Reader Inserts by Request

It’s late, and dark, and the rain hitting the metal above you isn’t enough to drown out your thoughts.

You remember the day your father left you with your mom. Crying, hanging onto his leather jacket, begging him not to go.

The tears burn, your chest burns more.

You can’t even ask anyone for help, you can’t make anyone deal with this, can’t make anyone hear you cry over this again.

You take a shaky breath and call him anyway, listening to it ring.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

You’re about to hang up when he answers, obviously half asleep, and you almost hang up again.

“’Lo?”

“Dean,” you whisper, holding your whole body tight to keep your voice from shaking.

“(Name)? What’s up?” he asks, instantly more alert.

“I just…” you take a heavy breath, trying to calm down, “was thinking about stuff.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m…” you pause, looking down at the steering wheel, “no. No I’m really not.”

“I don’t know how near I am to you…” he says softly.

“That’s okay, I mean, I don’t know…I just…didn’t think, you can go back to sleep, it’s fine.”

“No, no. I want you to talk to me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is, Dean.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Who still cries about their dad leaving them when they were nine? Who sits in the middle of a field trying to deal with their ghosts? Who fucking leaves their kid with their ex when they know she can’t pay the fucking rent!?”

You can’t even stop yourself as the tears come again, sobs clawing their way out of your chest, through your throat.

“Who does that?”

“Your dad did, and you have every right to be mad at him. Hell, nobody would blame you if you hated him.”

“Your dad was worse.”

“So? That doesn’t mean what your dad did wasn’t wrong.”

You nod, frowning when you hear wind, “Are you driving?”

“I’m close enough.”

“Dean, no, really, I’m okay now,” you try to stop him.

“Hush. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay, then at least hang up and drive safe.”

“Call me if it gets worse.”

“Okay,” you hang up and lean your head back on the seat.

You honestly feel better, but you start thinking about it again, about the parts you never talk to people about, because it’ll make you cry.

It was cloudy that day. He packed everything into his truck.

Everything but you.

You remember your mom microwaving water for you to wash your face with in the mornings.

And how she cried all night and slept all day.

How she tried everything she could to stop you from getting sick.

Stress wasn’t ever cited as the cause, but you know better now.

Nobody can have drug addicted parents and get through life healthy.

You’re about to call Dean again when  you hear the Impala, and you sob in relief. You hear his door open and the dirt crunching as he walks up to your car. He opens the door and you fall into his arms, clinging to him and letting it all out.

“Dean.”

Sam looks upset for a moment, before he quickly masks it. Dean grins and claps you on the shoulder.

“Hope you’re ready for an adventure,” he tells you, “let’s pack up.”

You nod and go to your room, letting yourself enjoy the excitement/nervousness settling in your belly. You have to admit, you’re looking forward to spending time alone with the older hunter.

You pack up anything you think you might need, clothes, personal hygiene, condoms. You know, just in case. You’re not planning for anything, you’re just being prepared. You go downstairs and grab a pistol and a shotgun, as well as extra ammo for both, putting everything in the trunk and getting in the Impala.

Dean slides in next to you, putting his seatbelt on and turning the car on, smiling with satisfaction as she roars to life in the garage.

“That’s my girl,” he says, patting her dashboard affectionately before pulling out of the garage, setting off down the road.

“So, who’s Abaddon?” you ask, looking up at him.

“She’s the worst person to ever exist,” he tells you, glancing over before continuing, “She’s a knight of Hell, and there isn’t much we can do to kill her. We had her at one point, but she escaped. She’s trying to take over Hell and then take over everything else. Heaven, Earth, all of it.”

“So…what exactly can we do about it?”

“Not much, but I’m sure we can find out. There has to be a way to stop her.”

You nod, a bit apprehensive now that you know there isn’t much of a plan. Who could possibly know how to kill a Knight of Hell? Maybe Crowley would know? But you left him behind at the bunker…

Eventually Dean turns the radio on and you lose yourself in the classic rock coming through the speakers, trusting Dean to be experienced and knowledgeable enough to think of a plan before it’s too late. Maybe you shouldn’t, but oh well.

