#spnfic

The scars are there, even if no one else can see them. They linger in every moment a guy brushes you off, in the hollow smile you force when you know it's not real. You feel the sting in every glance that sizes you up like you’re a prize to be won rather than a person to know. So you’ve built your walls, layering them high and thick until nothing, no one, can break through. Not even him.

Or them.

Sam and Dean Winchester—they didn’t just walk into your life. No, they crashed into it, two forces of nature that bulldozed right through your carefully constructed defenses, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in a way you swore you’d never be again. At first, you tried to play it cool, act like they were just hunters, comrades in arms. But the months blurred together, and now you can’t even tell how long it’s been. And that scares you because losing track means losing control and losing control means letting them in.

And letting them in? That’s not an option.

Even now, you can feel their eyes on you, the weight of their presence lingering in the air like a storm cloud ready to break. Sam’s by the pool table, his lean, tall frame moving with practiced ease as he lines up shot after shot. There’s a calm to him, but it’s the kind that keeps you on edge, like he could switch in an instant and suddenly be dangerous. Then there’s Dean, perched at the bar with a half-empty beer in hand, his eyes flicking between the room and you, constantly scanning for threats, always watching. 

Always watching you.

They’re protective. It should comfort you, but it drives you insane. Because the truth is, no matter how many monsters they face, no matter how many battles they fight, they can’t protect you from what matters most. They can’t protect you from yourself.

You think back to the last hunt, to the ridiculousness of it all—a damn Cupid, of all things. The little winged freak zeroed in on you from the moment you stepped into that abandoned church, those bright, beady eyes tracking you with unnerving precision. He wasn’t cute, not like the Valentine's Day cards would have you believe. No, this thing was more like a demented cherub, armed with arrows dipped in cosmic mischief, and he had you in his crosshairs. You could feel it in the air—the tug, the weight, as though Cupid himself was hell-bent on forcing you to confront feelings you’d buried so deep even you were beginning to forget they existed. Each arrow he loosed sent your heart racing, as if you could sense the emotional mess he was trying to weave. But you dodged them all, every last one, determined not to let some glorified matchmaker unravel everything you’d worked so hard to lock away.

You're not stupid. You know precisely what the little bastard was aiming for. It’s not like you’ve been blind to the way Sam’s gaze lingers on you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, soft and curious, like he’s trying to piece you together. Or the way Dean’s jaw tightens, a flicker of possessiveness in his green eyes, whenever some random guy at a bar edges too close, his whole demeanor shifting to silent warning. You’ve been dodging these unspoken glances for months now, sidestepping their care, their questions, like someone dancing around a minefield. Because you know that once you stop moving, it’ll all explode in your face.

And you’ve had enough explosions in your life.

But there’s only so much running you can do before the inevitable catches up.

“Hey.”

Dean’s gravelly voice slices through the whirlwind of your thoughts, rough but steady, anchoring you as he slides into the seat beside you. His presence is a weight that presses into the air, solid, almost suffocating in its certainty. The chair creaks beneath him, but all you hear is the pounding of your own heartbeat, thundering in your chest.

“Are you alright?” He’s asking, but it’s more than that. It’s the question beneath the question, the one you’ve been dodging for longer than you can remember.

Your heart skips a beat—a betraying thud that echoes in the hollowness you’ve tried to keep locked down. You’d never admit it, not even to yourself, but he makes it impossible to pretend. You glance at him, careful to keep your face neutral, masking the fluttering in your chest with a look you’ve perfected over years of pretending. It’s almost second nature by now—the practiced nonchalance. But with Dean, it’s always been different.

There’s something in the way his green eyes bore into yours, piercing through the walls you’ve built brick by brick, layer by layer. It’s as though he sees right past your armor, straight into that small, fragile part of you that still aches for something real. Something more. But you can’t let him see that. You won’t. So you shove it down, hard, pushing that flicker of vulnerability back into the shadows as you lean casually into your chair. Your body language distant, closed off.

