"Look out!” You threw the blade with impressive aim, and it cartwheeled through the air. When it hit its mark with a sickening thud, the demon crumpled to the ground. The green-eyed man turned around just in time to see her go down, and he fixed you with a grateful look.
"Thanks." You shook your head.
"Don't thank me yet," you warned, your tone grave. "We still have to get out of here alive." He nodded and took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
The usual soft glow of warm, white lights were replaced with a pulsating red, a warning that your safe space was no longer safe. Your whole world was suddenly drowning in red, and it made the blood spattering the walls and pooling on the floors look ominously black. The tall man at your side took a deep breath, though you could tell he was trying to keep calm for your sake.
The two of you took a second to gather your bearings, him readjusting the bandana around his neck under his thick beard, and you retrieving your blade from the demon's corpse, one of many littering the extensive hallways. As you flicked droplets of blood from your weapon, you noticed the slight tremble in your hand. You hated that. This was not a time to be scared, but you were. You couldn't help it.
"Hey." You turned at the sound of his voice. "We got this." When all you could offer was a shaky nod, he snaked an arm around your waist, angling your face upwards to press his lips to yours.
Adrenaline mixed with something else coursed through your veins, and your heart thundered in your chest. If this was your last time kissing him, you wanted to make sure it was one neither of you would forget. You caught his lower lip between your teeth and tugged, making him growl low in his throat. His hair was soft against your hand as you wove your fingers through the strands, his beard scratching against your face. When you finally pulled away, his breathing was hard, but then, so was yours. His forehead rested gently against yours, and you could taste the spearmint from his mouth on your lips. With one more chaste kiss, you finally let go, though you had never wanted to do anything less. "If we can just make it through the library, we're home free," he said. "From there, we just get up the stairs and run like hell."
"Right." It was a solid plan. Now you just had to hope that both of you would stay alive to see it through. He rolled up his sleeves a bit before looking at you with the most serious expression you had seen him wear.
"Let's move." Those two words set you into motion, and suddenly, you felt more ready than you had ever been. The two of you moved in perfect synchronization and had the situation not been so dire, you would have been extremely impressed with yourself. You never thought someone would ever match you well enough to think of moments of teamwork such as this like a perfectly fine-tuned machine, but he always did, and he always had.
This was life or death. There was no room for mistakes. This was a deadly game of hide-and-seek, and the loser would pay a price so steep it was unspeakable. It didn't matter. You both knew that once you got to the library, they would be waiting for you. They had caved the garage in, so this was your only escape, and you were going to have to fight tooth and nail to get to it. The second you reached the large archway, what you had already known was confirmed. A dozen demons stood between you and your exit. It was twelve versus two, and the odds were, without a doubt, not in your favor. But then, you had never been one for numbers anyway.
You cast one more fearful look over at him, hoping he would offer more words of reassurance, but it was too late. You had already been spotted. The two of you had barely stepped into the library when the hoard descended on you, immediately surrounding you. Despite the overwhelming fear that you weren't going to make it out alive, you fought with everything you had, the green-eyed man never leaving your side. Time seemed to almost stop, and your heart rate slowed as you forced yourself to focus. Even if this was how you died, it was a hell of a way to go.
Again, all you knew was the color red, and the dark blood that sprayed through the air in fine mists. You couldn't tell whose was whose anymore, and you only hoped you wouldn't turn around when it was all over and seem him on the floor dead behind you. When it was finally over, you were completely out of breath and absolutely soaked in blood.
"Go, go!" The man ushered you to the staircase with a hand on the small of your back. "C'mon, we gotta get out of here before-" A mouthful of blood bubbled over his mouth, and you saw it: the tip of a blade - your blade - piercing through the fabric of his shirt, right through his stomach.
"No!" The demon behind the green-eyed man yanked the weapon free, and you felt sick. You weren't even sure when you had dropped it, or how the demon had gotten hold of it, but-
"Sweetheart, run!" The man choked out as he put pressure on the wound, sinking to his knees. “Run!” Tears blurred your eyes, but you made your way back down the stairs. There was no way in hell you were leaving him behind.
"No," you said firmly, acutely aware of the fact that more demons lingered in the archways of the room, drawn out by the sounds of a fight. You stood in front of him, protectively, holding his hand tightly in yours. "I'm not leaving you here." The demon smirked.
"Then, you die too." You didn't even have enough time to react before the creature thrust the blade into your chest, and pain seared behind your eyelids.
