#platonic!samxreader

Y/N stood at the edge of the clearing for another couple minutes before trudging right back in. Even wounded, her brothers often ran ahead of her. Not too far that they couldn’t reach her in a moment’s notice, of course, but it wasn’t likely that they were ahead of her. Now, as she scanned her surroundings, something began to build up in her chest. Flashes of every hunt gone wrong sped in front of her eyes, a collage of curses and blood and shallow breathing she couldn’t hear over her own. Suddenly it was dizzying, and she was lucky to catch herself on something- she couldn’t quite see what it was- before she crumbled. Dean’s voice, bright and clear as her vision, rang through her head.

Breathe.

She swallowed. Straightening herself up only proved that the clicking noise in her back wasn’t always harmless. Gritting her teeth, she shuffled her way pack, slowly picking up the pace until she was running back to the old house she’d just managed to escape. Her breath hitched in her throat.

Fighting angels and demons and everything in between had let Y/N’s memory slip; the werewolves had been stronger than she anticipated, and something of confusion washed over the three before they realized that they couldn’t rely on prophets and lone supernatural entities for tips and tricks for each of their hunts. They were still good at what they did (“Winchesters!” one of the older ones had shouted before they attempted to break down the doors that had already been boarded up) but being out of practice began to show when they’d reduced the pack to fight one-on-one.

Until Y/N noticed one slip out through the door they’d come in through.

Obviously, her first instinct was to rush out and deal with him. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard her brothers call out to her, telling her to stay, but it was all white noise in the back of her mind; she could do this. She had to.

It was clear that this was their first fight. Y/N had dealt with them in less than ten minutes before leaning against a tree for some support. Her brothers, she had assumed, would be there soon. It wasn’t that long of a hunt, and none of them were eager to stay any longer than they had to. She had caught her breath for a minute more before turning around.

If only she hadn’t waited.

The cabin was quiet when she came back. Of course, her brothers naturally knew not to make noise, but this… this was different. It rang through the woods and pricked up the hairs on the back of Y/N’s neck. Her footsteps thundered and echoed down the hallway like a metronome, fading into the background as she stepped over pool after pool of wetness that drew up bile in her throat. It finally led to the main room where she’d last seen her brothers. A startled sound of something between a moan and a gasp escaped her mouth like a sob of relief when she saw one of the werewolves on the floor. Her eyes wandered over to the staircase across from her, the faintest trace of a bloodied footprint imprinted on every other step. It was too small for her brothers, quite clearly.

“Someone’s in a rush,” Y/N murmured, stepping over the body and making her way up the stairs, careful to not disturb to the prints.

Y/N’s feet made no sound as she entered the upper level and checked the first three rooms. All were empty of bodies or blood, but the fourth door was opened just a crack. Lights were on inside, halting Y/N. She held her breath, waiting for some sort of sign that might lead her to her brothers. There was nothing. She nudged open the door with her boot.

There was barely any time to register the clatter of her gun on the floor before she was shoving the door open, denting the wall where the knob slammed into it as Y/N rushed over and dropped down to where she saw her brother.

Sam was on the floor, limbs splayed at uncomfortable angles that made Y/N bite down her lunch that was working its way up her throat. Her hands hovered restlessly, afraid to touch him like he’d bite her if he did. Finally she rested two of her right fingers on his neck checking for a pulse. Feeling nothing, she pushed harder.

“Damn it, Sam,” she whispered. Her voice cracked on her brother’s name, swallowing thickly when she shuffled back hurriedly to flip him over.

His front was covered in blood, red and staunchy and dried at the edges. Where Y/N dared to look, she saw multiple stab wounds. Her hands were suddenly climbing his, like they could coax life back into them. She noticed bruises around his wrists, matching the ones on his neck. He had been bound. And stabbed. Six times.

Y/N threw up against the far wall. Her instinct threw her away from her brother’s body, as though Sam would magically get up and reprimand her for getting his jacket dirty.

But he wouldn’t wake up. He’d never wake up. Because Sam was dead and he was gone and there was no way she could bring him back because Dean wouldn’t let her-

Dean.

Her eyes flew around the room, throat burning from the upheaval that suddenly didn’t even matter anymore. She was vaguely aware that her eyes strayed as far as possible from Sam’s body, but paid it no mind. Dean could help her. Dean would solve this problem. He always did.

But Dean wasn’t there.

“Dean.” She stood up, shaking legs and shuddering breaths hiding themselves behind a strong voice that Y/N didn’t know she had. It echoed in the room, the only noise in an otherwise silent house. She began to make her way out of the room. “Dean, where are you?”

About halfway through the door, her body froze. Sam was still there. He was still in the room, cold and alone and bleeding out on the rug so intensely that Y/N couldn’t tell what colour it was. She fought another wave of bile.

She would come back. It killed her and she wanted to slump on the wall and let the tears and snot run down her face and have Sam wake her up from the nightmare this surely was and tell her that it’d be okay, that he was still alive.

But he wasn’t. So she couldn’t.

Y/N walked down the hall.

There were no other floors. Y/N vaguely remembered seeing a widows walk on the roof, but doubted either Winchester would venture up there. Dean would piss himself. She smirked at the thought before remembering her situation.

Dean hadn’t responded to her calls earlier. Obviously, there were multiple explanations for that, but Y/N didn’t really like any of them. Best case scenario, he was being held captive for some sort of ransom or whatever. Worst case….

Didn’t matter. She’d find him. She always did.

The second floor was made up of a hallway that circled around the walls, with rooms on the outside, with the first floor visible from anywhere Y/N had walked. It was a simple rectangle, meaning that she had a view of every space in the main room on the first floor. It was a mess, to say the least; fighting monsters wasn’t exactly a clean fight, in any sense of the word. By now, Y/N had circled the top landing, checking in rooms and calling out her brother’s name every few minutes. Dean would scold her. Sam would take her side, but give her that look that said you should know better, please be safe, don’t you ever do that again. She risked it, but it didn’t really feel like she was taking a chance with anything. She had nothing to lose.

Her brother was dead. Her other sibling was missing. She wanted to throw up- again.

She jutted her jaw out to the side, sucking her cheeks into her mouth in that way Dean always made fun of her for. If he could see her right now, he’d laugh, shoving her gently as he taunted her with things like nice duckface and if that’s how your first kiss is gonna be then I’m not sure you’ll get a second one and all those things that never failed to make her roll her eyes.

“Move y’r jaw any farther over an’ it’ll unhinge,” a voice called from behind Y/N. Her gun was trained on the source before her eyes focused on it. They laughed.

Oh no.

Oh no.

No.

“Dean?” her voice shook almost as hard as her hands, body tensing as she heard his rumbling laughter.

