“Sam, how many times do we have to go through this? I’m a big girl; I can take care of myself. And your wrist is still healing so it’s not like you can call the shots on this one anyway. Besides, I’m not going in alone. You and Dean will be there for backup the whole time, right?”

“’Course we will, eh Sammy?” In a strange turn of events, Dean often appeared to be the one with a more jovial outlook recently.

Sam merely nodded and continued his heavy breathing. He glared down at his bandaged left wrist, the result of skirmish with a couple of wraiths, as if it were the root of all his problems. Then he looked up and through densely drawn brows, those magnetizing multicolored eyes pierced yours, his countenance bearing a charged and sullen expression of pensive exasperation as his jaw visibly tightened. You swallowed and could not for the life of you find the will to look away.

“So it’s settled then,” Dean proclaimed jubilantly, “Unless… you’ve got another reason you don’t want Y/N playing bait, hmm Sam? Maybe something you wanna share with the class? Or, you know, I could leave…”

“Dean, stop it. You’re not helping,” you quickly admonished before steadying your gaze back on the taller Winchester, “Look, Sam, have I ever let you down?”

“No. Never.”

“And do you still trust me?”

“Of course,” he responded immediately in a ‘what-kind-of-a-question-is-that’ tone, at which you simply raised your eyebrow to send him a reciprocating ‘then-what’s-the-problem?’ look.

“OK fine,” Sam huffed out a big breath, “But you’re not taking any risks! Anything seems off at all, just… promise me you’ll wait for me and Dean and keep us in the loop?”

His pleading eyes were so earnest and you’d truly never been able to say no to the giant puppy before, so you offered him a little smile and said, “Cross my heart.”

Sighing, Sam rubbed his face, looking lost in thought for a moment until he spoke up again, much more reserved and hesitant this time, “Do you still have that uh… ring from… that time?” Dean muffled a snort at his brother’s expense but you both ignored him, completely accustomed to his nonsensical teasing by now.

“Uh yeah, I- I think so.” The uncertainty in your voice was a lie. Of course you still had the ring you’d once used to pretend to be married to Sam Winchester. You may or may not have tucked it away in a special place for safekeeping.

“Good,” Sam nodded curtly, “I want you to wear it. It’s silver. I’ll wear mine too and Dean already has his. That’s how we’ll know that we’re still… ourselves.”

“OK, yeah that’s a good idea,” you agreed, trying your hardest not to linger on the memories.

“Well look at you two! Getting hitched again so soon-“

“Shut up, Dean,” you and Sam cut him off together.

When the meeting was adjourned and you were about to part ways to prepare for the upcoming hunt, something inside you forced you to call out his name, “Oh and Sam!” He turned around at once, questioning gaze somewhat urgently searching yours for a sign of what might come next. You stuttered though, feeling suddenly self conscious, so the next words you uttered were not much louder than a whisper, “Be careful with your wrist.”

Sam smiled, his dimples making your fingers twitch with the need to caress them. “I’ll be fine. You just look out for yourself. Remember, we’ll be right behind you.”

Somehow you both didn’t hear the groan Dean emitted as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed to whoever was listening, ‘Good lord, someone give me the strength to survive another day with these imbeciles.’

There was only one diner in the tiny Pennsylvanian town, and seeing as you were starving by the time you got there, the three of you were forced to make do with soggy fries and questionable milkshakes. As you ate, you went through your game plan once more, which essentially consisted of waiting until nightfall to visit the bar from where the previous girls had gone missing, while Sam and Dean shadowed you covertly.

Before you left, you took a quick trip to the loo and when you returned, Sam was stood outside alone, a broad smile upon his face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked as you began to walk out the diner, expecting to find the older brother waiting impatiently in the parking lot by his precious car, but the Impala was gone.

“He went back to the motel, said he had something to take care of and that we should go scope the place out first.”

“But I thought we agreed to-“

“Yeah, well change of plans, you know how it is,” Sam replied casually with a shrug.

Little red flags started fluttering in your head, urging your eyes downward to locate the silver band on his finger. You frowned when you found it there untouched on his right hand; Sam almost never interrupted you, not even when he was absorbed in the foulest of moods.  

Apparently sensing your hesitation, he added, “I mean, he made a good point. Maybe if you familiarize yourself with the surroundings first, you’ll be able to take the guy out faster.”

Sam was still smiling at you, but it felt all wrong. You couldn’t explain it, but there was something missing from his rainbow eyes. The colors were all there, but they lacked luster and warmth, a delicate twinkle that you’d learned to associate with the beautiful, heroic yet self-doubting giant of a man. Never had you seen that breathtaking magic replicated elsewhere, nor had you ever seen Sam without it, which was why you were almost completely certain that the man before you was not the real Sam Winchester.

But weaving within you was a thread of doubt, insisting that you couldn’t just pull a gun on your best friend because of something as trivial as… a feeling? No, you needed to test your theory. And so, bracing yourself with a deep breath, you slowly reached out your silver-equipped hand to do something you’d grown accustomed to resentfully abstaining from: touching Sam’s bare skin. You aimed for the large target of his hand, deeming it the most inconspicuous of places (given that he was wearing his hunters’ uniform and the only other visible option would’ve been his face or neck), but Sam was faster. Just before you were able to graze his skin with your ring, he caught your wrist in his much bigger hand and pulled it away, twisting your arm until it was locked painfully behind you.

“You think you’re smart, huh?” the shifter snarled with a flash of its eyes, moving in real close as he used Sam’s immense size and his own superhuman strength to easily constrain you.

Even so, you stared up at him defiantly, unafraid, “Sam and Dean will be back.”

“That’s the plan.”

Sam’s sneering face and threatening voice were the last things you saw or heard.

You had no way of determining how much time had passed when you unceremoniously came to in what looked and smelled to be an underground sewer. As your senses sharpened and your muddled brain began to size up your current plight, you nearly scoffed at the clichéd style of your captor. Sat on a peeling wooden chair, manila rope bound your wrists together behind your back and tethered your ankles securely to each of the seat’s front legs.

Ignoring the ache in your head, you set about strategically testing the knots and the integrity of the wood. If only you could reach the silver blade in your boot. But your attempts were interrupted by the reappearance of the shifter, whose shoe hit something as he stepped before you. A metallic clang echoed through the confined space as a result and you followed the sound to find your coveted knife on the ground, far beyond your reach.

“Fucking hunters, always think they’re so clever, always one step ahead because it’s their game. Sure, we might be the monsters but you’re the predators! So let’s see how you like being the prey for once.” Shifter Sam’s upper lip curled up in a way that seemed so foreign to you as he leaned forward to rest his hands on either arm of your chair, caging you in.

The malicious glint in his eye left you with no qualms about affronting this being who, for all intents and purposes, appeared identical to the man you’d recently discovered you were in love with. Lifting your chin, you glared up at him brazenly, “If you’re so keen on being the predator then why am I still alive? What are you waiting for?”

“Why your knight in shining armor of course!” he exclaimed, backing up as he stood to his full height and gestured to himself with both hands. “You think it was a coincidence that all those women looked like you?”

The shifter’s narrowed eyes were alight with amusement and a ripple of fear surged through your body. You were in much deeper than you or the boys had anticipated, though years of practice helped you keep your voice steady and bold, “What did you do to them?”