“Yeah,” you shrug, the lie slipping from your lips as easily as breathing. “Just tired. Long day.”

Dean doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just watches you with that familiar intensity, and you know—you know—he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying. He’s seen you fight, seen you bleed, seen you crawl out of the wreckage of hunts that should’ve killed you. He’s seen you at your worst, and somehow, he still sticks around. He and Sam both do, and that’s the problem, isn’t it? They’ve gotten too close, wedged themselves into your life in ways that make it impossible for you to keep pretending.

Pretending that you don’t care.

Pretending that the way Dean looks at you doesn’t unravel something deep inside.

From across the room, you feel Sam’s eyes on you. His quiet gaze tracks the shift in the atmosphere as he casually leans his pool cue against the table and makes his way over, long strides slow but purposeful. His expression is calm and unreadable, but you see the concern in the tightness of his jaw and the subtle way his brow furrows as he joins Dean at your side.

“You’ve been quiet,” Sam says softly, folding his arms across his broad chest. There’s no judgment in his tone, just that frustrating gentleness, the kind that makes you feel seen when you’d rather stay hidden. “Is it… about earlier? With Cupid?”

The mention of Cupid sends a sharp twist through your stomach. You swallow, forcing down the surge of emotions that threatens to rise, burying it beneath layers of practiced indifference. You won’t let some stupid angel with a bow and arrow undo everything you’ve worked so hard to keep locked away. You won’t.

“I’m fine,” you snap, the words slipping out too fast, too harsh. The crack in your voice betrays you. “That was nothing. Just another hunt.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, and you can feel the weight of Sam’s stare, too, both of them pinning you with that all-too-familiar look. The one that says they’re not buying your crap, the one that makes your pulse quicken, and your chest tighten. You hate that look because it leaves you nowhere to hide.

“Bullshit.” Dean’s voice is low, steady, cutting through the silence with calm certainty. He takes a long sip from his beer, but his eyes never leave yours, and it feels like he’s peeling back every layer you’ve carefully put up to protect yourself. “You’ve been dodging that thing like it was the plague, and don’t think we didn’t notice.”

You clench your hands into fists in your lap, frustration bubbling up like a rising tide. “Look,” you say, your voice sharp, defensive. “I don’t need some magical arrow telling me how I’m supposed to feel. I’m fine the way I am.”

Sam shifts beside Dean, his arms still crossed, but you see the way the muscle in his jaw tenses, the way his hazel eyes soften as they search yours. “It’s not about what you’re supposed to feel,” he murmurs, his voice quiet but firm. “It’s about what you do feel.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, it’s all too much. The weight of their concern, the intensity of their gaze, the truth that they’re trying to force you to admit—it presses down on you until you can’t breathe. You stand up abruptly, the legs of the chair scraping loudly against the floor as you push it back. The sound is harsh, jarring in the quiet of the bar, but you barely notice.

“I don’t feel anything, okay?” you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “Not for you, not for him, not for anyone. And I won’t let some winged freak tell me otherwise.”

The tension in the air thickens, suffocating, hanging between the three of you like a storm cloud ready to break. Dean stands up slowly, his movements deliberate, his face carefully neutral, but there’s something in his eyes—something raw, something that cuts deeper than you want to admit. Hurt, maybe. Disappointment. You can’t think about it. You won’t.

“Y’know,” Dean says quietly, taking a step toward you, his voice low and steady, “you keep saying that, but you don’t believe it. Not really.” He’s close now, too close, the heat of his body radiating off him in waves, and it makes your pulse spike. “You’re just scared.”

Your heart slams against your ribs, your breath catching in your throat. Fear coils tightly around your chest, but not the fear of them. No, it’s the fear of what they’re asking you to do. To let them in. To trust them. To stop running.

And running is all you know how to do.

