#platonic!deanxreader

-

Ice twinkled against the glass, dancing with the dark red liquid as you swirled the straw.

Moving to New York City with your best friend was all you two had ever dreamt of. Getting away from Kansas, getting away from your family... it had been a dream come true for three years. You and Dean had painted the town red. You'd learned the ways of the subway and put your fake IDs to good use.

But everything changed the year you both turned twenty-one.

Everything changed because he met Lisa.

-

"Ever since I started dating Lisa, you never spend time with me—"

"Ever since you started dating Lisa you stopped caring about me."

-

"What's a pretty girl like you doin' with such sad eyes?"

At basically every other bar you’d stopped at over the last week, some guy had tried their luck with getting you into their bed. And every time, you’d shot them down.

But something about the soft voice and southern accent made you hesitate.

Looking over, you were arrested by the most startlingly blue eyes you'd ever seen. If your eyes were sad, his were the cure.

"Hi."

A soft smile broke out on his bearded face. "Hi yourself."

-

"You're just jealous you don't have all of my attention anymore."

"I don't want all of your attention Dean! But it would have been nice to have enough of it that you noticed when I came home with a black eye after getting fucking mugged two weeks ago."

-

"You ain't from 'round here. What brings you down to the Bayou?"

God, you could just crawl into his accent and stay there. "I had a falling out with my best friend and heard jambalaya has healing qualities so I figured I'd get it straight from the source."

"Really now? Well, if it's jambalaya you want, Louanne's down the road has the best 'round. You wanna head over there an' get started on that healing?"

As a rule, you never left a bar with someone you just met, but you had a feeling you would agree to just about anything as long as it came from his mouth. So, with one big gulp, you downed the rest of your drink and hopped off the barstool less than five minutes after meeting this man. "Lead on. I'm Y/N, by the way."

He took your offered hand and lifted it to his lips, beard tickling your fingers as he kissed your knuckles. "Honored to meet ya, Y/N. I'm Benny."

-

"Mugged? No, I would have noticed a black eye."

"Got fired last week too, but of course you didn't realize I was home more than usual."

-

"You know, I think I actually missed this."

"What's that?"

Benny's arm tightened around you and you rolled further into his embrace. After eating at the diner, neither of you wanted the night to end. When he'd suggested driving just out of town and lying in the bed of his truck to go star gazing, you had jumped at the opportunity.

Getting out of the public eye with someone you’d just met was stupid, sure. But something about Benny just made your entire being, your entire soul, feel at peace.

"Nature. I've actually missed nature. I grew up in a small town where you can drive for ten minutes any direction and be outside of city limits. You can't do that in New York."

His chest rose and fell steadily under your head as he bent down to press his lips to your hair. "I could never live without nights like these."

"I don't know how I did," you murmured.

-

"What? Wh-how? Why? You are so good at your job. They can't just fire you."

"When you file a sexual harassment claim against your boss, it doesn't matter how good at your job you are. He's better."

-

"Benny?"

"Mmm?" His fingers dug into you back, lightly massaging the tight muscles there. God, you had never felt so safe with someone before. To think that you'd met less than eight hours earlier and he had already turned your mood completely around.

"I want to thank you for tonight." You shift just enough so you could look into his eyes, but not enough to jostle his arms from around you. "It is exactly what I needed."

"No need to thank me, darlin'. That sparkle in your pretty eyes is enough for me."

Those pretty eyes of yours dropped down to his lips and, God, you wanted to kiss him. But... you couldn't. Not yet. Not tonight.

Benny's voice dropped to a low rumble. "You got anywhere to be tomorrow?"

All you could manage was a shake of your head.

"Good. 'Cause I don't think I could handle dropping you off at home and goin' t'bed alone."

"I know the feeling."

"Yeah?"

Your lips pulled up in a gentle smile and you reached for his hand, pulling it up to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. "Yeah. I don't want this night to end."

At your declaration, he pulled your joined hands to his lips, dusting his smile across your knuckles. "Glad we're on the same page."

-

"You can't move, Y/N. Where would you even go?"

"Somewhere I can actually be happy, because I'm not happy here. Not anymore."

-

The stillness of morning was what woke you. The moments before sunrise when the world knew peace. It was when nature took a deep, steadying breath to prepare for the day.

"Mornin'."

Benny's voice rumbled beneath your ear, instantly bringing a smile to your lips. "Good morning." You tried to stretch, but your body was so tangled with Benny's and the blankets he'd laid out in the bed of his truck that all you could do was let out a soft laugh and relax back into his hold. "Mmm, we fell asleep out here."

"Couldn't bring m'self to let you go."

“Dean, what did you do?” Sam asked. They were in the kitchen, drinking beers and catching up. Bobby leant against the fridge, Y/N behind him. She leant against the door, flipping a knife between her fingers. Dean glanced at her nervously from time to time, but generally kept his focus as Sam.

“Me and Death-” he started.

“Death?” Sam repeated, incredulous. “The horseman?”

