#spn request

The neon Budweiser sign buzzed like an angry hornet, casting a sickly red glow over the crowded dive bar. The air hung thick with stale beer, cheap perfume, and desperation. You perched on a sticky barstool, swirling the watery dregs of your club soda, forcing a bright, vacant smile onto your face. Across the room, crammed into a shadowed booth, Sam Winchester looked like he was chewing glass.

"Easy, tiger," Dean muttered, draining his own beer. "She's got this. It's the fastest way to ID the pattern."

"He's looking at her like she's dessert," Sam ground out, his knuckles white where they gripped the chipped Formica table. His gaze burned into your back, then slid to the man leaning too close to you at the bar – Benny, he’d introduced himself with a smarmy grin. Benny, who supposedly knew everyone in this dying mill town, including the three factory workers recently found pale and terrified, drained of life by something unseen. Your target.

You had agreed with Dean. The ghost had attacked men who frequented this bar. Flirting for intel was the fastest in. But feeling Sam’s raw, jealous energy radiating across the room made your skin prickle. You focused on Benny, laying it on thick.

"Wow, Benny, you really know everyone, huh?" you giggled, leaning in conspiratorially, your shoulder brushing his arm. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam flinch. "So, those poor guys… Jimmy, Carl, Pete… they were all regulars here?"

"Like clockwork, sweetheart," Benny slurred, his breath hot and beery in your ear. His eyes roved over the neckline of your borrowed, tight-fitting top. "Real sad cases. Loners. Always lookin' for someone to talk to." He leaned even closer, his hand landing heavily on your thigh. "Kinda like someone else I know tonight."

Inside, you recoiled. But you kept the smile plastered on. "Oh, I'm just here for a drink, Benny," you demurred, subtly shifting your leg away. "But it's fascinating, really. Did they ever mention anything strange happening? Before they got… sick?"

Benny’s eyes darkened, the friendly mask slipping. He misinterpreted your shift away as playful resistance. "Playing hard to get, huh? I like that." His hand clamped back onto your thigh, higher this time, fingers digging in possessively. He leaned in, his lips aiming for your neck. "C'mon, darlin'. Let's ditch this dump. I know a quieter spot. You can ask me anything you want… privately."

Panic flared, but you calmed your features. “Benny, seriously," you said firmly, pushing against his chest. "I'm not into that. Back off."

He chuckled, a low, unpleasant sound. "Sure you are. You've been leading me on all night, flashing those pretty eyes." His other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you against him on the stool. "Don't be a tease."

That's when the shadow fell over you both.

Sam Winchester filled the space beside you, radiating a quiet fury that made the noisy bar seem suddenly silent. He wasn't shouting. He didn't need to. Every coiled muscle, the dangerous glint in his hazel eyes, the way his jaw worked silently – it screamed violence barely contained.

He dwarfed Benny instantly.

"Problem here?" Sam's voice was a low growl, vibrating with barely leashed anger directed solely at Benny. His gaze flicked to you for a split second – a silent question, a blaze of protectiveness and something darker, primal.

Benny blinked, momentarily stunned by Sam's sheer size and intensity. He tried to bluster. "We're just talking, pal. Private conversation."

Sam didn't move. He didn't even look at Benny again. His eyes locked onto Benny’s hand, still gripping your thigh like a claim. "Your hand," Sam stated, the words icy calm. "Get it off her. Now."

The command brooked no argument.

Benny flinched, his bravado evaporating. He yanked his hand back as if burned. "Alright, jeez! Easy, big guy! Sheesh, didn't know she was spoken for." He scrambled off his stool, backing away with nervous glances. "Freak."

Sam ignored him. The moment Benny was out of immediate reach, Sam’s focus snapped entirely to you. His large hand replaced Benny’s on your arm, but the touch was entirely different – grounding, urgent, possessive. "Are you okay?" The roughness was still there, layered over thick concern. "Did he hurt you?"

His proximity was overwhelming. You could feel the heat rolling off him, smell the familiar scent of his soap and flannel undercut by the sharp tang of adrenaline and jealousy. His eyes scanned your face, lingering on where Benny had tried to nuzzle your neck, his nostrils flaring slightly.

"I'm fine, Sam," you breathed, your own pulse hammering. "Really. He was just drunk and handsy. I had it."

"Had it?" Sam’s voice dropped, dangerously low, just for you. His thumb rubbed a small circle on your arm, a stark contrast to the tension radiating from him. "You looked… you looked like you were enjoying it." The raw accusation, the hurt beneath the anger, hit you like a physical blow.

"Sam," you started, shocked. "It was an act. You know that!"

"An act that involved letting him paw at you?" His grip tightened infinitesimally. "Laughing at his jokes? Leaning into him like he was the most interesting guy in the room?" The jealousy wasn't simmering anymore; it was boiling over, fueled by the helplessness of watching from the sidelines. "I saw you, Y/N. It looked pretty damn convincing."

"Because I needed the information!" you shot back, frustrated tears pricking your eyes. "And I got it! He confirmed the ghost targets the lonely regulars, the ones who feel invisible. That's the pattern!"