“I’m not scared,” you whisper, but the words feel weak and empty, even to you.

Dean’s lips twitch into a small, humorless smile, his eyes softening just a fraction as he watches you. “Yeah, you are,” he says, his voice gentler now but no less intense. “And that’s okay. But maybe it’s time you stopped running from it.”

Sam steps closer, his presence steady and calm, grounding you in a way that you don’t want to admit you need. His voice is soft, full of quiet understanding, but there’s an unshakable strength beneath it. “You don’t have to do this alone, y’know,” he says. “We’re here. We always have been.”

The words sink into you, settling deep into the cracks of your carefully guarded heart, and something inside you shifts. Just a little. It’s terrifying, the idea of trusting them, of letting yourself hope, but there’s also something achingly beautiful about it. About the possibility that maybe, for once, you don’t have to be the one to leave first. That maybe, you don’t have to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak.

But still, the fear—the bone-deep, soul-crushing fear of opening up, of letting someone in only to be left behind again—is overwhelming and paralyzing.

“I can’t,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper now, trembling under the weight of the truth you’re too afraid to admit. “I can’t risk it.”

Dean’s hand reaches out slowly, cautiously, like he knows one wrong move could send you running. But he doesn’t stop. His fingers, calloused from years of hunting, gently find yours, and instead of just holding your wrist, he entwines his fingers with yours, locking them together with a quiet but unspoken promise. The touch is soft yet firm, his thumb grazing the back of your hand in slow, soothing strokes, as if he’s trying to reassure you with every heartbeat. The warmth of his skin against yours sends a shiver up your spine, igniting something deep inside you, something you’ve kept buried for so long you almost forgot it was there.

You feel the weight of his presence settle over you like a blanket, heavy with meaning, but there’s nothing suffocating about it. It’s grounding, steady—safe. And yet, that safety terrifies you because it’s the kind you’ve convinced yourself you don’t deserve. But Dean, he isn’t giving you a choice. Not this time.

His other hand comes up slowly, his movements deliberate and gentle, as if he’s afraid you might bolt at any second. His palm cups your cheek, warm and rough, but his touch is tender, almost reverent. His thumb brushes across your cheekbone, wiping away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen. The simple motion cracks something inside you, and for a moment, it feels like the walls you’ve built so carefully over the years are crumbling under the weight of his touch.

"Maybe you’re not the only one taking a risk here," Dean murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, barely above a whisper. His words hang between you, heavy and raw, filled with all the things he’s never said but has always felt. His eyes search yours, and in them, you see it—the longing, the fear, the desperate hope that you’ll stay, that you’ll finally let them in. That you’ll choose them.

You feel your breath catch in your throat as his fingers tighten ever so slightly around yours, anchoring you to the moment. His thumb continues its slow, tender sweep across your cheek, and the tenderness in his gaze is enough to break your heart. This man, this infuriating, stubborn, protective man, who has fought demons and monsters and everything in between, is standing here with his heart wide open, asking you to stop running. Asking you to be with him and his brother in a way that terrifies you more than any hunt ever could.

For the first time, you feel the weight of what’s at stake—not just for you, but for him, for Sam. This isn’t just about you being afraid of getting hurt. It’s about them too, about the risk they’re taking by loving you, by wanting you to be a part of their lives. And it hits you with such force that you almost can’t breathe. They aren’t asking for your walls to come down—they’re asking to stand beside them. To hold you through the fear, through the pain, through whatever comes next.

You stare up at Dean, his hand still cradling your face like you’re something precious, and for the first time, you allow yourself to wonder—really wonder—if maybe, just maybe, you’re not the only one with something to lose.

Because you can feel it now—the risk they’re taking, the way they’re holding their breath, waiting for your answer, waiting for you to finally say yes. And in that moment, you realize that they’ve already decided. They’ve already chosen you.

It’s your turn to choose them.

“I think we need to go to Heaven and see what is up there.” Sam interrupts my thoughts.