“I had leverage. It’s done.” Dean took a long swig from his beer.

“You sure?” Sam question, shooting a curious glance at Dean. He nodded.

“It’s over. Slate’s wiped.”

“Well, isn’t this just neat and clean?” Bobby interjected, looking pointedly at Dean. He glared back

“Yes, it is- for once.”

Sam sensed the tension, looking between the two of them.

“Is there anything else I should know?” Dean hesitated.

“No. Another beer?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Dean got up, retrieving another beer for him and his brother. When he saw that Bobby was occupying Sam, he leant closer to Y/N.

"You good?” He murmured, bringing a beer to his lips.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Just… Going to take some time. You know that.” She flipped her blade faster. He watched as it soon became a blur.

“Though that trick is very cool,” he looked over at Sam. “It’s a dead giveaway that you’re nervous. And it’s making me nervous. You could hurt yourself.”

“I’ve been thrown it brick walls before and beat within an inch of my life,” she sighed. “I think I can handle a small cut.”

“Still.”

“Shut up.”

“Well,” Dean cleared his throat loudly. “This was all very fun, but Baby needs some tuning up.” With that, he exited the kitchen.

“… Better go make sure the boy doesn’t mess up any of my cars,” Bobby said with a knowing glance towards Y/N. She gave a small whimper- thankfully Sam didn’t hear- and he just gave her a kiss in the forehead.

“We’re right outside,” he whispered against her temple, then smiled as though nothing had happened.

“Y/N.” Sam stood up. “I missed you. Er, well, I don’t really remember missing you because I don’t have any memories, but I’m sure I did miss you.” “Yeah.” The smile she offered was small and tight lipped. “Missed you too, Sam.”

“You okay, Y/N?” he asked cautiously. “You seem… on edge. Did something-”

“No,” she interrupted quickly. “I, uh, I’m fine. Just… yeah. I’m fine.”

“… Okay.” Sam stood to hug her. As soon as he moved closer, though, she stepped back, cowering away. He frowned. “Y/N-”

“I, uh. Got to go.” She turned and ran out of the room. His eyes trailed after her in confusion. Just as he was about to turn away, though, he caught sight of the wall. There was a dent in it, about the same size as his fist. A pang of pain seeped through his head when he looked at it.

“Damn it, Y/N!” he growled. “Just shut up, bitch!”

“Sam,” she started, trying to keep her voice strong. “Please, just listen to me-”

“I said shut up.” With that, he stood, shoving her hard. Her head hit the wall hard, leaving an indent in it. She fell to the ground, clutching a throbbing head. Dean rushed into the room, gun drawn.

“What was that?” he asked. “What happ-” He stopped short when he saw Y/N. He rushed over, touching the back of her head where it was bleeding.

“Sam,” he growled, but his brother had already left. Y/N moaned.

“It’s okay,” Dean lied. “I’m right here.”

Sam gasped, clutching his head as he fell back. He grabbed the sink to stabilize himself.

“What the hell?” he muttered. Mind racing, he walked out the front door. Thoughts were ablaze in his head. What the hell was that? He mused. I thought I was in the pit. Did I… did I hurt Y/N? Shaking his head in disbelief, he raced over to where Dean was working alone on his car.

“Dean?” he inquired hesitantly.

“Yeah, Sammy?” his brother asked absentmindedly as he fiddled with something under the car.

“Did I…” he faltered. “Was I here, for the past year?” Dean jerked up, hitting his head on the underside of the car.

“What?” he stuttered, rolling out from under the car. “Why d’you ask that?”

“Well,” Sam breathed out, running a hand over his face. “I had this vision when I saw the dent in the wall-”

“Y/N tripped and hit her head,” Dean interrupted hurriedly. “There’s nothing more to it. You were in the cage for a, what, a year and a half? There’s bound to be some side effects. I’m sure it’s nothing.” With that, he wiped his hands and walked off.

Sam frowned, walking back inside. He looked over at the cars, noticing something shining beneath one of them. He walked over to it, picking up the small knife. He recognized it as Y/N’s. Sam stood up, a wave of recognition washing over him.

“Just back the hell off, Y/N!” Sam roared at her from where he stood outside. She was the only thing blocking him from entering the car.

“Sam, you know you aren’t allowed to go anywhere,” she tried to reason with him, but he terrified her. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.

She knew. He’d threatened to before.

“Get out of my way before you get hurt, Y/N,” he spat, walking towards her. He gripped her arm when she didn’t move.

“Ow!” she yelped. “Let go of me. Sam!” He threw her to the ground, watching as she pulled out her small knife that he’d given her for her birthday.

It didn’t bring up any emotions in him.

“You, bitch, have gotten on my nerve for the last time,” he snarled, bringing out his own knife. She scrambled backwards, kitting a car.

“You- you won’t,” she glanced nervously at the knife. “You care too much about me. You wouldn’t dare.”

“The old Sam might’ve cared,” he said nonchalantly. “The new Sam, however, does not.”