“Oh, I gave them a fairly painless death, don’t you worry. They were just stepping stones on my way to you. See, the Winchesters owe me a girlfriend, so I figured I’d take the closest thing to theirs. But imagine my joyous surprise when I got into this big lug’s head and discovered that he’s in love with you! No, actually it’s more than that. He’s obsessed with you; you never leave his brain! Every other thought and memory is about you... Well, it’s either you or his brother, but oh, it’s gonna kill him to see you die before his eyes. I might’ve been able to replace my dead girlfriend, but I don’t think Sam here will ever come back from losing you.”

Stunned into silence, the stupid influx of misguided hormones pumping through your veins forced you to focus on maintaining a neutral expression as he rattled on.

“And you feel the same way, don’t you? So this really will be a double kill. It’s OK, you can let it all out. I might be a monster but I’m not one to deny the dying their chance for some last words. Besides, you can say it all while looking into the eyes of the man you love.”

“Fuck you,” were the only words you could trust yourself to spit out at him.

‘Sam’ laughed, but it was nothing like the laughs you normally pulled from him. It didn’t radiate like sunshine or replenish your soul with glee. Rather, it was chilling and conniving and despite the mimicry of Sam’s beautiful voice, you immediately decided that you never wanted to hear it again.

“Not feeling too talkative, huh? Or maybe you’d rather wait until he gets here in the flesh to make that anticlimactic confession of love? That’s alright, I can just tell you more about this dumbass’s feelings for you.” The shifter chuckled with delight, as if every word brought him nothing but pure joy. “Man, he loves you so much, it’s insane. I’ve never been inside the skin of someone so in love. And I thought I really loved my ex. Afterall, this whole revenge thing is for her. But I gotta tell ya, I’ve got nothing on Sam Winchester. Did you know he thinks you were made specifically for him? You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone? Cause Sam does. That’s how he feels about you.”

“Why should I believe you?” you challenged, growing tired of the inadvertent response his words were eliciting. Your heart was pounding in your neck, core trembling at the mere possibility of Sam genuinely feeling the way he’d described. But you knew better than to trust a monster, and one who was in pursuit of maximal vengeance no less. Still, those rose-colored thoughts resonated within you, and you stumbled to dismiss them as they bubbled up, one after another like a game of emotional whack-a-mole.

Shifter Sam smirked, “Yeah, you’re a cynical one, aren’t you? You know everything he said in that marriage counseling session was true. You kinda hurt his feelings when you just brushed it all off. Even big brother Dean’s been trying to get him to confess his love for you. You must’ve heard them arguing about it at some point? They weren’t exactly being discreet.”

Choosing not to respond, you simply scowled at him.

“No? Still in denial? Perhaps you need details… You ever notice how he always sits across from you whenever you’re doing research? It’s because he thinks you’re gorgeous when you’re focused, and it gives him an opportunity to admire you without getting caught. And why do you think he lets you call him Sammy, huh? Yeah, he might not let it on but he fucking loves it when you do, makes him feel all tingly inside. And you remember that cop who hit on you? Captain Anderson, was it? Sam wanted to break the guy’s nose just for touching you. Oh and why do you think he asked you to move into the bedroom closest to his? It’s so he can keep track of your nightmares. He likes to keep you close because it makes him feel like he can protect you better when you need it.”

By now, your ‘neutral expression’ must have surely mutated to betray your shock, and you couldn’t have answered if you tried. The shifter didn’t seem to mind either way. In fact, he appeared to be having the time of his life.

“And it’s not all pure thoughts, let me tell you! Oh man, buddy boy here has dreamed up plenty of X-rated scenes with you, ranging from obnoxiously romantic to just plain obscene. You name a position and he’s imagined it, in high-definition detail,” he embellished, tapping an index finger against his temple, “His mind is like a library of pornos starring the two of you, although he’ll never get to live out any of his fantasies, will he? It’s a shame really; some of these are really hot... Ooh, I’ll have to borrow that one,” he said with closed eyes, as if a figment of Sam’s imagination was playing through his head in that very moment, “Maybe my girl and I can re-enact it while we’re still in your skins-”

“Shut up, just shut up!” you finally bellowed in protest.

Sam watched the bathroom door attentively after you’d disappeared through it, unable to contain the upward jerk of his lips when he saw you walking back out of it. Heartwarming relief had become his body’s intrinsic response to seeing you safe and sound.

“You ready?” he questioned when you made it to his side.

“Yeah, I’m good.” God, even the sound of your voice made him happy.

Once you got back to the motel, Dean plopped down onto one of the full-size beds, exhausted from the drive. Within a matter of seconds, snores began to fill the room, and Sam chuckled under his breath as he sat down around a wobbly table with you to continue your research on the shifter’s victims, hoping to find something else that linked them together or a clue as to where they might’ve been taken.

It wasn’t long before you inhaled a revelatory gasp and abruptly clutched Sam’s wrist to show him what you’d found. But your grip was harsh, causing him to hiss in pain and do something he’d never before done: recoil from your touch.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does it still hurt?” you asked nonchalantly, smiling up at him innocently.

Worse than the pain in his fractured wrist was what felt like sirens blaring in his head. You were always hyper-cognizant of his injuries and exceedingly careful around them, sometimes even more so than himself. Sam looked you over subtly, eyes landing on the silver ring still upon your finger. Perhaps his mind had been playing tricks on him and all that tender attention he thought you’d shown him was simply a mirage of his own wishful thinking?

“It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.” Sam sent you a tight smile, to which you responded with a dazzling one of your own. It was beautiful but something about it felt off. In the past, you apologized profusely if ever you found yourself the accidental cause of his discomfort, no matter how indirect or insignificant the case, but right now there wasn’t a single speck of concern in your eyes. Indeed, the more he looked into them, the more he struggled to recognize the person staring back at him.

In a flash, Sam had you up against the wall, a silver blade held against your neck. He looked down to see the metal sizzling there, burning your flesh, and cursed himself for failing to notice sooner.

The noise woke Dean from his slumber and what he saw when he opened his eyes was equal parts shocking and amusing. “Whoa! At least wait till I’m out of the room! And isn’t that a little kinky for your first time?”

“Dean, it’s not her. She’s not Y/N,” Sam grit out, “She’s wearing the ring but she’s not Y/N.”

His brother’s brows knit together as he rubbed the sleep from his emerald greens. “Wha- How did you know?”

“She was acting… weird.”

Dean scrambled off the bed, making a quick call on his phone to ensure you really were missing. He paled when a robotic voice over the line told him the number he was trying to reach was no longer in service.

It was then the shifter decided to speak up, “You know, the real Y/N would have liked this, you pressing her up against a wall?” she murmured suggestively.

“Shut up. Where is she?!” Sam slammed her body against the flimsy motel wall once more and dug the knife in a little deeper. In his panic-stricken state, he barely registered her remark, being driven entirely by a one-track mind at present.

Shifter Y/N grimaced slightly, glancing down at the knife, “Maybe if you stop cutting into me with that, I might consider telling you.”

“How did you get the ring?”

“Oh, this little thing? You like it? It’s imitation silver, but otherwise nearly identical to the one on the real Y/N’s finger. You see, we’ve been following you for a while now.”

“Who’s we? Where did you take Y/N?!” he demanded incessantly.

“My boyfriend’s got her, but don’t worry, he looks just like you so I’m sure she’ll find her accommodations to her liking,” she retorted with a smirk.