The information barely registered. Sam leaned down, his face inches from yours now. The neon light caught the storm in his eyes. "He had his hands on you," he rasped, the possessive fury vibrating through every word. "And I had to sit over there… feeling like I was going to crawl out of my skin." His gaze dropped to your lips for a heart-stopping second. "Seeing you look at him like that…"

His confession hung in the humid air, charged and undeniable. The mission, Benny, the ghost – it all faded into the background noise of the bar. There was only Sam, his furious jealousy, his protective rage, and the terrifyingly intense look in his eyes that promised this conversation wasn't over. Not by a long shot. His hand slid from your arm to your lower back, pulling you subtly closer against him, a silent declaration that vibrated through your entire body.

"Sam," Dean's voice cut through the tension, surprisingly serious. He appeared beside you, his own expression tight. "We got what we needed. Time to go. Now." He glanced pointedly at Benny, who was whispering angrily to a bouncer across the bar, gesturing towards Sam.

Sam didn't move immediately. He held your gaze for another long, electrifying moment, the unspoken words – We are not done here – echoing louder than any shout. Finally, with a last, scorching look that promised a reckoning, he released his grip on your waist only to take your hand instead, his fingers lacing tightly through yours. He pulled you towards the exit, shielding you with his body, radiating a possessiveness that vibrated in the air long after you'd left Benny, the bar, and the neon buzz behind. The hunt for the ghost was still on, but the storm brewing between you and Sam promised its own kind of haunting intensity. His silence as he led you to the Impala was thick, heavy, and crackling with unresolved tension – the kind you knew would explode the moment you were alone.

The slam of the motel room door felt like a punctuation mark on the oppressive silence. Dean barely let it close before clearing his throat, his eyes darting between you and Sam, who radiated a barely-contained tempest of fury. Sam paced like a caged animal, his long strides eating up the cheap carpet, refusing to look at you directly.

"Yeah, so," Dean announced with forced cheerfulness that rang hollow in the tension-charged room. "Forgot I gotta... uh... check the salt lines in the trunk. Yeah. And maybe grab more whiskey. Definitely need more whiskey." He shot you a look that was pure, unadulterated ‘You brought this on yourself, good luck, you’re gonna need it’ before practically bolting out the door. The latch clicked with finality.

The sound seemed to snap something in Sam. He whirled around, finally pinning you with a gaze that was molten lava mixed with shattered glass. "Enjoyed the show?" he bit out, his voice dangerously low and ragged. "You certainly seemed to be giving him one."

"Sam, stop it," you countered, exhaustion warring with frustration. "It was a job. You saw him get handsy. You saw me push him away!"

"After you let him flirt! After you laughed at his stupid jokes, leaned in close, looked up at him like he was fascinating!" Sam took a step closer, his height suddenly looming, imposing. The air crackled with his possessive anger. "It looked real, Y/N. Damn convincing. More convincing than anything I've seen you do before."

"Because I needed him to believe it!" you shouted back, your own temper flaring. "I needed the intel! And I got it! Why are you being like this? You know I only love you! You know I'm not going anywhere with some random drunk barfly!" You stepped towards him, meeting his fury head-on. "You're being crazy!"

The word hit him like a physical blow. His jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle jumping. He looked away, raking a hand through his hair, but the storm didn't abate; it shifted, turning inward, feeding on something darker. His voice, when it came, was raw, scraping against the silence.

"Crazy? Maybe. Because watching that… watching you look at him like that… it felt like someone ripped my guts out." He finally looked back at you, and the anger was still there, white-hot, but beneath it was a vulnerability so stark it stole your breath. "Because everyone leaves, Y/N. Everyone. Mom. Jess. Dad in his own way. Hell, even Dean sometimes feels like he's on borrowed time." His voice cracked on Jessica's name, the old wound flaring. "And you… you're everything. So seeing you smile at him like that… it wasn't just jealousy. It was… terror. That it would be so damn easy for you to decide I'm too much. Too broken. Too much damn baggage. That you could just walk over to a guy who doesn't know about monsters and blood and loss, and…" He choked off, unable to finish the horrifying thought, the raw fear beneath the rage finally laid bare.

His admission knocked the wind out of your anger, leaving only aching tenderness and a fierce protective surge. He wasn’t just jealous of Benny; he was terrified of history repeating itself, of being abandoned by the one person he couldn’t bear to lose. You didn't hesitate. You closed the distance between you in two strides.

"Sam Winchester," you said, your voice firm but infinitely gentle, "look at me." When his tormented eyes reluctantly met yours, you placed your hands flat on his broad chest. "You listen to me right now." You pushed firmly. He resisted for a fraction of a second, his body tense as coiled steel, but you pushed harder. "Sit. Down." Your command, laced with unwavering certainty, broke through the haze of his anger and fear. He sank heavily onto the edge of the lumpy motel bed, the fight seeming to drain out of him, leaving him looking impossibly weary and young.

Before he could say another word, you stepped between his knees. You grasped his face firmly in your hands, forcing his gaze to stay locked on yours, seeing the lingering hurt, the fear, the desperate need for reassurance beneath the storm. "I am never leaving you," you stated, each word deliberate, etched in stone. "Not for Benny, not for anyone. Ever. Got it?" You leaned down, pressing your lips to his forehead, then each cheek, feather-light kisses against his flushed skin. "You are mine, Sam Winchester. My giant, brilliant, beautiful hunter with too big a heart and too much damn history. And I love you too much. Too much."