With that, he carved a line into Y/N, from her throat to her ribcage. Nothing too fatal. He sort of wanted this to last.

Months later, Sam remembered it all clearly.

He remembered the girl from the bar, his grandfather. He remembered being soulless.

He also remembered Y/N.

“Y/N/N?” he called hesitantly through the doorway to her room in Bobby’s house. “You in here?”

He heard rustling in the room, as though he had startled her. Not that Sam blamed her. The things he had done to her… he shuddered. He had no idea how he could have done any of that. He loved her so much.

“Sam?” her voice was soft, scared; the name came out like a whimper. “W-what do you need?” The door remained closed. If he had seen her, he’d know that there were tears threatening to spill over her eyelids. He would have seen the way that her hand clutched her knife so tightly that her knuckles turned white. He’d have seen the way she bit her trembling lip, the way she rested her frame against the door, trying to steady herself.

He would have seen how terrified she was.

“Y/N,” Sam’s voice cracked. “Y/N/N, I remember everything. I’m so sorry. I know I don’t deserve it. I was awful. The things I did-” he couldn’t finish. He drew a deep, shuddering breath.

“Y/N,” he pleaded, leaning his head against the door. “Please, talk to me. I-I can’t stand it. Ever since I got my soul back… you’ve been scared of me. You’re distancing yourself from me. I-I know I can’t ask you to forget what I did, or forgive my actions, but… Y/N/N, I need you back. I miss you. So much.” Sam fell to his knees, turning around and leaning his back against the slab of wood.

“Please.”

The door knob twisted and Sam fell back slightly from the sudden movement. Scrambling to his feet, he looked down at Y/N. His heart broke even more when he saw her face, the red puffiness of her eyes, but what truly shattered him was the knife she held in steady hands in front of her.

It was his old knife.

He had taught her to use it.

And now she was using it to defend herself. From him.

“Y/N…” he faltered, taking a step towards her. She flinched and looked away.

“Sam,” her voice wavered involuntarily. “I know you’re… upset, but you hurt me. You hurt me bad. I-I have scars.” She exposed her collarbone to reveal long scar that ran from her jugular down through her shirt. He didn’t see the end of it. A sob escaped his lips.

“That wasn’t me,” he whispered. “Y/N, please, know that it wasn’t me. I could never…”

“But you did,” she finished for him. “I know you didn’t mean it, but I…” She looked at him.

She didn’t see Sam.

She didn’t see a soulless person, either.

Y/N saw the shell of a man, broken and hurting and scared and scarred. She saw the fear in his eyes of losing the woman in front of him. She saw the way his entire body trembled, the way he seemed to cower before her even though he towered over her. His figure seemed so small, so fragile, that she was afraid to let out the breath she was holding in fear of blowing him away before she could come to know him, come to love him, again.

“Sam,” she whispered, reaching out to him and pulling him close. She shuddered a sob as he held her tight, like he would never let go. He didn’t want to.

“Y/N, I am so sorry,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I am so, so sorry. I love you, so much. I-I don’t know how I could have-”

“Let’s not think back to that, Sam,” she whispered against his chest. “I’m too tired.”

“Could I stay?” he asked hesitantly. He was about to take it back when she froze up when she spoke.

“Of course,” she held fast to his plaid top, never once letting go as she curled close to him on her bed. “Just… don’t go dark-side anytime soon, okay? I can’t handle you- the real you- gone again.”

“Lay him down on the bed,” she ordered. “Sam, apply pressure. Dean, sterilize it. Do not touch the knife. Leave it in. It’s stopping most of the blood flow, and any movement could cause further damage.”

They all scrambled in haste to attend her orders. She tore his clothes to further inspect his wound.

“Y/N,” John coughed. She immediately shoved a pillow beneath his head. “Y/N, remember what I said-”

“No,” she said sternly, looking him in the eye. “You are not dying. I am not becoming an orphan, not today. Sam! Where are you?”

“Coming!” he called rushing over to the bed with his cloth. Y/N scrambled back, letting Sam fill in her spot. Dean followed close behind, following the procedure that she had drilled into his brain from the numerous times she had performed them on him.

She turned to the bathroom, washing her hands and splashing some water on her face. Come on, Y/N, she thought to herself. Dad’s… face it. Dad’s dying, and you don’t know what to do. How can you save him?

Then it hit her.

She vaguely remembered seeing a crossroads on the way here. She knew the moment the knife had plunged into her father’s abdomen that she wasn’t nearly well trained enough to deal with this; not with the supplies she had. There was only one way to save him at this point.

Y/N ran out of the bathroom, snatching her jacket and racing out the door.

“Y/N!” Dean screamed for her, but she kept sprinting. “Y/N, get your ass back in here! Dad’s-” his voice broke off. He was unable to say it. She had to act fast.

Y/N always knew this day would come. That was why she carried a premade box around with her, inside her jacket when they hunted should the occasion ever arise. Quickly she made her way to the gravel road, stopping dead center in the parking lot. Checking to see she wasn’t being followed, she planted the box. Scooping the dirt back over it, she stood up.