“You’re gonna drop th’ gun if y’don’t stop shakin,’” he chuckled. She was by his side in a second, gun haphazardly dropped somewhere along the way. The room was dark, but her eyes quickly adjusted when she saw the deep stain in his chest. Her hands hovered uncertainly, for the second time today, as she tried to slow her thoughts and breathing and just take a second to pull herself together.

“Gun, gauze, get outta there,” she whispered; her mantra after years of training coming forward compulsively after her father had drilled it there. “Gun gauze, get outta there. Gun, gauze, get outta there. Gun, gauze-”

“Hey.” Dean’s hands came up to hers where one had reached out for her gun while the other reached in one of her jacket pockets for one of the bandages Y/N had used to save her brothers’ lives more than she cared to count (they still made fun of her, saying she was overprotective; she still kept them in her pocket). “Y/N, s’alright. M’fine. Really.”

“Bitch, you’ve been stabbed.” She looked at him in exasperation, peeling away the layer of his outer jacket. “Let me get you out of here.”

“You know I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N froze. Her body began to shake; not like before, vibrating like she was feeling the aftershocks of an earthquake. She was trembling like the moments before the ground would open up and swallow her whole. It was the shakey tremor of an untrained hand like the first time she stitched herself up- the minute quivers that seized up her body, her mind, her everything she relied on and she couldn’t bring herself to do anything but look at her brother and will herself to speak.

“Don’t you say that,” she finally whispered. “Not you. You don’t get to leave me.”

“Y/N,” he tried softly.

“No,” she tried again, harder. “You can’t. I- I can’t- Dean, not you too. I can’t lose you, too.”

Dean stilled his movements.

“Too?”

Her eyes moved to his hairline, counting every strand like they weren’t starting to blur together. She moved her hands towards the gauze, moving her hand to sit Dean up when he grabbed it.

“Y/N.” His voice was low, wary; Y/N hated it, hated that nothing good ever came when he used it. “Tell me-” It broke off before he could finish. He cleared his throat. “Tell me. Is- is Sammy…?”

Y/N didn’t even realize she was crying until her lips tasted salty. Dean’s face matched hers.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I wasn’t there and- and by the time I got there… Dean, he was- he already-” Y/N hurriedly moved her hand to wipe away at her face. “I’m sorry. I tried. I couldn’t do... I couldn’t do anything.”

Dean didn’t say anything. He just looked at her. She couldn’t handle it.

“You gotta sit up, Dean,” she said. Her voice wobbled as she spoke, but it was better than breaking and whispering and all those things. “I gotta bandage you, Dean. Then we can….”

In all honestly, she wasn’t really sure what they could do. Her brother was dead, and by the looks of it her other sibling would join him soon. Y/N pushed the thought out of her mind.

“Y/N-” Dean started, coughing into his shoulder.

She couldn’t tell if the blood had already been there before.

“Take it easy.” Her hands hovered over his body, unsure of what to do. He was only shot; she’d dealt with worse.

But she’d had both of her brothers then.

Y/N rocked back onto her knees, taking in a shuddering breath. She tried swallowing down the lump in her throat, but eventually she had to open up her eyes and look at Dean and realize that he wasn’t looking back.

Dean wasn’t looking back.

“Dean-” her hands shook his shoulders. “Dean, stay awake. I’m here. Stay- stay with me.”

Dean mmed at her, eyes fluttering at random intervals as his gaze slowly hooded over. A twitch passed his lips, barely enough for Y/N to catch- but still enough.

“What is it?” she pressed. Another time she would smack him around a bit, get him to move, but he looked as though anything resembling an attack would-

No. Y/N wasn’t going to go there.

“Y’re always so w’rried,” Dean mumbled, eyes sliding shut. “I nev’r knew why you’d bring s’much extra. Guess there wasn’t ‘nuff this time, huh?”

“Don’t joke about that,” Y/N whispered sharply.

“S’rry,” he slurred. “Jus’ tryna lighten th’mood.”

“We’ll joke once you’re outta here, okay?” Y/N smiled at him, knowing but refusing to acknowledge that he couldn’t see it. “Then you can make fun of me all you want. Promise I won’t retaliate.”

“Then what’s th’ point?” He tried to let out a laugh, but it sounded more like a choke that sent icy sparks up Y/N’s spine.

“Currently,” she tried for humour,” to get you out of here. Can you get up? Just need to carry you-”

“Both know m’not goin’ anywhere,” he muttered. Y/N froze.

“Dean-”

“Can you do something for me?” Dean cut her off. She pursed her lips.

“Anything,” she ventured, “but leave you here.”

“Then…” he trailed off, scaring up her heartbeat for a moment until he continued. “stay with me. Until-”

“Yeah.” She smiled, plastic and fake and everything that was wrong in this moment wrapped up in one brief moment. “Anything you need.”

“R’member th’ song….” His brow flickered into a frown for a moment. “Was ‘bout cats. You liked it.”

“The cat song?” Somehow, in the midst of all the shit going down, she managed to sound incredulous.

“Big cat or somth’n,” he grinned. “Lions?”

“Son of a-” she laughed, wet and false but somehow comforting. “You mean that Skillet song?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled- or, tried to- at her voice. “Always liked it.”

“I’m pretty sure I distinctly remember you yelling at me to shut the hell up, as you oh-so poetically put it,” she grinned.

“You should sing it t’me,” he smiled softly. Y/N blinked.

“I-”

“I’m dyin’ here,” he huffed. She winced. “Least you could do ‘s sing f’r me.”

Y/N pursed her lips, flattening them quickly as she remembered Dean was still there (not for long, a nagging voice in the back of her head told her) and worrying her bottom lip.

Well, it was the least she could do.

It was all she could do.

Her voice shook as she sang; wobbled with uncertainty and quietly as she tried to keep her voice low enough to still hear Dean’s shallow breaths. It took a few verse before she began to let her voice carry. It was soft and deep and a little creaky after a few months- or rather, years- of disuse, but fine all the same.

It reminded them both of another time; Dean had, again, been seriously hurt. Sam and Y/N tried to persuade him to go to the hospital (“Y/N is good, but she can’t do anything about internal bleeding, Dean,” Sam had half-shouted at him.) but he only said he needed to rest. Obviously, it was bull. Dean was hurt. Dean was bloody. Dean was almost fucking crying.

But Dean still wanted to hear her sing.

Y/N only ever sang when she was safe. Singing was Y/N’s way of soothing herself; focusing on the melody, the words, the beat and the tune. Sam and Dean, on the very rare occasion they could catch her off-guard, would stand motionlessly and simply listen. Y/N wasn’t phenomenal, they all knew that, but her singing was just one way that they could all remember they were okay. Maybe that was why Dean asked her to do it when he was scared (not that he would admit that, of course); because he needed to know that she was safe, they were safe, everything would be okay.

