam.”
Mila watched Dean put the Colt in the trunk of the Impala, but she knew her older brother better than anyone. He was going to seize his opportunity to snatch the gun out of the car and take it with him. She wasn’t going to stop him.
They went ahead with their plan and rescued John from the demons’ claws and quickly ran off to their hiding spot: the cabin on the outskirts of the city. Their father was slipping in and out of consciousness in the backseat of the car, his head resting on Mila’s shoulder. She was happy to have him there, despite a few bruises and scars, but a strange, upsetting feeling in the pit of her stomach prevented her from feeling completely content.
Mila felt she should’ve made a wish; her brothers were having a heart-to-heart talk – a ‘chick-flick moment’ as her older brother would name it– in which Sam thanked Dean for saving his life with the Colt. Mila just sat there, listening to their conversation as she reinforced the salt on the doors and windows. Meanwhile, John was resting in the other room.
“Hey, Sam.” Dean whispered, his gaze set on his gun.
“Yeah?”
“You know that guy l shot? There was a person in there.”
“You didn't have a choice, Dean.”
“Yeah, l know. That's not what bothers me.” Dean’s eyes darted to the floor.
“Then what does?”
“Killing that guy, killing Meg…” he made a brief pause, his jaw tightening. “l didn't hesitate. I didn't even flinch. I mean, for you, Mila or Dad, the things I'm willing to do or kill, it's just.... It scares me sometimes.
Suddenly, John appeared and the three of them instinctively looked up and straightened at the sound of their father’s firm voice.
“It shouldn't. You did good.”
“You're not mad?”
“For what?”
“Using a bullet.”
“Mad? I'm proud of you.”
Dean’s eyebrows briefly arched in confusion, but then he kept staring at his father with a silent but unreadable expression. John seized the opportunity to continue talking.
“You know, Sam and l, we can get pretty obsessed. But you… you and Mila watch out for this family. You always have.”
That feeling in Mila’s stomach turned into a freaking hurricane and she suddenly felt like throwing up.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
John couldn’t see Mila’s face because he was facing Dean, but he was looking at their dad the same way she was. As if their father’s gratified words were something they wouldn’t have dreamed of hearing in this lifetime – or in any for that matter.
Then, the lights started buzzing and flickering. The four of them exchanged startled glances. John walked to the window and sighed.
“lt found us. lt's here.”
Dean and Mila stepped closer to the window as well, tension etched into their shoulders.
“The demon.” Mila whispered, breath shaky.
“Sam,” John snapped into full sergeant mode, “lines of salt in front of every window, every door.”
“We already did it.”
“Well, check it.” John’s tone was sharp, dismissive even. Then, he turned to his eldest. “Dean, you got the gun?”
“Yeah”
“Give it to me.”
“Sam tried to shoot the demon and it vanished.”
“This is me. I won't miss. Now, the gun. Hurry.”
Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out the Colt. He stopped in his tracks and his stare hardened at John.
“Dean,” Mila leaned closer, whispering behind him. “Dad would be mad as hell.”
Her breath brushing his ear wasn’t the only thing that sent a shiver down his spine. The memory of the conversation with Sam earlier before rescuing John flashed through both minds.
Dean sighed and his grip tightened on the gun.
“Son, please.”
Dean took two or three steps back, shielding Mila with his body. His eyes stayed locked on John, unblinking.
“Give me the gun. What are you doing?”
“He'd be furious.”
“What?”
“That I wasted a bullet. He wouldn't be proud of me. He'd tear me a new one.” Dean lifted the gun, pointing at John, and his knuckles went whiter and his frown became more prominent. “You're not our dad.”
“Dean, it's me.”
“No, it’s not. We know our dad better than anyone. You ain't him.”
“What's gotten into you two?”
“We could ask you the same thing.” Mila cut in, chin lifting in defiance, but her fingers clutched the hem of her jacket sleeve.
“Stay back.” Dean warned him just as Sam re-entered the room.
“What the hell's going on?” Sam’s eyes widened at the scene in front of him.
"They've lost their minds.”
“He's not Dad.” Mila shot back, stepping closer to Dean’s side. Her eyes narrowed at the thing wearing their father’s face and her stomach twisted.
“What?” Sam’s gaze flickered between all of them, his brows furrowed and lips parted, waiting for an explanation.
“I think he's possessed,” Dean said, voice low and steady, never tearing his eyes from John or lowering the gun. “He's been possessed since we rescued him.”
“Don’t listen to him, Sammy.” John retorted, trying to coax Sam. His eyes flashed with irritation.
“Dean, how do you know?” Sam asked, his voice tight, and he studied his father’s face, searching for something familiar.
“He's…He's different.”
“You know, we don't have time for this,” John rolled his eyes, exhaling in annoyance. “Sam, you wanna kill this demon, you gotta trust me.”
Sam’s shoulders tensed as his eyes darted between Dean, then Mila, and finally John. John called his name again, sharper this time, trying to reel him in.
“No.” Sam shook his head, retreating a step until he was shoulder to shoulder with Mila.
“Fine,” John sighed and nodded. “If you’re all so sure, go ahead,” he arched his eyebrows defiantly. “Kill me.”
He dropped his gaze to the floor, shaking his head now. Dean’s lips quivered and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Tears threatened at the corner of his eyes, but he stood frozen, Colt raised, unable to move.
“I thought so.” When ‘John’ looked up again, the shift was undeniable. A sickish yellow shade covered his usual dark brown irises.
A violent invisible force slammed into them, tossing Dean, Mila and Sam against opposite corners of the room. The Colt clattered from Dean’s grip and the demon snatched it up with a sneer.
“What a pain in the ass this thing's been…” The demon muttered as he inspected the gun closely.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” Sam spat, his eyes narrowing with pure disdain. “We've been looking for you a long time.”
“Well, you found me.”
“But the holy water…” Mila’s brows shot up, disbelief spread across her face.
“Poor little thing... you think something like that works on something like me?”
“I'm gonna kill you.” Sam growled through clenched teeth, his body fighting to take a swing at the demon.
“Oh, that would be a neat trick. In fact, here,” he placed the Colt on the table with deliberate mockery. “Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy.”
Dean and Mila exchanged a worried glance, but weirdly hope also flickered in their eyes. Sam’s face tightened in concentration, but nothing happened. His shoulders sagged, frustration etching across his bruised features.
“You know, this is fun,” Azazel drawled, pacing the room with the tranquility of a predator that has its prey cornered. “I could've killed you a hundred times today, but this…” he sighed, almost content. “This is worth the wait.”
Dean strained against the invisible force pining him on the wall, but it was pointless.
“Your dad, he's in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says hi, by the way. He's gonna tear you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood.”
“Let him go” Dean pleaded, voice shaking. Then his tone hardened, eyes blazing. “Or I swear to God…”
The demon approached Dean again and leaned in, face inches from Dean’s.
“What? What are you and God gonna do?” His lips curled into a cruel smile. “You see, as far as I'm concerned, this is justice…” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter.”
“Who? Meg?” Dean’s brows furred in sheer confusion.
“The one in the alley...that was my boy. You understand?”
“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” Mila blurted out to herself, but the demon’s head snapped toward her, his gaze sharp.
“What?” He prowled closer, his smirk widening sickly. “You're the only ones that can have a family? You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?” He reached out, curling a strand of her hair around his finger. Mila stiffened, jaw clenching, and refused to recoil even as her pulse hammered. “Oh, that's right…I forgot, l did.” He flashed her a wry smile before backing to the center of the room, tongue clicking in mock disappointment as his eyes darted between the siblings. “Still, two wrongs don't make a right.”
“You son of a bitch,” Dean shouted, nostrils flaring and the veins in his neck popping, and prepared to throw another threat but Sam cut in.
“l wanna know why. Why did you do it?”
“You mean,” the demon turned his head slightly towards him, a sly smile tugging at his lips, “why did I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?”
“Yeah.”
Azazel’s grin widened as he shifted his gaze to Dean.
“You know, I never told you this, but Sam was gonna ask her to marry him," he revealed, wiggling his eyebrows, as if he was the host of an afternoon gossip show. "Been shopping for rings and everything.” He stepped closer until he was inches from Sam’s face. “You wanna know why? Because they got in the way.”
“ln the way of what?”
“My plans for you, Sammy. You and all of the children like you.”
“Hey, can you just do us a favor and shut up?” Mila’s words tumbled out before she could stop them, her brows arched in defiance. It was too late to stop now, wasn’t it? “I’m getting tired of this monologue.”
“You think you’re funny, princess?” The demon marched towards her, tilting his head and throwing her a knowing look. “But that's all part of your M.O., isn't it? Masks all that nasty pain. Masks the truth. You and little Dean are the same.”
“Oh, yeah, what are we like?”
“You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is...they don't need you.” His gaze snapped to Dean, his voice twisting the knife. “Not like you need them.” He leaned closer, voice low and venomous. “Sam, he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you, isn’t it?”
Mila felt that last comment hit too close, especially with the sharp look the demon threw at her. If he was possessing John, it was highly probable he had access to his father's memories. However, before she could say anything else, Dean spoke.
“I'll bet you're real proud of your kids too, huh?” Dean made a brief pause, as if he was thinking. “Oh, wait, l forgot. I wasted them.” His lips curled into a bitter smirk despite the fury in his eyes.
The demon nodded slowly, then snapped his gaze back to Dean. A cruel smile spread across his face just before Dean’s body began convulsing. His chest arched violently and a strangled scream was torn from his throat.
“Dean!” Sam and Mila shouted in unison, struggling against the demon’s invisible force. Panic flashed across their faces as they witnessed Dean’s chest rip open under the demon’s power.
“Dad!” Mila screamed, her voice cracked in pain. Her eyes locked on John’s face, desperate, pleading. Sam caught her intent and joined in, shouting for their father.
“Dad, don't you let it kill me!” Dean gasped, his eyes wide, pleading as he searched for John beneath the demon’s mask. Blood trickled from his mouth as he choked out, “Dad, please…”
Mila’s vision blurred with tears, the scene in front of her stretching in slow motion. Dean’s body went limp, his head lolling as he passed out. Sam’s voice broke as he screamed his brother’s name.
Then, faintly, almost imagined, John’s voice – the real John – cut through.
“Stop!”
The crushing force vanished. Sam stumbled forward, rushing to snatch the Colt from the table, while Mila dropped to her knees beside Dean. She cradled his face in her hands, whispering frantically for his big brother to hold on.
For a fleeting moment, she caught John’s eyes, his familiar, human dark brown eyes. But then, the wicked yellow glow returned and his features twisted.
Then, John turned around in Sam’s direction and the sick yellow-ish color appeared on his irises again.
“You kill me, you kill Daddy.” Azazel taunted, smirking as Sam leveled the Colt at him.
“I know.” Sam’s voice came out steady, though every fiber in his body trembled. He pulled the trigger, the shot tearing through John’s leg. The body collapsed, and Dean sagged into Mila’s arms with a pained grunt.
“Dean. Hey.” She cupped his face, her thumbs gently stroking his cheeks. “Oh, God. You lost a lot of blood.”
“Where’s Dad?” The mighty Dean rasped.
“He’s right there.” Sam said moving closer to them.
“Go check on him.”
“Dean…”
“Go check on him. Mila will stay with me.” Dean’s hand reached weakly for Mila’s, gripping it with what little strength he had.
Sam hesitated, but then Mila nodded, taking his hand in her as a few tears fell from her eyes, and the youngest Winchester obeyed. He approached John with slow and careful steps.
“Dad?”
“Sammy!” John’s scream made them all flinch. “lt's still alive. It's inside me. I can feel it.” His body trembled violently. “Just shoot me. You shoot me in the heart, son.”
Sam raised the Colt, his bottom lip quivering, eyes widening with anguish.
“Do it now!” John’s voice was raw, desperate.
“Sam, don't you do it!” Mila cried, her voice breaking, not entirely sure that killing the thing that destroyed her family was reason enough to kill her father.
“You gotta hurry. I can't hold onto it much longer. Just shoot me, son. Shoot me! Son, l'm begging you. We can end this, here and now. Sammy!
“Sam, no...” Dean whispered hoarsely, his voice weak but urgent.