Sam’s heart lunged in his chest and his mind began whirring with endless possibilities of escalating dread. Had you been deceived and captured by a shifter pretending to be him? Were you being hurt or tortured by someone who looked exactly like him? How would you ever be able to look at him the same way again? Of course, you’d know it wasn’t Sam but the damage would still be done. You would forever remember his face as that of someone who once hurt you, who tried to kill you. That is, if Sam could make it to you in time.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see her one last time. That’s actually why I’m here, to take you to her when the time is right,” the shifter added casually.

“I will end your miserable fucking life! Tell me where she is right now!” Sam roared before pressing the blade further into her neck, the veins in his forearms ready to burst through his skin.

“Hey, hey! Sammy, ease up! We need her alive, alright?” Dean bounded over to his brother and after quite the struggle, managed to assuage him enough to release his vice grip and replace it with silver chains that shackled her to a chair.

“Sam, maybe we should also be asking ‘why’,” Dean mused as he fastened the end of a chain against one of the beds.

With a shake of his head, Sam avowed through grinding teeth, “I don’t fucking care. I have to get to her.”

“And what if it’s a trap?”

“Then I’ll find her myself.”

Dean scoffed in disbelief as he turned to his usually wise and level-headed little brother, “Oh yeah, and how’re you gonna do that? Where would you even start?”

“I don’t know!” Sam exclaimed in exasperation. Then, after a pause of desperate deliberation alleged, “Shifters like to make their lairs in sewers, right?”

Taking a step closer, Dean maintained his challenging tone, “So what are you gonna do, just wade through the entire town’s shit and piss until you find her?!”

“If that's what it takes, then yes!” Sam looked like he was about to eat his brother alive.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” shifter Y/N interfered from her seated position before them, raising her chin to meet Sam’s eyes, “Don’t worry, handsome, I can tell you she feels the same way. But unfortunately, by the time you get to her, I don’t think she’ll be able to tell you herself. In fact, you’ll probably hardly recognize her anymore… so you might want to keep me around, if only as a souvenir of your soon-to-be-dead girlfriend.”

Sam couldn’t contain himself anymore. Despite looking like a carbon copy of you, the evil gleam in the shifter’s eyes made her easily differentiable, and so Sam held back nothing when he lunged across the distance, knife in hand ready to do some real damage. However, Dean pounced with him, having predicted his brother’s violent eruption and felt his shaking wrath, knowing a little too well just how rash he could be when it came to you. Still, it took all of Dean’s strength to pull Sam back, sending him a stern but knowing look once he did.

“Sam, stop!” His low voice rumbled as he went into authoritative big brother mode, “Listen to me, you wanna save Y/N? Well so do I, but this is not how we do it! Now I know it’s hard, but I need you to calm down, alright?”

Sam’s massive chest was practically at his chin as he heaved ginormous breaths. Though his body language was still offensive, his hazel eyes were filled with fear and devastation when they looked toward his brother, “Dean, if I don't get to her in time, I’ll...” Clenching his jaw, Sam made a fruitless attempt to calm his tremoring frame and quell his tumultuous emotions. What would he do? Sam wasn’t even sure himself. All he knew was that every cell in his being was currently screaming at him to get to you, to make sure you were safe and soothe away any of your pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t give in that moment to simply know you were alright and to hold you in his arms. He knew you could look after yourself, but for once he had a terrifying feeling that even you were in over your head, that you might actually need him this time, and he’d be fucking damned if he let you down.

“Woah! Hey, hey! Sammy, look at me! That ain’t gonna happen, alright? We’re gonna find Y/N and we’re gonna bring her home in one piece, you hear me? We’re the Winchesters, man! We’ve faced the end of the world. What’s a couple of shifters got on us?”

‘You,’ Sam thought, ‘They’ve got you.’ But he appreciated Dean’s pep talk nonetheless and nodded in response as a fresh surge of determination swelled within him.

“Alright then,” Dean nodded as well, “Why don’t you let me give her a go?”

As Dean’s silver blade cut into the detained shapeshifter, Sam flinched with every moan and howl of agony. He knew it wasn’t you, but she still had your voice and your perfect face. Yet not a second was wasted on the feeling of relief when they finally managed to get a location out of her. Sam nearly tripped over himself in his haste as he snatched the Impala’s keys and his gun before flying out of the room with a jumbled order for Dean to stay with the monster.

“Well, if you’re not gonna admit your feelings for the giant lumberjack, I guess you’re right. Maybe I should stop yapping and get to prettying you up for that first and last date of yours, huh?” Shifter Sam prodded your cheek with a switchblade.

You said nothing. At this point, you had a sneaking suspicion that physical pain might be more bearable than the psychological torment your imprisoner had been so keen on. It was one thing for you to torture yourself by entertaining the slim possibility that Sam might return your feelings for him, but to hear such outrageous perceptions from a creature who could read the inside of his mind like a paperback novel, and conveyed with such tantalizing conviction… well, it just about broke you.

And knowing that the shifter was yearning to coax a confession out of you simply to cause Sam as much anguish as possible made you more resolute about your refusal to submit, beyond the need to protect your own sanity.

One shiner and a slash to the thigh later, however, you heard a loud clash. Shifter Sam paused his handiwork and began to turn around, “Could your knight be here ahead of schedule?”

‘Dammit,’ you thought. The Winchesters were usually capable of being stealthy when necessary but in case it really was the sound of them making a blunder or encountering some other form of resistance, you figured you’d buy them a distraction.

“Wait, wait! You’re right, OK? Maybe I do feel something for Sam, but even if I told him, I think you’re forgetting… This is Sam fucking Winchester we’re talking about here. He’s been tortured by the devil himself. You really think killing me is going do much damage?”

Your abductor had now given you his full attention, leering at you with a sly smile, so you continued, “Besides, you picked a fight with the Winchesters; don't expect to live to see tomorrow.”

Right on cue, a hulking blur of hair and plaid came barreling in, growling ferally as he grabbed the shifter and threw more than one brutal punch against what appeared to be his own face. The silver ring on Sam’s hand made contact with skin and his shifter counterpart groaned in pain.

You nearly forgot about your ceaseless work of untying the rope that cuffed your wrists together as your looked on in shock. Why Sam hadn’t just shot him with a silver bullet was beyond you. He was smarter than this. There was no need to drag out a monster’s death if a more efficient option existed. But as he continued to engage his clone in hand-to-hand combat, it appeared almost as if he was venting his frustrations on the shifter, as if he drank up every ounce of hurt he was able to inflict. But his high only lasted so long and shifter Sam soon regained his balance, making use of his supernatural invulnerability and superior strength.

“Sam!” you screamed as the shifter threw him across the room.

He tumbled up just in time as the shifter meandered over, “So nice of you to join us, Sam. You know, Y/N here was just telling me about-“

Sam didn’t wait for him to finish, choosing instead to tackle him to the floor with a loud grunt. While they wrestled on the ground, you worked furiously at the knots behind you, wincing with every hit Sam took though it was becoming hard to tell them apart.

When Sam finally drew his gun, the shifter was able to divert its barrel and a shot rang out futilely. Catching a subsequent elbow to the ribs had Sam falling to his knees and you watched in horror as shifter Sam once again gained the upper hand, sending the gun flying out of Sam’s grasp. The binding around your wrists was just about undone when Sam seized a stray rusty pipe and swung it against his counterfeit. Shifter Sam was incapacitated for a brief instant but quickly returned to form with some vicious hooks and a couple of well-placed knees.