Slowly, she felt as Dean’s chest began to rise a bit less every time; she watched as his eyelids opened less frequently, his grip slacken a bit more every few seconds. Her face was a mixture of tears and snot and blood coating her grimy cheeks, but it didn’t even occur to her for a damn second to focus on anything other than Dean.

Her vision was blurred, so she wasn’t quite sure which rise and fall of Dean’s chest was his last. She wasn’t certain when his hand no longer gripped onto hers, only held to her chest because she gripped it so hard Dean would’ve complained that she’d break his fingers. She didn’t care about that. She didn’t care about anything.

Sam was dead. Dean was dead.

Y/N was dead.

The sun filtered in through the window she hadn’t noticed earlier by the time she could regain the basics of her surroundings. Her hand was numb from where her fingers had clutched at her brother’s arm, like letting go of Dean would mean letting go of Dean. She couldn’t do it. She could never. But Y/N had to.

It was day. The hunt was over. Sam probably still had matches in his pocket- Y/N’s next breath caught when she thought of him- and Dean definitely still had a lighter of some sort on him. The Winchesters were not supposed to still be here, not like this. They were supposed to be two towns over from the place that “mysterious fire” had cropped up from; new names using old alibis, fresh scars and worn out flannels the smelled of leather seats and cheap beer and diner fast-food and home. Y/N refused to linger on the word. It held nothing. It meant nothing.

She wasn’t quite sure what home was anymore.

The house was up in flames in less than an hour. It had to be burned down anyways, and Y/N couldn’t bring herself to move her brothers out of the cabin, anyways. All she could do was carry them into the front room, laying beside each other. Y/N had carried her brothers more than once after a hunt, and she was by no means weak, but somehow their bodies seemed to weigh more after the light left their eyes. She tried not to think about that. Her mind tried to take itself somewhere light, recollecting memories as she carried Sam down the stairs, sitting for a minute before climbing up to get Dean.

Even in death, they’d be together.

It was probably sometime around midday when Y/N watched the last few flames die down. The house wasn’t a fire hazard, as Sam would have made sure, so she felt safe enough knowing that anybody who came by would just see a recently burned house with nothing but ashes inside. The bodies would be cremated; Dean found some spell that ensured it, so it was quickly memorized and often utilized. Her way back to the impala was short and did not register in her mind, but she paid no notice. Nothing caught her attention.

Like clockwork, Y/N fell onto the back seat. She sat expectantly for half a moment before realizing that her brothers weren’t going to sit in the front seat. Sam wouldn’t ask how she was holding up while Dean teased him for asking her while he looked like that, before giving her that look that asked the same damn thing. She couldn’t tell them that she was fine, that she desperately needed whatever fast food she was craving to survive, that at least she wasn’t on her period (often followed by groans and a fake ‘blech!’ sound from Dean that cracked them all up). Y/N could never say those things to them.

She slid into the front seat. Part of her expected to hear Dean’s gruff voice ask her what the hell d’you think you’re doing, but none came. There were no sounds other than her shallow breaths and the occasional car from the road they had driven off of. Shakily, her hands pulled the clinking keys out of her pocket and started the ignition. The engine rumbled, soft and familiar and coaxing her to tears that refused to spill.

There was so much grief, so much anger, so much whatever the fuck this is that Y/N felt that it overwhelmed her and nulled every emotion that brought itself up in her. She wanted to cry; she wanted to cry and scream and pull out her hair and beat her hands against the steering wheel until they bled and scream out to whoever would listen and ask why them, why them when they only helped people and didn’t deserve this in a thousand years. Nothing came out.

Y/N shifted the car into reverse and pulled out of the dirt side road Dean had parked on only 12 hours before.

Y/N didn’t even have time to think before Sam had her in a bone-crushing hug. He sighed in relief that his baby sister was okay, and held her fast.

“I’m not opposed to the bear hug, Sam, but I need to breathe,” she gasped out. He loosened his grip, looking sheepishly at her. “It’s alright. You okay?” Sam glared at Dean, who stood behind her.

“Yeah,” he said stonily, turning back to face her. “I’m fine. Y/N, what were you thinking?”

“Well, I was having a dream about Chris Evans, but you interrupted that, so-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“… Dean told you, didn’t he?”

“I was going to find out eventually.”

“Yeah, but hopefully it was going to be after the spell worked.”

“Wait,” Dean interrupted. “It didn’t work?”

“Well,” she squirmed. “Sort of.” Y/N stood up, shrugging off her sweater to reveal her glowing chest. A bright orange pulsed inside of her, stopping just before her neck and shoulders. Sam’s jaw clenched, and Dean stiffened.

“I’m fine, really,” she smiled. “Just feels… different. But I’m fine for the moment.”

Sam dropped his head into his hands, running his fingers through his hair. Sighing, he lifted his head back up and looked at Y/N.

But she wasn’t alone.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice wavered. His siblings looked at him with caution. “I don’t think the spell worked.”

Sam looked at the figure behind his little sister. Lucifer slowly brought up the knife from her arm to her neck.

“Hey, Sammy,” he smiled coldly. “Miss me? Your baby sis has taken on your memories of me- oh, what fun we’re going to have- but it seems a little piece of me has latched onto you. How sweet.” Then the devil suddenly plunged the blade into her stomach. Blood bubbled around the knife, splattering onto the carpet underneath her. Her eyes only held concern for her brother, though, and perhaps that’s what hurt Sam the most.

Y/N watched as her brother began hyperventilating. She shared a concerned look with Dean.

“Sammy…” Dean said slowly. “Is he still… do you see him?” When he didn’t reply, Dean looked to his younger sister for support. Y/N swallowed thickly. What was she supposed to do? A sob escaped her brother’s lips. She stepped forward cautiously, but he winced as she did. She bit her lip.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, she thought. I was supposed to get the visions. What went wrong?

“Y/N!” Dean snapped at her. She startled out of her trance. “Do something! Nothing I’m saying is working.” She clenched her jaw before opening her mouth.

“Sam,” she started softly. “Sammy, what do you-” Y/N’s voice suddenly cut short. Her hand came up to cover her mouth. A small sob escaped her lips as she looked wildly around her.

The room was suddenly covered in chains, dripping with she-didn’t-want-to-know-what as the room glowed red. Her brother’s bodies were bloody on the floor, but she found herself incapable to move her legs.

“Sam, Y/N!” Dean wavered uncertainly between the two. “What is it?”