“C’mon,” she tapped her foot impatiently. “Come on, you stupid son of a-”

“I’d watch that tongue, sweetie,” a voice from behind her. She whipped around, coming face to face with a young woman. She had dark features and wore black clothing. Not that it mattered to Y/N.

“Save my dad,” she practically yelled. The demon raised an eyebrow. She collected herself, taking a deep breath. “Please.”

“You know the terms, I assume?” the demon asked slowly. Too slowly for Y/N’s liking. “Ten long, good-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said, striding over to her. “Ten years. I know. Now shut up and take my soul.” With that, she planted her lips on the demon’s. She was shocked at first, but quickly responded.

“See you then,” she smirked before leaving Y/N to walk back to the motel, still in shock from what she had just done. She had barely walked back inside the motel room when Dean was in her face.

“What the hell, Y/N?” he nearly shouted. She frowned, confused as to why he wasn’t screaming, until she saw her father. His chest was gently rising and falling, as though he had just taken a nap and not been stabbed. The blood was hardly flowing, and he was… snoring? Y/N didn’t think that she’d ever heard her father snore before.

“He’s fine.” She shrugged him off, going to sit on her bed. She put her head in her hands.

“He wasn’t when you left!” he spat at her. Sam didn’t even look at his sister. “Y/N, he could have died, and you left. Next time you decide to bail on family, go ahead and stay away.”

“Dean,” she whispered. “Please. I was-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he snapped. “Now that no one is dead, I’m going for a walk. Because I actually tried to help, so I deserve that.” With that, he left.

“Y/N,” Sam said after a minute of silence. “You did know… you did know that dad was going to be okay, right? Before you left?” She smiled wearily, trying not to memorize every feature of her little brother’s face. She attempted to not memorize his soft eyes, his optimistic tone, his mussy hair and innocence.

“Of course, Sam. I had it all under control.”

*Ten Years Later*

Y/N drank down the last of her whiskey as she glanced at the clock on her phone. It flashed 11:56pm in the faint light the screen provided. She sat down on the curb, watching as the cars drove by. She waited, ever so calm and patient, for it to come.

For them to come.

She had been experiencing the symptoms recently: visions; sounds; the whole shebang. Y/N thought she had done a fairly good job at hiding them from her brothers, but they weren’t totally convinced. That was why they were watching her from far away. Not that she knew.

It was ten years exactly. Ten years since the deal. Though Sam left and dad did die eventually, she didn’t regret it. There was some sort of a calm washing over her. She was going to die for a good cause, and her brothers wouldn’t see it.

A twig snapped behind her.

She didn’t even turn around. She sighed, standing up.

“I’ll come into the alley. Make it easier to clean up.”

Silently she walked into the alleyway, taking one last swig of alcohol before setting it on the ground. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a letter. She laid it by her canteen. A single tear slipped. I love you, Sam and Dean, she thought to herself. I love you boys.

“Take me away,” she whispered. Then hot breath blew against her neck, and she was knocked to the ground. She didn’t put up a fight.

“Y/N!” Dean screamed, sprinting towards her. Sam was close behind. “Y/N!”She turned her head around, a sad smile plastered on her face.

“Sam, Dean,” she coughed out, body being torn to shreds by some invisible force. “I-”

Her throat was slashed. She spoke no more.

After a moment, the slicing stopped.

The boys ran to her side, tears streaming down their faces. Sam clutched her jacket front, sobbing openly into her chest. There was no heartbeat, no warmth, no nothing expect the cold and metallic scent of her blood and body tissue that made him want to throw up.

“Y/N!” Dean screamed. “No, you selfish- how could you- why?” His body wracked with cries, leaning his forehead against hers, trying to will her to come back. It was nearly an hour before either of them saw the flask and folded paper beside it. Sam moved to it first. He read it, fresh tears springing to his eyes.

“Dean,” he croaked. “Dean.”

“What?” his brother snapped.

“She… she left a note.”

“… What?”

“Here. Read it.”

He thrust the paper out to Dean, who hesitantly took it. Taking a shuddering breath, he opened the letter.

Dear Sam and Dean,

I know I should have told you, but when I tried it couldn’t come out. There were so many times when I tried to memorize your face, your voice, your everything, that I figured you shouldn’t be burdened with it. It was my weight to carry, and I have never welcomed a trouble more.

Remember that hunt we went on, ten years ago to this date? It was a werewolf case. It got dad. I just couldn’t let him die. So, I sold my soul. I suppose it doesn’t matter much now that he’s gone anyways, but I’m glad I did it. He lived so we could have a parent an adult to watch over us. I did it so Dean wouldn’t have to be the oldest, watch out for his younger siblings. I don’t regret it.