He turns the radio off and starts calling people as he drives, obviously trying to get information, but he doesn’t seem to be having much luck. You can tell he’s getting frustrated, but you don’t say anything, looking out the window and listening quietly instead.

After a few hours of driving he gives up, pulling off into a town and finding a motel, “Might as well make camp, at least until I can figure out our next step, don’t want to drive too far out and then realize we have to turn around.”

You nod in agreement, getting out and waiting for him to come back with a room key.

“All they had was a king, so try not to thrash around too much,” he says, tossing you a key. You nod, grabbing your bag and walking inside, setting your bag on the bed and stretching.

“So now what?” you ask, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, that’s my side,” he says, pushing your bag over and replacing the spot with his, “and I’m not sure. For now I’m waiting on a few call backs, so we can just hang out here.”

You nod, digging through your bag and grabbing your wallet, “Well, I saw a vending machine down the hall, I’m gonna get a soda, you want one?”

He shakes his head, “I’ll get something later, thanks.”

You nod and pocket the room key, as well as a couple bills, walking down the concrete walkway to the vending and ice machines. You feed a dollar to the machine, huffing and groaning when it spits it back out at you. As you straighten it along the edge of the machine, you freeze when you hear footsteps approaching. Probably just another hotel guest needing something to drink, but still, living with the Winchesters has made you beyond paranoid.

You look over your shoulder and smile at the middle aged man, “Sorry, wouldn’t take my dollar,” you explain quickly, feeding the dollar to the machine again. It spits it out again and you roll your eyes, trying the other bill you brought with you. Finally, the machine takes it and you sigh in relief, pressing the button and taking the can when it pops out. You turn to leave and find the man mere inches away from you.

“Um…hi?” you say, tensing up and shrinking back against the soda machine.

“You’re very pretty,” he says softly, reaching up, hand hovering close to your face.

“Th…thanks,” you stammer, trying to move away again, biting your lip when he moves to block your path. You can’t tell who or what this guy is. Just a creepy human? Some kind of monster? God, you have so much more to consider when you’re in danger now.

He grabs you by your neck and you react instinctively, kneeing him in the groin and slamming your elbow down over his head, running back down the hall. You fumble with the room key, dropping it like the damsel you feel like. You crouch to pick it up and yelp as the man catches up to you, grabbing you by your hair and slamming you into the wall.

Dean opens the door the next instant, wrestling him off of you and punching him in the face. He tosses holy water on him and growls when the man’s eyes flash black, skin sizzling from the water. He continues fighting him away from you.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas,” you start, staying back and flinching as the demon turns his black eyes on you. Dean keeps him back and you keep reciting the exorcism you forced yourself to learn, grateful for your obsessive learning spree now.

When you finish the demon vanishes in a cloud of black smoke, leaving behind a very grateful man. Dean nods and pats him on the shoulder, quickly sending him on his way and taking you back inside.

“Are you alright?” he asks, looking you over for injuries.

“I’m fine, what about you?” you ask, gently touching his jaw, where a bright purple bruise is quickly forming.

“I’m fine,” he nods, smiling down at you, “That was awesome.”

“What?”

“I mean, not that you got attacked, but your exorcism was perfect, and you were able to figure out what to do, that’s really great,” he says, still smiling.

“Oh uh…I guess, thanks?” you say, still unsure about how awesome the situation really is, even though you’re internally glowing from the praise.

He chuckles, grabbing his phone as it rings, answering it and turning away to talk. You sit on the bed, waiting patiently to find out your next move.

He sighs as he hangs up the phone, looking up at you, “Alright, we’ll spend the night here since it’s already paid for, but we have to go back.”

“For what?”

“Sam.”

Dean nods, looking a bit put off, but he doesn’t say anything. Sam, on the other hand, looks ecstatic, even if he is a bit worried about your safety.

“Okay, well, we should get ready and head out then,” he says, walking past you, patting your shoulder as you go.

“Get ready? For what?” you mutter, going to your room and packing a bag. Clothes, shoes, personal hygiene. Condoms. Hopefully he doesn’t find those ones.