You felt the tension in him begin to loosen, inch by painful inch, as your words seeped past the walls his fear had erected. You slid your hands from his face into his hair, your fingers sinking into the soft, thick strands, massaging his scalp with firm, soothing strokes. "You can't stay mad at me when I'm doing this," you murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. He let out a shaky breath, a low rumble deep in his chest that wasn't quite a growl anymore, more a weary sigh. His large hands settled tentatively on your hips.

"No," he mumbled, his forehead dropping to rest against your sternum. "Hard to stay mad when you're… doing that." His voice was thick, muffled against your shirt. The raw edge of fury was gone, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion and a fragile, tentative hope.

You tilted his chin back up. His eyes were still stormy, the jealousy not entirely vanished, the fear a shadow in the depths, but the overwhelming rage had receded. There was a vulnerability there now, open and waiting. A need that went beyond words.

"Good," you whispered, leaning in until your lips were a breath away from his. "Because you think I was convincing with Benny?" A ghost of your mission smile touched your lips, but this time it was filled with pure, possessive promise meant only for him. "You haven't seen anything yet, Sam. Not when it comes to proving exactly how much you mean to me."

A flicker of something hot and intense sparked in his weary eyes – surprise, intrigue, the first ember of a different kind of fire. One corner of his mouth twitched upwards, the barest hint of his familiar smirk struggling to surface through the lingering emotional wreckage. "Yeah?" he challenged, his voice still rough but laced with a new curiosity. "How you planning on doing that?"

You didn't answer with words.

Instead, you shoved him backwards onto the mattress. He landed with a soft oomph, looking up at you, sprawled beneath you, surprise momentarily eclipsing the lingering shadows in his expression. You followed him down, straddling his hips, pinning him with your weight and your gaze. You leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss that wasn't gentle reassurance anymore. It was deep, demanding, and blazing with the fierce certainty of your love. When you finally pulled back, just enough to see his dilated pupils, the hitch in his breath, you smiled, slow and dangerous.

"I have my ways, Winchester," you murmured against his lips, your voice dropping to a husky whisper thick with intent. Your hands slid down his chest, fingers tracing the hard planes beneath his shirt. "And trust me…" You leaned in again, your breath warm against his ear, "...I can be very convincing."

Sam’s answering groan vibrated against your lips as you kissed him again, deeper this time, chasing away the last ghosts of the bar, Benny, and his own fears with the tangible, undeniable reality of you, here, now, claiming him entirely. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him, not in anger anymore, but in a surrender that promised a different kind of storm altogether – one fueled by desperate need and the overwhelming reassurance that he was yours, utterly and completely.

The argument was over. The real convincing had just begun. Outside, the Impala’s engine had faded into silence. Dean was definitely getting that whiskey.

(Slightly Smutty Ending if you want it ;))

Sam’s groan vibrated against your mouth as you kissed him, raw and hungry. Your hands shoved his flannel open, buttons scattering. His palms slid up your thighs, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “Prove it,” he demanded against your lips, voice ragged. “Show me I’m the only one you want.”

You rocked against the rigid heat straining beneath his jeans, drawing a sharp gasp from him. “You feel that?” you whispered, nipping his jaw. “That’s all for you. Only ever you.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling just enough to make his eyes darken.

He flipped you onto your back in one fluid motion, pinning your wrists above your head. His gaze burned—still haunted, but now fused with predatory need. “Words are easy,” he growled, hips grinding down, making you arch. “Show me.”

You bucked against him, meeting his challenge. “Then stop talking, Winchester.” You sealed the command with a searing kiss as your free hand fumbled with his belt. His breath hitched when your fingers finally closed around him, stroking firmly. A broken sound escaped him—part relief, part surrender—as his forehead dropped to yours.

“Y/N—”

“Shut up,” you breathed, guiding him to your entrance. “Feel it.”

You sank onto him in one slow, claiming slide, drowning his next words in a shared moan. His hips jerked, burying himself deeper, as if trying to fuse you together. “Mine,” he rasped, thrusting up, each movement erasing the ghost of Benny’s touch, the bar, the fear. You met him stroke for stroke, nails scoring his back, legs locking around him. The motel walls echoed with skin slapping skin, ragged breaths, and the creak of cheap springs—a primal symphony drowning out every doubt.

When release tore through him, he choked out your name like a prayer, forehead pressed to your collarbone, trembling. You held him as the aftershocks shook his big frame, his arms vise-tight around you. Outside, the Impala’s engine rumbled. Dean was back.

Sam lifted his head, eyes clear now, soft with dazed wonder. He brushed sweat-damp hair from your face, thumb tracing your swollen lip. “Convinced?” You murmured, as a real smile finally touching his mouth.

He kissed your neck. “Starting to be.”

You huffed a laugh, rolling to pull yourself atop him, still joined. “Then we’ve got all night, baby.”

”W-What?” You questioned. 

“We can’t be together. It would never work—it’s too risky. You know that.”

You opened your mouth to argue but no words came out. He wasn’t wrong. Hunters dating each other was rough. There was always something out there that could use you against each other. There was always the threat of losing the other person on a hunt. Young death was common. Getting involved with each other would just make it more painful.

You wanted to scream at him that you could make it work. You wanted to beg him to give it a try. 

