Broken, Bruised, Alive
Request: Yes / No
Requests are open, but for anything I write for but Riverdale, I’m not feeling much inspo for that right now! <3 Have a nice day/night
Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader
Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader
John Winchester x Daughter!Reader
Word count: 3006
Warnings: Kidnapped, blood, torture, supernatural stuff
Y/N: Your Name
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*3rd Person POV*
The motel room smelled like stale coffee, gun oil, and the cheap floral cleaner every roadside inn in America seemed to buy in bulk. Rain tapped softly against the window while the television muttered low in the corner, ignored by everyone inside the room. Sixteen-year-old Y/N Winchester sat cross-legged on one of the beds, carefully wrapping fresh gauze around Dean’s bruised knuckles.
“You punk walls too much.” She muttered quietly.
Dean snorted from where he sat shirtless on the edge of the mattress. “Occupational hazard, baby.”
Her lips twitched faintly. “Dad says it’s because you have anger issues.”
“Dad says a lot of things.”
Across the room, Sam huffed a laugh from behind an old lore book. John glanced up briefly from cleaning his handgun at the small table.
“Watch the attitude.” John warned.
Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t push further. Y/N immediately glanced between them, the familiar nervous reflex deeply ingrained by years of trying to keep peace between the three men she loved most.
“It’s done.” She said softly, trying off the bandage around Dean’s hand.
Dean flexed his fingers experimentally before nudging her shoulder with his own.
“Thanks, baby girl.”
She smiled automatically. That smile was the problem. Sam noticed it first years ago. Dean noticed it too, though neither brother ever talked about it aloud. Y/N smiled differently around John. Softer, safer, like she truly believed he hung the moon. And John… God, John treated her differently, too. Not normal Dad differently, John Winchester was incapable of being normal, but softer. Gentler around the edges. She still trained, still hunted, still lived in motel rooms and survived on greasy diner food and fake credit card scams. But Y/N got blankets draped over her when she fell asleep in the backseat. She got forehead kisses before hunts. She got called princess. Sam and Dean got boys. Dean used to pretend it didn’t bother him. Then Y/N turned eight, and John drover three hours out of their way because she mentioned wanting strawberry pancakes from a diner she liked. Three hours. Dean had nearly died from a wendigo bite two weeks ealier, and John barely blinked. But Y/N pouted once, and suddenly the world stopped spinning. Dean hated how much that hurt. Not because of Y/N, she adored them. Absolutely worshipped both of her older brothers.
When she was little, she cried anytime Dean left for supply runs because she thought monsters would eat him. She used to crawl into Sam’s lap during thunderstorms with stuffed animals tucked under her chin. She never bragged about being Dad’s favorite. Honestly, she barely seemed aware of it. That somehow made it worse.
“You finish your research?” John asked Sam.
“Almost.” Sam answered without looking up.
Y/N slid off the bed and wandered over to him, peering down at the lore book.
“Anything useful?”
Sam’s expression softened instantly. It always did around her.
“Maybe.” He said. “Looks like the disappearances line up with demon omens.”
Her face fell slightly. Demons were bad news. Not ghost bad, not vampire bad, demon bad.
John stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket. “Then we move tonight.”
Dean frowned immediately. “Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight.”
“It’s pouring outside.”
John’s eyes flicked toward Y/N briefly before returning to Dean. “Demons won’t stop because of weather.”
Dean bit back whatever sharp response wanted out. Y/N quietly touched Dean’s arm. Instantly, some of the tension drained from his shoulders.
“Okay.” He muttered.
Sam noticed the exchange and looked away. That was the other thing, Y/N had become the glue holding everyone together. She didn’t even realize she was doing it.
The abandoned cannery stood near the edge of town, rusted metal shrieking beneath the storm winds. Lightning illuminated broken windows and collapsing catwalks. Dean hated this already.
“You stay between us.” John ordered Y/N as they approached.
She nodded obediently, shot gun clutched tightly in her small hands. At sixteen, she was good on hunts. Too good. John made sure of that. But tonight she looked nervous.
Dean bumped her shoulder gently. “Hey.”
She looked up.
“We got you.”
Her smile appeared again, small and trusting. Dean would burn the world down before letting anything happen to her. Which was exactly why the next twenty minutes destroyed him. It happened fast. Too fast.
One second they were sweeping the lower level of the cannery. The next, light exploded overhead. Black smoke poured form the shadows. Growling voices echoed everywhere at once. Demons.