With your hands finally free of their restraints, you staggered over to the gun, the chair still attached at your ankles. As you took aim, you shouted, “Sam, get down!” before you shot his mirror image through the heart.

Sighing, you slumped to your hands and knees whilst the real Sam sat up with his back against a wall, gaping at you with a look of awe. Yet before he even caught his breath, he was up and gliding toward you, cradling his left wrist at an awkward angle.

“Sam, your wrist!”

“It’s fine, are you OK?” he swiftly dismissed your concern, cupping your face with his good hand as he examined the darkening bruise around your eye.

You ignored the palpitations in your chest and placed a hand upon his wrist, “Yeah, I’m fine. He wasted more time playing mind games than anything. You know villains and their monologues,” you joked, trying to ease his tension and the deluded self-imposed guilt you knew he must’ve been brewing in.

As if to prove your point, Sam lamented, “God, I’m so sorry. I should have known. I should have gotten here sooner.”

“What? No! They were miles ahead of us, Sam. The whole thing was a set up; this was their hunt. How could you have known?”

Rather than replying, he released a breath and busied himself trying to help you out of your binding.

Back at the motel, after icing your eye and stitching up your thigh, you insisted on re-wrapping Sam’s wrist while Dean took care of shifter Y/N’s remains. But when the older Winchester returned and spied you and his brother sitting together on a bed through a crack in the door, he couldn’t resist the chance to exercise his espionage skills.

“How did you know she wasn’t me anyway?” you asked as you gently wound the ace bandage around Sam’s swollen forearm.

“I just…” He looked down at your nimble fingers upon his skin and smiled unwittingly at their tender touch, “had a feeling.”

Sam’s sunflower gaze locked onto yours for a frozen instant and something about his soft expression made you forget what words were, until he cleared his throat, “Did you um- did you know he wasn’t me?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, smiling for some strange reason. Perhaps you were just glad to see his trademark twinkle return to those otherworldly eyes. “Pretty soon after actually. I… had a feeling too.”

Sam’s dimples made every ache in your body disappear as that twinkle glistened in full force, “And how’d you know which one to shoot?”

Well, that dampened your mood and brought you back to the task at hand, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you kept grimacing every time you used your left wrist?” Although your words had a bitter force behind them, the pressure beneath your fingertips never increased and Sam had almost completely forgotten about his pain.

You, on the other hand, were reminded of your struggle to reconcile with what had happened since his question prompted a restored and growing frustration.

It had been bugging you the whole time and you felt compelled to confront him about it because storming in alone with a bad wrist, ready to throw hands with an out-of-his-league monster was really not Sam’s style. Something must’ve gotten into him and with everything the shifter had told you, you couldn’t help but wonder. Nevertheless, you were a little afraid of how he might answer, so Dean had to lean in closer to hear your next words.

“Why didn’t you just shoot him?”

“W-what do you mean?” Sam stammered out after a pause.

“Sam, you have a broken wrist, but instead of sending Dean or using your gun from the get-go, you came in like a madman and went after him with your fists!” Your voice was full of incredulity though it also carried an undertone of anger.

As Sam picked up on that reproachful tone, you could almost feel the telltale signs of his puppy dog eyes coming on. “He used my face to deceive you, to hurt you. They manipulated us. I had to- ...I mean, he killed those women just to get us here. He had it coming!”

Your hopes plummeted. Of course, Sam was ever the righteous man. Why would you assume his brashness had been purely born out of a need to avenge you? Though regardless of his reason, you were still upset about his self-destructing behavior, “Yeah, but you had to have realized you were in no position to be the one to give it to him, right? I mean, you might’ve looked the same but he was juiced up on monster superpowers, Sam… which meant he was stronger and faster, not to mention uninjured, in his own territory, and apparently the only one with a sound plan.”

A breath of laughter left Sam’s lips though there was no smile on his face. Here he’d been on a mission to save you, but you were the one who’d ended up saving him, again. You must’ve thought he was comically stupid and pathetically useless. How could he possibly think he was worthy of you? “I guess I should thank you for saving my ass again, huh?”

“What?! No! That’s not what I mean. Sam, you’re the one who saved me! And I’m beyond grateful for it, really I am. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself more in the process.” You finally finished up with his wrist wrap, securing the final ends with a clip, and letting your hands linger on his for longer than necessary, momentarily distracted by the disparity of size between them. Sam didn’t appear uncomfortable though, as his fingers twitched closer to yours and he made no move to pull away.

He couldn’t help but smile again when he noticed the sincere concern in your eyes that was previously absent in the shifter’s. “Yeah well, what was it you once said to me? ‘Your ass will always be worth it’?” 

“And if I remember correctly, you once told me you don’t do things on hunts that make your injuries worse,” you quoted him back with an arched brow.

“Yeah well, I guess this is payback. Now you know how I felt.” A playful grin made his dimples deepen and you clenched your jaw to refrain from gushing over the ridiculous cuteness of this ‘giant lumberjack’.

“You’re an idiot.”

“As long as you’re OK,” Sam answered assuredly, and you nearly melted when his free hand caressed your cheek for the second time that day, big thumb tracing a feather-light path below the purpled skin.

‘You’re both fucking idiots,’ Dean groaned internally from the other side of the door. He knew he had no choice but to up his game.

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“Well, I guess we know what we gotta do…” Dean tried to fight the grin on his lips as he turned to you, “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

With a perfectly straight face, he managed to ask, “Will you marry me?”

The mouthful of beer that Sam was about to swallow erupted forth in a cascade of tiny droplets, spritzing through the air as he began to cough and choke on what little alcohol had somehow made it down the wrong pipe.

You immediately looked over to see if he was alright, not expecting to find the usually adroit and graceful man a sputtering, red-faced mess, “Geez, Sam. Are you okay?” Rising from your seat to move towards him, you stopped when he held out a large palm and waved it at you as a form of both reassurance and interception.

“Yea- yeah, I’m fine,” Sam wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, taking a moment to recompose himself before sending you an awkward little smile of gratitude.

Dean cleared his throat, “So whaddya say, Y/N/N?”

“Huh?”

“About my proposal, before Sammy so rudely interrupted.” Sam was glaring holes through his brother now, but Dean paid him no attention.

“Oh, right,” you chose your next words carefully, “Umm, you mean you wanna go undercover?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side as he raised his eyebrows in a suggestive smirk, “If the shoe fits…”

“Well aren’t you romantic?” you quipped sarcastically.

“Oh sweetheart, just you wait and see,” Dean sent you a wink that you were sure had dropped many a panty in his time yet held little to no effect over you because… well because you were busy being a little too enraptured by his baby brother. That didn’t seem to stop Dean though, “Trust me, as your loving husband-” It was Sam’s turn to clear his throat, but again Dean ignored him, “I'm gonna romance the shit outta you.”

You scoffed at him in amusement, “Right, you mean when we go to couples therapy?”

“Baby girl, you’d be surprised-”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sam couldn’t hold it in any longer, throwing both hands up in objection, “Can we just back up for a minute? Why does anyone have to get married?”

Dean shot him an incredulous look, “Come on, Sam, we've worked enough of these cases to know this is always the easiest and fastest way.”

Through stiff jaws Sam released a harsh, conceding sigh, “OK... then... why does it have to be you and Y/N?”

“Cause we’re best friends; it'll be more believable,” Dean answered easily with a grin.