“I asked Cas to look into it. He’s been gone for days. You think he’s alright?” I start, “What if Heaven doesn’t want Cas to tell us and they kept him?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if they did that.” Sam sighs, “We can summon him.”

“Let’s do that.”

While Sam and I prepare the summoning my mind keeps wandering to my dreams.

Tonight was different, normally it’s just me on my back floating and these phantom hands that gently touch my face and chest.

Tonight I could have sworn I felt lips too, gently pressing against my cheeks and neck, and there was this soft rain, I felt gentle drops falling on my face.

“Dean?” Sam pulls my head from the clouds.

“Huh what?” I look at him.

“Are you okay? You seem out of it.”

“I’m good, I was just thinking, do you…” I look up at him and wait for him to stop messing with the sigils for the summoning, “Do you smell jasmine too?”

“What? No I smell chalk.” He says while holding up the white piece of chalk.

“I don’t mean now, but just in general.”

“No? Why?”

“Nothing, just forget it and let’s get our angel back.” I sigh.

We do the summoning and Cas appears right in the circle we have drawn.

“Cas!” My eyes widen and I run to him when I see the state he is in.

He collapses to the floor just when I reach him, his nose is bleeding, his lip is split, he has numerous cuts on his cheek and his entire face is bruised.

“What the hell happened!” I demand when Sam and I help him sit up on a chair.

“H-Heaven” He grunts out, “I found out what happened and they didn’t want you to know, so they kept me. Until your summoning forced me out.”

“Why wouldn’t they want us to know! We’re trying to help them.” Sam grunts out while getting a first aid kit for Cas.

“They don’t want humans like you to interfere with their business.” Cas says.

“Assholes” I groan, “What did she do?”

“She created an anomaly in the time line.”

“What?”

“She went back in time and did something, I don’t know what. And Heaven wants to fix what she did but she is not letting them do it.”

“Do you know what she did?” I ask him.

He shakes his head, “I’m not even sure Heaven knows what happened. But it explains the world wide blast, messing with time line has a worldwide effect.”

I fall back in my chair, “can’t we ever catch a fucking break?”

“What now?” Sam starts “We can’t fix it, what are the consequences of what she did?”

“Heaven doesn’t want to wait and find out the consequences.” He grunts and stands up “I need to go back in time and see for myself.” He hoists himself up but he’s barely able to stand on his own.

“Woah woah take it easy.” I say as I help him sit back down, “You can barely stand, let alone time travel. Come just” I push him back in the chair and he lets himself sit with a rough exhaled breath “Rest for now. I’m sure her army isn’t ready yet.”

“We don’t know that.” Sam says.

“I think we would notice if an army of the death was walking the Earth.” I remark.

Sam is giving me a look, a dirty one. Like when we were younger and I was hiding an injury and got a heavy infection, he’s giving me that same look. Angry but worried.

“What.” I snap at him.

“Why do act like this when it comes to her?” he asks.

“What?” I frown “What the hell are you talking about!”

“I’m talking about how you tried  to stop a freaking bullet for her!”

I knew this was coming, ever since I did that Sam had been giving me wary glances.

“It was just instinct! I reacted to the sound!” I walk closer to him and throw my hands up in frustration, “You’re being ridiculous.”

“You’ve been around guns your whole life! You have never had this instinct before so it’s bullshit, and what about your dreams? You really expect me to believe she miraculously backed off?” Sam half yelled.

“Yes! I have no control over them and I’m sure you would notice when I have nightmares again. Get off my back, Sam. We’re supposed to fight her. Not each other.” I quip back.

“I… yeah I’m sorry, nothing here just makes sense” Sam starts, “We need to know what she did in the past.”

“Once I regain my strength, I can find out.” Cas says from the chair he is slumped in.

I nod and go sit next to him and pat him on the shoulder “Rest first.”

“Why help us?” I wonder to Rowena.