As soon as Dean’s hand clasped Sam on the shoulder, Lucifer was gone. He gasped, blinking, before he remembered Y/N.

“I’m fine,” he waved Dean off. He frowned but obliged, stepping slightly away from his brother. Sam turned his attention to his younger sibling.

Y/N was shuddering, trembling in fear at an unknown source. Her eyes, filled with life and joy moments ago, were now hollowed and shallow, sunken into her yellow skin. She seemed so different, so frail, compared to how he normally saw her. It broke Sam’s heart to watch his sister quake before him. Her knees clanked together like silver spoons held in strong arms with loose wrists, a clinkless toast to a speech she would not share in a moment that seemed to drag on for infinity. Her face was pale as the moon outside that lit their sister’s weak frame. Y/N bore eyes that shattered her brothers’ hearts every time they emptily passed over them, searching for a light she could not see. Every attempt to move forwards to her forced a choked sob to tumble from her lips, causing the boys to waver uncertainly between their spot on the carpet and hers.

“Y/N,” Sam began softly. Her eyes snapped to his, glossy and glazed over in fear and uncertainty. It was like she could not see him, but was searching for the source of his voice. Dean looked away.

It was some time later when she managed to unstick her eyelids. The darkness of her room glowed faintly in the moonlight. She could barely read the clock, a blurry 3:31am reading in red. She shivered as she remembered the red from Sam’s shirt-

No. She wouldn’t think about that.

Sighing, Y/N attempted to push her blankets off her, only to find something was blocking her from doing so. Panicking, she reached under her pillow for her gun she kept stashed there.

“Sorry, Y/N,” a sad voice called from the end of her bed. “We couldn’t risk giving you a knife. Or anything dangerous. Dean insisted.” Y/N tried to tug at whatever was preventing her from moving her arms, but found that some sort of chain was restricting her. She took in a sharp breath when the raw skin rubbed against the sharpness of the cuffs.

“… S-Sam?” she whispered, petrified. His heart shattered to hear her like that, but it was for her own good.

Right?

“It’s me,” he said. “Only me. He’s… not here. Not really, anyways.”

A minute of silence followed. Sam shifted uncomfortably.

“Sammy,” she murmured. “How come you still have visions?” “Bobby said something about touching you before the spell had time to settle in probably had something to do with it.”

“But how would physical contact break the connection? I didn’t even touch you when I tackled you.”

“I brushed your hair,” Sam realized. “That must have been enough contact to give me some of my memories back. Not all of them, but some.”

The two of them sat in silence, unsure of what to say next.

“You know, Y/N,” he started softly after a minute. “You can still give back the memories. We could find a way. You didn’t have to-”

“Sam,” she sighed, resting her head against her pillow. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I can handle this. I took on of your memories from the pit so you could at least function like a normal human.”

“Yeah, a normal human who can see the devil.” “Shut up. I’m talking.” She smiled softly. She went to scratch her nose, but winced at her raw skin. “Listen, I took on most of your memories so that you didn’t have to go away. Just… give me time. I haven’t been downstairs- yet- so I don’t quite have a way of handling everything. I’ll be fine. Just give me time.”

“You stabbed yourself mistakenly when you tried to stab me,” a familiar voice behind you taunted. You froze up. “I don’t think you’ll be fine for a very long time.”

“Sammy,” she whimpered. “He’s… he’s back. Please. Go.”

“No,” her brother pleaded. “I can’t leave you like this-”

“Sam, the longer you’re here, the more he’s going to do to you,” she huffed out in one long breath. “It’ll be easier if you just… leave. Please.”

She turned to the wall so she didn’t have to watch her brother shuffle away, broken heart mirrored through his eyes.

Realizing she wouldn’t be getting any peace now that she was focused on her brother rather than relaxation, Y/N slid off the car and silently walked inside. For some reason, Dean didn’t want her helping to find a cure for Sam. Bobby- thankfully- took her side when she argued against him, but her brother wouldn’t hear it. Their last fight was what led her to the shiny black hood she called home.

“His hallucinations have been getting worse,” Dean muttered from inside. Him and Bobby had been debating what to do with Sam since he got his soul back. Try as Sam might, Y/N would know if her moose was hiding something. Secretly, she waited outside the doorway, eavesdropping on their conversation. They didn’t want Y/N hearing any of their ‘rescue plan for Sam,’ so this was the best she could get. On silent feet, she stalked forwards, closer to their voices while remaining out of sight.

“You don’t think I know that?” Bobby remarked. The sound of shuffling papers filled the stony silence. “Listen, I’ve already told you there’s a cure. We just got to get-”

“No,” Dean said gruffly. “We aren’t dragging Y/N into this. She’s not going through what me n’ Sam went through. I won’t let her.” “Dean,” Bobby heaved an exasperated breath. “It’s the only option we got. Sam’s wall is bound to be broken soon, and we don’t have much time before- well, you know what.”

The only sound that met Y/N’s ears were the clinks of beer bottles resting on the table, and a begrudging quietness that could only have been caused by Dean.

“And you’re sure there’s no way I could take it on?” Dean asked at last. Y/N could almost hear the pity muffled in Bobby’s answer.

“We’ve both read the spell back to front and through an’ through. We need someone who’s never been downstairs and shares his blood. Not to mention they need to perform the spell in less than 24 hours upon hearing it. You passed the deadline long time ago.”

“There has to be another way,” he insisted gruffly. “There always is.”

“Question is,” Bobby sighed. “Will we find it in time?”

Y/N thought back to herself. I could do it, she considered. I’m qualified enough. Her heart fluttered at the thought of taking on… whatever, that this curse would bring her. Was she terrified? Yes. Did she want to find another way? Hell yes. But with Sammy on the line…

“I’ll do it.” Y/N stepped confidently into the room, startling both Dean and Bobby. “I’ll do this… spell, or, whatever. We’ve gotta help Sam.”

“Woah, whoa whoa,” Dean rushed, looking between her and Bobby. “Y/N, you can’t. I’m not going to let you.”

“I’m not asking for your permission,” she retorted. “Listen, I get you don’t think I can do this or whatever, but this is Sam we’re talking about. He’d do the same for me in a heartbeat if he had the chance. Do you honestly expect that I’ll be able to live with myself if something happens to him, and I know that there was a way I could’ve cured it?”

“I get it.” Dean rubbed a hand down his face, leaning back against the counter. “You want to help Sam. Hell, you’ve probably been doing research behind my back to save the kid. But I need you to trust me on this. Don’t do it.”

“De,” you said softly. “I’d trust you with my life. I have more than once. But this is Sam we’re talking about. He’d trust you with his life, and I would too. But for once, please, just trust me with it. You’re always saving Sammy and me. Let someone else be the hero for a turn.”