“You do this!” John screamed again, but then Sam’s arms shook, the Colt wavering and he finally lowered it, unable to pull the trigger. “Sammy!” John cried, his body convulsing as pitch-black smoke poured from his mouth, swirling before vanishing into the floor.
The three siblings exhaled in shaky relief. John’s eyes fluttered shut, but not before casting a disappointed look at Sam.
Sam grabbed John under the arms, trying to keep him upright, while Mila slipped her shoulder beneath Dean’s weight, guiding him carefully into the Impala’s backseat. Dean’s head lolled against her, his breath shallow, and she tightened her grip.
Once he helped John into the passenger seat, he walked around the hood and sat on the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut. He started the car and tore down the road. His eyes flickered constantly to the rearview mirror, catching glimpses of his siblings: Dean pale and fading and Mila whispering frantic reassurances.
John groaned, face contorted in pain, but still conscious. Sam glanced sideways and swallowed nothing.
“Look, just hold on, all right? The hospital's only 10 minutes away.”
“I'm surprised at you, Sammy," John snapped, ignoring his reassuring words. "Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye to eye on this. Killing this demon comes first. Before me, before everything.”
Sam’s grip tightened even more on the wheel, his knuckles now white as snow. He stole a glance through the rearview mirror and saw Dean’s weak state: eyes fluttering, his head heavy on Mila’s shoulder. She stroked the back of his head with trembling fingers, whispering broken fragments of Metallica lyrics just to keep him awake.
“No, sir. Not before everything.” He paused, voice firm despite the fear in his body. “Look, we still got the Colt. We still have the one bullet left. We should start over, all right? l mean, we already found the demon once…”
The last words barely left his mouth before blinding headlights cut across the passenger’s side. The truck slammed into them with a deafening crunch of metal. The Impala lurched violently, glass exploding inward as the night was swallowed in chaos.
Then, pitch-blackness.
⋆ ｡ﾟ ☁︎ ｡ ⋆ ｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
end note: i basically started this whole series because of this specific part. what a roller-coaster, huh? i love the winchester kids and bobby!!!
p.s. fuck you, john.
thank you for taking the time to read it and if you liked it, please leave a reblog, like and/or comment. i’d love to read your feedback and interact with you ❤️
lots of love,
lina.
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author's note: putting this part together was difficult, but i loved the result; you'll see dialogues taken out of both shows... also i had to change the format of the posts because the app kept limiting me a lot with the word count.
warnings/tags: canon divergence; spn canon violence | angst; hurt / litttle comfort, platonic fluff| mentions of injuries, blood, death, grief, family arguments, demonic possessions, infidelity (kinda), accidents, daddy issues, john winchester himself is a tw | language.
⭐️ pics aren’t mine, credits to their owners.
🚫 please do not copy, repost or translate my work without my permission.
without further ado, enjoy, my loves! 🩷
To say that Mila felt uneasy about her father's return was an understatement. He had left once again after insisting they had to let him go, that this fight was too dangerous for them. And then… a couple of days later, he reappeared.
This time, he wanted their help retrieving a gun, claiming that it was very important, but refusing to explain why. The secrecy gnawed at Mila. It didn’t help that Sam was just as anxious too, a lot more irritated even, at their father’s half-truths.
The four Winchesters were on their way to clear a vampire nest and get said gun. Sam and Dean were driving the Impala while John and Mila were on his truck.
John was on the phone with Dean, directing them to pull off at the next exit when Sam gunned the Impala forward. The car roared past them and screeched to a stop directly in front of John’s vehicle. Mila’s stomach dropped as John slammed the brakes, tires screaming loudly against the asphalt.
Sam shoved the door open and stepped out, his face set with grim determination. He approached the truck just as John climbed out to meet him, irritation radiating off him as well.
Dean and Mila got out of the cars too, muttering ‘Oh crap’ under their breaths.
“What the hell was that?”
“We need to talk.” Sam squared his shoulders, his jaw tightening as he stepped closer to John.
“About what?” John’s eyes narrowed, planting his boots firmly on the ground.
“About everything!” Sam’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but his voice stayed steady. “Where are we going, Dad? What’s the big deal about this gun?”
Mila watched their glaring contest and, for a second, she swore they were about to bump foreheads, like reindeers ready to lock antlers.
“Sammy, come on.” Dean intercepted before it could escalate. “We can Q&A after we kill all the vampires.”
“Your brother’s right. We don’t have time for this.”
Mila lifted her eyebrows in disbelief. John agreeing with Dean? That was definitely a first.
“Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous to be together... Now, out of the blue you need our help? Something big is going down and we wanna know what!” Sam’s voice kept getting louder and louder.
“Get back in the car.”
“No.”
“I said, get back in the damn car.”
“Yeah, and I said no.”
“All right, you made your point, tough guy. Look, we're all tired, we can talk about this later. “ Dean shoved Sammy in the Impala’s direction. “Sammy, I mean it. Come on.”
Mila didn’t even have a second to sigh in relief, thinking the fight was finally over, when Sam muttered something under his breath. She couldn’t catch it, but John’s head snapped up. He had.
“What’d you say?”
“You heard me.” Sam’s eyes locked into John’s, steady and defiant.
And just like that, the air thickened again, only ten times heavier this time.
“Yeah. You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. YOU walked away, Sam.” John jabbed Sam in the shoulder, his voice rising with his anger.
“Stop it, both of you.” Dean stepped quickly in between, but neither listened or moved back.
Sam’s throat tightened as he leaned forward and his voice came up sharp and loud through the night air.
“You’re the one who said ‘Don’t come back’, Dad. You’re the one who closed the door. Not me.”
Dean shot a pleading look at Mila, silently begging her to step in. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could do so, John’s jaw clenched and it was her turn to receive a deadly glare.
“You don’t get to say anythin’ either! You just followed him like a lost puppy… without lookin’ back.”
Mila froze, her breath caught in her throat. For a heartbeat she couldn’t move, her pulse hammering in her ears. But beneath the shock, her blood boiled inside of her.
“No! You don’t get to put this ON ME!” She snapped and the three men turned toward her with stunned expressions – even Sam. She couldn’t believe it either, that she was capable of talking to John Winchester like that, full of anger and bitterness. But... she was her father’s daughter after all. “Even if Sam hadn’t gone to college, you still would’ve lost me, Dad! I had NOTHING. I had NO LIFE. I had NO AIR. YOU STRANGLED ME!” Mila's heart was beating so fast she thought it was going to burst out of her chest.
“Yeah, yeah. I was so horrible. I was so controlling," John narrowed his eyes as he sneered. "Well, tell me, Camille, if I was so controlling, why couldn’t I control both of you going away and flushin’ the last four years of your life down the drain?”
For a fraction of a second, Mila’s hand twitched at her side, the urge to slap him was becoming overwhelming. Dean saw it; he instantly recognized his sister’s fight mode activating, and stepped in fast, his voice sharp.
“Stop it! That’s enough!” Dean made Sam and Mila back off and then turned around to look at John. “That means you too.”
Sam stormed toward the Impala, slamming the door as he dropped into the passenger seat. Mila followed, sliding into the backseat, unwilling to sit anywhere near John. Not that he cared, though. He simply turned around to walk to his truck without a word.
Dean lingered for a moment wondering how the hell was he supposed to survive this delightful family reunion.
“Terrific.” He muttered before climbing behind the wheel.
The next day, Dean received a call from John, but since he was in the shower, it was Mila who picked up the phone. She knew it was him because Dean had his number saved as Burt Aframian.
“Hi, you’ve reached Winchester’s Inc.” Mila answered, faking a higher-pitched voice. “Major Disappointment speaking.”
There was a pause and a frustrated sigh on the other end.
“Mila, this is serious.” His tone was low, clipped.
Oh so now we’re back at nickname basis, she thought.
“So am I, Dad.” She leaned back against the wall, her grip tightening on the phone. Her heart was still mending from the fight the night before. Her sarcasm was a way of shielding herself, of letting him know she wouldn’t let him off easily. Especially after the way he talked to Sam and her. “What do you want?”
After taking care of the vampires, the four Winchesters went back to the cabin they were using as a hideout place. John started loading all his stuff into his truck while his children finished with their own packing.
“So, kids…” John muttered as soon as he opened the cabin door. Sam, Mila and Dean turned around to look at him.
“Yes, sir?” Sam was the first one to speak. The uncertainty and hesitation lingered in the three pairs of eyes, though.
“You ignored a direct order back there.”
“Yes, sir.” Sammy replied, with a breathy voice, a sign of feeling resigned.
“Yeah, but we saved your ass.” Dean added just as quickly and both Mila and Sam tilted their heads to steal a look at their older brother, eyes wide, not fully believing what he had actually said, and also fearing their father’s reaction. Dean clenched his jaw, cursing himself for not keeping his mouth shut.
“You’re right.” John admitted, barely blinking.
“I am?” Dean’s brows shot up. A hint of disbelief could be detected in his voice. He wasn’t really sure if his father was actually agreeing with him or if he was once again being ironic.
“It scares the hell out of me.” John’s voice softened, and he let out a long exhale, rubbing the back of his neck. For a brief second, his always stoic posture faltered, his shoulders sagged, and his gaze flicked between each of his children. “The three of you are all I’ve got, but I guess we are stronger as a family. So, we go after this damn thing. Together.”
Mila let out a shaky laugh, her shoulders finally relaxing as if a weight had been lifted.
“Yes, sir.” The three Winchester siblings replied at the same time, a proud smirk plastered on their faces.
During the next couple of days, John kindly took the time to walk his children through all the information he could gather on the yellow-eyed demon. They were still staying at the cabin, and John had just finished setting up a board on the wall with newspaper articles, torn book pages with relevant lore, and several pictures. He sat on the chair behind the makeshift desk, posture stiff, and started narrating the events as he remembered.
Dean stood in front of him, listening attentively, but shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Sam leaned against the window on the other side of the room, eyes narrowed and shoulders tense. Mila sat on the couch in between the three men, indirectly feeling like the glue that joined them altogether.
Sadly, it was also then when Sam found out more details on his mom’s death.
“l was 6 months old that night?” Sam’s voice slightly cracked as he spoke.
“Exactly 6 months.” Their father replied, no hesitation whatsoever in his tone.
“So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me?” Sam’s hands tightened into fists on his knees, knuckles white. John didn’t say anything so Sam took the silence to keep going. “So Mom's death… Jess…. it's because of me?”
“We don't know that, Sam.” Dean’s jaw clenched, his voice firm but his gaze settled in his little brother with unease.
“Oh really? Cause I’d say we’re pretty damn sure, Dean!” Sam snapped, his voice breaking into a yell. He pushed off the window frame, giving one step forward. His whole body trembled with guilt and fury.
“Sammy, no.” Mila exhaled sharply, pushing herself up from her seat and crossing the room towards her younger brother. She wrapped one arm around his shoulders, trying her best to comfort him. “Don’t blame yourself.”
Sam stiffened under her touch. He didn’t shove her away, but his shoulders shifted slightly – a subtle, unconscious brush that broke her hold. Mila froze for a second, her arm falling back to her side. The rejection stung, but she steadied herself.
“Yeah, you’re right! lt's not my fault, but it's MY problem!”
“No, it's not your problem.” Dean didn’t step forward, but he did shift his body to fully look at Sam, hoping to make him understand. “It’s OUR problem!” He shot back, his voice sharp and his fists clenched, chest rising fast. His eyes burned, not with anger, but with concern.
“Stop, yelling, guys! You’re freaking out!” Mila raised her voice as well, her brows furrowed. “Okay, we gotta calm down here.” She glanced at Dean, then back at Sam, her own voice cracking with tension.
“So, set an example” Dean muttered, his tone biting, though his eyes flicked toward his sister with a challenge.
“Hey, I’m human, too.” Mila retorted, lifting her hand in exasperation. She shook her head. “Ok, let’s just take a breath.” She took a deep breath, visibly forcing her shoulders to relax. “This freaking out is not good.”
“It sucks.” Sam whispered, his voice breaking and shoulders slumping. Mila’s heart sank as she looked at him. Suddenly, she didn’t see her grown-up younger brother; she saw the little kid she used to look after in dirty motel rooms and lonely cold nights.