"No!” The man's voice echoed in your ears as you finally collapsed to the ground, defeated. "Sweetheart, stay with me!" he ordered. "Stay with me!"
Your eyes flew open, and you bolted upright, gasping for breath in a cold sweat.
"What the hell?" you muttered in the darkness of your bedroom. You had had vivid dreams before, but nothing like that. The pain and emotions you had felt were so real, and you were having a hard time separating them from reality. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what you needed: a drink. You didn't condone alcoholism, and you didn't usually make a habit of going straight to a bar after waking up, but you were willing to make an exception just this once. Thankfully, the nearest bar was five minutes away, and still open, so you were there in record time, greeting the stale scent of alcohol in the air with a grim face. Still unsettled by the very reel feeling of losing everything, you sunk down wordlessly into one of the barstools at the counter.
"What can I get you?" the bartender asked when he approached.
"Whiskey," you answered hoarsely. "A double. On the rocks." With a small nod of acknowledgment, he turned away and went to get your drink.
"A woman after my own heart." As soon as you heard the words, you would have sworn that your heart stopped beating. But... that didn't even make sense. It was just a dream. You had never met that man in your life, and he probably wasn't even real, for Christ's sake! You couldn't stop yourself from slowly turning in the barstool to face the man who sat next to.
As soon as you met his eyes, dread consuming your insides, a mixture of confusion and alarm filled his bright green eyes. "No," he breathed. You hadn't once said his name in the dream, and he hadn't said yours - you were positive neither of you had. But still, you somehow knew his name. It popped in your head like an answer you had always known, and you had never been more sure of something in your life.
"...Dean." Dean's hand trembled as he reached out, as if to touch you, but stopped a few inches away from your face.
"Y/N." He said your name with the same amount of confidence that you had, and understanding clicked in your brain. You didn't know how you knew, but you did. The two of you had the same dream. Shaking your head with utter disbelief, you lightly touched your lips where he had kissed you what felt only like moments ago.
"This isn't possible."
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Summary: When a man who left the reader six years ago suddenly reappears on her doorstep, she does everything she can to stop herself from falling in love with him all over again. Little does she know that his seemingly brief return will open an entirely new chapter for both of them.
Staring anxiously at your phone screen, you tapped through new links, looking for any occurrence that could be considered "paranormal." The one thing that caught your attention was the report on your childhood home burning down in local news, and you really weren't in the mood to read it. A few days had passed since the fire, and even though you knew that laying low was the smart thing to do, you were going crazy. Dean especially needed some time to heal if the three of you were going to take care of this witch problem, but doing nothing was starting to get to you. You had never been one for sitting still for long periods of time, and you were really starting to feel it. The only time any of you left the house was to get food or sit in a diner to charge your phones, and even those excursions had to be as discreet as possible. There was no telling where the witch had eyes. For all you knew, she already had your location pinpointed and was just waiting for the right moment. But you were trying not to think about that.
With a loud groan, you pressed your palms up into your eyes, which felt raw from staring at a screen for so long.
"This is pointless," you grumbled to yourself. Dean, who had been scrolling lazily through his phone, gave an amused snort. He sat up, suddenly excited.
"We could watch a movie," he recommended hopefully. "I don't have Netflix on my phone, but I could download it, and-"
"That's probably not the best idea," the younger Winchester piped up from across the room. He had been so quiet reading his book, you had almost forgotten he was there. "You don't want to waste your battery life." Dean scowled at his brother.
"Well, then what am I supposed to do?" he grumbled. Sam shrugged.
"Read a book." Dean's scowl deepened, and he crossed his arms over his chest with a huff.
"Yeah, right." Quite frankly, you felt a little bit bad for him. Out of the three of you, Dean was the only one who was struggling to entertain himself. In any other situation, you knew he would've spent his free time working on his beloved car. When things weren't so bad, he always told you things he wanted to improve, so she could stay running in her prime condition for longer, but he had strict doctor's orders from you to take it easy. He glanced over your shoulder to peer at your screen.
"What're you up to, babe?"
"Looking for leads," you replied, not looking up from your phone. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam and Dean exchange a wary look. You already knew what that look meant. They thought you were obsessing over this, and maybe you were, but that wasn't the point. You had to keep trying for your mom if nothing else. Besides, at least you were entertained this way, which was more than you could say for Dean.