Y/N pushed past him to face Bobby. His face fell when he saw her walk both uncertainly and self-assuredly at the same time. He could tell that she was scared, for sure, but she was also determined.

That combination never ended well for hunters.

“Are you sure, kid?” he asked cautiously. He liked the plan about as much as Dean, but they were running short on time- not that he knew when they’d run out of it, of course.

“Not really.” She took a deep breath that choked Dean a little. “Just… let’s get it over with before I change my mind.”

Bobby looked at Dean, who hastily turned around and not-so-discreetly wiped at his face. He turned back to Y/N, whose face was that of a soldier’s but wore the eyes of a child. Her lips trembled as she spoke with strong words.

“Which I only did to either protect you guys or to save the monster’s hostages!” she interrupted, trying to stand. She fell back down with an oomph!, waving Dean off as he started towards her. “I mean, okay, so there were a couple times were I probably could’ve thought it through more, but all those people are safe, so I don’t see the downside.”

“The downside, Y/N, is that I have to patch you up. And you don’t get to decide whether I’m keeping you safe or smothering you. I can do that well enough for myself, thanks.” He stood up, walking to the bathroom to wash his hands.

“Oh,” he called back heatedly. “By the way, you’re banned from hunting with me and Sam for the next… oh, I don’t know, month.”

“What?” she gasped. “You- you can’t do that!”

“Oh I can,” he barked, fuming. “And I am. Sorry, short stuff, but you’ve been too reckless.”

“I’ll get Sam on my side,” she challenged falsely. “He trusts me.”

“Fat chance.” He turned his back to her, still straining his voice. His loud voice muffled the sound of him ripping open his bag and gathering a bundle of clothes. “And we both trust you. We just don’t trust everyone else. So just drop it, okay?” With that, he slammed the bathroom door.

“I can take care of myself!” she screamed, livid. I could do so much better on my own, she thought. I’d be a better hunter if they’d let me do my own thing.

Y/N looked around the room, furious. Her bag was already packed (they had planned to leave soon after the hunt) and she wasn’t that dirty- minus the blood, which she could cover up with a change of pants. Angrily, she stood up, wincing at the long-forgotten bullet wound in her leg. Gathering her stuff, Y/N too one last glance at the room around her. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob. The shower turned on moments before she stepped out the door.

*3 months later*

Y/N flopped onto her bed, exhausted. She had been scouting out the vamp nest for hours, consuming nothing but granola bars and some piss-ass excuse for a beer. She glanced at her clock, reading 6:47pm, the sound of her stomach grumbling disturbing her thoughts. Sighing, she rolled over, grabbing her wallet and keys before stepping out of the motel room.

She walked over mindlessly to the vending machine, punching in the buttons and feeding the machine to get a bar of… something. She didn’t feel like driving all the way over to the diner. Grabbing her snack, she decidedly walked towards the bench outside the office. Sitting, she leant her head back, letting her surroundings take over. She listened to the sound of the breeze blowing past her ears, the footsteps on the gravel parking lot, the familiar engine slowly rumbling to a stop, windchimes tinkling-

Wait.

Her eyes flew open, only to be met with a beautiful black car. She watched, unmoving, as a tall figure stepped out of it. Stock still, she waited for him to look the other direction before bolting around the building, footsteps carrying her quickly to her room. She had to get out, now. Swiftly, she turned the corner, bumping into someone.

“Sorry,” she muttered, unfazed, as she made to move past him.

“It’s alri-” he stopped. “Y/N?”

At the mention of her name, she hesitated before turning to face her brother.

“Hi,” she said curtly. “And bye-”

“Y/N,” Dean said, pulling her tightly into a hug. “I thought- we thought you were- gone.”

“Well you better get used to it,” she pulled away fiercely, looking behind him. “I’m packing and leaving.”

“Y/N…” he said softly. “I get it, you’re angry. I was just trying to keep you alive-”

“What I was experiencing wasn’t living!” she exclaimed through gritted teeth. “It was just… not dying. I’ve been a better hunter since I left; stronger, faster, smarter. I haven’t lost anyone. And I don’t have some asshole telling me my mistakes when I clearly know them, making me feel like shit, because he thinks it’s a way to stop me from saving his life over and over again!” Panting slightly, she turned away, walking quickly towards her room. Dean’s long strides had him right behind her.

“Listen,” he said. “I didn’t think-”

“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” she grumbled, heading towards her door. “You don’t think. The thing is, though, I do get it; you were trying to protect me. But, like I said before, there’s a difference between safety and smothering. You took it too far and refused to hear me out. I’m just returning the favour.” She swung her door open, just enough to let her through, before quickly shutting it. Dean’s hand pounded on the door.

“Y/N,” he shouted. “Don’t be childish. I just want to talk.”

“That’s a first,” she hollered back as she shoved her clothes in her bag. Glancing around the room as she had long ago, she checked for any missing things. Thankfully, her room was on the first floor. There was a window opposite to the door she could climb out of. Without so much as a second thought, she swung her leg over the windowsill, tossing her bag on the ground. The window would have to stay up, that was no issue, but she’d have to get back to her car, and that wouldn’t work, not with-

Click.

The door swung open behind her, revealing a crouching Sam with eyes round as dinnerplates and Dean standing behind him, jaw clenched. A moment passed, and no one moved.

“Y/N-” Sam called out, rushing towards the window, Dean close behind. She had already turned the corner, thankful the car she’d stolen wasn’t too far from her room. Throwing her bag in the backseat, she clambered behind the wheel. Tires squealing, Y/N threw the car in reverse. She checked behind her and pulled out.

But Sam was in the passenger seat beside her.

“Sam!” she shouted, surprised. “How did you- what are you-”

“Park the car, Y/N,” he ordered. Y/N composed herself, taking a deep breath, before driving towards the entrance of the motel lot.

“You’ve got one chance to get out,” she warned with a low voice. “Or so help me Sam I will drive out to the middle of nowhere and leave you. So get. The hell. Out.”

“Nope,” he said plainly. “You’re going to turn this car around, get out, and talk to Dean about this. Then you’re going to come back with us.”

“Why the hell would I do that?” she grouched, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Because if you truly wanted to leave,” Sam spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, “You’d already be long gone.”

Y/N looked out the window, clenching her jaw. It was true, of course, she missed them- hell, how could she not? - and she could’ve snuck away without any of them noticing if she had truly never wanted to see the boys again. And she could at least do it for Sam. He wasn’t the one she had a grudge against. Plus, she was kind of glad for the opportunity to rip Dean a new one…

“I hate you,” Y/N grumbled as she pulled back into the lot, parking her car. “Five minutes. Five minutes, and if he doesn’t convince me then I’m out. Got it?”