A disbelieving stare crossed Sam’s indignant features before he looked down to suppress his emotions with a sardonic nod and pursed lips. It was one thing for Dean to suggest playing your husband but to claim that you're his best friend instead of Sam's... That was too far.

“Plus, you've always been better at playing FBI,” his brother continued with that irritating smile.

Sam gave himself a moment before stating adamantly, “I don't think it should be you.”

“What, why? You don't think we can get the job done?” Dean’s tone was accusing, and you knew he was trying to provoke Sam, but ever since the notion that two out of the three of you needed to play a married couple had been introduced, you found yourself at an inevitable impasse.

“No, I-“ Sam could barely get any words out before Dean circled back to you instead.

“Y/N?” The look Dean sent you forced you to face your inner dilemma head on. On the one hand, you wanted nothing more than an excuse to get close to Sam, to hold his hand and gaze at him adoringly without worrying about anyone seeing, and so much more… but on the other hand, you feared that a glimpse of the ‘real deal’, however contrived, might just push you over the decisive edge. What if you couldn’t go back to your platonic guise after? What if you broke your own heart?

“What? Um, yeah, I think it could work,” you rubbed the back of your neck nervously, keeping your eyes on Dean’s to avoid meeting Sam’s.

Your response elicited a smug expression on the older Winchester’s face however, as he returned to questioning his brother, “So what is it, Sam? You don't think I can pretend to be in love with Y/N? Cause trust me, that'll be easy.” There was that wink again, prompting a roll of your eyes.

“No, I just-“ You were worried Sam’s jaw might fall off if he clenched it any tighter. Why did he seem to care so much anyway? Was he jealous? The thought popped into your head almost as quickly as you dismissed it.

“Then what, Sam?” Dean plucked at that final straw and an explosion of the type that had seemed to become increasingly common from the ordinarily calm and gentle giant followed.

“IT SHOULD BE ME, OK?” Sam roared in frustration, his expansive chest was heaving and his hazel irises had darkened immeasurably. “It should be me,” he repeated more quietly.

Dean smirked; this was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he expected. “Well geez, Sammy. If you wanted to get with Y/N so bad, you could’ve just said so.”

“Wha- that’s not- I don't,” Sam looked extremely distressed and you couldn’t blame him. Whatever Dean was playing at had led him to essentially force Sam to reject you out right, and being the compassionate soul that he was, you knew Sam never wanted to hurt you that way, even if it was indirectly. “I just- I think it would work better this way. You're not exactly the marriage or therapy type and you're just not-“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You wanna shack up with Y/N and who could blame you? There’s no need to throw a hissy fit, baby brother. She’s all yours.” Dean chuckled at the sight of your averted eyes and Sam’s burning cheeks, thinking his work was just about done, “Alright, I’m gonna go get Baby ready. You kids have fun.”

When the echo of a closing door filled the room, Sam turned back to you, “Y/N, look I-“

“Don’t worry about it, Sam, I know what you meant,” you brushed him off hastily, “And you’re right, Dean would probably have a hard time keeping up the act. He’d end up flirting with the therapist or something.” Laughing always did help you conceal the pain in your chest.

As it turned out, it was a flirtatious therapist you should have been more concerned about. The woman had eyes for Sam only as soon as the two of you walked into her office and sat down on the tiny loveseat before her.

“Welcome, I’m Dr. Ryan, but you can call me Marlena,” she paused to perform a not-so-subtle scan along the length of Sam’s body before smiling at him seductively, “Why don’t we start by introducing yourselves?”

You kept your expression neutral though there was an urge to glare at her. After all, didn’t she think Sam was a married man? Perhaps this was part of the scam that got the couples before you killed, your rational side countered.

“Uh, OK…” Sam appeared rather uncomfortable beside you, pressing his lips into a tight semblance of a smile, “Umm, I'm Sam and this is my wife Y-Y/N.”

The damn Winchester was always so adorably flustered every time someone hit on him, something you never failed to find incredibly endearing, especially considering he was a 6'4” hunk of a man who could surely get inside the pants of any woman he wanted. You assumed, being that good looking, he’d be used to the attention by now, but the fact that he still reacted this way was a true testament to his humility.

“And how did you two meet?”

“Through work,” Sam answered shortly. A resounding pang had shot through his chest when he introduced you as his wife and he was still trying to recoup. If only this wasn't all make-believe, if only he could sit close to you and hold your hand in his whenever he wanted and not just for the sake of a ridiculous pretence. The Mr. and Mrs. titles and matching rings weren't even necessary. He just wanted to make you his as much as he was already yours.

Fuck, Dean was right; Sam was in deep. Just the thought of Dean acting as your husband had his heart racing and every muscle in his body tense with envy. There was no way he could have handled seeing his brother all over you, even if it was pretend. And if the fact that he had to make Dean go get the rings for your current ruse, because he had a strong suspicion the act of buying you a ring yet knowing it wasn’t real might just annihilate the final pieces of his fragile heart, wasn’t telling enough... Sam was finally beginning to realize that he could no longer deny his feelings for you.

“Tell me about that. What is it you two do?”

Although the questions were directed at both of you, Marlena’s gaze remained resolutely transfixed upon Sam, but the man was much too busy thinking about you to notice.

“Uh, well it was about 3 years ago. We’re firefighters and Y/N had been sent from another division to help out with a particularly bad… fire. But she somehow got there before we did, and when I arrived on the scene, I saw her walk out of the burning building in a blaze of smoke and dust. She was carrying a little boy, who she had just saved, covered in ash and soot, a-and there was scrape above her left brow that had left a trail of darkened blood down the side of her face,” Sam smiled to himself at the memory, “But I couldn’t move. It was just all so surreal because it was the last thing I expected to find, and I thought she was the most beautiful soul I had ever set my eyes on. I knew right then that I would gladly devote the rest of my life to getting to know her better, to becoming worthy of her, but when she came up to us, I could barely speak in full sentences and I made a fool of myself by stumbling over my own feet. My brother, who’s uh- also a firefighter, later told me he thought I was having a stroke.” Sam chuckled softly. His eyes were downcast, and he seemed to be a little lost in his own world.

By contrast, you were staring at him in shock. You remembered the day quite clearly, although in reality it was a wendigo that you were forced to kill by starting a fire since your flare gun wouldn’t work, but Sam got the rest of the details spot on. The lilt of his voice as he spoke had made it all sound so real, for a moment, you nearly tricked yourself. Who knew he had such incredible acting chops on top of all those other skills?

“Well, that sounds like a beautiful start. I’m assuming you work together now?” Taking note of the new edge in her voice, you gave her a nod and Dr. Ryan continued, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a pen, “It must be terribly hard to maintain a work-life balance and keep the romance alive. I’m sure there are issues from work that you’ll often bring home, conflicts that can never be resolved considering the lack of alone time? Maybe something you found annoying about the other that seemed bearable in the beginning but has now festered to become an unmendable chasm between the two of you?”

Your eyes narrowed of their own accord. Between the obvious flirting to the now obvious attempt to instigate discord between you and Sam, you were starting to think Marlena was undoubtedly the monster (that or she was an awful couples therapist). Her motive remained unclear though, so you played along.

“Uh, well Sam can be a bit… overprotective, at times, when we’re working, and sometimes it can get in the way of the job.”

“Ok but that’s only because Y/N can be ludicrously stubborn, at times, and she has a habit of running headfirst into danger." Sam was surprisingly quick to retort.