"Maybe you should give it a rest," Dean suggested.
"I will," you lied, nodding to appease them. "Just one second." As you opened a new tab, you began to type frantically into the search bar. "I think I might find something if I just use a few different keywords." Sam snapped his book shut and stood, causing you to look up in surprise.
"All right," he said firmly.
"What're you-" Before you could object, he strode over to you, took your phone out of your grasp, and handed it off to Dean. "Hey!" you exclaimed. "I was-"
"Exhausting yourself," Sam finished as he pointed a slightly reprimanding finger at you. You opened your mouth to protest, but you couldn't find the words. Even though you didn't want to admit it, he wasn't wrong. You had been searching the internet tirelessly since midmorning when the three of you had gotten back from breakfast. The only time you had taken a break was when you left with the boys to get lunch. "Come on." Sam held out a hand, which you reluctantly took, and he hoisted you to your feet. "We're going outside."
"But-" you began to argue again.
"Nope," he cut you off. He didn't wait for you to follow him as he headed for the door, stopping to point at his brother first. "No Netflix." Dean let out another huff, and you shot him a sympathetic look.
"Any idea what he's got planned?" Your question fell on deaf ears as he squinted at his phone screen thoughtfully.
"Hey, are you gonna rat me out if I download Netflix anyway?" Despite yourself, you chuckled. At this point, you were pretty sure he wanted to watch movies just because Sam said he couldn't. You shook your head.
"No, but if your phone dies, you're not using mine," you warned. Dean paused for a moment, squinting his eyes even more.
"Deal," he finally said. With one last roll of your eyes, you went after Sam, pushing open the dilapidated screen door. You were older than Sam, and even though you didn't feel like you were, you were still a bit bewildered by the way he bossed you around inside. He treated you like a little sister, and it wasn't that you minded, but you really did want to keep searching for new leads. Even though you had exhausted every search topic you could think of, you couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was still something out there to be found.
"Hey, you want to tell me what we're doing?" you called after the younger Winchester. He walked through the overgrown grass almost effortlessly, but you practically had to go high-knees to get through it. Damn him and his height. Finally, he came to a halt, turning around to face you.
"Training," Sam answered. You made a face, taken aback. For some reason, that was the last thing you had been expecting to come out of his mouth. "You need something to do, and Dean can't do this with you because of his stitches, so I'm the next best thing. But don't tell him I said that. Sound good?" What with your quick retreat, it had been a while since you trained, and honestly, you had kind of forgotten about it. Still, this wasn't what you had been expecting to do this afternoon, and you were already feeling anxious to get back to your phone. The light breeze blew a strand of hair into your face, and you tucked it behind your ear.
"I'm not saying I'm perfect, but do we still need to call it training? I feel like it's more just practicing at this point," you pointed out. Maybe if you argued with him enough, you could get out of this. "And do I still even need to?"
"Yes," Sam answered with a serious nod. "Even after as long as Dean and I have been doing this, we still train to make sure we stay in shape." You gnawed on your lower lip uneasily as he rolled up his sleeves.
"But I don't want you exerting yourself," you tried again. "What about your lungs?"
"Y/N, my lungs are fine," Sam insisted. "So don't hold back, okay?" You looked away with a frown, grumbling.
"It's not holding back that I'm worried about." Sam gave an exasperated shake of his head as he looked at you, bewilderment written all over his face.
"Jesus," he said. "You're more stubborn than Dean." You felt your lip involuntarily curl back a bit as you tucked your chin. The two of you knew better than anyone how stubborn Dean could be, and Sam knew damn well that you hated when he got like that. Those were fighting words.
"Sam Winchester, you take that back right now!"
"Oh, I know what it is," Sam continued. "You're chicken shit." Okay, now he was just pissing you off. You were a lot of things, but chicken shit wasn't one of them. And you were most definitely not as stubborn as Dean.
"All right, listen-"
"You're afraid you've gotten too rusty to even try to take me on." Face flushing bright red, you let out a spluttering noise. Sam stuffed his hands into his jean's pockets, and he gave a nonchalant shrug. "I get it." With a final defiant huff, you pushed your sleeves up past your elbows. If he wanted to see what Dean had taught you, then that's what he was gonna get.
"Are you gonna heckle me all day, or are we gonna do this?" His face melted into a triumphant, if not slightly smug grin, and he held up his fists.
"Show me what you've got." You cracked your knuckles, narrowing your eyes.