“Of course,” Sam sighed. “Just… give him a chance, would you? He’s been a wreck since you left.”

“Good.” Y/N stepped out of the car, swiftly walking to her room. She walked in, ready to give Dean attitude, when she saw everything.

The lamp was shattered on the ground, laying amongst all her research that now littered the floor. There was a dent in the bedframe from where Dean had obviously kicked it. He was now sitting on her bed, facing the window she had climbed out of. His face was in his hands, and his body shuddered slightly. She could hear his ragged breathing from the other side of the room.

“Dean?” she asked softly. His head whipped up at the sound of his name. His eyes looked startled, as though he didn’t expect her to come back. She certainly hadn’t expected it either.

“I, uh, came to talk. If you want-”

Y/N didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence before Dean had her engulfed in a strong embrace. His body seemed to be trembling faintly.

Don’t do it, she thought to herself. Y/N, don’t do it.

Of course, after a moment, she wrapped her arms around him.

Damn it.

“Y/N…” Dean trailed off, pulling back after a minute. “Y/N, I didn’t mean- I never wanted you to- shit, you know I’m no good with words.”

“I know, Dean,” she said sharply, looking down and stepping away. “I know. Well, except for that night. You were real good with words; even got me to leave.”

Y/N didn’t have to look at him to see the heartbroken look he gave her when she pulled away, or the way his face broke when she said those things.

“Y/N-” he stepped towards her, and she scooted away from him. He swallowed.

“Look. I didn’t listen, I know that, but you shouldn’t have left.”

“I shouldn’t have left?” Y/N glared at him, arms crossed over her chest. “Are you saying that for me or for you? Listen, Dean, you’re only here for yourself, so stop acting like you care. You don’t want me back for me, and you’re doing a pretty piss poor job at convincing me to go back with you guys.”

“Y/N, please,” he begged, running a hand through his hair. “I-I know, I messed up. I should’ve listened to you. I just- I didn’t… Y/N, I need you back. I’m a mess and you know it, regardless of whether or not you were with us. Just ask Sam.”

“Your time is ticking away, Winchester.” She spat the name like it was poison. His face fell, but she kept her eyes glued to his. “So far all you’ve managed to tell me is that you’re a mess. So? You think I’ve been all sunshine and daisies? Life sucks- hell, it sucked ass even before I left you. My life is mine now; I do what I want, when I want, and the team always listens to me.”

“Team?” Dean asked, confused. “I thought you were solo.”

“My team is me, my gun, and the road, wherever the hell it takes me. It’s all I need. It doesn’t hold me back, make me do reckless things to protect it when it refuses to listen to me.” She glanced at the clock. “One minute, Dean. I’m not yet convinced.”

“Y/N,” his voice cracked. “I don’t know what else to say. What do you want from me? How can I make this right?”

“You could start by apologizing!” she screamed at him. He flinched at the sudden outburst. “Look, Dean; ever since you came in here, you’ve just been telling me what a mess you are, that you should’ve said something different. Guess what? I already know. I know your every move, every idiosyncrasy, every damn freckle on your body so well that I could pick you from a lineup blindfolded. You know how I know this? Because I spent so much time with you that I had no choice but to take it all in. You were my hero, Dean! Do you know what it’s like to have your hero berate you, belittle you, tell you that you shouldn’t have saved them or the victims? That they were reckless and stupid and rash? That shit tends to leave a fucking mark, Dean!”

“Y/N…” he trailed off. A few rogue tears threatened to fall down his cheeks, matching her watering eyes. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Whatever.” She turned away, sitting on the bed. “You’ve got twenty seconds. Persuade me or leave.”

“I’ll do anything,” he begged, kneeling in front of her. “You want me to listen? I’ll listen. You want to punch me? I’ll let you beat me black and blue. Please, Y/N, I am begging you, come back. If not for me, then for Sam. He’s sulking around, drinking almost as much as I am, and won’t even talk to me. It’s hell; trust me, I’d know.”

Y/N clenched her teeth, looking away. She wanted to come back- oh, she wanted to ever since her fingertips left the door handle- but she needed some sort of reassurance. She missed home, missed the impala, missed Sam’s quirkiness and love for learning and Dean’s smell of gun smoke and whiskey and cinnamon that lulled her to sleep when she had nightmares.

“Damn you, Winchester,” she laughed, blinking back tears as she looked at the ceiling. “Always had a soft spot for you boys.” Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, taking her hand in his, warily searching her face for any indication to stop. When he didn’t see any, he pulled her fully into his arms, smelling her scent of shampoo and vanilla and that weird beer she always insisted that they buy even though it wasn’t good for her.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she murmured into his ear, running her fingers through his hair. She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, you are filthy. First thing you do when we get back is shower.”

“So…” he pulled back, searching her face. “Does this mean…?”

“I’m coming back,” she reassured. “But you gotta listen to what I have to say, and you definitely do not get to brush me aside or ignore me. And you aren’t allowed to get mad at me when I save your ass.”

“Y/N-” he started. She smiled, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, maybe you can get a little mad,” she grinned, standing up. “You’re cute when you’re in protective-big-brother mode.” It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, okay,” he replied, pulling her flush against his side. “Whatever. Just don’t go off on me- us like that again, okay? I can’t-” His voice stuck in his throat, his next words freezing where they were lodged in his vocal chords.

“Sammy.” Dean rapped on the door to his brother’s room three times. “We need some stuff from you. Found a way to… to get rid of your visions.” He held his breath.

“You… what?” Sam opened the door, confused. “I thought… I thought there was no way.”

“So did we,” Dean sighed and turned away. “But Bobby found something. Y/N is downstairs now, helping out. They need some DNA for the spell, so… come on.”

They walked silently down the stairs, entering the room that was filled with a crackling fire, open books, and a setup of sigils and spell works.

“So,” Sam sighed, looking slightly awkwardly around the room. “What do I gotta do?”

“We need some of your blood,” Bobby thrust the knife towards Sam, barely looking at him. Y/N stood behind him, holding something- another knife? - behind her. Swallowing thickly, he walked over to the bowl and cut open his hand over it. The blood spattered on top of the herbs that he didn’t know the names of as he accepted a cloth from Y/N.

“… Is that it?” Y/N asked after a minute of silence. “Do we need anything else?”

“Nope.” Bobby turned away from the three of them, taking a long swig from his whiskey canteen. “All that’s left is… well, you know.”

“What?” Sam asked, looking around at the three of them. “What’s next?”

“Sam, Dean, you boys don’t need to be here for this,” Bobby faced them again, holding out his hand to Y/N. She handed him a… paintbrush? “Why don’t you two go downstairs for a bit. Or, better yet, take the impala out for a ride. A long ride.” He looked pointedly at Dean, who pointedly looked away from them all. Sam’s face whipped from Bobby to his brother.