“We’ve got this, guys.” Dean said, his voice softening and his fists unclenching. His gaze fell back on his dad again. “Maybe we need more information. Maybe we could talk to the locals, to check if they had seen somethin’ we haven’t during the last couple of days, before the house burnt down.”
“I think we need therapy,” Sam whispered again, half to himself, half to Mila. This time, his tone was laced with a playful sarcasm.
“And booze.” Mila added in the same hushed tone, her lips twitching into a faint, weary smile. She nudged him lightly with her elbow.
“Okay. Enough.” John said firmly, his voice carrying finality. He rubbed his temples and his shoulders fell a little, starting to wonder if working with his kids was a good decision.
One morning a couple of days later, Mila accidentally overheard her father talking to somebody on the phone. She couldn’t make out who or about what, but it definitely sounded weird, too secretive. So, she decided to do what any sane person would… She followed him. She was supposed to help Sam and Dean with research about the type of bullets the Colt needed, but right when they were with their noses buried in books, she snuck out of the library and took the Impala – she’d have to sit through Dean’s lecture about stealing Baby later, but she couldn’t care less.
She ended up following John towards Windom, in Minnesota. She couldn’t really understand why he’d go there – she found herself thinking he had found another clue on the demon and didn’t bother to tell his children again. Aw, how innocent. And stupid. What she discovered couldn’t be further from that.
Mila saw how John picked up a blonde-haired teenage boy and took him to the park to play catch and then to a dinner to get some burgers and beers. She didn’t want to read much into it or think something it wasn’t, but from the way John talked and treated this guy, anybody could tell they had some kind of bond. She tried to ignore how similar to her father the kid looked and how that thought twisted her stomach.
Right when John left the guy back at his house, when they parted with a “Bye, Dad” and a “Take care, Adam”, and the boy closed his front door, that’s when Mila revealed herself. She stood in front of John, shaking her head, her eyesight blurred by the millions of tears. John was briefly taken by surprise and mumbled a swear word. His expression then stiffened, and he tried to talk to Mila, but any attempts were deflated by her. She got in the Impala and drove off, leaving him with his pathetic explanation and excuses on the tip of his tongue.
Mila wanted nothing more than to find Sam and Dean. She wanted to tell them what had happened, get a big hug from them, and hate their father together forever. But the more she thought about it, the more against the idea she became. Sam was still harbouring some anger and resentment towards John after the arguments they had had over the last couple of days, and she didn’t want to keep adding things to the list. And Dean... with his blind faith in the old man, would maybe even get mad at her instead. She decided it wouldn’t be her who’d break the news to them, but she couldn’t deal with the hole in her chest on her own, so she took the way to Sioux Falls, to the only person who'd be able to provide her with some comfort in a situation like this.
Bobby hadn’t hesitated for even a second in opening the door to her and hugging her, especially after he saw her puffy eyes and the fresh tears falling on her cheeks. He wasn’t a touchy-feely guy, but everybody knew that she had carved a special place in his heart. He made her a cup of coffee and sat with her, wrapping a cozy blanket around her shoulders, and listened attentively as she poured her heart (and eyes) out.
The problem came later when John Winchester knocked rather angrily on Bobby’s door.
“Bobby, I know Camille is here. I need to talk to her.”
“Now’s not the best time, John. You know it.”
“Oh, so now I need your permission to talk to my daughter?” He let out a dry laugh. “Let me in.”
Bobby had to fight the urge to kick John’s ass right in that moment, but he stepped aside. He knew Mila wouldn’t let him down gently anyway. A smirk formed on his mouth when he realized he had front-row seats.
Bobby pushed the thought aside and walked towards the kitchen, trying to give them some kind of privacy.
“We need to talk.” John said in his usual firm and fed-up tone, making her feel she had no right to be upset about their current situation.
“What are you doing here?”
“You weren’t returning my calls.”
“Oh, I wonder why that would be.” Her eyebrows briefly arched.
“Camille, listen…”
“No. I don’t wanna have this conversation now.”
“You wouldn’t pick up the damn phone, so now seems the only time to have this conversation.”
“I’m tired," she sighed. "I just wanna catch some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Well, sure, I believe that.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the one lying here. There’s no reason to doubt my word, isn’t it? Now please... Go.”
“No. You don’t get to dictate this. You can’t shut me out like this. It’s wrong and-”
“And what do you expect me to do, huh?” she rose from her seat, the blanked slipping from her shoulders. “You want me to tell you I’m not pissed and heartbroken about you having another kid and hiding him from us? You want me to go back with you and act like nothing has happened in front of Sam and Dean?”
“I’m sorry. I did what I had to do.”
“Oh, yeah, OK. You surely needed to get into that woman’s pants…”
“Do not talk to me like that.”
“I’m soooo sorry, I didn’t get the memo on how to react when you find out your father has another family. I promise I’ll do better next time.”
“Camille…”
“Does he… Adam… know about the Winchester family business?” John lowered his head and shook it. Mila scoffed, her chest tightening. “That’s awesome. Really. Fucking unbelievable.”
“I had to protect him.”
“Well, joke’s on you because he’s a Winchester – the curse comes with the family package.” Mila retorted, and just when John opened his mouth to reply, she cut him off. “And tell me one thing… who the fuck was supposed to protect US, dad?” Her voice rose, higher and higher, as the words tumbled out faster and angrier than she could control. “What about Sam, Dean, and me? Huh? What is so special about Adam that he gets to receive your fatherly love? Why weren't we worthy of the trips in the park, ice-cream, ball games, hugs, and the time with you?” Her breath hitched and her shoulders trembled as she struggled to get the air in and out of her lungs. She pressed a hand against her ribs, trying to steady herself, but the fury kept spilling out. “Why can’t you see us as more than your little army of obedient soldiers?”
A broken sob escaped her lips and John instinctively reached towards her, his tone low and commanding.
“Honey, calm down.”
“You don’t get to call me that,” she hissed sharply, even venomously, but then she took a deep breath, her eyes glistening with tears. “I – you should go.”
“Mila, please understand…”
“No! I always understand and right now I don’t wanna understand! I don’t wanna talk or see you. I’ve got Sam, Dean, and Bobby. That’s all I need.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do. You don't need to care about me. Go be somebody else’s dad!
John’s reaction was pretty weird – his face hardened, but at the same time, he flinched, as if the words had landed heavier than he had expected. His shoulders jerked back and his eyes widened in shock.
Mila stormed out of the living room, walking with heavy footsteps towards the room Bobby used to let her stay in when she was a little girl. As if on cue, Bobby reappeared from the kitchen with his arms crossed and a steady gaze.
“Give her some time. She wants to be alone and cool off. Respect that. I'll even talk to her later.”
“You’re gonna talk to her?” John let out a laugh, humourless and absolutely dry, but his voice cracked under the weight of the situation. “‘Cause you do know how to deal with my kids, right, Bobby? That makes me feel a lot better.
“You need to leave.” Bobby stepped in closer, his tone firm, almost threatening. “Right now.”
John shook his head, but guilt and defeat flashed across his features.
“No. She needs her father.”
“I know she does, but she feels like her father bailed on her. And she’s mad and hurt, and nobody can change that in a couple of minutes!”
John took a look towards the hallway where Mila had disappeared, and then stared back at Bobby. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the door, the slam echoing like a final punctuation mark to the fight.
After a well-deserved nap and a chocolate bar, Mila got a call from Dean. He said that he and Sam were on their way to Bobby’s.
After he seized his opportunity to tell her off for stealing his Baby and forcing him to hotwire a random, very uncool car, he explained that John went to see Meg to give her the makeshift Colt, but the bitch realized it was fake, so she took John God knows where. It was very likely she was coming after the Winchester siblings as well. Hence, the need of a plan.
When she hung up, Mila told Bobby the news, and after hearing him mutter 'Balls' under his breath, they started researching all the information they could on devil’s traps. Mila was in charge of learning the Latin incantations while Bobby gathered all the materials they needed to build one.
Needless to say, the words on the pages of the Key of Solomon turned out to be harder for Mila to memorize; not because she wasn’t smart enough – she actually knew enough Latin spells to exorcise a good amount of demons – but because her mind kept circling back to her argument with John. Even if the fire of their last fight was still burning in her heart, she would never let anything happen to him. She couldn’t let that awful fight be their last conversation; she’d never forgive herself.
As if on cue, a couple of hours later, Meg blasted through the door when the four of them were fairly ready. Luckily, she took the bait and walked right inside the devil’s trap, and just like that, the questioning and exorcism began. They ended up learning John was being kept in a building by the river, called Sunrise Apartments. They parked the Impala a few meters away from the back doors and as Dean and Mila prepared their guns and the holy water flasks, Sam started copying something from the book Bobby had lent them on the trunk door of the car.
“Dude, what are you drawing on my car?” Dean asked as he swiped a finger over the drawing, checking if it faded.
“It's called a devil's trap.” Sam replied, not tearing his eyes away from his task. “Demons can't get through it or inside it.”
“So?”
“Basically turns the trunk into a lockbox.” Sam moved to the other side and repeated the drawing.
“So?”
Mila closed her eyes, cursing to herself. She knew where the conversation was leading and she knew Dean wouldn’t like it one bit.
“So… we have a place to hide the Colt while we go get Dad.”
“What are you talking about? We're bringing the Colt with us.”
There it was.
“Can't, Dean. We only got three bullets left. We can't just use them on any demon. We gotta use them on THE demon.”
“No, we have to save Dad, Sam. Okay? We need all the help we can get.”
“Dean, do you know how pissed Dad would be if we used all the bullets?”
Dean gave Mila a ‘can-you-believe-what-he’s-saying questioning look, but she sighed.
“Sam’s right, Dean. Dad wouldn’t have wanted us to bring the gun.”
“l don't care. I don’t care what Dad wants.” The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched upwards in disdain. “Since when do the two of you care what Dad wants?”
Mila was ready to call Dean on that low-blow, but Sam beat her to it.
“We wanna kill this demon. You used to want that too. Hell, you're the one who came and got us in the first place. You were the one that dragged us back into this. We’re just trying to finish it.”
Dean looked down and shook his head, a dry smile forming on his lips.
“You and Dad are more alike than l thought, you know that? You can't wait to sacrifice yourself for this thing. But you know what? I'm gonna be the one to bury you.”
Sam looked to the side, at some faraway point, but said nothing, so Dean continued.
“It's selfish, you know that? You don't care about anything but revenge.”
“That’s not true, Dean,” Mila cut in, patting her brother in the back gently. “We both want Dad back.” She shot him a small lopsided smile. “But they are expecting us to bring the gun. If they get the gun, they will kill us all. That Colt is our only leverage and you know it. We cannot bring that gun. We can’t.”
“Fine.”
“We can’t.”
"We're serious, Dean.” Sam pressed.
“I said fine, Sam.”
Mila watched Dean put the Colt in the trunk of the Impala, but she knew her older brother better than anyone. He was going to seize his opportunity to snatch the gun out of the car and take it with him. She wasn’t going to stop him.
They went ahead with their plan and rescued John from the demons’ claws and quickly ran off to their hiding spot: the cabin on the outskirts of the city. Their father was slipping in and out of consciousness in the backseat of the car, his head resting on Mila’s shoulder. She was happy to have him there, despite a few bruises and scars, but a strange, upsetting feeling in the pit of her stomach prevented her from feeling completely content.
Mila felt she should’ve made a wish; her brothers were having a heart-to-heart talk – a ‘chick-flick moment’ as her older brother would name it– in which Sam thanked Dean for saving his life with the Colt. Mila just sat there, listening to their conversation as she reinforced the salt on the doors and windows. Meanwhile, John was resting in the other room.
“Hey, Sam.” Dean whispered, his gaze set on his gun.
“Yeah?”
“You know that guy l shot? There was a person in there.”
“You didn't have a choice, Dean.”
“Yeah, l know. That's not what bothers me.” Dean’s eyes darted to the floor.
“Then what does?”
“Killing that guy, killing Meg…” he made a brief pause, his jaw tightening. “l didn't hesitate. I didn't even flinch. I mean, for you, Mila or Dad, the things I'm willing to do or kill, it's just.... It scares me sometimes.
Suddenly, John appeared and the three of them instinctively looked up and straightened at the sound of their father’s firm voice.