You grab a pistol and extra bullets from downstairs, grabbing a shotgun as well. What hurts angels? The devil? You shrug, going back upstairs and packing the guns before meeting Sam in the garage.

“Ready?”

“As ready as I can be,” you say, getting in the newer Dodge he has in the garage, “Nice car.”

“Dean doesn’t think so,” he chuckles, pulling out of the garage.

“Well, Dean’s stuck in the 60’s,” you say, smiling at him. Being around Sam makes you giddy, you can’t help but be excited when he’s around. He’s so sweet, but so powerful. Like a mastiff, or a lab. Maybe more like a lab.

“So, who’s Gadreel?” you ask softly.

He grimaces, “Yeah, I guess you need some background huh,” he sighs, settling his hands on the wheel. “Okay, so, Gadreel is an angel. He’s the one that let Lucifer into the Garden of Eden, and he’s a huge asshole. He’s the angel Dean let possess me to keep me alive, because he thought he was another angel, Ezekiel. Ezekiel was someone Cas trusted, so Dean let him in, but we found out, or rather, he found out, that it was someone different when Gadreel killed Kevin. Kevin was our other prophet,” he tells you, giving you a worried look.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me, Sam,” you quietly assure him.

He nods and continues, “Anyway, I guess he took off in my body and Dean had to track him down with Cas and Crowley.”

“King of Hell Crowley?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. He cut my anti-possession tattoo and sent Crowley into my head so I could kick Gadreel out. I didn’t realize I’d been possessed…I was living inside my head.”

He looks haunted at the thought and you can’t help but take his hand, gently reassuring him. He smiles at you.

“It was almost worse than demonic possession, not realizing that things were different. He’d constructed it so well…anyway, I kicked him out and now I guess he’s hooked up with Metatron, the angel that caused all the others to fall from Heaven.”

“The angels fell!?”

He nods, “Yeah, the angels are fallen, heaven’s locked up.”

“That’s horrible…” you say softly, shaking your head.

“Well, I want to take them both out, so that’s our plan.”

“What can kill an angel?”

He points towards the trunk, “Angel blades. That’s about it.”

“So we have to get in close?”

“I do. Not you, I’m not…I didn’t want to leave you alone, but I don’t want you on front line either.”

“You can’t expect me not to help.”

“You can help! Just behind the scenes,” he says, glancing at you, “We’ve lost two prophets. And Kevin was like a little brother.”

You want to protest further, but he looks so sad that you can’t, so you just nod. You’ll bring it up later.

“Do we know where we’re going?” you ask instead.

“Sort of, I have to make a few phone calls, but I know we’re going in the right direction, so I figured we could cover some ground before I have to make them.”

You nod, sitting back in the seat and enjoying the ride, looking out the window.

When the sun starts to go down he pulls into a seedy looking motel, getting out and waiting for you. He’s obviously not willing to leave you alone when out in the open, which could make this difficult. Then again, last time you went off by yourself you got ghost sickness. Not your fault.

He leads you inside and gets a room before leading you back out to get your stuff. You carry your own bag in, you’re not that helpless, and set it down on one of the beds. You’re a bit disappointed, since you can’t think of any excuse to sleep in his bed, but you’re too nervous to say anything about it.

He looks up at you, “You hungry? I was figuring we’d grab some dinner then crash,” he says, shrugging his sweater off.

“Yeah, that works for me,” you say, nodding.

He nods again and you go back out to the car, driving down to a nearby restaurant and eating with him. You talk to him about the angels and the demons, getting more information, hoping the patrons around you aren’t too freaked out by your topic of conversation.

When you go back to the motel you’re both exhausted. You change into pajamas in the bathroom and go back out to your room, collapsing on the bed and moving under the covers. He clicks off the light and you both drift off to sleep.

You wake up and look around, confused. Is this the same room? The colors are slightly off…

You get up and stretch, frowning when you see there’s only one bed. Definitely not the same room, so then whose room is it? You turn around and scream, covering your face when a disgusting, disfigured corpse swings a blade at you.