"It's literally our job to run into danger, Sam.” Your body was now twisted to face his, “And if I recall correctly, my ‘ludicrous stubbornness’ has led to the saving of multiple lives, yours included."

Sam lowered his head and scoffed lightly before he too turned to face you completely, golden eyes boring into yours with an intensity you were not prepared for, "I know it has but sometimes you act like other people's lives are worth more than yours and that's not true. Besides, it's my job to care about you, to protect you… I-I mean as your husband."

For a second, things got a little too real there, but you took a deep breath to remind yourself this was all just an act, "And I appreciate that Sam, but sometimes it can be a bit overbearing-"

"Well if I'm overbearing it's only because I'm terrified every time we go out there,” Sam began to enunciate every word stiffly, speaking almost entirely through gritted teeth, “Because I can't bear the thought of losing you, because I can't fathom living a life without you!"

And once again, you were left staring at him with your mouth agape. He sure was laying it on thick, or perhaps he just wanted to win the fight, because you had no idea how to argue against that.

“Alright, I think that’s enough on that topic. Maybe we should try something else,” Dr. Ryan interjected, “Oh look at that, time’s almost up! I always end my sessions with a fun little exercise. I want you to look each other in the eyes and take turns coming up with one positive word to describe the other, something you love about your partner, but it must be genuine.”

Quirking your brow, you struggled to restrain the smile on your face as you turned back to Sam. Well this’ll be easy.

“Intelligent,” you stated matter-of-factly, figuring you’d start with something relatively un-incriminating.

“Strong,” Sam came back at you immediately. There was a fierceness in his eyes, almost as if he was daring you to bring it on.

“Kind,” came your simple response.

“Discerning.” His voice seemed lower for some reason.

“Capable,” you kept your eyes locked on Sam’s as you lifted your chin.

“Tough.” There was an undeniable fondness that accompanied the word when it left his lips.

“Sassy,” you replied, unable to stop the smirk that tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“Tenacious,” Sam narrowed his eyes at you.

“Selfless.” Why did you sound so out of breath?

“Complex.” He was smiling at you now.  

“Protective,” you finally admitted despite your earlier complaints.

“Beguiling,” Why were you both whispering?

“Tall.” Was that lust you could hear in your own voice?

“Badass,” Was that lust you could hear in his voice?

“Gorgeous… or handsome if you prefer.” When did your faces get so close?

“So fucking beautif-”

“Woah! OK, I think we’re done here.” Shit, you had almost forgotten about the therapist. “That was… excessive. I don’t think I’ll be needing to see you again,” she declared as she stood up rather suddenly, prompting you and Sam to do the same though you were both still a little caught up in your game.

“Wow, you really are tall,” Marlena breathed out as she smoothed a hand down her pencil skirt. The provocative tone of her voice had you back down to earth in no time. "And those years of firefighting have definitely paid off, what with all those big muscles.”

Sam gave an awkward half laugh as he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you tight against his side. You weren’t sure what compelled you to but as if on instinct, you raised your outer hand and placed it lightly on Sam’s stomach, feeling his abs contracting even through the soft flannel beneath your fingers as you replied, “Yeah, that’s just another one of the many things I love about Sam.”

The laugh that escaped Sam this time was much more sincere, “Thank you for your time, Dr. Ryan.” He kept his hand on your waist as he led the two of you out the door, trying his damnedest to ignore the enticing sensation your touch had evoked throughout his body, as well as the subsequent questions of what your little hand might feel like on other parts of him if a simple graze of his abdomen could produce such a dramatic effect.

“Did it seem like she was rushing us to you?” you questioned Sam pensively when you were back at the motel half an hour later.

“Yeah, like the more we spoke, the more she lost interest in us,” he agreed.

Your next words tumbled out without permission and you could only cringe at the bitter inflection of your voice, “Well, she didn’t seem to lose any interest in you.”

Sam felt himself smile at your adorableness; he couldn’t help it when your bottom lip jutted out like that. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were jealous.

“Are you two outta your damn minds?” Dean looked from his brother’s face to yours. “Did you even check the time? She only gave you about half of what we paid for!”

“What, really?” you and Sam responded in chorus.

“Yeah, but luckily I’m a genius and I got everything we needed within the first few minutes.” Grinning in that cocky way of his, Dean explained, “Your EMF sensors were off the charts as soon as you walked into her office, and I found ectoplasm in the bathroom.”

“She’s a ghost?” Sam did that adorable scrunchy thing with his face and you had to physically stop yourself from staring.

“Possessed by one, yeah. And I checked the records. She spent at least an hour overtime with both of the dead couples.”

“So, what, are we not good enough to be her next victims?” you wondered.

“Maybe she saw through the act?” Sam suggested.

Dean was fumbling through a stack of papers until he found something, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s it. Here, check this out.”

Sam started to read out loud, “’Grave of local girl found desecrated by joggers passing through the cemetery early Sunday morning…’”

“Turns out the kid got pushed out a window accidentally when her parents were fighting... Splat.” Dean elaborated, ever so tactfully.

You were starting to piece it together though, “So now she’s seeking out dysfunctional couples to kill them the way she died… for what, revenge? Or to stop them from accidentally murdering their own kids?”

“That’s my best guess,” Dean confirmed.

“Huh… nice work on research, buddy. I’m impressed,” the playful grin you sent Dean’s way was not lost on Sam.

“Yeah, well your husband’s not the only one who can look stuff up around here. Besides, someone had to do the work while you two were off playing Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“Sam and I have never tried to kill each other,” you argued.

Dean snorted while grabbing his jacket, “And that’s about the only way your relationship differs.”

When he saw your brows pull together in confusion, Sam quickly cut in to change the subject, “So uh- what’s the plan?”

His brother was nearly out the door when he responded, “Nice and easy. I’ll go burn the bones while you guys go back and distract her with your little love fest, capiche?”

The ghost was surprisingly open this time around, admitting freely to her past crimes and even explaining her methods. Apparently, flirting with the husbands was a routine and easy test to spot any cracks in the relationships, one that she claimed Sam had passed with flying colors. But you knew better than to assume his achievement had anything to do with you. After all, you’d seen the man hold fast against the fervent advances of a high-end stripper before, while he was drunk. This was nothing.

“But why kill them?” Sam questioned, with the kind of genuine curiosity that only he could exhibit towards a murderous monster.

“Because it’s better to die than stay in a loveless marriage… But of course you two wouldn’t underst-“ Dean must have completed his task because the therapist was interrupted by a shapeless black plume bursting through her mouth.

‘Oh Shit,’ you thought relentingly as you watched the spirit eject itself and disappear into a fiery cloud of dark fumes, a forlorn expression upon your face, ‘I’m in love with Sam Winchester.’

→ CARRY ON

thank you for reading! feedback super appreciated!!

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“Y/N, would you just let me look at it?” Sam hadn’t meant to sound so snappy, but he was growing tired of you always pushing him away whenever he got too close. He figured you wanted to keep your distance, keep things platonic, and he could never blame you for protecting yourself, especially given his history with women, but he genuinely wanted to help you. Sam needed to make sure you were all right.

His irritable tone had shut you right up, so you simply nodded in consent. ‘Great, now I’m annoying him,’ you thought with a quiet sigh.

Sam tried to send you an apologetic smile, to show that he was simply worried, but you wouldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Great, now she hates me,’ he thought with a defeated sigh.