“It shouldn't. You did good.”
“You're not mad?”
“For what?”
“Using a bullet.”
“Mad? I'm proud of you.”
Dean’s eyebrows briefly arched in confusion, but then he kept staring at his father with a silent but unreadable expression. John seized the opportunity to continue talking.
“You know, Sam and l, we can get pretty obsessed. But you… you and Mila watch out for this family. You always have.”
That feeling in Mila’s stomach turned into a freaking hurricane and she suddenly felt like throwing up.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
John couldn’t see Mila’s face because he was facing Dean, but he was looking at their dad the same way she was. As if their father’s gratified words were something they wouldn’t have dreamed of hearing in this lifetime – or in any for that matter.
Then, the lights started buzzing and flickering. The four of them exchanged startled glances. John walked to the window and sighed.
“lt found us. lt's here.”
Dean and Mila stepped closer to the window as well, tension etched into their shoulders.
“The demon.” Mila whispered, breath shaky.
“Sam,” John snapped into full sergeant mode, “lines of salt in front of every window, every door.”
“We already did it.”
“Well, check it.” John’s tone was sharp, dismissive even. Then, he turned to his eldest. “Dean, you got the gun?”
“Yeah”
“Give it to me.”
“Sam tried to shoot the demon and it vanished.”
“This is me. I won't miss. Now, the gun. Hurry.”
Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out the Colt. He stopped in his tracks and his stare hardened at John.
“Dean,” Mila leaned closer, whispering behind him. “Dad would be mad as hell.”
Her breath brushing his ear wasn’t the only thing that sent a shiver down his spine. The memory of the conversation with Sam earlier before rescuing John flashed through both minds.
Dean sighed and his grip tightened on the gun.
“Son, please.”
Dean took two or three steps back, shielding Mila with his body. His eyes stayed locked on John, unblinking.
“Give me the gun. What are you doing?”
“He'd be furious.”
“What?”
“That I wasted a bullet. He wouldn't be proud of me. He'd tear me a new one.” Dean lifted the gun, pointing at John, and his knuckles went whiter and his frown became more prominent. “You're not our dad.”
“Dean, it's me.”
“No, it’s not. We know our dad better than anyone. You ain't him.”
“What's gotten into you two?”
“We could ask you the same thing.” Mila cut in, chin lifting in defiance, but her fingers clutched the hem of her jacket sleeve.
“Stay back.” Dean warned him just as Sam re-entered the room.
“What the hell's going on?” Sam’s eyes widened at the scene in front of him.
"They've lost their minds.”
“He's not Dad.” Mila shot back, stepping closer to Dean’s side. Her eyes narrowed at the thing wearing their father’s face and her stomach twisted.
“What?” Sam’s gaze flickered between all of them, his brows furrowed and lips parted, waiting for an explanation.
“I think he's possessed,” Dean said, voice low and steady, never tearing his eyes from John or lowering the gun. “He's been possessed since we rescued him.”
“Don’t listen to him, Sammy.” John retorted, trying to coax Sam. His eyes flashed with irritation.
“Dean, how do you know?” Sam asked, his voice tight, and he studied his father’s face, searching for something familiar.
“He's…He's different.”
“You know, we don't have time for this,” John rolled his eyes, exhaling in annoyance. “Sam, you wanna kill this demon, you gotta trust me.”
Sam’s shoulders tensed as his eyes darted between Dean, then Mila, and finally John. John called his name again, sharper this time, trying to reel him in.
“No.” Sam shook his head, retreating a step until he was shoulder to shoulder with Mila.
“Fine,” John sighed and nodded. “If you’re all so sure, go ahead,” he arched his eyebrows defiantly. “Kill me.”
He dropped his gaze to the floor, shaking his head now. Dean’s lips quivered and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Tears threatened at the corner of his eyes, but he stood frozen, Colt raised, unable to move.
“I thought so.” When ‘John’ looked up again, the shift was undeniable. A sickish yellow shade covered his usual dark brown irises.
A violent invisible force slammed into them, tossing Dean, Mila and Sam against opposite corners of the room. The Colt clattered from Dean’s grip and the demon snatched it up with a sneer.
“What a pain in the ass this thing's been…” The demon muttered as he inspected the gun closely.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” Sam spat, his eyes narrowing with pure disdain. “We've been looking for you a long time.”
“Well, you found me.”
“But the holy water…” Mila’s brows shot up, disbelief spread across her face.
“Poor little thing... you think something like that works on something like me?”
“I'm gonna kill you.” Sam growled through clenched teeth, his body fighting to take a swing at the demon.
“Oh, that would be a neat trick. In fact, here,” he placed the Colt on the table with deliberate mockery. “Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy.”
Dean and Mila exchanged a worried glance, but weirdly hope also flickered in their eyes. Sam’s face tightened in concentration, but nothing happened. His shoulders sagged, frustration etching across his bruised features.
“You know, this is fun,” Azazel drawled, pacing the room with the tranquility of a predator that has its prey cornered. “I could've killed you a hundred times today, but this…” he sighed, almost content. “This is worth the wait.”
Dean strained against the invisible force pining him on the wall, but it was pointless.
“Your dad, he's in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says hi, by the way. He's gonna tear you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood.”
“Let him go” Dean pleaded, voice shaking. Then his tone hardened, eyes blazing. “Or I swear to God…”
The demon approached Dean again and leaned in, face inches from Dean’s.
“What? What are you and God gonna do?” His lips curled into a cruel smile. “You see, as far as I'm concerned, this is justice…” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter.”
“Who? Meg?” Dean’s brows furred in sheer confusion.
“The one in the alley...that was my boy. You understand?”
“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” Mila blurted out to herself, but the demon’s head snapped toward her, his gaze sharp.
“What?” He prowled closer, his smirk widening sickly. “You're the only ones that can have a family? You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?” He reached out, curling a strand of her hair around his finger. Mila stiffened, jaw clenching, and refused to recoil even as her pulse hammered. “Oh, that's right…I forgot, l did.” He flashed her a wry smile before backing to the center of the room, tongue clicking in mock disappointment as his eyes darted between the siblings. “Still, two wrongs don't make a right.”
“You son of a bitch,” Dean shouted, nostrils flaring and the veins in his neck popping, and prepared to throw another threat but Sam cut in.
“l wanna know why. Why did you do it?”
“You mean,” the demon turned his head slightly towards him, a sly smile tugging at his lips, “why did I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?”
“Yeah.”
Azazel’s grin widened as he shifted his gaze to Dean.
“You know, I never told you this, but Sam was gonna ask her to marry him," he revealed, wiggling his eyebrows, as if he was the host of an afternoon gossip show. "Been shopping for rings and everything.” He stepped closer until he was inches from Sam’s face. “You wanna know why? Because they got in the way.”
“ln the way of what?”
“My plans for you, Sammy. You and all of the children like you.”
“Hey, can you just do us a favor and shut up?” Mila’s words tumbled out before she could stop them, her brows arched in defiance. It was too late to stop now, wasn’t it? “I’m getting tired of this monologue.”
“You think you’re funny, princess?” The demon marched towards her, tilting his head and throwing her a knowing look. “But that's all part of your M.O., isn't it? Masks all that nasty pain. Masks the truth. You and little Dean are the same.”
“Oh, yeah, what are we like?”
“You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is...they don't need you.” His gaze snapped to Dean, his voice twisting the knife. “Not like you need them.” He leaned closer, voice low and venomous. “Sam, he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you, isn’t it?”
Mila felt that last comment hit too close, especially with the sharp look the demon threw at her. If he was possessing John, it was highly probable he had access to his father's memories. However, before she could say anything else, Dean spoke.
“I'll bet you're real proud of your kids too, huh?” Dean made a brief pause, as if he was thinking. “Oh, wait, l forgot. I wasted them.” His lips curled into a bitter smirk despite the fury in his eyes.
The demon nodded slowly, then snapped his gaze back to Dean. A cruel smile spread across his face just before Dean’s body began convulsing. His chest arched violently and a strangled scream was torn from his throat.
“Dean!” Sam and Mila shouted in unison, struggling against the demon’s invisible force. Panic flashed across their faces as they witnessed Dean’s chest rip open under the demon’s power.
“Dad!” Mila screamed, her voice cracked in pain. Her eyes locked on John’s face, desperate, pleading. Sam caught her intent and joined in, shouting for their father.
“Dad, don't you let it kill me!” Dean gasped, his eyes wide, pleading as he searched for John beneath the demon’s mask. Blood trickled from his mouth as he choked out, “Dad, please…”
Mila’s vision blurred with tears, the scene in front of her stretching in slow motion. Dean’s body went limp, his head lolling as he passed out. Sam’s voice broke as he screamed his brother’s name.
Then, faintly, almost imagined, John’s voice – the real John – cut through.
“Stop!”
The crushing force vanished. Sam stumbled forward, rushing to snatch the Colt from the table, while Mila dropped to her knees beside Dean. She cradled his face in her hands, whispering frantically for his big brother to hold on.
For a fleeting moment, she caught John’s eyes, his familiar, human dark brown eyes. But then, the wicked yellow glow returned and his features twisted.
Then, John turned around in Sam’s direction and the sick yellow-ish color appeared on his irises again.
“You kill me, you kill Daddy.” Azazel taunted, smirking as Sam leveled the Colt at him.
“I know.” Sam’s voice came out steady, though every fiber in his body trembled. He pulled the trigger, the shot tearing through John’s leg. The body collapsed, and Dean sagged into Mila’s arms with a pained grunt.
“Dean. Hey.” She cupped his face, her thumbs gently stroking his cheeks. “Oh, God. You lost a lot of blood.”
“Where’s Dad?” The mighty Dean rasped.
“He’s right there.” Sam said moving closer to them.
“Go check on him.”
“Dean…”
“Go check on him. Mila will stay with me.” Dean’s hand reached weakly for Mila’s, gripping it with what little strength he had.
Sam hesitated, but then Mila nodded, taking his hand in her as a few tears fell from her eyes, and the youngest Winchester obeyed. He approached John with slow and careful steps.
“Dad?”
“Sammy!” John’s scream made them all flinch. “lt's still alive. It's inside me. I can feel it.” His body trembled violently. “Just shoot me. You shoot me in the heart, son.”
Sam raised the Colt, his bottom lip quivering, eyes widening with anguish.
“Do it now!” John’s voice was raw, desperate.
“Sam, don't you do it!” Mila cried, her voice breaking, not entirely sure that killing the thing that destroyed her family was reason enough to kill her father.
“You gotta hurry. I can't hold onto it much longer. Just shoot me, son. Shoot me! Son, l'm begging you. We can end this, here and now. Sammy!
“Sam, no...” Dean whispered hoarsely, his voice weak but urgent.
“You do this!” John screamed again, but then Sam’s arms shook, the Colt wavering and he finally lowered it, unable to pull the trigger. “Sammy!” John cried, his body convulsing as pitch-black smoke poured from his mouth, swirling before vanishing into the floor.
The three siblings exhaled in shaky relief. John’s eyes fluttered shut, but not before casting a disappointed look at Sam.
Sam grabbed John under the arms, trying to keep him upright, while Mila slipped her shoulder beneath Dean’s weight, guiding him carefully into the Impala’s backseat. Dean’s head lolled against her, his breath shallow, and she tightened her grip.
Once he helped John into the passenger seat, he walked around the hood and sat on the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut. He started the car and tore down the road. His eyes flickered constantly to the rearview mirror, catching glimpses of his siblings: Dean pale and fading and Mila whispering frantic reassurances.
John groaned, face contorted in pain, but still conscious. Sam glanced sideways and swallowed nothing.
“Look, just hold on, all right? The hospital's only 10 minutes away.”
“I'm surprised at you, Sammy," John snapped, ignoring his reassuring words. "Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye to eye on this. Killing this demon comes first. Before me, before everything.”
Sam’s grip tightened even more on the wheel, his knuckles now white as snow. He stole a glance through the rearview mirror and saw Dean’s weak state: eyes fluttering, his head heavy on Mila’s shoulder. She stroked the back of his head with trembling fingers, whispering broken fragments of Metallica lyrics just to keep him awake.