"Gladly." The sun, sitting low on the horizon, beat its orange rays on Sam and you, as you both waited for the other to make the first move. When it became obvious that he wasn't going to kick it off, you lunged at him for a quick jab. He dodged easily, countering with a punch that you narrowly missed. You stumbled back, already feeling a bit winded.
"Concentrate, Y/N," Sam encouraged. You growled irritably.
"I'm trying."
"No, you're not," he disagreed. He lowered his defenses and stepped up to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "Your head's in a million different places right now, but it isn't here." You slumped in defeat. He was right. It had become increasingly difficult for you to concentrate on any one thing over the past few days. "I need you to let everything else go and focus on your movements and me. Can you do that?" Wordlessly, you gave him a nod, and he smiled encouragingly. "Okay. Let's try it again." Sam moved first, but you were ready for him this time. With razor-sharp focus, you deflected his blow with the outside of your forearm and used the momentum to power a right hook. He caught your fist in his hand as an impressed smile took over his face. "Better," he commended. Allowing your instincts to take over, you analyzed your positions for any weak points. Your right foot was in front, supporting the majority of your weight and keeping you balanced. When Sam had stopped your fist, not only had he occupied his hand, his left leg had also staggered back a bit, leaving his right leg exposed. You smirked knowingly. He didn't want you to hold back? Sam Winchester was about to eat his words.
"I'm not done yet." You didn't even give him a chance to fully process what you had said before you executed a turning kick aimed at his right hip. Surprise briefly filled his eyes, but he quickly recovered, releasing your fist and taking a step away.
"Hey-!" But you were faster than him, raining down fury in quick jabs and kicks that had him struggling to keep up. Finally, you lifted your knee and delivered a push kick to the center of his chest, stopping your momentum in mid-air before you actually made contact. Sam stumbled back by reflex, breathing hard as he fell to the ground. You grinned at him as sweat dripped down both of your faces.
"Now I'm done." You held out a hand to help him up, which he took, shaking his head. "Still think I'm rusty, smartass?"
"I take it all back," he replied with a chuckle.
"Good," you asserted, allowing your playfulness to seep into your tone. You squinted back at the house, knowing that Dean was probably in there draining the life out of his phone. "Okay," you said with a sigh. "If we're done out here, I've gotta get back in there and see what I can find." Turning on your heel, you began to head back in the direction of the house.
"Seriously?" Sam asked as he brushed off the butt of his jeans. "Y/N, I dragged you out here for a reason, and that reason wasn't for you to go back in and stress yourself out after five minutes." Huffing defensively, you jutted out your chin at him as you turned back around.
"I know that!" The younger Winchester crossed his arms over his chest exasperatedly as he looked you up and down.
"You're not staying out here without a fight, are you?"
"Probably not," you admitted. He heaved a sigh, taking a few steps toward you.
"Y/N," he started, "this is for your own good." Before you could ask what the hell he was talking about, he slung you over his shoulder with ease, causing you to let out a surprised screech.
"Sam!" You beat your fists down on his back, similar to how a toddler would have with a parent. "Jesus Christ, put me down, you weirdo!"
The sun was considerably lower in the sky by the time you and Sam were finished outside. It had been another fifteen minutes of you being stubborn before you finally relented and spent the next hour and a half practicing the fighting techniques Dean had taught you, and learning a few new ones from Sam. You knew you hadn't made it easy on him at first, but you were grateful for the distraction. Besides, throwing some punches was unquestionably a productive way to let out some of the stress you had been feeling.
"Hey," Sam greeted his brother when the two of you reentered the house. Dean quickly tucked away his phone, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. Sam didn't seem to notice.
"Hey," he replied. "Y/N was kicking your ass out there." You grinned triumphantly. Damn straight, you were.
"What've you been doing?" Sam asked. As soon as he asked, you fought the urge to burst out laughing. Dean's eyes went wide, but he quickly recovered, clearing his throat.
"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm starving." His not-so-subtle subject change didn't go unnoticed, you were willing to show mercy today. "Should we go grab some dinner and charge up?" Your stomach growled at the mention of food. Dinner sounded like a fantastic idea, but even as much as you were craving a classic burger and fries, you couldn't stand the sticky feeling that lingered on your skin. Plus, you had been dying to get some one-on-one time with Dean, and this seemed like the best way to do it.