But all you did was nod. You swallowed, willing the tears stinging at your eyes to go away.

Sam nodded back, also at a loss for words. He turned, heading down the hallway to his room. When you heard his door close, you finally let the tears fall. 

Three Weeks Later

You

Your sharp hearing alerted you to someone other than Sam or Dean entering the kitchen. Your back was to the entryway as you had been filling your coffee mug. It was six in the morning, and even Sam who was an early riser was never up that early. 

Besides, you knew what the boys sounded like. They had very distinct sounds to their steps—individual ways of breathing that you knew like the back of your hand. 

This person was not Sam or Dean.

You pulled your gun from your waistband and spun around instantly, training your firearm on the intruder. 

The woman raised her hands in surrender instantly, a look of confusion on her face. She looked to be about your age. She had long, straight blonde hair, and doe-like eyes that were a bright shade of blue. Her long legs seemed to stretch on forever in the pair of boxer shorts she wore that were rolled up at the waist. She had a white ribbed tank top on with a flannel thrown over it. 

“There is no good way to enter a room that contains a hunter when they’re not expecting you,” she said, her hands still raised and a small smile on her face. 

“Who are you?” You demanded, unflinching.

”I’m Danielle. I guess Sam didn’t warn you I was here.”

”You expect me to believe you were invited here?” You had a hard time believing Sam had just “forgotten” to tell you about a guest.

”Well, it was kinda last minute…” she trailed off. You studied her awkward expression before realization hit you. She wasn’t just wearing a flannel and boxers. She was wearing one of Sam’s flannels. You weren’t sure about the boxers, but you had a pretty good guess as to who they belonged to. 

A sharp pain shot straight through you as you realized what that meant. This woman had spent the night.

”Oh,” you said lamely. You lowered your gun. 

“Whoa, Y/N, what’s goin’ on?” Dean asked, coming into the kitchen behind Danielle. “We don’t wanna scare off any chicks that actually like my brother,” he joked. 

Dean hadn’t known about what happened between you and Sam a few weeks before. You were pretty sure he knew about your feelings for his brother, but you hadn’t told him about your near-relationship. So to Dean, Sam having a girl stay overnight was just business as usual. 

He didn’t know it was making you bite the inside of your cheek so hard it bled. 

“Sorry about that,” you mumbled. She put her hands down as you put your gun back in your waistband. You turned to Dean. ”You knew she was here?”

”Yeah, Sammy texted me last night. He didn’t tell you?” Dean asked, confused. 

You feigned nonchalance. “Must’ve forgot,” you shrugged. 

“Huh. Well, Y/N, Danielle’s here,” he said, giving your shoulder a small shove as he went to get himself a cup of coffee. 

You realized that regardless of your feelings for Sam, you were being rude. 

“I’m sorry. I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Danielle,” you said, striding over to her and reaching out a hand. She shook it, smiling.

”It’s no problem, Y/N. I would have done the same thing,” she said with a chuckle.

”You’re a hunter too, I take it?” You asked, handing her the mug meant for you and going back to get coffee for yourself again. She sat down at the table and you sat across from her, trying your best to hide your shock at her mere presence. 

One-night-stands weren’t new to you. All three of you had them now and again. You just weren’t expecting Sam to have one so soon after your…incident. 

“Yeah, I met Sam at a shifter case nearby. We got a drink to celebrate when it was over and…well, here I am.”

You smiled lightly as Dean came to sit next to you. You could feel how forced it was, and by the way you could feel his eyes on you, Dean knew, too. 

You spent the next ten minutes getting to know Danielle with Dean before Sam finally stumbled into the kitchen. 

“Well, look who decided to show up,” Dean said. Sam didn’t seem that surprised that Danielle was still there. You watched him as he walked in and came to the table, leaning down and giving her a quick kiss. He turned and walked to the coffee pot, not once making eye contact with you.

”So what’s on the docket today?” Dean asked after taking a sip of his coffee. You were about to respond when Danielle spoke up.

”Well, Sammy and I are going to head up to Colorado for a werewolf case. Then we thought we’d rent a place up there, have a little mini ski vacation.”

Sammy.

We.

Vacation.

Realization smacked you in the face. Danielle wasn’t a one-night-stand. 

Sam was dating her. 

Sam

Sam dared a glance at you from behind his mug when Danielle finished speaking. 

He saw realization, shock, and anger flit across your face at an amazing speed before it turned to a blank mask. 

He was a dick, he knew that. He should have told you he was seeing someone. 

He didn’t even really mean to be seeing someone. He’d met Danielle and had a great night of distraction with her. But when morning came, the gaping hole in his heart returned, and he couldn’t stand it. He needed more distraction. 

Danielle was there. Danielle was sweet and beautiful. Danielle was interested in him.

Danielle wasn’t you, though. 

Before he knew it, a couple of weeks had gone by and he had been calling her up fairly often. He couldn’t find it in himself to tell you, and it hadn’t mattered. But Danielle eventually wanted to see the infamous bunker. So he brought her home. Before telling you.

He knew you’d be pissed. You couldn’t hold it against him forever, though, could you? After all, you’d both agreed it was for the best that you don’t pursue a relationship.