“No, sir. Not before everything.” He paused, voice firm despite the fear in his body. “Look, we still got the Colt. We still have the one bullet left. We should start over, all right? l mean, we already found the demon once…”
The last words barely left his mouth before blinding headlights cut across the passenger’s side. The truck slammed into them with a deafening crunch of metal. The Impala lurched violently, glass exploding inward as the night was swallowed in chaos.
Then, pitch-blackness.
⋆ ｡ﾟ ☁︎ ｡ ⋆ ｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
end note: i basically started this whole series because of this specific part. what a roller-coaster, huh? i love the winchester kids and bobby!!!
p.s. fuck you, john.
thank you for taking the time to read it and if you liked it, please leave a reblog, like and/or comment. i’d love to read your feedback and interact with you ❤️
lots of love,
lina.
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whenever I’m anxious (like today) I listen to music from my childhood or teenage years and while I was listening to the high school musical 2 soundtrack I had an image of Sam and Dean on the pilot episode with the boys are back playing in the background and I started giggling because it’s pretty accurate
basically, what if sam & dean had a sister with lorelai gilmore's personality?
part 1
part 2
part 3 [coming soon]
author's note: this is kinda like a crossover between spn & gilmore girls, so you'll see dialogues and quotes that are almost identical to the ones on both shows, but there'll be my personal touch as well. idk, i thought it would be fun, hope you do too 🩷
⭐️ pics aren’t mine, credits to their owners.
🚫 please do not copy, repost or translate my work without my permission.
i updated the series moodboard because i wasn't 100% happy with the previous one... also, don't sleep on this plz u don't know how excited this has me!!! (and the amount of time i spent planning and collecting all the information besides actually writing it), thank you so much my loveliesssss 🩷🩷🩷
🚫 please do not copy, repost or translate my work without my permission.
without further ado, enjoy, my loves! 🩷
It only took a few days on the road for the Winchester siblings to fall back into their familiar routine: inspecting crime scenes; talking to the victims, their families, or other locals; researching old news articles and lore, and killing as many sons of bitches as they could.
In between cases, they also tried to keep track of John’s footsteps, by following the coordinates he sometimes sent.
One day, while they were at a motel in Pennsylvania, they received a big box addressed to Agent Ted Nugent, Dean’s usual FBI fake badge.
Mila found it outside their door when she first stepped out of the room to get her first cup of coffee of the day.
“Hey guys! Look!” She called her brothers as she read the little note attached to the box. “I think it’s a package from Dad.” She kneeled to lift it up, but it was a bit heavier than she'd anticipated. “God, it’s heavy.” She let out a frustrated sigh and let Sam and Dean carry the box inside. “Must be his hopes and dreams for us.”
Despite their time apart, not even after a week together, Sam had already teased Dean at least three or four times about his ‘outdated cassette collection’. And on each occasion, the eldest would remind him of his famous ‘driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole’ rule. Mila witnessed her brothers’ bickering from the backseat of the Impala while she nursed a cup of coffee and read the newspapers for any information relevant to the case at hand.
Once, when they stopped at a diner, Mila was craving some pie, but Dean had already paid for their food with his (or Hector Aframian’s) card and was already inside the Impala discussing something with Sam about the roadmap. She discreetly went back inside the diner and started talking to the lovely old lady who owned the place. Mila asked her about her grandchildren, her life in general, and in one of her clever moves, she casually mentioned it was her birthday. Francis, in an act of true kindness, gifted her a piece of cherry pie, her favorite.
When Dean saw his sister approaching the car with the sweet treat, he tried to steal some, but she was quick to smack his hand away.
“It’s my birthday gift, Deano.”
“No, it’s not. It isn’t until two months.” He retorted, his eyebrows knitting together.
“Francis doesn’t have to know that”.
Sam shook his head at his sister.
“Do you think it’s right to trick that old lady into giving you free food?”
“Baby brother, what is right anyway?” Mila replied while grabbing a bite of her pie. “Y’know… who defines right actually? And if eating pie is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.”
“Amen, sister,” Dean exclaimed, a proud smirk appearing on his face.
Sam rolled his eyes at both of them.
Needless to say, Mila had both brothers wrapped around her nail-polished fingers.
One morning after a rough hunt, Dean was still dead asleep. He’d spent the night at a bar ‘blowing off some steam’. But by 9 am, Sam had managed to find a case in a town three hours away from their current location, so he asked Mila to wake Dean up while he quickly headed out to get some breakfast to take on the road.
Mila grinned mischievously as she plopped down on the narrow free space on the bed beside her brother. He was lying on his stomach, completely knocked out, his mouth slightly open.
“Dean… wake up.” She nudged him on the shoulder several times. “I have a huge dilemma that I need your opinion on.”
“What?” He groaned, rubbing his face into the pillow, his voice muffled.
“Am I more beautiful today than I was yesterday?” She asked nonchalantly, twirling the ends of her long hair.
“Son of a b-” He muttered, dragging the pillow over his head. He didn’t feel like dealing with her nonsense this early.
“I’m just not sure. I looked in the mirror, and I thought, ‘Well, yes, definitely, huge improvement’.”
“Can you quit it and let me sleep?” Dean’s tone dripped with annoyance.
Mila ignored his request, snatched the pillow, and threw it across the room.
“Then I thought maybe it’s not that I’m more beautiful today. Maybe I was just as beautiful yesterday… only I lacked the self-esteem to recognize it.” She emphasized the last part by poking Dean’s cheek.
Dean scoffed, abandoning any hope of having five more minutes of sleep, and got up from the bed.
“I’m gonna take a shower.” He muttered, his voice thick with irritation.
Just as Dean reached for his duffel bag, Sam swung the front door of their room open.
“Breakfast’s here” He said as he held out a cup towards Dean.
“No, thanks.”
“Why so charming this morning?” Sam's eyebrows knitted together, but a hint of amusement could be detected in his voice.
“I had an annoying visit from the Winchester wake-up fairy,” Dean grumbled before padding towards the bathroom and slamming the door shut.
Mila smirked at Sam from the bed, clearly proud of herself. Sam shook his head, biting back a smile as he handed her the coffee. At least now he wasn’t the only victim of their sister’s shenanigans.
Another day, the Winchester siblings stopped at a gas station for snacks. Dean stayed in the car while Sam and Mila went in. They grabbed a couple of chips, chocolates, and a protein bar, and while they were waiting in line to pay, Mila grabbed a magazine full of puzzles and other brain teasers.
“I hate crossword puzzles.” She said as she huffed. “They make me feel stupid.”
“Then don’t do them,” Sam replied flatly, already bracing himself for whatever twist his sister was about to deliver.
“No… you see, if you don’t do them, you’re not only stupid. You’re also a coward.” She said while she flipped the page in the same know-it-all tone Sam was sometimes guilty of using.
Sam sighed at a loss for words. Thankfully, the cashier called them forward before he had to come up with something to say.
However, Mila wasn't just the comedic relief in her brother’s lives. She was an amazing hunter – ok, maybe slightly better –, and her brothers's rock.
She comforted Sammy after Jess’ passing. She let him rest his head on her lap while he bawled his eyes out as she gently caressed his back and played with a few strands of his hair. She couldn’t help shedding a few tears of her own. Not only because she genuinely liked Jess and mourned the potential sister she had seen in her, but also for her little brother. He didn’t deserve any of this suffering.
She also sat with Dean on some occasions, usually in the middle of the night, sometimes in a dark motel room, or some others on the hood of the Impala, when she saw his hope of finding their dad alive faltering. She reassured him with a kind hand squeeze and a toothless smile, just like he used to comfort her when she was a little girl.
Mila also found a lot of comfort in her brothers. Yes, she often found herself playing mediator when Sam and Dean’s opinions acted like water and oil, but her presence and thoughts were rarely overlooked.
Sam and Dean had an unspoken agreement to protect Mila. They knew she could handle herself, but, in their eyes, she was the best of them. So, if anyone even attempted to mess with her, they’d find her brothers already standing there, guns ready, daring them to make the first move.
They had also developed a sixth sense to realize when she wasn’t doing well. It wasn’t rocket science, though. Whenever Mila was sick or unhappy, she usually got really quiet. The storm of thoughts racing in and out of her head was pretty noticeable too.
Dean, not being great at talking about feelings – or so he claimed–, preferred sliding the cassette box and telling her to pick one to listen to (the only occasion where he broke his sacred music rule). Sometimes, he’d even go far enough to share some of his food or let her drive Baby.
Sam was more of the ‘let’s talk about our feelings’ kind of guy, so he’d sit with her and start coaxing her thoughts out of her. Especially when the hunts went south, and not everyone made it back safely. He’d remind her that it wasn’t her fault and that sometimes saving everyone was impossible. Sometimes, that was just it – she’d give him an acknowledging small smile, and she’d try to talk about something else. Other times, she’d be too far into her own mind, so Sam would just sit there with her, keeping her company and holding her hand in quiet reassurance.
One day, after months of searching, they finally found John – or better said, he found them.
When they opened the door to their motel room after a tough encounter with the black-eyed bitch Meg, they found someone standing in the dark, looking out of the window. The person turned around and their hearts skipped a beat. It was their father. The three of them stood there, frozen in their places, questioning whether this was real or if somehow they had gotten a collective contusion and were having hallucinations.
“Dad?” Dean was the first to speak, his eyes glassier.
“Hey, boys. Hey, princess.”
Dean instantly walked towards John and gave him a tight hug. Surprisingly, John returned it. Sam and Mila exchanged an incredulous look.
Then, John took a look at his younger children, taking in how much they had grown up in their four years apart.
“Hi, Sam…Mila.”
They talked about the previous fight with the demon, about how John had figured it was a trap, and how the demon that killed Mary was aware he was on his way to kill it. However, true to his nature, John didn’t provide much more detail.
Then, Sam suggested they go with him to hunt this demon but John refused, arguing he didn’t want them to get caught in the crossfire. Mila watched how the scene unfolded without saying anything, as if she were just a person watching some characters reciting their lines in a TV show.
When John whispered, with tears in his eyes, that he was the one who had to protect them because he was their father, she saw a glimpse of the loving father he used to be. Sam and Dean seemed to have seen it too.
“Listen, Sammy, Mila… Last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight.”
“Yes, sir.” They were both quick to reply.
John nodded and then bowed his head, sniffling.
“It’s good to see the two of you again. It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” Mila whispered while Sammy nodded at their words.
John gave each of them a tight hug as well, and more tears were spilled on all sides.
Dean watched them with a tiny smile, feeling relieved that his father and siblings were starting to mend their relationship.
Then, out of nowhere, John was shoved against the wall by an invisible force and the sentimental family reunion was shattered to pieces.
⋆ ｡ﾟ ☁︎ ｡ ⋆ ｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
end note: i had to split this into different parts again because it was too long, plz don't hate me!! anyways, mila: you're a true icon.
thank you for taking the time to read it and if you liked it, please leave a reblog, like and/or a comment. i’d love to read your feeedback and interact with you ❤️
lots of love,
lina.
previous part ⋆ next part ⋆ series masterlist ⋆ complete masterlist ⋆ asks/requests
author's note: so what if sam & dean had a sister with lorelai gilmore's personality? (things i think about in the middle of the night). since i don't have the time to write a series re-write, i worked on this long headcannon/mini fic. it will probably have at least 3 parts.
warnings/tags: canon divergence; spn canon violence; mentions of bullying, su1cide and death; angst; john winchester being father of the year (i’m being sarcastic); language; english is not my first language. trust the process!
⭐️ pics aren’t mine, credits to their owners.
🚫 please do not copy, repost or translate my work without my permission.
now, without further ado...
John and Mary’s daughter was named Camille, as a tribute to John’s mother, Millie. Throughout her life, though, she’s rarely been called like that. She was simply Mila.
She was two years younger than Dean and two years older than Sam.
At first, the-two-year-old Dean was reluctant to have siblings. Sharing his parents, especially his mom, seemed unfair since he hadn’t been able to enjoy them for that long. The night Mila was born that changed completely.
John led Dean into the Maternity Ward room where Mary cradled his newborn sister against her chest. Despite his short age, he remembered thinking she was the smallest thing he’d ever seen. When he stepped closer to introduce himself as her ‘big brother Dean’, Mila’s tiny little fingers curled around his slightly bigger ones, and from then on, Dean swore he’d always take care of her, no matter what.