You wake up with a gasp, grabbing your chest and swallowing lungfuls of air, “Fuck…” you breathe, running a hand through your hair, sighing.

“You okay?” Sam asks out of the dark, making you jump.

“Yeah…yeah, just a nightmare,” you tell him, nodding, glancing at the clock. It’s only 2am, you can’t be up yet, but you don’t see how you’ll fall back asleep now.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, sitting up.

“It was just a zombie…just scared me,” you shrug, looking down. You hear him shift around, but look up when you feel your bed dip.

“Zombies are pretty scary,” he says sympathetically, rubbing your back, “can you go back to sleep?”

“Maybe? I don’t know, my heart’s pretty rapid…” you tell him, leaning into his hand.

“I’ll stay with you, keep you safe,” he promises softly. You look up at him and barely suppress an embarrassing squeak when he kisses you again. You’re not entirely sure how it happened, but you’re really into him, and wow this feels good.

“Okay?” he asks as he pulls back.

“It’s not all my fault,” you protest, putting your hands up and stepping back, “God made me do it!”

Dean rolls his eyes, “I think we need to figure out more than just what made you do it, (Name). We need to talk about what you’re going to be doing from here on as well.”

“She’s not coming with us,” Sam says firmly.

“Sam, we can’t just leave her here by herself.”

“The bunker’s the safest place for her!”

“Until someone finds it. Look, we have to find Abbadon-“

“Abbadon? We need to find Gadreel!”

You let them argue, sitting down and waiting. At least they’re not kicking you out.

“Fine, you get Gadreel, and I’ll go get queen bitch,” Dean shrugs, turning to you, “Okay, that means we’re splitting up. You need to decide, queen bitch, or crazy angel?”

“Neither of those sound very fun…” you say nervously.

“We’ll keep you safe, and whoever you go with, we’ll make Cas your personal bodyguard,” Sam promises.