"Actually, do you mind if I get cleaned up first?" you put in sheepishly. "I caught a whiff of myself on the way back in, and I'd really like to take a quick shower before we go." You glanced over at Dean, who raised his eyebrows when you caught his eye. "As long as your stitches aren't in the direct stream of water, I think you should be fine to shower too. Come with me?" You could tell by the roguish grin sneaking onto his face that he caught your meaning. Unfortunately, so did Sam.
"If you're doing that, then I'm going for a drive. I'm happy for you and all, but I don't want to be around to hear something that I don't want to hear." Casting your eyes downward, you blushed as Sam held his hand out expectantly. No sooner had Dean tossed him the keys that Sam was hauling it out of the house. "I'll be back in half an hour," he called over his shoulder. Dean shot you a wink as he made his way over to the stairs.
"You comin'?" he asked. Heart thumping in your chest at the way he looked at you, you nodded.
Dean beat you tot he upstairs bathroom, and by the time you got there, he already had the shower running. You smiled knowingly to yourself as you pulled off your shirt, leaving you in your bra and jeans. The eldest Winchester turned around, and his eyes widened in pleased surprise. Even though he had seen you naked many times before, he still always looked just as in awe as he was the first time. Part of you wondered whether or not that feeling would fade, although if he felt the same way about seeing you naked that you did about him, then the answer was a resounding no. Wetting his lips with his tongue, he took a small step toward you. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he looked at you as if trying to reassure himself that you were real. With a small disbelieving shake of his head, he ran his hands along your sides, making you shiver. You leaned into Dean's touch as he grazed your cheek, allowing him to guide you into a kiss that left you breathless. "I want you," he whispered against your mouth. Just hearing him say that had desire spreading through your veins like wildfire. You hooked your fingers through his front belt loops and pulled him closer to you.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Hungrily, Dean trailed open-mouthed kisses down your neck and shoulders as you undid the button of his jeans. As much as you wanted to savor this, you were on a bit of a tight schedule. Dean must have been thinking the same thing. He pulled you into a heated kiss, which the two of you only broke to take off your remaining articles of clothing.
"Shower?" he practically panted when you finally pulled apart. You nodded eagerly
"God, yes." The two of you stepped over the tub's lip into the stream of the hot water, being careful not to slip. Dean's hands immediately began to roam your body again, and you let out a soft moan.
"You're so goddamn beautiful, it hurts," he whispered into your neck before sucking lightly at the skin. Said the man that could break hearts without even trying. You reached behind yourself to stroke him, arching your head back onto his shoulder to allow him more access. Dean groaned as you let your hand do the work, and you smiled at his reaction. You weren't sure what it was, but there was something that set your nerves on fire, knowing that you were the reason behind those noises. "You're killing me here, sweetheart." That was kind of the point. When he reached down to feel you, you couldn't help but gasp. "You ready for me?" You shot him a wicked smirk over your shoulder, taking note of the way his pupils were blown with lust when he met your gaze.
"You can feel that I am." Slowly, you guided him into you, letting your eyes flutter closed when his pelvis pressed into your ass.
"Holy..." Dean breathed. He moved, and you moaned again, suddenly very glad that Sam wasn't in the house. His calloused hands latched onto your hips in a way that you thought might leave bruises when you were finished, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. Unrealistic sex scenes in the movies had nothing on this. Dean's hot breath mixed with the steam from the shower, splaying onto your shoulder, and he caught your earlobe between his teeth. You let out a wanton moan as your body reacted to the new sensation. "That's it," he murmured into your ear. "Let me know you like it."
Dean's words only spurred you on, and you found yourself grinding back into him, trying to match his movements without throwing you both off-balance, in which case, the two of you would probably go crashing to the floor. Being extra careful to make sure that he wasn't going to make you fall, he wrapped a gentle but firm hand around your throat and tilted your head back to kiss you. Christ, he was going to be the death of you. One of the things you loved most about sex with Dean was that even though it was an incredibly repetitive act, neither of you ever finished disappointed. "Fuck!" you panted as he picked up speed. You were right on the edge of ecstasy, and you could feel your body begging for it. Using his free hand, Dean reached down to rub light circles in the spot that practically made your toes curl. It was exactly the feeling you had been missing, and you began to unravel.
"Come on, sweetheart," he urged. "Come for me."
Irresistible pleasure pulsed through you as your back arched, your climax taking Dean over the edge with you as you tugged on his hair. Once you were both done, you turned around in his arms, happy and spent, and kissed him tenderly.