Dean and Mila grew up side by side.
He was fascinated by her – her laugh; how smart she was, even for a baby; and the way she’d repeat everything he uttered. Whenever he had to introduce her, he’d say 'She’s my little sister’, standing a bit taller and his chest puffed out with pride. If he heard her cry, even in the middle of the night, he'd be the first one to comfort her.
Mila was just as captivated by her big brother. She’d follow him around the house, whether to play with him and his army men toys or simply to check what he was doing or where he was going.
Mila’s relationship with her parents also developed smoothly. Both John and Mary would always deny having any favorites, but it was crystal clear that Mary saved a certain softness for Dean, just in the same way John did for Mila. She was a complete ‘Daddy’s little princess’, as he’d often call her. Yet, she still found some bonding moments with her mom, like when she helped Mary bake chocolate-chip cookies or when they’d walk around their block on a summer evening.
Then, Sammy was born. Dean, already protective of Mila, felt the responsibility double on his small four-year-old shoulders.
Mila, at two years old, couldn’t quite grasp the concept of sharing her parents yet, so she’d sometimes tug, with a puzzled frown, at John’s trousers while he was rocking the baby to sleep, demanding some of his attention.
Dean, witnessing how John asked Mila to go to her room, promising he’d read something to her later, was quick to explain to her, while holding her hand for reassurance, that they were ‘the big kids’ so they had to take care of Sammy. Dean described it as if it were the coolest thing in the world, so Mila’s eyes lit up at her new role in the family.
Needless to say, after that fateful night in November 1983, the Winchesters’ precious family dynamic was forever shattered.
Dean’s freedom and innocence were replaced by duty and obedience the moment John told him to ‘watch out for Sammy and Mila’. That order became the core of his identity. He wasn’t just the older brother anymore. He was the one who had to make sure they were fed, bathed, and kept safe while their father was away.
As Mila grew older, and as John started to tag Dean along on the hunts, she had to step into the caregiver role as well. She carried that vow with pride, just as Dean did, but beneath all that, the ache of a boy and a girl who had been forced to grow up too soon, too fast lingered.
It was during her teenage years that Mila’s prominent features began to consolidate. Each day, she grew more and more like her mother – she had Mary’s eyes and smile as well as her gentleness. But she had also inherited her father’s stubbornness and anxiety. She was unmistakably her brothers’ sister, too. She shared Dean’s bravery and sharp wit, their reliable way of masking pain and fear, and she matched Sam’s restless curiosity and the hope that their world could orbit around something other than hunting.
It was also during this time that her relationship with her father became more strained. John deemed it almost impossible to look at Mila without seeing his beautiful Mary, so he banned Mila from hunting 'for her sake'. Instead, he’d always put her on research duty in the safe confines of whatever motel they happened to be at. At first, Mila accepted her place almost without question. Her hunger for knowledge made the old lore books and newspaper articles feel like a puzzle she had to solve to prove her worth to her father. But, as the years went by, the paper grew heavier under her fingers, and the motel walls tightened more and more around her until the room started feeling more like a cage rather than a refuge.
Doubts about her father’s stance slowly crept in when he started allowing Sam to go hunting. Watching her two-year-younger brother walk out the door with John and Dean stung more than she cared to admit. She did pitch the idea of joining them, at least on ‘milk-run cases’, but John would always brush it off, saying that he’d think about it later, but he never did.
Fed up with being the only one that stayed behind, only feeling useful when she had to pass information along or when she had to patch up her father and brothers' wounds, Mila asked Dean to secretly train her.
“Hell, no. I’m not disobeying Dad. Are you nuts?” Dean snapped, his brows knitting together tightly.
“Deano, come on! Think about it for a sec. Neither you nor Dad will always be ‘round to protect me. I need to know how to take care of myself if somethin’ happens. Don’t you think?”She had a perfectly reasonable, valid point. Dean huffed – that was all it took to convince him. And her puppy eyes, of course.
From that day on, whenever John was away on a hunt, Dean and Mila would get up very early in the morning to go to the nearest park so he could teach her hand-to-hand combat, how to identify the different creatures, and how to kill them. Weeks later, curiosity killed the cat, and Sam caught them sneaking out of the motel room, which resulted in him tagging along. Sometimes, Mila’d find herself wrestling against both her brothers, at the same time, 'for the sake of practice'. These training sessions usually ended up with the three of them lying on the grass, with their breath ragged and a big grin on each of their faces.
Digging through old books and newspaper articles wasn’t Mila's only skill. She definitely had the fighter’s instinct that ran in her family’s bloodline. Dean saw it in the way she’d learnt to anticipate his moves and in how resourceful she was when she was caught between the hammer and the anvil. Even Sam realized his sister was far more capable than John had ever given her credit for.
And then, the long-awaited moment came. Dean allowed her to go on her first hunt – her 17th birthday gift, as she liked to say. Not that he was 100% onboard with it, but they’d found a series of mysterious deaths in a boarding school for girls in the proximity of their motel, so she was the only one who would be able to get in. Besides, it wouldn’t take more than a weekend. So, John, being away on his own case, shouldn’t have any way of finding out either.
Once she was ready, Dean took her to the school, asking the Headmaster to kindly admit his little sister. Their cover story was simple: both of their parents had died in a tragic accident when you were younger, so your older brother had to step up and take care of you. Not that far from the actual truth, huh? As Dean charmingly looked into the older lady's eyes, he said he wanted to ensure that his little Beth had the best education possible. Mrs. Vernon ate every bit of the story up and started her registration with glassy eyes. Once everything was set up and she said goodbye to Dean, Mila had to blend in and talk to the other girls, ask around about what they knew and had seen, attend a couple of classes to keep an eye on the teachers, and check for any signs of what she might be up against. Later in the evening, she called her brothers to pass the information along. She found out that a year ago, five of the students had bullied another girl to the point she ended up taking her own life, so now, the spirit was probably coming back to get its revenge. That night, while everyone was sound asleep, Mila helped Dean get into the schoolyard, where this girl had been buried so he could dig her bones up to salt and burn them. Despite her enthusiasm to finish the job, she was crazy if she thought he would let her see a body. He still praised her for the great job she had done.
The following morning, Dean went to pick her up, using a not-so-believable excuse, but surprisingly, nobody refused to let her go. Once they were back at the motel with Sam, they bought some burgers and fries to celebrate her first successful hunt. Dean couldn’t contain a chuckle from escaping his lips when he caught her devouring her food. She threw him a questioning look.
“After all that crap you learned ‘bout good manners and ‘social etiquette’,” his fingers mockingly curled into inverted commas, “you end up eatin’ like that?”
She huffed, but then she lifted both her pinkies up, holding her burger in a more lady-like manner.
“Happy now? Man, being a lady is hard,” she exclaimed as she shook her head and then proceeded to give the burger another big bite.
The months, and then years, kept passing by, and Mila continued secretly hunting with Dean.
Everything was going fine – well, as ‘fine’ as it could be for the type of life they had, but then, one night, when it was just Sam and her at the motel room, he revealed she was thinking of going to college. The moment caught her by surprise but she wasn’t really shocked by the news itself; it wasn’t the first time that her younger brother said something about a life outside of hunting. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t the first time she had ever considered one either. Working with Dean was ok, even a bit fun at certain times, but she was tired of going behind her dad’s back. Not that she hadn’t circled back on the idea of hunting now that she was older; the old man was too set on his ways and turned her request down again. So, she had been feeling like she was wasting ‘the best years of her life’ trapped inside a motel, without a real home, friends, a normal job, or any of the mundane things girls in their early twenties should experience.
And she would also be lying if she didn’t admit the other reason why she wanted a way out of her current life. She didn’t enjoy being around her dad as she used to. Although he always claimed to be ‘keeping her safe’, he was actually controlling her movements, her decisions, and almost how many times she took a breath. The obsession with finding the thing that killed Mary made him sharper over the years, less patient. Every time he said something, it felt like he was barking orders rather than speaking to his children. She also began disliking the way John spoke with or of Dean: dismissive, belittling, sometimes outright cruel. Dean took whatever his dad said without questioning because the man was his hero, but to Mila, it was clear John saw him more like a low-rank soldier rather than his son. The realization hit her like a blow to the gut: the father she once knew was long gone, replaced by a stranger whose voice she could recognize anywhere, but whose warmth had disappeared years ago.
Sam and Mila made the decision to go away together, and they wished to talk to Dean and try to convince him to join them, but unfortunately, John found out before they got the chance. He overheard how Mila reassured Sam that there was nothing wrong in pursuing his own dreams, and all hell broke loose.
“So you think you can just pack your bags and leave?” John’s voice thundered through the room, his anger barely masking the betrayal. “You think you can abandon your family?”
“We’re not abandoning anyone, Dad. We just want something different.” Sam explained, using the same soft tone he employed with victims or their families when talking to them during a case.
“Yeah, we can still help you with research and -”
John interrupted Mila with a scoff.
“Don’t you dare say anything, Camille.” He spat, deliberately using her full name as if it was just another weapon, a curse he needed to get rid of. “After everythin’ I’ve done to protect you, this is how you repay me?”
Mila fell silent, her fists tightening at her sides and anger bubbling inside of her. But, when John turned around to ask Dean if he already knew anything about this, ready to tell him off, that was when she lost it.
“Oh, no—no, no, do not dare bring Dean into this. It’s not his fault,” she found herself biting back. “There is no one to blame here. Hunting is simply not our thing.” She saw John open his mouth to speak but she cut him off immediately. “I’m not done talking. It’s your turn to listen.” She shot him a glare that seemed to pin him in his place. “I get it – whatever we’re doing here, we’re doing it for Mom, but this is no life, Dad,” she made a pause as she sighed, her voice breaking, “not for me, not for Sam, not even for Dean and you.”
She searched his eyes, desperate for something: regret, softness, anything, but he had a habit of proving her wrong.
“You wanna find that apple-pie life? Fine. Don’t dare comin’ back when it crumbles down.”
The youngest Winchesters left shortly after that fight. They could tell Dean was pissed off too – his jaw was tight and his silence weighed heavily with disappointment – but at least he pulled both of them into a hug before they walked out. It wasn’t too long, ‘no chick-flick moments’ as he often said, but it was tight, even a bit desperate, clearly not ready to let them go. Their father, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found, and this echoed louder than any words or screams.
Within weeks, Sam had already started studying at Stanford, aiming for a law degree, and Mila was able to get a job at the school’s library. She had also managed to find a small, affordable apartment near the campus. For the first time in years, they both felt their lives were moving forward, shaping towards something that resembled a happy and normal future.
Mila hadn’t stopped talking to Dean, though. He was still her big brother, and she loved him a lot. She usually called him once a month to check if he was still alive and to share her life updates. And Dean sat and listened. Because, despite disagreeing with her and Sammy’s decision, he could always detect the pang of guilt in her voice when she asked how he and their dad were doing, and, because he also loved her a lot, he couldn’t add any more pain to her plate. Besides, she was the only connection with his younger brother those days since he wasn’t so keen on talking to him. It seemed that Sam held a grudge against him for still being ‘Dad’s good little soldier’.
She had once or twice voiced the idea of Dean joining them. He could find a job he actually enjoyed and live with her until he found his own place, but Dean always shrugged it off, saying that somebody had to stay to ‘take care of the old man’. Their conversations would usually end with a ‘Stay safe’ and a toothless smile that masked everything left unsaid.
Over time, and away from the ghosts of her past, Mila grew up to be a quick-witted, charismatic and confident woman, who made everyone want to fall in love with her or be her.
Sam swiftly became the main receiving end of her playful yet sarcastic remarks and high levels of energy.
One regular Tuesday afternoon, Mila dropped by Sam’s dorm demanding to spend some quality time with him, as if they hadn’t hung out already during the weekend. Although he was busy studying for an upcoming test, he still invited her in. She said she was going to quietly watch TV in the small living room. Sam should’ve known better than to believe her.
“Oh, the news is on!” She turned the volume louder than he would’ve liked. “For our top story tonight,” she started speaking as if she were a news reporter, “a grisly horrible thing happened in a small town where no grisly horrible things ever happen. Everyone shocked!” She talked over the actual reporter’s voice, eyes fixed on the screen. “Wonder if it was actually a werewolf or a wendigo.”