As he watched your face return from blank to your normal easy-going one, he felt a little relief. Maybe you had moved on. Maybe it didn’t bother you that much. 

Sam shook his head a little to clear it, listening back in on the conversation. He needed to focus on the upcoming hunt.

Your phone went to voicemail for the second time. Sam hung up, trying his brother instead.

”Yello?” Dean answered on the second ring.

”Is everything okay?” Sam asked.

”Yeah…why?”

”Where’s Y/N?”

”She’s right here, watching Dr. Sexy with me.”

Sam clenched his teeth and felt his jaw tick. You’d ignored his calls. 

“Sammy?” Dean asked after Sam neglected to respond. 

“Yeah, uh, nevermind. I was just checking in. Danielle and I finished the hunt. We’re gonna spend a couple days up here and then I’ll be home.”

”Alright, brother. Enjoy,” Dean said. Sam could almost hear his eyebrows wiggling. He rolled his eyes and hung up without responding. 

“Everything okay?” Danielle asked, putting her arms around Sam’s neck from behind and placing her face against his. He swallowed, pushing aside his annoyance. 

“Yep, all good.” 

You

Dean hung up the phone and turned to look at you. 

“What?” You asked, feigning innocence. 

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” He asked, eyeing you. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huffed, turning back to the TV.

Dean snatched the remote from next to you, turning it off. “Bullshit. You’ve been weird the last two days. What is going on? Did you and Sam have a fight or something?”

“Or something,” you muttered. 

“Y/N,” he said, staring you down. 

“You know how I feel about him, right?” You asked with a sigh. 

“Yeah,” he replied with a shrug.

”Well, that just makes it…hard to be around him right now. Or talk to him.”

Dean nodded slowly. “But, Y/N, this isn’t anything really new, is it?”

You let out a dry chuckle. “Well, it turns out my feelings aren’t so one-sided.”

”Well I coulda told you that,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Sam’s always been crazy about you.”

You nodded, pursing your lips. You gave him a minute to let what he was saying sink in. 

“Wait, if you know you like each other, why aren’t you together?”

”Because dating when you’re a hunter is a bad idea,” you said flatly.

”But…Danielle’s a…” he trailed off. “Oh.”

”Yeah. Oh.”

”I’m so sorry, Y/N/N. I wouldn’t have been so easy-going about her being here if I’d known,” he said, his eyes shining with regret.

”Don’t worry about it, De. I just…I need some space from him. I don’t think I can be his friend right now.” You felt your face crumple a bit as the words left your mouth. You sniffled, and you saw Dean’s eyes flash with a protective anger.

”I’ll knock some sense into him,” he said, his jaw ticking. 

“Dean, no. I’m a big girl. I don’t need you to beat up your brother for me,” you said with a chuckle. Dean really was your best friend outside of Sam, and you felt your heart swell a little at the thought of him siding with you over his own brother.

”Fine,” he sighed. “But Y/N, you say the word, and his ass is grass.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, Dean’s antics cheering you up a little. “Got it.”

It was a little harder to avoid Sam when he got back from his “mini-vacation.” He had clearly caught on to the fact that you didn’t want to hang out with him. Not that you were subtle. 

Whenever Sam walked into a room you were in, you mumbled some excuse and left. You could see that it was bothering him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it. 

He’d tried to talk to you about it a couple of times. You’d been able to avoid the conversation. 

Until now, that is.

”Y/N, stop.” He grasped your arm as you turned to leave the library. You’d come in from the kitchen and seen him there and immediately tried to escape. He was fast, though, and pulled you to a bookshelf, effectively cornering you.

You pulled your arm away from his hand as if he’d burned you. 

“What, Sam?” You asked with very little patience.

”What do you mean, ‘what’? You’ve been avoiding me for the better part of a month,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah, well, you’ve been busy,” you said, emphasizing the last word. 

“I’ve been here almost every day,” he said, clearly not getting what you were saying. “Why don’t you want to hang out with me? I miss you.”

You almost softened your resolve when he said that. But the pain that creeped in when you remembered Danielle put the wall right back up. If he couldn’t see what he’d done, you weren’t going to explain it to him.

”It’s nothing, Sam. I’ve just been busy, too.” You met his eyes but made sure to keep yours blank. He searched them for a moment. “Can I go now?” You asked. 

He nodded, a look of sadness on his face. You slipped past him and out of the library before you could change your mind. 

A few more weeks went by and you could feel yourself becoming less and less like yourself. You continued to give Sam the cold shoulder, and it seemed he had given up trying to get you to talk, too. You spoke with him when it was essential for hunts, but rarely outside of that. 

Danielle had been joining many of your hunts and hanging around the bunker a lot. It was painful to see them together, but she really was a nice girl and a great hunter. It wasn’t her fault you were heartbroken. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you heard Danielle wouldn’t be coming on the afternoon’s hunt. You were going to the next town over to take care of a vamp nest, which should have been quick and easy.

It wasn’t.

There were more vampires than any of you had thought. The three you killed easily were only a third of what the nest actually was. You each took on two more when they appeared. You could hear the sounds of Sam and Dean fighting theirs off as you lopped off the head of one of yours. The other one, though, got the jump on you. He threw you against the wall with unbelievable force, knocking the wind out of you. 