“Circle up!” John barked.
Dean shoved Y/N behind him automatically while Sam risaed his gun. Then screaming metal echoed overhead. Dean looked up just in time to see the catwalk collapse.
“MOVE!”
Everyone scattered. The floor trembled violently as rusted steel crashed between them. Dean hit the ground hard. Sam cursed somewhere nearby. John shouted Y/N’s name immediately. Dean’s stomach dropped.
“Y/N!?”
The smoke thickened unnaturally.
Dean scrambled up, coughing hard. “SAM!”
Then he heard it. A scream. Her scream. Terrified, cut off abruptly. Dean’s bllood ran cold.
“NO!”
He vaulted over debris while Sam and John rushed after him, but by the time they reached the far hallway… nothing. Only blood smeared across the concrete.
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“No no no no-” Dean paced violently across the motel room while Sam worked through lore books at hyperspeed and John barked into burner phones. Three hours. She’s been gone for three hours. Dean felt like his skin was being peeled off inch by inch.
“She’s smart.” Sam said quietly, though his own voice shook. “She knows how to survive.”
Dean whirled on him. “She’s sixteen!”
“She’s been hunting since she was a kid!”
“That doesn’t make this okay!”
John slammed his phone onto the table. Silence fell instantly. For one horrible second, Dean saw it. Fear, real fear in John Winchester’s eyes. Not anger. Not obsession. Terror.
“She’s alive.” John said roughly.
“How do you know?” Dean demanded.
John swallowed hard. “They want something.”
Dean hated that he was probably right. Demons didn’t take hostages for hun. Usually.
Sam rubbed exhausted hands over his face. “The cult.”
John nodded once.
“They know we have it.”
Dean stopped pacing.
“So they took her to trade”
“Or bait.” Sam muttered darkly.
John’s jaw clenched.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
“She’s gonna think we left her.” Dean said quietly.
John looked like he’d been punched. Because that was the real horror, wasn’t it? Y/N trusted them completely, and now she was alone.
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Y/N woke slowly. Pain arrived first, sharp throbbing agony across her ribs and face. Then cold. Metal chains dug brutally into her wrists above her head. The room smelled like sulfur and rot. Her breathing hitched immediately. No… No no no… She tried pulling against the restraints and cried out when pain exploded through her shoulder.
“Well look who’s awake.” A man stepped from the shadows. Exacpt not a man. Black eyes. Demon. Y/N immediately tried for the knife she no longer had. The demon laughed.
“That’s adorable.”
Fear clawed violently up her throat, but she forced herself not to cry. Dean always said monsters liked fear. She wouldn’t give them that.
“Where’s my family?” She demanded shakily.
The demon grinned wider. “Oh sweetheart, they’re looking everywhere for you.”
Her heart twisted painfully.
Dean.
Sam.
Dad.
“They’ll find me.” She whispered.
The demon stepped closer suddenly and grabbed her jaw hard enough to bruise.
“You know what your daddy’s problem is?”
She glared silently.
“He loves you too much.” His hand tightened.
“And that makes you useful.”
Y/N jerked away with a gasp. The demon backhanded her instantly. Pain exploded across her mouth. Blood filled her mouth immediately.
“Don’t.” She breathed.
He smiled. “Don’t what?”
Then the beating stared.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dean didn’t sleep. Neither did Sam. John looked worse than both of them combined. By morning, every lead had collapsed into dead ends. Dean sat at the table cleaning guns with mechanical precision while Sam researched symbols nearby. John stood near the window, unmoving. Then Dean heard it. A tiny sound. John praying. Dean froze. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard his Father pray.
“Please…” John whispered hoarsely. “Please let her be alive.”
Dean looked away immediately. Because suddenly the jealousy felt ugly and petty. Yeah, John favored her. Yeah, it hurt. But this? This was still their Father. And Y/N was still his little girl. Sam quietly closed his book.
“We’ll get her back.”
John nodded once without turning around, but his shoulders shook.
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Y/N lost track of time. The demons alternated between questioning her and hurting her. Where was the colt? Where were they staying? Where was John going next? She refused to answer. Even when they hit her. Even when they dragged blades across her skin shallow enough to hurt but not kill. Even when they laughed at her tears. Eventually she stopped crying aloud. That seemed to annoy them more. One demon crouched in front of her several hours later, studying her battered face.