Sam sighed, trying to bring his focus back to his textbook. Seconds later, Mila turned off the TV and tossed the remote control on the other side of the couch.
“Hey, let’s get ice cream!” She exclaimed before getting up from the couch to walk towards her brother. “I’m bored…” As he paid no mind to her, she knocked on his book. “Hello???”
“Mila, I’m studying,” Sam replied, his tone more serious than usual.
“Yeah, but I’m talking ice cream,” she repeated, as if she were explaining the best idea ever. “Can’t you take a break?”
“I can’t take a break right now.”
“Ok… when?” She threw him a hopeful smile.
“What are you, 4?” He retorted, slightly more annoyed.
“No, I’m hungry!” She protested, pouting at him.
“Well, there’s some leftover pizza in the fridge.”
“But it’s cold.”
“Then heat it up.”
“But it’s not the same.”
“Camille, go to my room.” Sam almost yelled, as if he were a parent telling off his kid for her insistent behaviour.
“Wow, nerds are mean!”
He sighed for the second time.
“Tell you what… if you let me study now, we’ll go out for dinner later. It'll be on me.”
“Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal, mister.”
“Good.”
She started backing away, but then she turned around again.
“So, I’m sorry. Where have we landed on the whole ice cream issue?”
Sam rolled his eyes, grabbed all his books from the table, and went to his room, slamming the door.
Mila stood there, watching the door with an incredulous look on her face.
“Ugh, guys are so sensitive these days.’
Not only did Mila match Dean’s devotion to food, but her love for coffee was extraordinary, too. She started drinking it from a young age, during all-nighters spent scanning through lore books or after long drives in the Impala, when she had to push through the day without any proper sleep. Over time, it became so much more than a drink. It became her ritual, her lifeline, the only constant that followed her from the crappy motel rooms to her own apartment and the campus library. Sam had actively tried to save her sister from liver failure, offering her tea, but it was pointless.
“Sammy – please, please please!” She begged, handing him her mug, her puppy eyes making a stellar appearance.
“How many cups have you had today?”
“None.” She replied quickly, but he wasn’t buying it for one bit.
“Plus?”
“Five… But yours tastes better!”
“You’ve got a problem.”
“Yes, I do.” She put the mug straight in front of his face this time, batting her eyelashes at him.
Sam sighed, finally understanding how Dean hardly ever said no to her, and took the mug from her hands to fill it up, not to the top, but enough that she’d be content.
“Junkie.”
“Angel.” She said with the biggest smile on her face and took the first sip. “You’ve got wings, baby brother.” She threw him a wink before going back to the living room where she had left her book open around page 100.
Then, one of the days Sam had been unnecessarily dreading arrived: the day she'd met Jess, his girlfriend. He knew Mila would like her; how could anyone not? Jess was charismatic, optimistic, and made Sam want to be a better man every day. She also had a particular sense of humor that surely wouldn’t go unnoticed by his sister. But he couldn’t avoid doubts and old fears from creeping in. When the moment of Jess and Mila meeting finally came, it went worse than he had pictured it.
“So this is the famous Jess,” Mila said, her tone dripping with mock suspicion. “I’m actually glad you’re not a figment of my brother’s imagination.”
“It’s soo nice to finally meet you, Mila!” Jess replied enthusiastically while she gave her a quick hug. “Honestly, I’m glad I’m real too. Sam would crash and burn without me.”
“Ohhh, good luck trying to save him from turning into a full-time robot. That’s the real challenge.” She linked her and Jess’ arms and got closer to her, as if she was about to reveal a secret. “He’s been practicing his ‘serious face’ since he was twelve. It’s exhausting.”
“I knew this was a mistake.” Sam fake-groaned, faking betrayal. “You two have known each other for five minutes, and you’re already plotting against me.”
“You'd better get used to it, baby brother. You’re officially outnumbered.”
Not so long after, Jess invited Sam and Mila to spend Thanksgiving with her and her parents. It would be Sam’s official introduction as her boyfriend. Mila would be there for moral support. And the free food and wine, of course. At some point, they were doing the typical small talk about what they did for a living, and Jess’ mom asked Sam about his degree.
“So, Samuel, you want to become a lawyer, right?”
“Uhm, you can call me ‘Sam’, ma’am.” He offered her one of his sweet smiles. “And that’s correct. I’m in my third year.”
“Good for you, honey. A good education is the most important thing in the world, after family.”
“And pie.” Mila let the comment slide past her lips before she could even process it. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence while Sam shot daggers at her from across the table. “Sorry, just a joke.” She clarified, and everyone nodded before going back to their plates. Jess, however, stifled a laugh and shot her a look that said ‘Don’t worry, I get you’.
It was true. Mila loved pie, maybe as much as she loved her brothers and coffee. She instantly thought of Dean and how she hadn’t spoken to him in quite some time, which made her a bit sad. She made a mental note to call him later in the evening.
Fast forward to a random Friday night in 2005, Mila was coming back home from her shift at the library when she felt somebody following her steps. Her old hunter instinct kicked in, and she took a different path to double-check if the stranger was actually following her. It turned out they were. She hid in a dark corner, trying to keep her breath steady. When the person passed by, in one swift motion, she grabbed them from behind, pressing the sharp, cold edge of the blade she carefully kept in her boot against the stranger’s throat.
“Why the hell are you followin’ me?” she hissed, her voice low and as sharp as the knife.
“Mila, wait. It’s me!”
Her eyes widened as she recognized the voice. She loosened her grip just enough to see the face in the dim light.
“Dean?” Relief and anger collided in her chest. “You idiot! Couldn’t you call like a normal person? I almost gutted you.”
He gave her a sheepish smile, though his eyes were tired. Mila wrapped her arms around his middle while his own slipped around her shoulders, and he kissed the top of her head.
“Y’know I like makin’ an entrance.”
“Why are you here? Did somethin’ happen?”
“It’s Dad. He’s on a huntin’ trip. He hasn’t been home in a few days.” He said with the most serious tone she has ever heard him use.
“Are you sure he’s not just -,” She didn’t want to blatantly say ‘ignoring you’, but it wouldn’t be the first time.
“No,” he interrupted her before she could find the right word. “He wouldn’t spend so much time without callin' or textin'. You have to help me find him.”
“Dean…” she sighed. “Even if I did help you and we found him, I don’t think he’ll be very happy to see me… not after what I’ve said to him.”
“That’s water under the bridge, Mila.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “I know you think he was disappointed in you, but he never was. Not even in Sammy. He was just scared.”
“What are you talkin’ ‘bout?”
“He was afraid of what could’ve happened to the two of you if he wasn’t around. But, even after you left and you weren’t talkin’, he used to swing by Stanford and your place whenever he could… to make sure you were safe.”
“How - Why haven’t you told me any of this? Have you talked to Sam?”
Dean shrugged.
“It’s a two-way street. And he hasn’t been picking up his phone. So, are you gonna help me or what?”
“Yeah, but we need to get Sammy too.”
Sam put up more of a fight when his siblings tried to convince him to go with them, especially because of his interview the following Monday, but Mila assured him they would make it back on time for that.
Sooner than later, the three Winchesters got in the Impala and started driving up to Jericho, California, where their dad had been working on a case for about a month.
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
end note: i'm sorry i had to end it like that, but tumblr wouldn't let me include all the scenes i wanted for the first part so it made more sense to divide it there.
what do you think? did you like it? would you be interested in a part 2?
i know it's still pretty early, but do you like ila's character? what do you think about her relationship with the three winchesters?
thank you for taking the time to read it and if you liked it, please leave a reblog, like and/or a comment. i’d love to read your feeedback and interact with you ❤️
Not the "jokes to offend men" 🤣 This was so cool and funny as hell, Lina!! I loved their sibling dynamic and her chaotic middle child energy. You really nailed her personality, and those boys certainly need that 😆🩵
The night Mila was born that changed completely.
Aww, I can so see that for little Dean. Just being such a good lil bro for baby sis 🥹 (And I love that she'll give middle child energy. Those are the agents of chaos 😂)
He was the one who had to make sure they were fed, bathed, and kept safe while their father was away.
Ya know, as a mom of a toddler, I really feel double for Dean here. A baby and a toddler for a four-year-old?! 🙈 How does this poor kid manage without crying in the shower. All the parent awards to Dean!! 🏆🏆🏆 (Also, John get your shit together smh)
John deemed it almost impossible to look at Mila without seeing his beautiful Mary, so he banned Mila from hunting 'for her sake'.
Yeah, that must've been hard for him seeing Mary in her 💔
Neither you nor Dad will always be ‘round to protect me. I need to know how to take care of myself if somethin’ happens. Don’t you think?
Yup, like I said, agent of chaos lol. The manipulation tactics – and she's not even a grown-up yet. Dean's gonna have his hands full 😂🤌
The realization hit her like a blow to the gut: the father she once knew was long gone, replaced by a stranger whose voice she could recognize anywhere, but whose warmth had disappeared years ago.
Makes sense she eventually realized who her dad truly was. She had such a different perspective than both her brothers. Makes you wish Dean would've caught it as early as Mila and Sam too 🥲
“Oh, the news is on!” She turned the volume louder than he would’ve liked. “For our top story tonight,” she started speaking as if she were a news reporter, “a grisly horrible thing happened in a small town where no grisly horrible things ever happen. Everyone shocked!” She talked over the actual reporter’s voice, eyes fixed on the screen. “Wonder if it was actually a werewolf or a wendigo.”
This was full Lorelai here! Totally nailed it 🤣 (Also double-funny Sam is basically Rory in this situation lmao)
Such an awesome start!! She slots in so well with this family and really brings balance to both Sam and Dean. I honestly think the show (and us as the audience) could've benefited from having at least one female lead. A sister would've been the perfect fix! 😍👏
thank you so much for your kind words, love!!! ❤️ i read this before going to sleep yesterday and it honestly felt like a goodbye kiss 🥹
i don't have any children but i'm the eldest sister so ik what it's like to take care of the little ones of your family. my heart broke for our poor baby dean 😭
i'm soooooooo happy you've enjoyed this so much! 🥰🥰
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I’ve been having so many ideas for fics… one that really stuck with me was au!steve where reader and him are best friends and he helps inexperiencedish!reader with dating stuff… it would be full 90s romcom style.
s.w. ✩ and i wrote a note and left it folded in your pocket
s1!sam winchester x fem!reader drabble
author's note: i got this idea while i was coming back from my own vacation and i thought it could be really cute.
warnings/tags: meet-cute, angst, fluff | mentions of spn canon violence, death, pain, grief, car accidents | language.
title from: love by olivia rodrigo.
⭐️ pics aren’t mine, credits to their owners.
🚫 please do not copy, repost or translate my work without my permission.
No matter how Sam tried to distract himself, his thoughts always made their way back to the words Dean had spat out at him the previous night.
“You're a selfish bastard. Do you know that? You just do whatever you want. Don't care what anybody thinks.”
He knew his older brother didn’t actually mean that. He knew Dean was just as tired as he was of the same old fight: keep working the cases their dad sent or help him find the demon that most likely killed their mother.
And it’s not like Sam didn’t want to help save other people’s lives; he understood the importance of the family business – he had learned it from a very young age –, but Dean was taking the ‘being a good son’ thing really far. The faith and adoration he held for their father was blinding him and prevented him from understanding Sam’s view of the situation.
How could they work a case in Indiana, two thousand miles away from John, while their father was apparently closing on the thing that killed Mary and Jess?
It didn’t seem fair to Sam, especially when the wound from losing Jess was nowhere near healed. Her beautiful face and delicate voice still met him in his dreams in warm conversations about the most trivial topics, just like those they used to have on sleepless nights curled up on the bed. The difference was that now each time he woke up, the scar was torn wide open, raw, once again.
Could that really be deemed selfish?
Besides, that night six months ago, he hadn’t only lost Jess. He was also stripped from the only shot he had at a normal life. He had managed to leave the supernatural world behind, get into a great school to pursue a law degree, be around people his age and make friends, have a steady relationship with the most amazing girl, and suddenly… it was all… gone.