You laid crumpled on the floor, trying to get your bearings. You had hit your head, and you reached back to feel the bump, your hand coming back red with blood. Your back was screaming, and you could tell you’d at least bruised a few ribs. 

“Stupid girl,” the vampire said, closing in on you slowly. “You killed my family. That cannot stand.”

Your vision was becoming fuzzy around the edges, unconsciousness pulling at you. As the vamp leaned in, fangs bared, his eyes went wide just before his head was gone. It rolled to the floor and his body fell back with a loud thump on the floor. 

“Y/N! Y/N, are you okay?” Sam shouted. He was kneeling down in front of you where the vampire had just been. He held your shoulders and you blinked hard, trying to get your vision to clear. It was useless, though, and you felt yourself go limp before darkness took over.

“Y/N. Y/N,” you heard as you opened your eyes. You blinked against the harsh light of the bunker’s kitchen. You were sat in a chair, Dean holding you up by your shoulders and lightly tapping your face.

”Y-Yeah,” you said, your head pounding. “I’m okay.”

”I’ll be the judge of that,” he replied. He checked you over and when you both agreed that you’d just been knocked out and probably had some bruised ribs, he gave you a glass of water and left to go shower. You were still sitting, and realized that Sam was leaning against the counter, staring at you.

“You scared me,” he said quietly.

You pursed your lips, shrugging. “I’m fine.”

”You’re not fine. We’re not fine,” he said, looking away and shaking his head. 

“Sam, don’t,” you said. You stood up and took a moment to steady yourself. 

“Just talk to me, Y/N!” He said, suddenly walking toward you.

”Why don’t you talk to your girlfriend, Sam?” You said, unable to hide the hurt from your voice. 

Sam’s eye met yours, a look of regret taking over.

“I made a mistake,” he said quietly. 

“You—you made a mistake.” You stated sarcastically. 

“Yeah, Y/N. I made a mistake starting a relationship with Danielle. I still have feelings for you,” he said. He lifted a hand like he wanted to touch you, but dropped it when he saw the look on your face.

You felt the rage bubbling up inside as you held back the tears forming the best you could.

”What do you want me to say, Sam?” You said through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to feel sorry for you.”

He swallowed, his soulful eyes meeting yours. 

“You did this to us, Sam. You chose to date her. You chose this.”

”We both agreed it was better not to try!” He argued. 

“No, Sam. You said it was better. I only went along with it because it was what you wanted! And then you decided to try with her!” You sucked in a breath as the tears fell in an attempt to calm yourself. “She is a good person, Sam. She doesn’t deserve less than one-hundred percent of you.”

You stepped forward, gripping his hand. You brought your eyes up to his. “Be the good man I know you are. Be with her.” You squeezed his hand once before dropping it. You brushed past him and down the hall to your room. Closing the door, you collapsed onto your bed and let the sobs escape. Some time later, you felt the bed dip behind you. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in over your sobs. So much for your hunter ears. 

You knew from the scent of whiskey, cologne, and motor oil that it was Dean, though. He put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you toward him, and you let him. You rested your head on his chest and gripped his shirt as you cried. He kept his arms around you and let you, shushing you and kissing the top of your head. After what felt like hours, you fell asleep surrounded by the comfort of your best friend.

Sam 

It had been a few hours since he’d seen you or Dean, so Sam decided to go looking for you. After looking in all the common areas of the bunker, he carefully opened the door to your room.

Dean met his eyes from his spot leaning against the headboard of your bed and Sam slid his gaze down, taking in your sleeping form. He could see that the space around your eyes was puffy from crying. He took a deep breath in, letting it out in a pained sigh. 

“She been asleep long?” He asked his brother.

Dean just shook his head. “She’s really out, though.”

”Dean—“

”Sam, I don’t want to hear it,” Dean said, cutting him off. “Whatever bullshit reason you have for doing what you did—for doing this,” he said, nodding toward you with his head, “I don’t want to hear it.”

Sam bit the inside of his cheek and looked away, feeling the tears stinging the back of his eyes.

”What am I supposed to do, man?” He asked his big brother, his voice breaking slightly. “I love her.”

Dean’s eyes softened. “You do what’s right. You do what you always should have.”

”I can’t lose her,” Sam said quietly. He worried for a second that Dean wouldn’t know if he meant Danielle or you. 

“I get it,” Dean replied, and Sam wasn’t worried anymore. “But you have to decide what that means for you. Cause you can’t have it both ways.” He looked down at you again, effectively telling Sam that he was done talking. 

Sam left your room, closing the door quietly behind him. 

The right thing. He’d always tried to do the right thing. And look where it’d gotten him.

He knew what he was going to do, right or wrong be damned.

You

You’d woken at some point to Dean sliding out from under you and covering you with your comforter. You were already falling back asleep as he kissed your head and said, “Sleep, sweetheart.”

Now you woke again. Your phone on your nightstand told you it was 11 AM. You’d slept for twelve hours. 

Everything from the night before came rushing back to you. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to calm yourself. Your head throbbed and your ribs ached as you got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom. You showered, the hot water stinging your head wound but soothing your sore muscles. You dressed in your leggings and a t-shirt before throwing one of Sam’s flannels over it. You may not have been his girlfriend—or even speaking to him—but you would be damned if you were going to give up the comfiest piece of clothing you’d stolen from him.