“You know, your brothers are much more fun to torture.” He mused.
Y/N’s head lifted weakly. “What?”
“Oh yeah. We’ve watched them for years.” He grinned cruelly.
Rage flared through her exhaustion instantly.
“Don’t talk about them.”
The demon laughed loudly. “There’s that Winchester rage.”
She lunged as much as the chains allowed. The demon slammed a fist into her ribs. Something cracked, Y/N screamed. The demon grabbed her hair viciously.
“You humans break so easy.”
She gasped painfully, vision swimming.
“They’re gonna kill you.” She whispered.
The demon smiled coldly. “Maybe.”
Then he punched her again.
------------------------------------------------------------
The lead came from a crossroads demon in Nebraska. Three dead hunters. One terrified bartender. An abandoned church outside town. Dean drove like a man possessed. Rain hammered the Impala while Sam loaded weapons in the backseat and John sat rigidly in the passenger seat. No music played. Nobody spoke.
“She used to sleep on my chest during storms.”
Dean blinked.
John stared ahead through the windshield.
“When she was little. Said thunder scared her.” He continued roughly.
Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“She still hates storms.” Sam said softly.
John nodded.
Silence again.
Then Dean finally said what none of them had dared say aloud.
“If they hurt her…”
John’s expression turned murderous. “I’ll kill every last one.”
Sam and Dean believed him.
The chruch looked dead. Rotting wood, broken stained glass, darkness swallowing everything inside. But Dean heard it immediately. A scream. Y/N. All three Winchesters moved instantly. Doors brust open. Gunfire exploded. Black smoke screamed through the air. Demons lunged from every direction. Dean barely registered killing two before hearing another cry deeper inside.
“Y/N!”
“DEAN!”
Alive.
She was alive.
Dean sprinted through the church like hell itself chased him. Sam and John followed close behind. They found her, and everything stopped. Y/N hung chained against a stone wall. Blood covered her shirt. One eye swollen nearly shut. Wrists raw and bleeding from restraints. Bruises everywhere. Dean physically staggered.
“Baby…”
Her head lifed weakly. The second she saw them, she broke. “Dean…”
God…
Her voice…
Tiny and shaking.
Sam looked seconds from vomiting. John’s face smptied completely of emotions, the kind that came right before true violence. A demon stepped from the shadows beside Y/N, blade pressed lightly against her throat.
“Well, family reunion.” He drawled.
Dean raised the colt instantly. “Move the knife.”
The demon smirked. “You first.”
John stepped forward slowly.
“You wanted me, here I am.” He said coldly.
Y/N shook her head frantically despite her exhaustion. “Dad don’t-”
The knife pressed harder. She whipered. Dean saw red instantly. The demon grinned knowingly.
“That protective streak? Definitely inherited.”
Then Sam moved, fast. A flare of holy water splashed across the demon’s face. Screaming erupted. Dean fired immediately. The demon dropped dead. Everything exploded into motion. John rushed to Y/N while Sam covered the room. Dean grabbed the chains, hands shaking violently.
“It’s okay, baby gir.” He said breathlessly. “We got you. We got you.”
She cried openly now, Dean hated seeing it. Hated how terrified she sounded. The chains finally snapped loose. Y/N collapsed instantly, John caught her before she hit the floor.
“Oh my princess.” He breathed brokenly, pulling her against him. She clung to him desperately despite the pain.
“Dad…”
“I’ve got you.” John cradled the back of her carefully, staring at the blood on her face with horrifying fury. Dean knelt beside them, hands hovering helplessly. Y/N crouched nearby too, visibly trying not to lose it.
“They hurt you.” Sam whispered.
Y/N looked at him weakly and somehow still tried to comfort him.
“I’m okay.”
Dean nearly laughed at the absurdity. She was bleeding everywhere.
“She’s got at least one broken rib.” Sam said quickly, slipping into practical mode.
“Possible concussion too.”
John carefully brushed filthy hair from Y/N’s face. “You’re safe now, princess.”
She finally looked at Dean. Then Sam. “I knew you’d come.”
Dean’s throat closed painfully.
“Always.” He said immediately.
“Every time.” Sam added.
Another demon screamed somewhere deeper in the church. John’s expression hardened instantly.
“Dean, get her out.”
“What about-”
“GO!”
Dean nodded immediately. He carefully slid Y/N into his arms. She cried out softly from the pain.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry-”
“It’s okay.” She whispered weakly.