“Okay, I’m gonna go with-“

~~~

You groan and stretch your back, gasping when your chest seizes again, tight and painful around the bottom of your sternum. Your neck’s been hurting for the past week, your shoulders are tense, and your back has been achy all day. Now, you can’t take a deep breath without pain in the middle of the chest.

You go to the bathroom, taking deep breaths and trying to stretch to get rid of the pain, but it just isn’t happening. You walk back out, gently shaking Sam awake.

“Sam, Sam wake up.”

He’s up instantly, sitting up, “(Name) what’s wrong?” he asks, concerned.

“I think we need to go to the hospital.”

“What?” he asks, getting up, “What happened? What’s wrong?” he asks again.

“My chest hurts, and my back hurts, I can barely breathe,” you tell him, holding yourself in a hunched position to alleviate the pain in your chest.

“Shit, okay, hang on,” he gets up and gets dressed while you do the same, pulling on shoes and a jacket before he leads you outside. He goes to Dean’s room to get the keys, jogging back out and letting you into the car. It’s cold out, and your shivering is making everything worse, your lower back seizing at the incessant shivering.

Sam quickly turns on the heater, driving to the hospital. He glances at you, “It’ll be okay babe, almost there,” he soothes when he sees the look of pain on your face. You just nod, gripping the handle for support.

Sam leads you into the hospital and you walk with him to the desk. The girl gives you an understanding look when she sees you, “Can I help you?”

“My girlfriend’s in a lot of pain,” Sam starts. You gently pat his arm, stepping in front of him.

“My neck and shoulders have been tight and painful for about a week, now my back’s hurting and I’m having trouble breathing because of chest pain.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” the girl grimaces, “Do you have insurance?”

You shake your head. You’ll just use an alias.

“Can I get your name?”

“Alicia Canyon.”

“Social?”

“678-09-4531.”

“ID?”

You hand her your ID, waiting for her to make a copy before she comes back.

“Okay Alicia, you can have a seat.”

You nod, sitting next to Sam and holding his hand through the spasms. He watches you with concern, rubbing your back gently.

“Alicia?”

You get up and follow the nurse behind the door, sitting in the chair she indicates and letting her take your blood pressure and temperature. You answer her questions, wincing when another wave of pain overtakes you.

She smiles, “The doctor will be in to see you soon,” she promises, patting your hand and leaving the room. Sam takes your hand again while you wait. Luckily since it’s late enough at night that there aren’t a lot of other patients.

The doctor comes in and asks you all the same questions as the nurse did, prescribing you painkillers and recommending some stretching exercises. Basically worthless to you, but at least you can stop the pain. Sam drives you home, giving Dean the keys back and following you into the hotel room.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting?” he asks, getting you water for the painkillers.

“I assumed it was muscle tension and harmless,” you answer, taking your pills and laying on your stomach with a groan. Sam helps you get your shirt off and starts gently massaging your back, starting from the bottom and working his way up. Your pills take hold before long, and you fall asleep with his hands massaging away the knots.

“Dean, we’re not going anywhere right now. She’s hurt!”

“She has tension, she’ll be fine.”

“I’m serious Dean, you wake her up and tell her to get packed while I get her food, I’ll knock you out,” you hear Sam growl before the door closes behind him. You open your eyes and look up at Dean, who’s shaking his head, sitting at the table on Sam’s laptop. You get up and go to the bathroom, coming back and laying on your back with a groan. Sam’s back in no time, carrying food, water, icy hot patches, a heating pad, and a special pillow. You can’t help but smile.

He swoops in and kisses you softly, getting you all set up with the pillow and heating pad, making you food and making sure you eat, putting a patch on your neck, making sure you get your pills on time, and generally being an awesome boyfriend. Dean rolls his eyes and loudly tells you about nearby cases, but Sam ignores him, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair.

You lay with Sam a little while longer, both enjoying the cuddling and feeling horrible for enjoying it.

“Sam,” you say softly, pulling back enough to look at him.

“Hm?” he looks down at you, rubbing your back.

“I don’t know if…this,” you motion between you, “will be a good idea. Not, not because I’m not into you,” you quickly add when his face falls, “but just…I don’t know if I’ll have a happy ending. You know?”

His jaw tenses, “You’re not going to get hurt,” he says firmly.

“No I mean, probably not,” you half-agree, “but…I don’t think God cares if I make it, as long as I do my job. I don’t know if I’ll have a purpose after I finish what he wants me to do.”

“Then don’t do it,” he says, pulling you close again, “then don’t do what he wants. You don’t have to die for this.”