“Because I care for Earth, you nimwit” Rowena says to me.

“And you’re sure this will work?” Sam is holding the list of ingredients with the spell to capture The Raven on it.

“I guess, you’ll have to just trust me, Samuel”

“What about ‘not risking’ your neck. This sounds exactly like that.” I look at Rowena.

She’s become an ally to us. Knowing the Queen of Hell definitely has it’s perks. Funny how she used to be our enemy. She and Sam get along well, despite the fact that Sam killed her.

“Raising an army of the dead will stop the souls from entering Hell, my kingdom is on the line here. I wouldn’t earn to be Queen if I didn’t protect it. And I will hide when she arrives.” She smirks, “She might be the Queen of Death but I am the Queen of Hell, I have some tricks up my sleeve.”

“Cas has enough power to find some of these ingredients, I will give him the list” Sam says, he leaves to bring the list to Cas’s room.

Rowena is looking at me, actually she’s been looking at me since she arrived.

“What?” I ask her.

“Are you feeling well, Winchester?” she comes closer and looks me over, frowning a little while doing so.

“Yes? Why?”

“I don’t know… there’s something different about you, something feels off.”

“Different? Like what? Am I dying? Is it my soul?” I get worried, I have felt a little off recently, nothing bad, actually, it felt even good, very good. The ‘too good to be true’ kind of thing.

“I can’t put my finger on it… it started when you met the Raven? How do you feel?” she asks me.

“Yes, around that time, I feel… good. Really good.” I answer.

“Well, if it is good, there is nothing to worry about.” She shrugs.

Sam and Cas come back, carrying all the ingredients. Boxes and bottles of weird fluids and dust and even some bones.

Man, I hate withes.

“Oh you have everything already?” I say.

“Yes, so let’s do this.” Sam starts, “I don’t want to wait any longer, she needs to be dealt with, now.”

He sounds so determined to end her. I don’t think trapping her here is the smartest idea. She could bring this whole place down. Our home… I don’t want to lose it.

And the warning she gave me keeps haunting me, what truth, what is she hiding?

“Everyone ready?” Sam announces.

“I guess” I say a little unsure.

Rowena preforms the spell and disappears, the whole bunker starts shaking. The circle made of German forest herbs starts to burn wildly.

“Sam! End it!” I scream over the chaos.

“No! she’s almost here!” Cas yells back.

With a big blast, she arrives. Hunched in the middle of the circle. Her sleek long black hair is shielding her face. Her pale skin looks even more white against the concrete floor of the bunker.

I hear Sam draw in a sharp breath, and I realize, he never saw her in the flesh. He takes a step back when she rises and aims her empty eye sockets at us.

“You fools” her seethes at us, her voice sounds like a thousand voices in one. My entire body shivers at the sound of it.

“I am done warning you” she walks, no floats, to the edge of the circle, easily going over the herbs and going straight towards Sam.

Sam staggers back and he’s paler than I have ever seen him before. She reaches for him, but I push her sideways before she can.

“Don’t touch him, bitch” I stand in front of my little brother.

“Always protecting Sammy, daddy really beat that into your head, huh?” she mocks.

How does she know that… I told no one about the abusive behavior of my dad, not even Sam.

“Get the fuck back” I warn her, no one touches Sammy, especially not witches.

“Or what? You’re powerless against me, so is your angel and don’t think I can’t smell that Hell bitch Rowena.” She looks behind me at Sam “besides, Sam’s the only one I haven’t met yet. The vessel of Satan, how does it feel to be made for evil, Sammy?”

I push her, she doesn’t move one inch, but she does step back, in shock.

“DON’T touch me!” she spits at me.

“Don’t get near my brother and I won’t have to. Now can we act like adults or are you going to keep acting like a bitch?” I cross my arms over my chest and try to look not intimidated, but I am. She’s terrifying as fuck.