You padded down the hall to the kitchen, noticing how quiet the bunker was. You didn’t know where the brothers were, but decided not to worry about it before you’d even had some coffee. 

You walked into the library, intent on sitting in one of the overstuffed leather chairs by the bookshelves. You stopped, though, when you saw Sam sitting at one of the tables. He wasn’t pouring over any old tomes or looking at his laptop like usual. He was just sitting there, staring at his hands. He looked up then, and you knew he’d been waiting for you.

”Sam, please, I can’t do this again,” you said, not wanting to argue with him.

He stood, walking to you in two long strides and taking your mug, setting it down on the table nearest to you. You watched him in confusion as he came back to stand in front of you. 

“You said I was a good man, Y/N.” He grabbed each of your hands with his, his eyes never leaving yours. “But a good man wouldn’t have broken your heart.”

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes. “Sam—“

”Let me just say this, Y/N/N,” he said softly. You nodded for him to continue. 

“I was trying to do the right thing when I said we shouldn’t be together. I thought it would just be too hard, and I didn’t want to lose you. But being without you created this—this hole in me. So I tried to fill it. I distracted myself with Danielle. I didn’t even really want to be in a relationship with her. It’s not like I forgot what I had just said about dating as hunters. But it was different with her. The stakes weren’t as high.”

You watched him as he continued, his grip on your hands staying firm.

”She only eased the ache for a little bit, though. It always came back. It came back because you are what I need.

”When you got hurt on the hunt yesterday, my heart nearly stopped. It didn’t matter that we aren’t together. Losing you would ruin me, whether we’re together or not. 

“I broke up with Danielle this morning. Maybe that makes me a bad person. I don’t know. I don’t care, though. I’m so in love with you, Y/N. And I can’t go another minute without you in my life.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you could feel the tears leaking out of your eyes and down your cheeks. Sam lifted his hands to your face, his thumbs wiping the tears away. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said when it was clear you were speechless. You nodded, finding it was the only thing you could manage at the moment. 

Sam smiled lightly and leaned in, bringing his lips to yours. In that moment it was like you had found everything that had ever been missing in your life. You were whole again. You brought your hands up around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. He moaned, wrapping one arm around your back and pulling you flush to him. 

After a few moments he pulled away, his eyes searching yours. You realized you still hadn’t spoken. 

You smiled. “You are a good person, Sam. And I love you, too.”

His face lit up and he pulled you back in for another kiss. 

“Thank God,” you heard from the bottom of the stairs. Dean stood there holding a few takeout bags. “I couldn’t take any more of y’all’s drama.”

You rolled your eyes at your friend before turning back to Sam. “So, do you want to try this?” You asked cautiously.

”Try? No,” he replied. Your heart sank for a moment before he continued. “We’re doing this. You’re it for me, Y/N,” he said, placing a finger under your chin before bringing his lips to yours again. 

You smiled as he pulled away. “Guess we’re friends again,” you joked. 

“Nuh uh,” he said, pulling you close again. “You’re mine,” he whispered in your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Then show me,” you whispered back. Next thing you knew, Sam had thrown you over his shoulder and was marching down the hall. 

“Guess I’ll see you guys later,” you heard Dean call with a chuckle. 

And as Sam tossed you gently on his bed and crawled up, hovering over you, you knew that he finally got it.

Being together was worth the risk.

You, Sam, and himself had been on a routine hunt, (to be honest though was any hunt ever routine?) After loring the werewolf into the woods with it chasing you as bait, (which Dean had been against from the beginning). Dean had just shot it, when as it fell, you tried to dodge it however, you over corrected and fell- straight onto a broken tree branch. He still couldn't get the scene out of his mind; the gasp you made when you fell, the tree branch sticking out of your lower abdomen, the panicked look in your eyes as you reached for him with blood dripping from lips as you continued to gasp for air.

As soon as Sam saw what happened he called an ambulance as Dean tried to keep you calm. Luckily it arrived pretty fast, even though it didn't feel that way. After a four and a half hour surgery was when the doctor led the boys to your room and had told them your diagnosis. You had suffered a spinal cord injury to your lower lumbar vertebrae. They wouldn't be sure until you were awake what the full amount of damage was, however, they said that because of where you were injured you may never be able to walk again.

Dean was so angry. He had never been more angry in his life. Not you. This couldn't be happening. Not to you. You were one of the most active people he knew. You loved to dance around the Bunker, go on runs, and brag about beating them at any sport because you honestly could, you even gave Sam a good run for his money when you went on morning runs together. For that to be taken from you…it wasn't fair. So when you had finally woken up on day three was when reality hit; you couldn't move your legs. You didn't have much sensation rather than pain. That was the last time you spoke. That was eleven days ago.

Dean didn't know what to do. The hospital almost didn't release you because of your mental state. You weren't speaking, or really eating but the moment you had heard them wanting to keep you Dean saw the panic back in your eyes as pleading tears ran down your face. You wanted to go home so that's what he did.

When you both had gotten back to the Bunker Dean had taken you into his and your shared bedroom. That's where you had stayed for the past two days; completely quiet and still, almost cationic. Dean was terrified. Even though you were here, alive and breathing you weren't, not really. This wasn't you. Yes, psychically your heart was beating but when he looked into your eyes you weren't there. The girl he fell in love with was completely shattered into the smallest of pieces. Dean didn't care though. He would put you back together piece by piece, from the ground up because he would be damned if he lost you after everything that you had gone through.