You can hear the pain in his voice. You can tell he’s still raw from losing their last prophet, and you can tell he cares about you. Selfishly, you enjoy that, but you also hate yourself for it. Now that God is pretty actively controlling your movements, you know this can’t end well for everybody.

“I have to,” you answer, kissing his neck to comfort him, “he chose me.”

“I don’t care. Don’t do it,” he repeats, tightening his grip, as if he’s trying to protect you from God.

You don’t argue any more, letting him hold you. It feels good, at least, and if you’re being honest with yourself, you’re scared. You’re not a robot, you’re not just a slave, you don’t want to die for this. You just can’t see another way. You can’t go home, you can’t hide here for the rest of your life, so how else could this end? You’re here to fix the brothers, and you’re slowly starting to think the way to do that is to become a common enemy between them.

You’re going to have to manipulate them, and you hate yourself for it.

Dying for the cause would be easier.

You’ve grown to care about both of them, and you don’t want to hurt either of them, and you can barely stand the idea that they’ll hate you when all is said is done.

After a while you finally pull away, letting him kiss you one more time.

“Please, don’t do this to yourself,” he pleads, arm still tight around your waist.

“I can’t promise anything,” you whisper, closing your eyes and forcing yourself to get out of bed.

You walk back to your room and shut the door, pulling yourself together. You want to cry, both for hurting Sam and for what’s going to ultimately be your death.

This is a lot heavier than you ever thought it would get.

You force yourself to pull it together, you still have to talk to Dean, and then you can gauge where to go next.

You walk down to his room and listen to see if he’s up. You don’t hear movement, so you push the door open and close it quietly behind you. He’s indeed asleep, laying on his side, reaching out over the edge of his bed. You smile softly, walking around and crawling into bed behind him.

He takes a while to wake up, and you end up falling asleep curled up against his back. You wake up alone in his bed. Shit. That’s not how the plan was gonna go.

You get out of bed and quietly walk to the kitchen, where you can hear them talking.

“She thinks she has to die for this,” Sam says, sounding obviously worried.

“For what though? What does she think is gonna kill her? We’re not taking her out with us,” Dean says, obviously confused, “and why would she come crawl in bed with me?”

“She was looking for information from me, I think. She asked about me and dad, and then me and you. She said she had another dream,” he tells him, leaving out the cuddles and the kisses.

“Did she just get in bed with you too?” Dean asks, still stuck on that fact. You hear Sam sigh and can practically see him rolling his eyes.

“Yes, Dean, she just got in bed with me. I don’t think that’s the most important part here.”

“But it could be, what else would she think would be something bad around here?”

Oh man, they’re onto you. Should you pack up? Call Cas?

“She’s asked me a few times about why we’re fighting,” Sam says softly, thinking.

“Yeah me too…” Dean agrees. You can hear him step closer to you, away from Sam.

You step in the kitchen before you can even think about it, spurred on by another gut feeling. Those are really getting annoying.

“You two need to talk about this,” you say, blocking Dean’s escape, letting God use you as a mouthpiece.

“About what?” Dean asks, looking at you, “I think we should talk about how you’ve been-“

“No. This isn’t about me. This is about you two,” you point at them, “you’re brothers, and you love each other, and this is a stupid fight that you’re letting distract you from everything else. And you’re using me as a scapegoat.”

“What?” Sam says, shaking his head.

“Come on, you’ve gone on one hunt since I got here, and you don’t talk to each other about anything. You need to put your big man feelings aside and talk to each other.”

Dean shakes his head and turns to leave, and you step in front of him, hands on his chest, “No, I’m serious. We’re doing this right now.”

“What was your plan?” Dean asks, obviously trying to derail you.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’m flying blind here, going by what feels right. And this feels right, you two need to talk about this, because it’s all a big misunderstanding, and there’s no reason not to talk about it.”

“Talk to Sam then, he’s the one that said he’d let me die,” Dean growls, pushing to leave again.

“Are you kidding me?” Sam straightens up, “You completely misunderstood what I said. I didn’t mean I’d let you die, I meant I wouldn’t go against what you wanted to do!”

“How could you expect me to just let you die?” Dean rounds on him, letting you shrink back out of the way, “After that night in the church?”

“Because I wanted to! You should have let me,” he says, straightening to his full height.

“So would you rather be dead?”

“No! I just want you to respect my decisions about my life! I’m tired of everything being about what you want!”

Dean looks stunned, “Do you really think it’s like that?”

“Dean, it is like that. You talked me out of finishing the trials, and you let an angel possess me so I wouldn’t die. I killed Kevin because you were reckless!”

“That isn’t on you Sam, dammit, that’s on me!”