Sam cleared his throat and took a deep breath, his stance unwavering. He had to go to California and help his father kill this demon. Not just out of revenge – sure, anger, rage and shame were harboured in his chest, but because he wanted, needed, some kind of closure. He wanted to look this creature in the eyes while he exorcised it, put a bullet through its skull, or drove a blade where its heart should’ve been and make it pay.
Perhaps, once it was all over, he would visit Jess’ parents. He wasn’t exactly sure about what he would say – either the hard, inconceivable truth or a deliberate, adorned lie –, but he felt he had to say at least something. He owed it to the memory of Jess and the permanent mark she had left on him.
Selfish bastard?
Yeah, right. Dean could shove those words where the sun didn’t shine.
A mechanical screech snapped Sam out of his thoughts and his eyes took in the sight of the bus he’d caught to Sacramento. It wasn’t absolutely packed but there were far more people than he had expected on a random Wednesday that early in the morning. The sun was just starting to climb up in the horizon, painting the scene in warm yellow and orange tones.
He took a look around and saw a guy around his age with a book on his hands but one side of his face was fully pressed against the headrest, his mouth wide open and the reading long forgotten. He also noticed a man in a black suit leafing through a newspaper and a woman trying to lull her baby to sleep, whispering soft tunes and sweet words in an attempt to stop the kid’s whimpers.
Then, he felt a sudden bump on his shoulder. He tilted his head to the left and was met with the top of somebody’s head, from the girl sitting next to him.
Until that moment, she had been sleeping with her body propped against the window, but she must have shifted and, without realizing, ended up with her head laying on Sam’s shoulder.
He was about to wake her up; he even got to the point where he lifted his arm to gently poke her with his index finger, but stopped on his tracks when he took notice of the girl’s features.
She was really pretty – not in the manufactured way that actresses and singers seemed to be, but like a butterfly on a flower: quiet but not invisible, gentle, dashing. The early sunrays casted a glow on her skin that made her look angelic, out of this world. However, it wasn’t her beauty that called his attention. Well, at least not the only thing.
He also noted the mild puffiness and the darkish circles under her eyes. She looked like she couldn’t afford to lose that sleep. She looked as if that moment right there was the first in a couple of days that she’d been able to rest. She had that peaceful expression that only a much needed nap could provide.
He sighed, not in defeat but in understanding.
What harm would it cause to let her sleep on his shoulder? None, really.
As if to back up his decision, the corners of her mouth occasionally twitched upwards, indicating she was having a good dream. He didn’t want to be the jerk that yanked her out of it just because she was a stranger.
So, he extended his arm, this time to grab the book inside his duffel bag and settled comfortably in his seat, careful not to disturb her, and flipped through the pages until he got to where he’d let off.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
You opened your eyes slowly, your brain fogged with sleep, and your limbs tingled from the uncomfortable position. You looked to your left and saw the sunlight spilling through the window, but it wasn’t right above you just yet, so you figured it must have been 9 or 10 am. You blinked, mentally going over your name, what date it was and where you were, and then…
Wait, wasn’t I sleeping with my head against the window?
You turned your gaze a bit to the right and realization hit you like a truck.
“Oh my god!” you exclaimed as you jolted and pulled your head sharply off the stranger’s shoulder.
“It’s all right, don’t worry,” he hurried to say, his voice soft and gentle, and a smile flickered across his face, the dimples on his cheeks quickly appearing and disappearing. He closed the book he was reading after signalling the page with the bookmark.
“This is so embarrassing.” You said, heat rushing to your cheeks, and you laughed under your breath, muffling your words by covering your face with the palms of your hands.
“Hey,” he shifted slightly towards you and shook his head, “no big deal. Really.” You took a peek at him to see if he was serious and he let out a chuckle. A genuine one. “You were out cold and looked so peaceful. Honestly, it felt like a crime to wake you up.” He shrugged, lips curving into a quiet, toothless smile.
You lowered your hands, exhaling deeply.
“Wow, that’s the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in days,” you blurted out, mostly to yourself, but he caught it.
“What do you mean?”
You hesitated, fingers tugging at the hem of your denim jacket, debating whether you should explain your current situation to this random guy. Then, you remembered you’d spent God knows how long sleeping on his shoulder. Apparently, your body unconsciously took him for a safe place. So you figured you kinda owed it to him.
“I live in New York, but my family is in San Francisco,” you paused, clearing your throat. “My mom had a car accident three days ago and was admitted to the hospital.” The words came out heavier than you meant to, your eyes getting glassier. “When I asked my boss for some time off to visit her, the shithead said I could go but that the days would be docked from my pay.”
You let out a small, humourless laugh and the guy shook his head.
“Then came the question of the flights. The time options weren’t the best and they cost one arm, both legs and possibly a kidney, so I had to resort to bus tickets,” you tilted your head to the side to emphasize your following point, “which led me to be stuck on busses for two days straight, sleeping whenever I can because I can’t afford a place to spend the night, so… yeah.”
“I’m really sorry to hear all that.” His expression softened, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards in sympathy. “Do you have any news about your mom?”
“Yeah, my older brother’s been keeping me posted. She took a pretty hard hit to the head and was unconscious until yesterday, but now she’s awake and stable. The doctors are keeping her under observation and running tests to check for any sequels.”
He gave you an acknowledging nod as he weighed the right words, but nothing came out. He just flashed you a lopsided smile. After a beat, he extended his hand.
“I’m Sam, by the way.”
“Oh, how formal,” you took his hand, laughing softly, and becoming too aware of the spark that ran through your arm. You told him your name and said it was nice meeting him, despite the circumstances.
He returned the feeling and you took the chance to ask about him, about how he ended up on this bus. He didn’t give you any specific details but he did say he was going to Sacramento to ‘help his dad with a work thing’ and that his older brother wasn’t really happy with his decision.
If you were being honest, curiosity was getting the best of you – you didn’t consider yourself a nosey person, but a little voice inside of you told you he needed someone to talk to.
However, you decided not to press further, and instead, you pointed at the book on his lap.
“So, what are you reading?”
The change in subject instantly lit him up. Sam’s eyes brightened and his dimples deepened as he held the cover towards you while he told you who the author was and briefly summarized the plot.
You couldn’t stop your heart from skipping a beat at how handsome he was.
From there, the conversation unfolded easily. You talked about the book you were reading, and then moved on your favorite movies, musicians, and even your favorite food. At some point, he even did an impression of Dean, his older brother, teasing him about his taste in music. You laughed so hard that you had to cover your mouth with your hand to prevent yourself from snorting.
Two hours slipped by minutes, and suddenly, the driver announced the next stop – yours. You had to gather your things quickly and hop on, thank God, the final bus.
You stood up and Sam brought his long legs closer to his to let you slide to the other side.
“So… this is me.”
Sam nodded, his smile softening, and his eyes lingered on you for a second too long, as if he wasn’t ready to let that moment go. Honestly, you weren’t so sure you were ready either.
“I hope your mom gets better soon.” He said, almost shyly.
“Thank you, Sam.” You returned the smile and crouched down to place a soft peck on his cheek. ”For everything.”
It was cute how warmth spread across both your faces – yours because of your foreign boldness and Sam’s because you’d caught him off guard.
You slung your bag over your shoulder and walked towards the bus door. The outside air hit you, colder than you had expected, and you looked back on the bus one last time. Sam was still watching you, a soft smile on his face, so you waved at him and he returned the gesture with a nod.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Later that day, after spending the whole afternoon with your mom while your brother was at work, you went to your brother’s apartment to have a quick but much needed shower and catch at least two hours of sleep. Now, however, the heaviness that had been pressing on your chest since you got the first call from the doctors seemed a lot lighter now: they told you your mom would be discharged tomorrow morning.
You dropped your bag on the floor and began pulling out toiletries and other stuff you needed, and then while you were emptying the pockets of your jacket, filled with remnants of your journey: bus tickets, receipts and candy packaging, your fingers brushed against a small folded piece of paper you didn’t recognize.
Your heart thudded as you opened it carefully.
It was a note.
“Hey, would you mind sending me a quick text when you get to your mom so I know you arrived safely? Here’s my number: 1-866-907-3235.”
Beneath it, in slightly slanted handwriting, there was a second line:
“It was really nice meeting you, and I hope we cross paths again soon. Looking forward to you falling asleep on my shoulder some time again. - Sam.”
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
end note: i'm blushing and my heart is blooming in my chest. i wish i could grab sammy's cheeks and give him a forehead kiss🥰.
thank you for taking the time to read it and if you liked it, please leave a reblog, like and/or a comment. i’d love to read your feeedback and interact with you ❤️
btw, my requests are always open here, so feel free to drop any idea or ask. or even if you just wanna say hi, i’d be absolutely happy to read your message!
also, here's my masterlist in case you want to read more of the nonsense i write🙃.
─── ♡ dean winchester x f!reader | he’s got hands that make hell seem cold
(+18; MDI)
You could write a whole essay on Dean’s hands. You have never been to college, but you would definitely need more than 1,000 words or whatever the word limit was because you’d fill it up in a heartbeat.
Dean’s hands were your favorite part of him, and that was saying a lot, because you liked Dean a lot. All of him.
But his hands.
He talked a lot with his hands, but not just gesturing, he always found a way of expressing everything he couldn’t say with his mouth through his hands. And you’ve learned to read that like any other language – a secret language just for you to know.
The way he would tap his fingers against his thigh whenever he was seated meant he was nervous or impatient.
The way he’d grip the steering wheel of the Impala too hard told you he was angry.
The way he would brush his fingers around the edge of his coffee cup several times revealed he was overthinking.
The way he’d curl his fingers into a tight fist when someone dared to touch a hair on your head, or even just looked at you the wrong way.
The way he’d clean his guns with quiet precision, his own ritual to prepare, almost meditation-like, before a hunt.
And there were also secret messages in the way he touched you.
He’d casually press his palm against your lower back or brush his fingers against yours just to double check you were there, that you were real – especially after he’d been to Hell and back, literally.
The way he would cup your face between his hands after a fight just to ensure there weren’t any injuries.
Whenever it was just the two of you riding Baby, or sometimes with Sam on the backseat, Dean would reach for your knee or thigh on your side of the car and keep his right hand there. Not in a possessive way, just grounding – his way of making sure you stayed right at his side.
When you shared a bed on whatever crappy motel you were staying at during a hunt, and you were feeling a bit overwhelmed thanks to the day’s horrors, he’d wrap you in his arms and his hands would absentmindedly play with your hair or draw circles on your shoulder – his silent way of soothing you, of telling you 'I've got you, baby. Everything will be all right'.
Sometimes, while you two slept, his hands would travel to your stomach and pull you in, keeping you as close as possible to his own frame.
Other times, when he was on top of you, kissing you stupid, his hands would roam throughout your whole body, as if he was trying to memorize every curve, every indentation, every freckle, every scar.
And he had succeeded, he knew your body like second nature, as if he had been made for it, to touch it, to worship it.
He would brush his thumb against your lower lip, while locking his pretty, piercing green eyes with yours, asking for permission – as if you could ever say no to him.
He’d trail the path from your neck to your core painfully slowly because Dean never rushed. He took his sweet time to work on your body as if every touch might be the last, and he wanted to embed every reaction or sound he pulled out from you in his brain, forever.
Needless to say, his fingers always made you see stars. Whether from rubbing circles on your clit or sliding in and out of you, in those moments, you thought you were as close to Heaven as you’ll ever be.
And Dean’s hands were always warm. You didn’t know how even in winter, after hours of driving through snow-covered backroads with Baby’s heater barely working, his hands still managed to stay warm, alive. You had teased him about it and he’d replied ‘Guess I’m just hot-blooded, sweetheart. Comes with being this damn irresistible.’, accompanying it with his classic flirtatious grin.
And you actually couldn’t see any flaws in his logic. His warmth was able to ignite a fire inside of you that made Hell seem like the Antarctic.
Dean’s touch wasn’t just affection, it brought comfort. His hands anchored you; they scorched away every fear, every nightmare, every monster.
You loved the way his calloused hands not only held yours, but also stories, memories, promises, love.
And even if the world ended, and the monsters you've fought tooth and nail against finally won, you know you’d still find his hands in the afterlife—still warm, still reaching for you.
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