Not to say that he wasn't scared because he was. He didn't know what to do or what to say because he wouldn't lie to you. He wouldn't tell you that everything was fine and it wasn't a big deal, because nothing was fine and it was a big deal; a fucking huge deal. You may never walk again. You had every right to feel however you did and honestly he didn't care if you screamed at him right now and blamed him because at least then you'd be showing some kind of emotion. He didn't know what to do but what he did know was that he was going to be with you every step of the way to figure it out. You never left him, even in his darkest moments, so like hell would he leave you.

You and the boys had grown up together. Bobby had taken you in at a young age after he had found you on a hunt gone wrong. Your parents had been murdered and then drained in front of you by ghouls. The ghouls had just started to cut into you when Bobby and Rufus had gotten into the house. You were only seven at the time and they way you had hugged on to Bobby for dear life he knew he couldn't just drop you off somewhere so he took you with him.

The first time you had met the boys you and Sam had immediately bonded over movies and books since you were only a year older than him. You and Dean however had more of a love/hate relationship. Dean enjoyed trying to act like the tough guy and teased you mercilessly for years to the point that you had just resigned yourself to the fact he didn't like you. It wasn't until eighth grade after you saw him beat up a couple guys for making fun of your scars on your wrist, (from when the ghouls had tried to kill you), was when you realized he was just pretending not to like you. After confronting him about it and calling him an asshat was when things between you both slowly changed.

You and Dean dated off and on for a while. You had joined Dean when he went to find his dad and pick up Sam. Between then and now your relationship with Dean wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination. How could it be with hunting thrown into the mix? From him making a deal to save Sam which was understandable but also painful, to him abandoning you to be with Lisa, to him going to purgatory, and of course the Mark of Cain…point being; you and Dean had been to Hell and back, shit Purgatory and back and throughout all that you were still with him. So no. He wasn't going to leave you no matter what you did or what you said because he loved you and nothing could change that.

A loud thump at 3:10 in the morning was what startled Dean awake. On instinct he reached for you with one hand, and for his gun under his pillow with the other. As his hand made contact with his gun he realized that his other hadn't made contact with you. A chill immediately ran down his spine as he turned on his lamp ready to kill whoever had taken you when- laughter. Your laughter filled the room. Which honestly scared the shit out of Dean for a couple reasons; one being you hadn't made a peep for the last thirteen days and two; why the hell were you laughing? After making his way to the other side of the bed he saw you laying on your side still laughing.

"Y/N…sweetheart? What are you doing on the floor?" Crouching down to your level, he tried to scan your body to make sure you weren't hurt.

"I- I woke up and had to pee so, I went to get out of bed and immediately fell because I forgot my legs-my legs don't work!" You laughed hysterically as tears ran down your face. "How the hell did I just forget they just don't work?" Dean steadily watched you for a moment knowing what was coming next. He'd only seen you do this on a few occasions where you'd laugh and cry at the same time before you broke down. One of them being when you came to terms with him dying after taking the deal for Sam. Your laughter began to calm down and the tears began to flow freely down your face, as you poked at your legs with your pointer finger.

"I mean, if not being able to make them move isn't sign enough then-then what about how even though I can't feel them, I have a constant pain running through them?" At the end of your question you let out a mirthless laugh. Dean sat next to you and within five seconds is when he saw reality set in, truly set in and you lost it.

"I can't walk. Dean, I can't walk. What- what am I gonna do?" Pulling you into his lap he held you as tight as he could as you cried into his chest, your body shaking as panic hit. When you began hyperventilating was when Dean turned your face towards his.

He could see your mind racing as it finally was coming to terms with the reality that it was trying so hard to keep you safe from. As much as Dean wished you didn't have to go through this he knew there wasn't another way.

"Sweetheart, look at me. Y/n, sweetheart I need you to look at me." You focused your eyes on his as he gently wiped away your tears with his thumb. "There we go. That's my girl. I need you to breathe with me okay?" You shook your head in a panic mouthing the word 'can't'. "Yes you can. You can breathe baby. I need you to focus on me. Can you do that? Here," he gently took your hand and placed it on his chest as he took a deep breath. "Feel that? I need you to match it. I know you can sweetheart. Deep breath." He took a breath in, and as he did you shakily followed. He gave you a smile as a tear fell down his own cheek. "That's my girl. There we go, keep going sweetheart. You're doing so good Y/N, so so good."

Twenty minutes went by as Dean held you close to him coaching you through your breathing, still not moving even when you calmed down.

"Dean?" It was a ghost of a whisper but he heard you regardless. He looked down, still stroking your hair.

"Yeah sweetheart?" You avoided his eyes.

"I know this isn't what you signed up for. Hunting is your life and I can't do that anymore-" He gently, but firmly lifted your chin so you would look at him.

"I'm gonna stop you right there. Hunting isn't my life. Maybe it was at one point but not anymore. You, you're who I want to be with, who I want to spend my life with so if that means no hunting, then so be it. I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me sweetheart." Your eyes met his smirk before meeting his green orbs filled with nothing but love, sincere and honest love.