Dean, after reading this and thinking about our argument, I know you’re going to blame yourself. Please, try not to. I know you will anyways, but I love you and don’t want you to go through that. God, I can’t say that enough. I love you. I love you. I love you. Don’t you dare ever forget it or think otherwise. I will kick your ass from beyond the grave so help me. All I ask is that you accept this, don’t do what I did, and move on. Don’t forget me, but accept what has happened and move on. I don’t want you to suffer. I love you. Accept my passing and move forwards. Don’t be afraid to cry. Don’t be afraid to fear. To be afraid to experience emotions. Taking care of yourself takes care of more than yourself. I love you. The only thing I ask you to be strong for is Sam. I know he can take care of himself, but I still worry about the kid. I love you. More than you’ll ever know. I’ll miss you. I’ll miss your stupid jokes and the way your jaw sets when you’re trying to hold in your emotions and I’ll miss your eyes that remind me of second grade when I climbed up in the tree and played with the leaves after the bully pushed me to the ground and you sat with me, saying that you loved me and that nothing would ever happen to me. Nothing ever did. Know that. You couldn’t have stopped me, even if you wanted to. I love you. I love you so much.

Sammy, my not-so-little brother. You never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself. I can never repay you for that. Please, I know you are going to find some way to blame yourself, and so will Dean. I just need you to be there for him. Remember all those times where the world was trying to tear us apart, and remember how we said, “Screw you. We’re a family.” I know you’re going to hurt, and I know you’re going to hurt bad. And that’s okay. It’s okay for you to want to cry, to scream, to break everything until there is nothing left and your knuckles bleed. It’s okay for you to fall to your knees, as long as you get back up again. Please, know I love you. I’ll never tell you enough. I never told you enough. I love you. I love your long hair (don’t tell Dean, but it always made me happy when you let me run my fingers through it). I love your eyes that I can never quite describe, the way they always seem to change colours but never fail to turn back to my favourite shade of sunshine through whiskey, copper against sage and honey and when they glow I never fail to smile because even when I felt like calling the hounds early, you always carried me forwards. You never even knew it. I love you. I’m going to miss your quirkiness and love for learning and the way that you always would light up when you knew the answer to a question or saw that we were proud of you. I’ll never stop being proud of you. I’ll never stop loving you.

All the way through hell, I’ll remember you boys and be okay. I’m going to be okay. I’m going to remember how much I love you two, how much I love the way that you’re always bickering to make me laugh and the way that Dean smells like gun smoke and whiskey that I can call home, the way that Sam always tries to look for the best in things, the way that even though life has thrown him every curveball it has that he still hasn’t backed down.

I’m going to try to stop writing how proud I am of you boys before I tear up and ruin this page like I did with the others. Please, be there for each other. Don’t drink away your pain. Remember me. Know I love you. I love you so much. God, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop writing it down. I love you. I love you. I love you. You two have always been there for me, so I ask that you be there for each other. I know you’ll both want to take the impala and drive away from each other and not speak about this incident for days, weeks- hell, probably not even years if I know anything about you two- but please, stay with each other. That’s all I want for you two. I love you. Please, help each other. Be available for each other. Don’t go through this alone. Always keep fighting for me. I love you both so much. More than I can say, more than I can write. I’d do this all again if I knew it meant that you two would at least grow up off the streets, with some sort of food in your stomachs on a somewhat regular basis.

I love you both. Please, carry on. I love you. Don’t worry. Hopefully, we won’t see each other anytime soon. When you go to heaven, think of me. Think of our family. We’ll be alright. You’ll be alright. And don’t bother trying to save me. I made sure with the demon that you two couldn’t bring me back.

I love you. So, so much.

Love from your sister,

Y/N.

There was a short funeral.

Bobby showed up. Rufus showed up. Every single hunter they’d met showed up. Y/N had impacted a lot of people. She’d saved a lot of lives.

The body was up in flames before the sun set. Sam and Dean were at the front, where no one could see the tears on their faces. Not that anyone would have the audacity to mention it. Not when there were streaks on their own.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Sam whispered. His voice cracked, even though he barely was heard.

J'en ai marre de vos bonnes manières, c'est trop pour moi! Moi je mange avec les mains et j'suis comme ça! J'parle fort et je suis franche, excusez moi! Finie l'hypocrisie moi j'me casse de là! J'en ai marre des langues de bois! Regardez moi, toute manière j'vous en veux pas Et j'suis comme ça J'suis comme ça, bap bada bap bap bada

Y/N pushed in the chairs, mentally noting to scold the boys when they came back from whatever bar later. She twirled around as she sang, enjoying the feeling of her lips around the words.

Je veux d'l'amour, d'la joie, de la bonne humeur Ce n'est pas votre argent qui f'ra mon bonheur Moi j'veux crever la main sur le coeur, bap bada bap bap bada Allons ensemble, découvrir ma liberté Oubliez donc tous vos clichés, bienvenue dans ma réalité

She hadn’t ever really decided to suddenly learn French. There had simply been some books full of info that needed translating, and she had somehow gotten stuck with it. After days of slaving over it and using numerous translating apps, websites, and dictionaries, she was surprised when she could suddenly just read what it said and understand it fairly well. After she finished interpreting the book, she continued to take lessons from apps and websites to learn the language. It wasn’t until she was practicing the language late into the night that she realized she was fluent.