Choosing not to dwell on the lump in his throat, Sam quickly got to work, ever so gently removing your boot and then sock before rolling up your pant leg just enough to get a clear look. His capable hands and eyes meticulously examined your swollen ankle, turning it this way and that as you leaned back on your hands and shifted uncomfortably on your bum.

“Well, you were right, I don’t think it’s broken. Probably just a bad sprain. You should stay off it for a while though,” his magical kaleidoscope eyes peered up at you through thick lashes as rays of setting sunlight pierced through the only small window in the room and bounced off his cheekbones in ways that left you speechless once again.

You gulped, finding it impossible not to hold his gaze. “Right, thanks doc,” you whispered awkwardly after a beat, swiftly removing your leg from his hold, and rolling your pants back down.

And that had been that.

Now here you were a week later, discussing your plan for a possible witch hunt.

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Dean started, “Sammy can go through the back door, and I’ll go in from the front, while Y/N keeps watch on the outside and-”

“Dude, what the hell?!” Sam’s sudden outburst surprised both you and Dean, as he slammed his laptop shut and raised both hands in question.

“What? What do you mean ‘what the hell’?” Dean shot back, completely perplexed.

“Dean! She has a bad ankle!” Sam’s voice was filled with an unrecognizable anger and his darkened eyes bored fiercely into Dean’s.

“Okayyy, and I put her on lookout duty…” the older Winchester repeated slowly, trying to suss out his brother’s mystical problem.

“Which means she’s gonna have to walk back and forth around the place, and if she sees something, she’s gonna have to run!” Sam accused his brother incredulously, gesturing wildly with his big hands.

Dean couldn’t hold back the dramatic eye roll that accompanied his sigh of disbelief. ‘Here we go again,’ he thought, wishing his baby brother would just man up and tell you how he felt instead of throwing these little tantrums.

Your jaw had been slack as you watched the entire exchange in bewilderment. Feeling a little bad for Dean, however, you decided to finally speak up, adjusting your voice to take on a soothing tone, “Sammy, I’m fine. Honestly, it’s feeling a lot better!” While that wasn’t exactly true, you weren’t sure you could handle another round of his huge yet gentle hands caressing your bare skin. “Besides, it’s not exactly unheard of to be on a job while you’re still a little battered and bruised; that’s just part of the life. I mean, you guys do it all the time!”

Sam turned to look at you for the first time since he’d started speaking, trying to ignore the whirl of butterflies that erupted in his stomach when you used the nickname that had been reserved for Dean only up until you came along (it always sounded so sweet coming out of your mouth, he could never find it in himself to correct you), so he could focus on his train of thought. “Yeah, but we don’t do things that’ll make our injuries worse. Y/N, you need to stay off that foot or it’s not gonna heal properly!”

“Look, Sam, I appreciate the concern. I really do, but I’ll be fine. I’ve had much worse and we need all hands on deck for this case.”

“Well, she ain’t wrong about that. This bitch has been tricky since the start,” Dean chimed in.

Sam flashed his brother a dangerous glare, the muscles in his jaw popping, before he turned back to you, “No. I’m sorry, but I think you’d be more help to us if you just stayed in the car.”

“No?” you questioned him with narrowed eyes. Sure, he was the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on, but that didn’t mean he could tell you what to do – especially not when it came to hunting, the one thing in which you were fully confident of your abilities.

Dean looked on with an amused smirk, glad he wasn’t the one about to get chewed out anymore.

“Sam, I know you mean well, but you don’t get to make that decision for me. That’s not how this works. I joined you two ‘cause we work well as a team. But that only holds if we all get equal say, if we all respect each other as hunters. I’m telling you that I can do this, and you need trust me.”

Sighing as he rubbed his temples, Sam stayed quiet for a moment while he pondered his response. He knew you were right. You were a total badass and he was painfully aware of it (there were times when a stand-alone part of his body was painfully aware of it as well), but still, he couldn’t resist the urge to protect you. Lately, it was becoming harder.

“I trust you, Y/N/N,” Dean cut in, breaking the silence, and then raising a brow at his brother.

Sam ran a large hand over the lower part of his face, nodding his head without looking at either of you, before rising to his feet and walking out abruptly.

Turning your head to stare after him with furrowed brows, you began uncertainly, “Should I…?” You sent Dean an inquiring glance in lieu of finishing your sentence.

“Nah, I got this. Kid’s probably just cranky after all these hunts. You just stay off that foot for as long as you can, make sure you’re good to go for later.”

You nodded as you watched Dean leave to find Sam. It was only a matter of minutes before you heard their loud voices travelling through the thin walls.

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” You recognized Sam’s low and enraged voice immediately.

“Well maybe if you just told her!”

“Told her what, Dean?!”

That’s when things got quiet again.

After a moment of pause, you shook it off and went back to reviewing your research for the case in silence. As confused and curious as you were, you weren’t about to let your mood distract you from the perils that laid ahead. Like Dean said, this witch was tricky, and you needed to have the brothers’ backs.

It was two in the morning when the three of you finally managed to kill the bitch. The hunt turned out to be a team effort after all, with you saving the boys’ asses at the last minute. Your chest was heaving and your ankle throbbing, but you were satisfied with the job well done.

Sam watched as you slowly hobbled back to the car. He could tell that your limp had worsened, but he kept his mouth shut since he knew there was no way they could have done it without you. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if he and Dean would still be here without you, but seeing you in pain tore at his heart and made him wish things were somehow different, despite the overall positive outcome.

Dean clapped him on the shoulder, interrupting Sam’s thoughts and urging him forward with a tired grunt.

“I don’t know about you kids, but I am beat,” Dean looked over at you and Sam as he cut the engine twenty minutes later, “We good with staying another night and heading back tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that sounds good to me,” you agreed, climbing out the car and retreating to your room after bidding the brothers good night.

“Dude,” Dean’s head rolled heavily to the right when only he and Sam were left in the Impala, “Just go talk to her, will ya? You’re driving me nuts here.” He sent his brother an imploring look, a bit of Winchester telepathy.

There was a light knock on your door moments later. You swiped your gun but lowered it when you saw Sam’s hulking form through the peephole.

“Hey,” you greeted quietly after opening the door, keeping one hand on it to help steady yourself.

“Hey,” he echoed, “I just wanted to check on you.”

“Oh, thanks. I’m fine,” you lied easily, trying not to make it obvious that you were resting all your weight on your good leg.

But of course, Sam was much too shrewd for that, perceptive gaze flickering down to your feet right away, “Can I look at your ankle please?” the words rushed out of his mouth, and he was quick to add more before you had a chance to protest, “I swear, I’m not here to tell you off; I just want to help you. Please.”

It always amazed you how Sam could go from towering, ferocious hunter to bashful, adorable, man-boy so seamlessly. He was really stinking cute when he begged, and you could never say no to those puppy dog eyes, “Yeah, OK,” you muttered while backing up to let him all the way in, too exhausted to offer any form of resistance anyway.

You sat on the edge of your bed obediently, bending over to remove your shoes, but Sam was there kneeling beside you in an instant, waving your hands away. He unzipped your boot and slowly slipped it off your foot, careful not to rattle your ankle in the process, with one hand holding on firmly to your calf.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said as he repeated the process with your sock.

“What for?”

“For making you feel like I don’t respect you as a hunter, for making you believe I don’t trust you.” He was down to the compression wrap he’d picked up for you at a drugstore, with which he took extra care removing, keeping his movements slow and cautious. “None of that’s true; I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself more.”