“You don’t see yourself burning his eyes out in your sleep,” Sam growls, getting in his space.

“You’re not getting it! I can’t…if you die, what do I have left?”

“You have you! Make something to live for, stop hunting, get a job, get a girlfriend-“

“Like you did when I went to Purgatory?” he snarls, voice accusatory.

“What was I supposed to do? There wasn’t even a body, I assumed you were gone. How was I supposed to know you were trapped somewhere?” Sam says, shaking his head, “Do you think I was glad you were gone?”

“You sure acted like it.”

“No, Dean. I wasn’t glad. Every time I got in the car, I had to think about you. About how you were just…gone. I didn’t get to say good bye, I didn’t get a chance to help you, all I could hope was that you were up in Heaven, having a beer and enjoying your best memories. Before I could get up there and mess them up again.”

Dean blinks, the fight draining out of his body, “So you see where I was coming from? I could stop it, I could help-“

“No!” Sam turns to him again, “You’re not getting it! You knew I wanted out! You knew I was done, and you purposely undermined what I wanted!”

“I couldn’t just let you die, Sam, I’m sorry!” Dean says, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, okay? I mean, I’m not, because you’re here, and that’s more important than anything to me, but I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry you can’t trust me. I’m sorry I went against you and made a bad call.”

Sam finally deflates, taking a few breaths before answering, “Thank you. I don’t want to be dead now, you know. I’m not suicidal or anything. And I definitely don’t want you dead either, I just…I want you to respect me. That’s all.”

You breathe a heavy sigh, relieved. They figured it out without you having to hurt them. They both look at you and you shrink back, not at all ready to deal with the consequences of what you did. Even if God made you do it.

When you wake up the first thing you notice is there’s someone spooning you. It’s nice, and somehow feels familiar, you like it. You look over your shoulder to see who it is and frown a bit. You don’t recognize this man, at all.

No…wait. You do recognize him. Well, you don’t, but you’ve realized by now this isn’t you. You’re in another memory. You can only hope this one isn’t horrible.

He shifts and opens his eyes, smiling at you as he leans in for a kiss, “Morning,” he whispers, running his hand down and resting over your stomach. With a jolt you realize you’re pregnant.

“Morning,” you smile back, letting the memory take over while you try to get over the fact that you have a baby inside you.

“No morning sickness today,” he notes, nuzzling your neck, so full of love and affection you don’t know how he’s doing it.

“Nope, he’s decided to stay calm this morning,” you answer, closing your eyes and soaking it up.

“He’s getting so big,” the man notes, rubbing your belly, “I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Won’t be too long now, just you wait,” you say, sitting up and going to the bathroom. You pause and look yourself over in the mirror. Taking in all the different features. You nod and go back out to your husband, kissing him softly. He smiles and kisses you back, leaning his head against your belly.

“Oh he’s moving,” he says, excited, “gonna be an athlete I bet. Dean the football star,” he chuckles, kissing your stomach.

~

You wake up for real this time, tangled and sweating in your blankets. You gasp, looking around the dark room for something to assure you that this time, it’s real.

“How is this helping?” you groan, covering your face. You don’t want to see these peoples’ happy memories. You know how they end, and it hurts. You feel their joy, and then you wake up and remember they’re all dead.

Wait…they’re all dead. So far, you’ve only seen memories from deceased people. That’s a clue.

And they’re all somehow related to Sam and Dean, so there’s another one.

You just have to figure out what these memories are trying to tell you, and then you can figure out what to do next.

And to do that, you’re gonna have to talk to the boys about them.

You sigh and get out of bed, walking into the kitchen, looking at the microwave for the time. 2:20am.

“Shit,” you whisper, getting a drink. You won’t get to talk to them tonight.

Maybe you’re gonna die a horrible tragic death, maybe that’s what the dreams are about. As soon as you have the thought your gut twists, but not in a bad way. Just in a “no, that’s not it” kind of way.

“Okay, so I’ll live,” you sit down, trying to concentrate.

So far you’ve only had memories from Jess, John, and Mary. Jess and Mary both died the same way, and were both heavily involved with a Winchester before they died. You’re not one hundred percent sure how John died, the boys tend to gloss over that when you talk, but you know he became a hunter after his wife was killed. You know Sam went back to hunting because Jess was killed. Maybe it’s something to do with Sam and John? You haven’t seen anything related to Dean yet. You wait for a gut feeling, but it doesn’t come, so you have no idea if you’re on the right track or not.

Why do they need a prophet right now anyway? The old one died, and that’s about all you know about it. Sure, Cas said you were the messenger, and you got that note, but that doesn’t help you at all.