Je veux d'l'amour, d'la joie, de la bonne humeur Ce n'est pas votre argent qui f'ra mon bonheur Moi j'veux crever la main sur le coeur, bap bada bap bap bada Allons ensemble, découvrir ma liberté Oubliez donc tous vos clichés, bienvenue dans ma réalité

It was a useful skill, though she never told her brothers. She wasn’t ashamed of it, but it didn’t come up all that often. Y/N never really found the right moment to say it, so she simply just kept it to herself.

Je veux d'l'amour, d'la joie, de la bonne humeur Ce n'est pas votre argent qui f'ra mon bonheur Moi j'veux crever la main sur le coeur, bap bada bap bap bada Allons ensemble, découvrir ma liberté Oubliez donc tous vos clichés, bienvenue dans ma réalité

She finished the song, placing a book on the shelf. Smiling to herself, she wiped her hands on her jeans.

“Y/N?” she heard a voice call to her. She froze.

That wasn’t a voice.

That was Sam’s voice.

“Oh,” she said, startled. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he asked, incredulous. “What are you doing?”

“I thought it was pretty obvious.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I was cleaning up, enjoying some apparently not-so-alone time while my pain in the ass brothers were out getting drinks.”

“That’s not what I-”

“Speaking of Dean,” she interrupted, trying to avoid the subject. “Where is he?”

“Wearing off the shock of his little sister singing in some other language,” his voice called down from the top of the stairs. “What was that?” Y/N sighed.

“French,” she mumbled, taking a sudden interest in her boots.

“French?” Sam’s voice sounded astonished. “You know French?” Y/N smirked at the look on his face.

“I’m familiar with the language,” she grinned slyly. “Remember when you guys made me translate those French Men of Letters manuscripts?” They nodded slowly, trying to look as though they understood.

“Well,” she continued, stacking up the rest of the books on the table. “I was slaving over the book, trying to figure out what it all said, and realized that I was getting the hang of the language. So I decided, ‘Why not try to learn more?’ Then I did a bit further research, practiced it a lot, and- voilà! Now I’m fluent.”

“And you never thought to tell us?” Dean questioned incredulously, walking down the stairs towards her.

“What?” she defended, picking up the stack of books. “It’s not like it comes up at the dinner table. There wasn’t quite a proper moment to share, so I kind of just… didn’t tell. It’s not like it was a life-changing secret.”

“No,” Dean agreed. “But it’s pretty cool.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” she said, placing books on the shelf. “Lots of people are multilingual.”

“Even so, it’s fun to listen to you sing in another language,” Sam pointed out.

“You should do it more often.”

“I don’t know about that.” She placed the last book on the shelf. “I mean, I guess I’d be more comfortable because you guys have no idea what the hell I’m saying, but still.”

“You’re really good,” Dean perked up, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Compliments will get you nowhere,” she mumbled, half-heartedly attempting to shrug his hand off.

“It’s not a compliment; it’s the factual truth.”

“Can’t be a fact if it’s subjective.”

“Just take the damn complement.”

“Nope.”

“Okay,” Sam interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Point is, you’re a great singer, and it sounds even better in French. We wouldn’t mind it if you sang more often. It’s… comforting.”

“Really?” Y/N arched an eyebrow. “Me singing in French is comforting?” She pondered for a moment. “I guess I could be less shy about it.”

“Awesome,” said Dean, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Can’t wait to hear it.”

“D’you know what the best part about being bilingual is?” she smirked.

“What’s that?” inquired Sam cautiously. He knew that sly grin.

“Now I can make fun of you guys in two languages, and you can’t even understand it half of the time!”

She could throw knives like nobody’s business, shoot a bullseye with both hands, and packed a powerful punch- alongside an even meaner kick. Of course, she hadn’t had nearly as much first-hand experience as the boys, but enough to know that whoever or whatever messed with her wouldn’t be getting away without a couple of bruises- at the very least.

The car came to a halt a couple yards away from the warehouse, silent as the night around them. Sam glanced back at Y/N to reassure her. Briefly, she smiled and nodded.

“Y/N, are you sure…” Dean turned around. Y/N held back a sigh. Arching an eyebrow, she leaned against the front seat.

“De,” she said gently, taking his face in her hands. He looked at her, slightly suspicious, but listened intently. A soft smile and innocent eyes adorned her face. Dean relaxed.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“You need to fucking chill.”

Dean groaned and removed his face from her hands. Sam laughed loudly as Y/N removed her hands and kicked her feet up onto the seat beside her.

“Really, Dean, I find your lack of faith disturbing,” she said, smirking. “Go lob me a werewolf, ’kay?”

“Alright Vader,” Dean chuckled. He still seemed somewhat nervous, so she pulled your gun from where it was tucked in her waistband.