You studied Sam in the pale light, drunk on the feeling of his hands on your skin, “I saved your ass though, didn’t I?”

That brought a chuckle to Sam’s lips, his hands still supporting the full weight of your lower leg as he prodded lightly at the bloated skin around your foot, “Well, the swelling’s definitely worse, but yeah, you did.”

“Then it was worth it. Your ass will always be worth it.”

Sam looked up at you and found himself getting lost in the truth within your eyes. There was a buzz of raw emotion vibrating through the air between you, and so many words came to his mind, but in the end, he settled on, “Come on, we gotta keep this foot elevated.” He then grabbed your waist and managed to move you up the bed in one smooth motion, “I’ll go get you some ice.”

You immediately missed his fingers and the way they had absentmindedly stroked your calf, staring wantonly at his back as he walked out the door.

→ CARRY ON

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The captain was a tall, slightly rotund fellow, with a mustache to rival an 80’s porn star’s, and he scoffed haughtily at your entrance. “What the hell do the feds want with us? And did they really hafta send three of ya?” He gestured pointedly at you with a patronizing raise of his chin and your blood began to boil at the implicitly misogynistic remark.

“Well no offense, Captain,” you spoke up; your FBI get-up always gave you an extra boost of confidence (something about the power suit vibes you supposed), plus men like him really pissed you off, “but there have been five deaths here within the last week, and from what I understand, your team has a grand total of zero working theories and just as many leads, so perhaps you can understand why the government would show some concern.”

“Mm, mm, mm!” Captain Anderson chanted obnoxiously in response. He gave you a painfully slow once-over, eyes filled with a crude and unrestrained lechery that forced a shiver down your spine. “A woman who knows how to take charge… I like that,” he licked his lips lasciviously.

Dean was torn between awaiting your likely ruthless and epic comeback or telling the douchebag off himself when he heard Sam clear his throat forcedly beside him. Looking over, he was surprised to find his giant of a little brother to be a picture of rage. Strained jaw, clenched fists, distended chest, and a murderous glare directed unwaveringly at the Omaha police captain.

Meanwhile, you were finding it difficult to resist the urge to roll your eyes and repress your temper to maintain a professional front. “We need information and clearance,” you stated firmly, ignoring the cop’s inappropriate and debaucherous display, “Are you going to hand it over or not?”

“Sorry little miss, no can do! You’re prolly gonna hafta talk to the chief if you want in on a big boy case like this one… but, you know, I can think of some ways you might be able to convince me otherwise,” he finished with a lewd wink before taking off.

Sam looked like he was about to lunge at the captain, but Dean put a hand on his arm to ground him. He was starting to suspect Sam’s behavior might have more to do with you than the fact that the captain was a regular dickhead. After all, Sam was usually the calmer and more rational of the brothers, especially during hunts.

You were too busy holding yourself back to notice though, staring daggers into Anderson’s back as you watched him walk away.

“What an asshole. I’m sorry, Y/N,” Dean began. An idea was forming in his head, one that could help him test his theory. “Look, you know I wouldn’t ask this if there was a better way, but dyou think, maybe, just this once, you could… you know? Turn on the charm a bit? Just so we can get in?”

Sam had not been fully engaged in the conversation until just then, too focused on trying to mollify the inexplicable rage that Captain Anderson had incited within him, but Dean’s request certainly caught his attention.

“What?! Dean! You can’t be serious. No. We’ll find another way. Just- No.” Sam’s voice was harder and deeper than usual and for a moment you lost yourself in it, daydreaming that perhaps he was exhibiting a sense of jealously. But who were you kidding? Sam was just a nice guy who detested sexist pricks like Anderson; this had nothing to do with you.

“No, it’s fine. Dean’s right. This is the easiest way. I’ll do it,” you stated quietly before adding with a small smile, “I can suck it up on account of saving some lives.”

Dean grinned and you walked away before Sam could protest any further. When you reached the captain’s office, you didn’t bother knocking on the open door, “Alright, Captain Anderson-“

“Please, call me Frank.” He looked up at you with such a smug and revolting expression, you decided there was no way you could follow through with Dean’s plan.

“Listen, Frank,” you crossed your arms in what you hoped was an ‘I mean business’ stance, but quickly dropped them when you realized the action had unwittingly highlighted your cleavage in the button-down blouse you were wearing and spurred yet another round of gratuitous leering from Frank. “What’s it gonna take for you to hand over the case files and grant us full access to the evidence and crime scenes?”

“Well, since I like you, I’ll make it easy for ya. How about we start with a smile?” He had leaned forward in his seated position behind his desk as he spoke, and you almost smacked him right then.

As you turned to leave, however, it was Anderson who smacked you, open palmed and right on the ass. You forced yourself to take a deep breath before slowly turning back around. Keeping your movements deliberate and unhurried, you bent over his desk, ignoring the impulse to gag at the greasy, utterly unholy scent that filled your nostrils as you got close enough to whisper in his ear, “You know what, I’ll make it easy for you too. How about, if you give my partners and I complete authorization on this case, I won’t report you to the feds for sexual harassment? See, I know people in the upper ranks and I’ve got a lawyer who wipes the floor with guys like you on the daily.” It was all lies, of course, but you figured it was for a good cause.

“So what’s it gonna be, Captain?” You asked after straightening yourself back up.

As you’d hoped, the bastard was looking a little worse for wear, though you could tell he was trying to retain what little he could of his arrogant persona. “You little bitch.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Fine. You can have it,” he pointed at a stack of file folders on his desk, and then sighed as he produced three security passes, “Go crazy! Go fuck yourself.”

“Gladly,” you sassed, ready to strut out of there with everything you came for in hand.

Behind you, things had not gone so smoothly. When Sam saw Anderson slapping your butt, he was fully prepared to march over and break the captain’s nose, but Dean again held him back, “Woah, hey, you know Y/N can handle herself. What’s up with you?”

Then when he was forced to watch you lean in tantalizingly close and whisper something in Anderson’s ear, Sam experienced an entirely foreign sensation. He was still burning with fury, but that anger was joined by a peculiar ache. His heart had risen to his throat as he stood there, completely transfixed, a look of dejection and longing written across his face.

‘Huh,’ Dean had thought with an internal smirk, ‘Sammy’s got it ba-ad!’ he sing-song-ed in his own head, storing the information away for later, when he could find an opportune moment to tease his baby brother about it.

For now, Dean gave you two thumbs up as he watched you return with a triumphant grin, holding up three official passes by their lanyards.

“Got it all. We’re completely in,” you supplied each brother a security pass when you reached them.

“Damn. You are good, woman! What did you even say to him?” Dean chuckled as the three of you left the station.

“Oh nothing, just a bit of light threatening.”

Sam stopped to look at you quizzically. “Wait, what? You mean you didn’t- you weren’t… flirting with him?”

“Nah, I was too appalled by the thought to go down that route.”

“Oh,” he huffed out, looking down with drooped shoulders and an awkward twitch of a smile. You could have sworn he looked somewhat relieved, but decided not to read too much into it, too pleased with yourself to allow the ever-growing gloom of your unrequited love dampen your spirits.

The whole time Dean was staring back at the two of you in disbelief. ‘These goddamn idiots,’ he thought with an exasperated yet slightly amused shake of his head.

→ CARRY ON