“What?” he asked concernedly. “Why do we have to go? Y/N, what’s going on.”

“We’re helping you.” She walked over to them and gently shoved them towards the door. “Please, go. It’s best if you aren’t here.”

Sam still looked confused, but hesitantly followed Dean when he slammed the door behind him. The revving of the engine was all that was heard for the next while.

“Okay, Y/N.” Bobby heaved out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Let’s do this.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” Sam asked heatedly for the eighth time since they’d entered the car. “Talk to me. Something’s happening, I know, so be honest with me. What are you doing?”

“Nothing, Sammy,” he said dejectedly, staring stonily at the road ahead. “That’s the problem. I’m doing nothing. All I get to do is drive my car around with my brother who’s seeing the friggin’ devil while my little sister gets some voodoo crap done to her to help him-”

“What?” Sam interrupted, shocked. “What about Y/N? Dean, turn around. We’re going back. Y/N can’t- I won’t let her-”

“I already gave her the speech, Sammy,” he said gruffly. “She wouldn’t let me do anything to stop her. She insisted. We were running out of time.”

“Dean,” Sam huffed impatiently. “I swear, if you don’t turn the car around right now-”

“What’re you gonna do, Sam?” he sighed, finally looking over at him. “You gonna take the wheel and make us crash? Make Y/N’s sacrifice worthless?”

“Sacrifice?” Sam turned sharply, eyes wild. “She’s what-”

“It’s not like that.” He held in a deep breath. “She’s just… taking on your burden. There wasn’t any other way. She found out and… there wasn’t really time to debate it. What’s done is done. You can hate me later, but Y/N insisted. And we both know she would’ve done it whether or not we were with her or not. Might as well help her along the way.”

“That doesn’t justify your actions, Dean!” Sam exploded, leaning his head against the back of the seat. “Our baby sister is going to do I don’t even know what, because you refuse to tell me, and you let her?”

“Sam, she wouldn’t let me do anything!” Dean shouted. “Your walls are going to break soon, and she’s stronger than we give her credit for. We need… I needed you on your best for hunting.”

“What about Y/N!” Sam asked exasperated. “You don’t need her for anything?”

“You know that isn’t true,” Dean snapped. He sighed. “I just… this way, you don’t have visions with a wall that’s breaking. She’ll have a wall. It’s, uh, not going to break. She’ll be like… a safe with a lock that isn’t busted on it.”

Sam looked out the window. Neither of them spoke.

“And you’re sure this is going to work?” Y/N asked yet again. “I’m not having second thoughts about saving Sam, but I just want to know that we aren’t pissing them off for no reason.”

“We got everything right.” Bobby did a quick scan over the list. “We just gotta finish the sigils and then say the incantation. Then the spell sets in.”

“Okay.” Y/N breathed out, shivering slightly from the cool breeze. He wore only one of Dean’s old ratty tee’s and her pants. Markings were painted onto her skin with the brush and mixture of blood, ashes, and other assorted ‘spices’ she couldn’t pronounce the names of. Bobby worked in silence, making careful strokes as he painted onto her as though she was a canvas. After about ten minutes, he set the items down.

“Alrighty then,” he sighed. “Now all is left is…” He picked up the spell book, glancing one last time at Y/N. “You sure you want to do this?”

“He’s my brother, Bobby,” she smiled softly at him. “I’d do anything for him.”

He swallowed. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He turned his eyes slowly from hers to the book, and began the incantation.

“Fiat mihi tolle tui memoriam ex te. Mihi ferre grave, compatimur ut et quam tibi et quia te amo. Sit ut ego maiorem partem doloris et ut honeste ambuletis ego sum ille concussus, ista maledictio.”

Bobby finished the incantation, looking warily up at Y/N. She seemed to… glow? His eyes widened in fear, but managed to keep the rest of his face still.

“I’m fine, Bobby,” she smiled through her teeth. “Just a little, weird, is all.”

“Did it work?” he asked hesitantly. She frowned, looking around.

“I feel… different,” she said slowly. “Well, sort of. But everything looks the same. Did we… did we miss anything?”

“We got everything to the last drop of blood,” he frowned. “Maybe it just… takes time.”

She sat up, reaching into Sam’s bedside table for the gun she knew he kept there. Checking the bullets, she walked towards the library. The only thing to be heard were her padding footsteps and soft breaths as Y/N entered the map room. Checking the stairwell, she saw the room was empty. She was about to turn around when something caught her eyes.

Walking around the table, Y/N kneeled to inspect the blob of- whatever- was on the floor. Grabbing the knife on the table, she poked at the icky substance.

“Shifter,” she mumbled quietly, standing up. Can I do this on my own? She thought as she headed down to Dean’s room. It looks like only one shifter, but the boys will kill me if I don’t tell them. Entering his room, she dismissed the thought from her mind. If it got bad, she’d call them. Grabbing Dean’s cartridge of silver bullets and his silver knife, she checked for her phone.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath. Must have left it when I was eating, she sighed heavily, heading towards the kitchen.

She just hoped the shifter was unaware of her presence.

Y/N whipped to face the noise, only to meet Dean.

“Hello,” he snarled.

Not Dean.

“Hey,” she replied coldly. “Couldn’t have morphed into someone better looking? I mean, come on. Co-dependent older brothers are so last season.”

“Well I wanted the ‘worthless and annoying younger sister’ outfit, but you took the last one,” he countered.  Y/N glared, tightening the grip on her gun as she stalked closer.

“While I admit your comebacks are better than his,” she said slowly, heading towards where here phone was thankfully hidden from his line of sight. “You aren’t the one holding a gun.”

“True,” he agreed. “But are you really willing to shoot your brother? The one you look up to?”

“You aren’t my brother,” she snapped back.

“If that were the truth, you would’ve pulled the trigger already,” he pointed out. Y/N grit her teeth. He had a point.

“That aside,” she commented. “I’m afraid I’ll have to either kill you or tie you down. I don’t want any incidents, and I’m genuinely curious as to how you got in here.”

“The mystery is part of the fun,” he smirked. Y/N let her grip falter for a moment, but not long before the shifter threw a knife at her. She tried to dodge it, but it pierced her thigh. Grimacing, she grabbed her phone off the table and shot at him as he ran out of the room, lodging the bullet in the heel of his boot, before letting out a breath of pain. Hastily, she tapped on the first contact that appeared.

“Hey Sam,” she huffed in pain. “So, I’ve got a bit of a situation here at the bunker.”