“Silver bullets,” she waved it. Slipping it back in, she pulled out a knife from her boot. “Silver knife. I got two more. It’s all good here. Go on.” Dean nodded to himself, then stepped out to meet Sam, who had soundlessly stepped out and walked around the car.

Sometimes Y/N thought it was creepy how silently they could move. For such large men, most would think it impossible.

Of course, impossible was every day for the three of them, so she shouldn’t really use that word.

Dean finally sighed, puffing out a cloud in the chilly night air. He exchanged a few words with Sam, muffled to Y/N, and they headed in. Y/N checked her phone. 11:29. Great.

Nothing like sitting in absolute silence while your brothers go in and have all the fun, right? She thought. Of course, Y/N had considered going in anyways, but she knew that there were about twenty different ways she could get killed by her brothers alone, so that was ruled out.

Quietly, she hummed Led Zeppelin to herself. Her head played the song (Ramble On) while she waited. A single rustle in the bushes by the car was all she had time to hear before the window shattered and she was thrown from her seat.

All of a sudden, everything was louder. She heard shouts and crashing from inside the warehouse- obviously her brothers weren’t finished with the wolves inside- as she was thrown to the ground. After a moment, she collected herself, only to find her vision filled with two snarling wolves.

Great, she thought. So the boys get three of the wolves, and I get the younger siblings. Of course.

The wolf on her left lunged towards her, but she punted her away with her foot. She landed a couple feet away, winded, while Y/N lifted herself up. She felt blood trickle down her forehead, but inventory showed she was otherwise alright.

When the other werewolf got over the initial shock, he pulled out a knife and slashed at her. Quickly, she dodged the blade and grabbed his wrist, deftly kicking him in the- ahem- jewels. His knees buckled, and Y/N took the opportunity to twist around, tuck his arm diagonally across her abdomen, and flip him to the ground. Swiftly, she slit his throat with her dagger, calm and silent.Standing up, she wiped the sweat from her brow. Then she remembered the other werewolf. Where was she?

A pair of hands wrapped around her neck from behind. Y/N spread her legs into a V, bent over- with the hands still on her neck- and tugged on the female wolf’s ankles, causing her to slip and fall. The she-wolf tried to get back up, but Y/N struck her with her heel, sending the wolf reeling backwards. She grasped the gun from her waistband and fired without hesitation- square between her eyes. The werewolf crumpled to the ground.

Y/N panted, tucking the gun back into her waistband.

Dean watched the body fall to the floor as Sam unstuck the wolf from his knife. Nodding at Dean, they collected the bodies into the center of the room, pouring gasoline.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam asked. Dean looked up. “Where are the other two bodies?” Dean frowned.

“I thought you ganked ‘em,” he said. Sam shook his head.

“I thought you ganked ‘em,” Sam replied. He looked around the room for a moment to scan for any others as Dean lit up the werewolves. They stared at each other as it hit them.

“Y/N,” they exhaled.

The boys watched as Y/N flipped the wolf hard and slit his throat, all in one seemingly fluid motion. Too stunned to say anything, they watched from afar as she stood back up. Before they could react, however, another wolf was at her throat. They raised their guns, ready to fire, when she bent over, yet again stopping them in their tracks.

“What the hell-” Dean started, but stopped when she pulled the wolf’s feet out from under her. “Wow.” He breathed as she kicked the wolf and shot her, point blank.

“Huh,” Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Did you know…”

“No idea,” Dean answered. He frowned slightly. “Wait if you didn’t teach her, and I didn’t teach her…”

Sam caught on quickly. His face puckered. Silently, the walked back to Baby, each burning up with their own questions.

Y/N gathered the bodies together, hoping to at least burn start burning them before the boys came back. Dumping gasoline on the lifeless figures, she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration, she tried to figure out a believable lie.

Wolves ran past the car, injured, so I took the shot? She wondered. Nah, Dean would be furious. They tried to take me, so I shot ‘em both? No, only one bullet hole. Although, if they’re already burning…

Y/N dropped the matchsticks onto the as she heard another rustle in the bushes.

She tensed. Weren’t there only five werewolves? She thought.

Pretending she noticed nothing, Y/N leaned down as if she were going to lace up her boots again. Instead, she selected her knife from her boot and waited for the sound of footsteps to get closer. Finally, they were right behind her.In one swift motion, Y/N spun around, stuck her leg out, and swept the feet out from below her mysterious figure. A split second later, she clambered on the figure’s chest, who she could clearly define as a male (no bra, and a flat, pectoral chest unlike the shape of a woman’s) and clambered on top of him, kneeling on his shoulders as she pressed the edge of her knife against his throat.

“Woah, whoa!” Dean shouted, trying to get his arms out from under Y/N. “It’s just us, Y/N/N. Relax.” Y/N sighed, removing her knife from his neck as she sat back, moving her gaze up to meet Sam’s. He was laughing at the sight.