“Okay God, give me a message,” you say sarcastically, looking up at the roof. You blink in surprise when you see a folded up piece of notebook paper wedged in the corner. You climb up on the table and grab it, turning on the light above the stove to read it.

“Fix. Mend.”

“You aren’t helpful,” you growl, sitting back down. Okay. Save them, and Fix and Mend. You’re about 99% sure he means the brothers now. Maybe you should talk to Sam about his relationship with John?

It makes sense anyway.

You forget it’s nearly three in the morning and walk down to Sam’s room, opening the door slowly. He’s sleeping. That…makes a lot of sense.

You’re about to leave but something stops you. Your gut again. Okay, so, don’t leave. You take a few steps inside and the negative feelings subsides. Okay, you shut the door and feel your way to his bed in the dark. This is weird, and you’re pretty sure he’s gonna punch you for this, but you crawl in beside him, trying not to be too tense.

He stays asleep, laying on his back, taking over basically the whole mattress. Somehow there’s space for you to scoot in, and you wonder if God made Sam sleep this way, because there’s a perfect spot for you up against his side. You get comfortable, on your side against him, and he reacts instantly. He pulls his arm in, pulling you flush against him, turning to face you. He tangles your legs together, wrapping his other arm around your back and nosing against your neck.

“Are you awake?” you whisper, surprised when he doesn’t answer. So he just turns into an octopus in his sleep, cool.

Well. This was a very productive talk. You settle in, hoping for some kind of epiphany to tell you what you’re supposed to do next, but instead you just feel warm and cozy and start falling asleep.

You wake up again a few hours later when Sam shifts, slowly waking up. Oh shit, how are you supposed to explain this? I don’t know, God told me to do it man.

You’re prepared for him to push you away, or freak out a bit, but instead you hear him chuckle softly before pulling you closer. Oh man, that isn’t what you were expecting at all, and the rush that comes with it was definitely uncalled for. You get a good feeling in your gut, and you’re vaguely reminded of that scene in Harry Potter where he takes liquid luck. Just follow the feelings.

“I had another dream,” you say softly, nuzzling against his neck.

“You could have woken me up,” he says, rubbing your back.

“This worked out just fine,” you say back, smiling a bit, “It was Mary, again.”

“What happened?” he asks, holding you close.

“I was her, and we were pregnant with Dean, and your dad was there, and he was so happy…it was pleasant,” you tell him.

“Well at least it wasn’t another nightmare,” he says.

“Yeah, what happened with you and your dad? He was so different in the dream compared to what I read in the journal…” you ask.

He sighs, “He…he wasn’t a bad guy. He just went crazy after mom died, he left us alone a lot, Dean had to take care of me, and we got in a lot of fights. He put the job first, and that hurt, I hated seeing how he would yell at Dean, or how he consistently cared more about his guns than us. So, I worked hard in school so I could go to college, and I got accepted to Stanford. Most parents would have been proud,” he says bitterly, shifting a bit, “but he was pissed. Told me if I left I might as well never come back, so that’s what I did.”

“That’s awful,” you say softly, “were you mad at Dean?”

He sighs, “At first, yeah. I thought he should have stood up for me, but I get it. Dad raised him wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dean’s sense of self comes from others, he was raised to look out for me, and to be a good soldier for dad,” he explains, “he never got to be his own person.”

“Which is why he couldn’t let you go,” you say softly, the pieces clicking together in your head.

“Probably, but he shouldn’t have lied to me,” he says, tensing up.

“No, you’re right, I know,” you quickly soothe, “but I get it now. You’re all he has left, without you, what is he?”

“That isn’t healthy,” he points out.

“But did he have a choice?” you ask.

He sighs, “No, but he’s an adult now. He needs to see his flaws and work on them.”

You nod in agreement. That much is definitely true. You expect your gut to tell you to get the hell out of there and talk to Dean, but the opposite happens, you’re suddenly very content to stay here in Sam’s arms. You nuzzle into his neck and he smiles.

“You’re awfully cuddly today,” he says, pulling you closer.

“You aren’t complaining,” you point out, sighing softly.

“No, can’t say I am,” he answers, pulling back to look at you. He leans down and you realize he’s about to kiss you about the time his lips touch yours. You react on instinct, kissing him back and letting him pull you close. Your gut doesn’t seem to have anything to say on the subject, so you just let it happen naturally, kissing him for a bit and then nuzzling his neck again. You know you have to talk to Dean too.

This is about to get complicated, and you’re starting to realize you don’t really matter, in the grand scheme of things. Your job is to fix these two, and if you get thrown out in the process, you’re pretty sure God doesn’t care.