Now

Y/N had somehow managed to get back to her room without creating a big trail of blood. She’d limped down the hallway, three rags tied around her thigh to prevent any crimson stains leading the shifter to her. Sighing heavily, she checked her gun, knives, and then grabbed the first aid kit under her bed. Opening it up, Y/N checked its contents. Just her luck; there was barely enough gauze and antiseptic to clean her injury.

Wrapping up her gash, she tied it off before hearing footsteps outside her door. Quickly, Y/N pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Wincing, she grabbed her gun and stalked towards the door. She couldn’t be certain, but it sounded like two people.

Taking a deep breath, she swung open the door and faced the source of the noise- only to face what she could only assume were her brothers. Training her eyes on them, she squinted. They looked at each other, having one of their silent conversations that she could read right through.

“I’m going to grab my knife,” Y/N explained slowly. “Then once I prove myself, you two are going to do the same.” Trying not to make any sudden movements, she took one hand off her gun- which she held upright at ‘Dean’- and reached for her knife in her boot. Bringing it up to her arm, she sliced her soft skin. Grimacing, she put it back. “Your turn.”

‘Sam’ reached into his jacket and pulled out a blade similar to Y/N’s. He deftly mimicked her actions before passing it onto ‘Dean,’ who copied.

“Good,” Y/N huffed as she lowered her gun. She barely had time to tuck it back in her waistband before her brothers had rushed towards her, inspecting her. Chuckling lightly, she lifted her arms, exposing her body for them to check over.

“What happened?” Sam asked, looking at her with eyes filled with concern. “Did you deal with him?”

“Nah,” she sighed in defeat. “He’s still around here somewhere. Met him in the kitchen trying to grab my phone to call you guys. We-” she stopped, flinching when she remembered her injury. “Well, we should probably continue in my room. Standing hurts.” Dean’s eyes snapped back to your retreating figure as you opened your door.

“What do you mean, ‘standing hurts,’ Y/N?” he quizzed. His question was answered when he saw her bed. There was a huge stain of blood in the middle of it. The first aid kit sat aside, mostly empty, and a pair of bloodied ripped jeans were strewn on the floor. He felt his heart jump to his throat.

“Y/N,” Sam asked concernedly. “What happened? Are you-”

“M’fine, Sam,” she said, running a hand down her face. “He got my leg, but I took care of it. It’s nothing. Now all we gotta do is hunt the bastard down.”

“You getting stabbed is not nothing, Y/N.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

“You should’ve called us as soon as you knew you weren’t alone.”

“Okay,” she retorted. “First of all, chill. I’m fine. Secondly, I was trying to call you, but there was a little matter of a freaking monster in the kitchen. Now let’s just gank him and move on with our lives.”

“Y/N-” Dean sighed sharply, stepping towards her. Sam quickly intercepted him, stepping between the two of them.

“Dean,” he rushed. “Listen; I get you’re angry- hell, so am I- but don’t take it out on Y/N. Save it for the shifter. As for you,” he turned to Y/N, who had stuck out her tongue at Dean. “You need to lay low while we deal with this.” Y/N gasped.

“What?” she asked, dumbfounded. “Excuse you, but I’m tagging along. The dude stabbed me. Don’t go thinking someone can do that and get away.”

“Damn straight,” Dean chuckled. “But if you’re coming along you stay right by us, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Let’s just go. I got a date with Netflix and I can’t cancel again.”

“You got it,” Sam smiled, ruffling her hair. “Stick with me, Y/N. Dean, take the library. We’ve got this end.” Dean nodded, also ruffling Y/N’s hair before drawing his gun and stalking down the hall.

“Ready?” Sam asked. Y/N nodded, taking her gun out.

Silently, they wandered through the halls, checking each room for the shifter.

“Crap,” Y/N suddenly muttered, stopping in her tracks. Sam spun around quickly, gun raised at her.

“What?” he whispered loudly. “What is it?”

“Should’ve told you guys before, but the shifter looks like Dean.”

“That would’ve been helpful.”

“Shut up.”

They continued down the hall, Sam standing protectively in front of Y/N. They had just turned into the kitchen when a clatter arose from the library. Sam didn’t even have a chance to turn to Y/N before he had to chase after her. He turned the corner to find her pointing her gun at two identical Dean Winchester’s, both panting and sporting a bruise or two.

“Great,” he muttered.

“My thoughts exactly, Moose,” Y/N breathed out. “What do we do? I don’t want to accidentally give the shifter a weapon.”

“Well…” he pondered, deep in thought. “We could try to figure it out for ourselves?”

“Great idea, Sammy,” said the Dean on the left. “Let’s ask questions and hope for the best. Really?”

“It’s all we’ve got,” Y/N pointed out. “Care to go first?”

“Okay,” Sam answered uneasily. “Well… oh, uh, when was Bon Jovi formed?”

“1983!” they both exclaimed.

“Great,” Sam grumbled. “Your turn.”

“Er…” Y/N muttered, racking her brain for something. “Oh! What’s your favourite type of cake?”

“Chocolate!” the one of the left shouted excitedly, grinning. He dropped to the ground as Y/N shot his chest.

“Y/N!” Sam shouted. “What did you do?”

“He didn’t say pie,” she said simply, walking over to where the real Dean was standing, shocked.

“You… did know, right?” he asked warily. Y/N laughed.

“Of course, dumbass,” she chuckled, tossing her gun on the table. “I shot his shoe earlier, so I figured out it was him about halfway through Sam’s question. I just wanted to… well, I kinda wanted to screw with you guys.”

“Y/N, you little…” Sam huffed, picking her up from behind. She gasped as he scooped her up.

“Sam!” she squealed. “Put me down!”

“Nope,” he replied casually, carrying her down the hall towards his room. “I’m butting in on that Netflix date you were talking about.”

“Yeah,” Dean called as he followed close behind. “You’re not allowed to date. Like, ever. So we gotta make sure you don’t get into any trouble on this one.”

“What about- oof! - your hunt?” she huffed as Sam dropped her on the bed.

“Finished early,” Dean excused. “Wasn’t as bad as we thought.”

“Ah,” she hummed contentedly. “I see. But I get to choose what we watch. You guys only like to watch old shows. Have a little self-respect.”

“At least we like quality television,” Sam retorted as the eldest Winchester practically sprawled across the bed.

“Yeah, quality television for seniors,” she huffed as Dean laid across her.

“Maybe we could find some soap operas to help lull you asleep for your afternoon nap. There might be some prune juice in the fridge; you can use it to wash down your Viagra.”

Sam chuckled, plopping down beside Y/N and promptly squishing her between the two boys. He laughed when she pretended to faint, playing the next episode of whatever show he landed on, thankful he could simply be with his family.