“Oh, man,” he cackled, wiping away a fake tear. “Dean you should’ve seen your face when she took you down. You were-” he waved them off. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I could never replace such perfection.” Dean glared.

“Okay, first of all, Y/N,” he looked pointedly at her, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” she scrambled off of him. Extending out her hand, Dean- begrudgingly- let her help him up.

“Second of all,” he glared at Sam who was still grinning. “I did not get ‘taken down’ by Y/N. I just wanted to test the extent of her skills, is all.” He stuck his chin out, nodding to himself. Y/N and Sam glanced at each other.

“Sure, De,” Y/N laughed quietly. “Whatever you say. I totally wiped the floor with your ass.”

“Speaking of which,” Dean started sternly. Y/N stopped laughing.

Well, shit, she thought.

“I can explain-”

“Explain what? That you’ve obviously been going all judo on someone’s ass behind our back? Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“Listen-” she tried again.

“No, you listen,” Dean growled. “I don’t know where you learned to do all this stuff, but you’re never going there again.”

“Dean,” Sam interjected. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh on her? I mean, she did kind of just take down two werewolves all by herself, and while on her first hunt.”

“Yeah, that we know of,” Dean mumbled. Y/N’s eyebrows skyrocketed.

“Excuse me?” she said loudly. “I haven’t been going on hunts, I promise! I know you’d kill me, and I’m not that reckless.”

“Damn straight we’d kill you,” Dean raised his voice. “And how exactly am I supposed to take your word for anything after all that?” he gestured wildly about him. Y/N temper flared. She had tried to be patient and nice, Dean was being an ass.

“Oh, Dean,” she shouted. “I am so sorry that I taught myself to be prepared for the dangers in this world when you two knuckleheads refused to do so! I deeply regret teaching myself to shoot, because I know for a fact that I would be alive and unscathed right now if I had never taught myself to do that. If I had never learned to defend myself when you guys refused to do so, then I would be dead right now. Are you saying that you’d rather me be dead than aware of how to keep myself alive? Do you want me to be dead on the ground, with my heart ripped out, because I couldn’t save myself from two werewolves, cause you two douchebags refused to teach me how to stop the attack from happening?” Y/N panted, tired from fighting- physically and with the boys.

Sam and Dean’s faces fell when they heard you.

“No- of course not-” Dean stuttered, face softening.

“Whatever,” Y/N interrupted, rubbing the back of her neck. “Let’s just go.”

“Y/N-” Sam started.

“I said let’s just go,” she barked. Her face burned hot with rage and exhaustion. This argument had happened before, but never to this extent. She clenched her teeth, determined not to spaz out at the boys any more than she already had. Y/N hated arguing with them, even when she wanted to get her point across.

She walked towards the car when Dean grabbed her arm. She tried to shake away, but he held fast. Y/N looked up at him, prepared to yell at him to let her the hell go, but was shocked when she saw his face tense- like when he was trying to hold it together.

She knew that face.

She had watched it break and was always there to put Dean back when his masquerade shattered and he needed something to hold onto.

“Don’t,” he growled softly, swallowing thickly. “Don’t you- don’t you, ever, assume that.”

“Dean-”

“No,” he said, his voice sharp. “Please, just… listen, okay? I- we- could never… we’d never recover if something happened to you. I didn’t want you trained because I knew you’d push your limits to see what you were capable of, and then you’d want to tackle any problem that you could. I just… if anything were to happen to you…” he trailed off. Y/N turned to face him.

“Dean…” she whispered. She cleared her voice then spoke up. “Dean, the whole point of me training is so that I could be prepared for anything that comes my way. If you taught me how to defend myself, I wouldn’t run off, guns blazin’ into the sunset. I just want to find a way to stay safe. Besides, chances are that I’ll be a hunter of some sorts- whether I’ll be out in the field or just figuring out the mysteries and working phones like Bobby used to, I don’t know yet- so this is pretty good training. Hey, we all know it’s true.” Sam closed his mouth, previously hoping to try to convince her that she could have a future.

“I just want to stay alive so I can keep your asses out of trouble,” Y/N reassured them. “Face it; without me, you two would be like a couple of oversized lost puppies with alcohol and co-dependency issues.” Sam smacked her upside the head. She giggled. “What? It’s true!”

“Doesn’t mean you have to point it out,” he laughed alongside.

“My point is,” Y/N turned back to Dean. “I want to be prepared. Not cocky and ready to flaunt my skills in some monster’s face, but prepared.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. Let’s just go find a motel or something.”

Both Y/N and Sam looked at Dean.

“What?” they said in unison.

“I’m smoked,” he repeated. “Let’s go. Besides, Y/N is right. Better to be prepared than not. Although you, young lady, are going to show us exactly what you can do when we get back to the bunker.”

“Hold up,” Y/N smiled. Did you just say I was right?”

“Oh, I want to take it back.”

“Too late!”

“Damn it,” he laughed, turning to his car. He froze. “Y/N…”

Y/N turned around to face him.

“Yeah?”