Dean held her tighter. Too thin. Too cold. His baby sister felt too damn small. Sam grabbed weapons while John stalked deeper into the church like death incarnated. More screaming followed. Dean didn’t look back.
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The motel room became triage chaos. Sam cleaned wounds, Dean hovered anxiously, John barely let Y/N out of his sight. By some miracle, nothing was life-threatening. A broken rib, heavy bruising, cuts, mild concussion, trauma. Lots of trauma. Y/N sat on the bed wrapped in blankets while Dean gently held an ice pack to her swollen cheek. She winced.
“Sorry.” Dean muttered immediately.
“It’s okay.
John paced nearby like a caged animal. Every few minutes he glanced at her like he needed visual confirmation she was still breathing. Sam finally finished wrapping her wrists.
“All done, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Sammy.”
He smiled faintly at the nickname. Dean tucked another blanket around her shoulders.
“You hungry?”
She hesitated. “A little.”
Dean immediately stood. “I’ll go get food.”
“I’ll help.” Sam added.
The brothers exchanged a glance. Silent understanding passed between them. Give John a minute alone with her. Dean squeezed Y/N’s shoulder gently before leaving with Sam. The second the motel door shut, silence filled the room. John sat slowly beside her on the bed. For several moments neither spoke.
“I’m sorry…” Y/N whispered.
John looked horrified. “For what?”
“They took me to get to you.”
Pain crossed his face instantly.
“Don’t.” He said roughly. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.”
She stared down at her bandaged wrists. “They kept asking about the colt.”
John’s jaw tightened. “I know.”
“I didn’t tell them anything.”
His expression broke completely. “Of course you didn’t.”
Y/N finally looked at him. For the first time since being rescued, her composure cracked entirely.
“I was scared.” She admitted in a tiny voice. John immediately pulled her carefully against his chest.
“I know, princess.”
She stared crying again. Not the panicked sobbing from earlier, this was quieter. Exhausted. Painfully young. John held her like she was still five years old hiding from thunderstorms.
“I thought…” Her voice shook violently. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t find me…”
John closed his eyes hard.
“Never.” He whispered fiercely. “Never, Y/N.”
She buried her face against him. “I tried to be brave.”
“You were brave.”
“They hurt me and I-”
“I know.” John’s voice cracked and suddenly Y/N realized something she never fully understood before. Her Father was terrified too. Not just angry. Terrified. She reached up carefully and touched his face.
“I’m okay now.”
John covered her hand with his own instantly.
“You scared the hell outta me.”
A tiny watery smile appeared. “Sorry.”
He actually laughed softly through the emotions. “That’s my line.”
The motel door opened quietly. Dean entered carrying food bags while Sam follwoed with extra medical supplies. All three froze slightly seeing Y/N curled against John’s chest. Something complicated flickered across Dean’s face. Not resentment exactly, just old hurt. Old longing. Y/N noticed immediately, because she always noticed.
“Dean?”
He snapped out of it instantly. “Yeah, baby?”
She held one arm out toward him. Without hesitation, Dean crossed the room and sat beside her. She immediately curled against his side too. Sam huffed quietly.
“Wow, no room left for me?”
Y/N reached for him blindly without opening her eyes.
“C’mere, Sammy.”
Sam smiled helplessly and climbed onto the other side of the bed carefully. It was cramped and awkward. A tangle of long limbs, blankets, and exhaustion. But none of them moved away.
“You guys are the best family.” Y/N murmured sleepily.
Dean blinked. Sam looked down. John went very still. Y/N’s eyes were already drifting shut. Dean swallowed hard. Sam rubbed tiredly at his eyes. And for the first time in years, John Winchester looked at all three of his children together and truly saw the damage he’d done without meaning to.
Dean, the boy forced to grow up too fast.
Sam, the son who always felt second place.
Y/N, the child he clung too tightly because she was the last piece of softness left in his life.
John slowly reached over and squeezed Dean’s shoulder. It startled all three kids. Dean stared at him.
“You did good.” John said quietly.
Dean looked genuinely shocked. Then John looked at Sam too.
“Both of you.”
Sam’s expression softened carefully. The words were small, but they mattered. Y/N smiled faintly in her sleep, tucked safely between her brothers and Father. And for one rare quiet night, the Winchesters stayed together. No hunting. No fighting. No monsters. Just family. Broken, bruised, imperfect, but alive.
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