She straightens fully and looks me in the eyes with her empty sockets. Shivers spread over every inch of my skin. Where is her other body? The pretty one.

“Why summon me, knowing you have no way of protecting yourself.” she begins, “I warned you enough, feel my consequences.”

She clenches her fist and all three of us, even Cas, fall on our knees. The pain is like nothing I’ve felt before, it’s burning and stabbing at the same time.

“Stop!” Rowena appears with her hands raised, purple magic lifting the pain in our intestines slightly. But it is still unbearable.

“Let them go.” Rowena says, “Stop this now.”

“Or what?” she tilts her head at Rowena while dropping her fist. The pain evaporates and I can breathe again.

“You’ll hurt me? You’re no match for me Rowena. Stay out of this or I’ll take Hell down too.”

“What did you do to the timeline” Cas grunts out.

Her head snaps towards Cas, she briskly walks over to him and lifts him up in the air by his shirt. She’s extremely strong.

“How do you know that.” She snaps at him.

“Because you did a sloppy job, bitch.” I say. “What did you do? Made yourself powerful? Stole something or killed someone?”

She drops Cas and looks at all of us. “The smart move is to back off,” she looks at me, “You won’t like what you find.”

“The truth? And what is that exactly?” I say.

She’s looking at me, but I can’t read her expression. The eyes tell so much about a person. I often use the eyes of people to read them, to see if they’re lying or afraid. But with her, It is impossible.

“None of you wants to know. Trust me”

“Trust you?” Sam scoffs “You’re raising an army of the dead to march against Heaven. How is that in our interest?”

“Heaven is a liar and evil. You all have enough experience to know that!” she screams in frustration, “I am wasting my time here.”

“If Heaven is the bad guy here, why not let us help you?” maybe allying with her could prevent a war.

From the look Sam is giving me he thinks I am crazy, and maybe I am a little. She could be speaking the truth, Heaven has betrayed us many times. What makes it different this time?

“You help me?” she starts laughing “You hunters are nothing but ants underneath my feet.”

She looks each of us down, ending on me “I hate all of you.”

“Then why not kill us? You keep warning us, all bark but no bite.” I step closer to her, because I noticed that in fact, she doesn’t kill us. Hurt, yes. But never kill.

Her mask of horror witch slips and I see her clenching her jaw in frustration. A first sight of real emotion on her side. Meaning, she won’t kill us.

“You need us witch bitch?” I lean closer to her and that jasmine smell is wrapping around my body, making me smile.

“I do not.”

“But you can’t kill us.” I grin “So your threats are empty.”

My first mistake was laughing at her, my second was standing so close to her.

Her hand snaps out and grips my neck, her nails digging into my skin, drawing blood. She lifts me up in the air. My hands grasp her hand, trying to lessen the pressure and pulling myself up so I can breathe. In the corner of my eye I see Sam and Cas moving towards me.

“One more move and I snap his neck like a twig, I’ll deal with the consequences” she says to them but keeps her face on me.

She brings my face so close that her nose is touching mine, and I have a feeling she wants to pull me even closer.

Probably to feel me choke and see the fear in my eyes better.

“You are not stopping me from ripping that place out of the sky and burning it down. I don’t care who gets caught in the crossfire. They deserve to burn for what they took from me.” Her eyebrows lift up a little at that last sentence, as if she didn’t mean to let that information slip.

She drops me to the floor and when I catch my breath to look at her, she’s gone.

Forever Tags 2022: @jay-and-dean @wittysunflower @flamencodiva  @lyss-dw79 @waywardbaby @chocolateheart @msmarvelouslywinchester @danneelsmain @magssteenkamp @snowlovespie @awkward-and-indecisive @westerneyedwinchester @hobby27 @lunarmoon8 @yvonneeeee

Dean tags 2022: @akshi8278 @brilovesdeanwinchester

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The Raven: @globetrotter28 @jerome-valeska-trash @dean-spinster-witch

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