"Holy shit," he said breathlessly. You smiled. That had been your line last time. Now that the fun was over, though, you realized that you still needed to actually shower, and you were running even shorter on time than before.
"Hand me the shampoo, would you?" As Dean pulled aside the shower curtain to grab the bottle, the two of you froze when the Impala's car horn sounded from outside. The green-eyed man chuckled.
"Better make it fast," he said, kissing you swiftly on the forehead.
"Sounds like our half-hour is up."
Despite the rocky start, your day had turned out to be a pretty good one. An unexpected workout that got you sweating, great sex with the man you loved, and an even better dinner afterward. It hadn't been anything fancy, but you had been scoping out a family-owned pizza place that the three of you had been driving by for the past few days. Finally, the boys had caved and agreed to go there to get your nightly nourishment. Even though Dean had acted pouty because he had wanted burgers (but hell, you thought you had wanted burgers too), even he had to admit after his first slice that the pizza was to die for.
"I'm so full," you groaned for the thousandth time. Sam chuckled from the front seat, shaking his head at your antics.
"I told you not to finish the rest of that pizza by yourself," he reminded you, "but you didn't listen to me." The Impala rumbled down the rural gravel road as Dean neared the house. He snorted.
"She didn't finish it by herself. She had me." You leaned forward in the seat to kiss Dean on the cheek. Another thing you loved about him: he always had your back, even in the stupidest of scenarios.
"Yes, I did," you affirmed. The car rolled to a stop, and the three of you got out with nothing but moonlight illuminating your path. "Saying we shouldn't have finished it is quitter talk," you continued, punching Sam playfully in the arm as you headed for the front door. "And quite frankly, I'm offended you even mentioned it."
Before you could get any closer, Sam grabbed onto your arm tightly, stopping you in your tracks. Instantly, you were on high-alert, and your senses went into overdrive. As soon as you stopped moving, you could sense it. Something was wrong. Your surroundings were too quiet - not even the crickets were chirping - and darkness seemed to loom in the air. You looked over at Dean in alarm, and he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. This had bad news written all over it, and quite frankly, you didn't have the slightest idea what was about to go down. Someone was here. And you already knew who it was.
"Did you enjoy your dinner?" The cool voice left chills running down your spine as you scanned the outdoor space for the witch. When she emerged from the shadows, her raven hair and black clothes created the illusion that she was seeping into existence from the darkness. The boys reached for their guns, and you did the same, more thankful than ever that Dean had convinced you to start carrying a weapon with you at all times. Your heart began to beat faster as you held the gun steady in your hands, but you forced yourself to calm down. Now was not the time to lose your nerve. You had a mission to avenge your mother, and not even your fear of Isobel would stop you from achieving that.
"How did you find us?" you said shakily, your voice echoing strangely into the night air. The moon cast its eerie glow down on you and the Winchesters, making the grass and trees that surrounded you seem dull and gray - lifeless. She bowed her head, but even from this distance, you could see that she was smiling up at you through her eyelashes.
"Please." Isobel stepped back into the shadows, allowing the darkness to swallow her whole again. "There hasn't been a moment that I haven't known where you are." When she spoke, her voice seemed to reverberate back at you from every side at once. Your eyes darted around frantically as you looked for any movement or sign of what shadows may be hiding her.
"Sam," you quavered. "Dean." The three of you went back-to-back-to-back to eliminate any blind spots that the witch could use to her advantage.
"Right here, Y/N," Sam reassured.
"We're not going anywhere, sweetheart."
Isobel reemerged from the blackness a few feet in front of you, and you snapped to attention again. Instantly, the boys swiveled, so they were on either side of you, a straight line of three hunters who all had their guns pointed at a witch.
"Teamwork," she remarked. "How adorable. Manete." The Latin word had barely passed through her lips when the spell took effect, your body jerking to a stop as if frozen in time. A frown flitted across your face as you tried to move some part, any part of your body. Panic clawed at your throat as you began to realize that your limbs weren't responding to you anymore. You couldn't even get your fingertips to twitch.
"I can't move!" you exclaimed. Sam and Dean glared at the witch venomously, also unable to move. All three of you were armed with guns filled with witch-killing bullets, and none of you were able to use them. You had never seen Dean look so angry before.
"It's an immobilization spell," Sam explained, his eyes never leaving the witch. "We can't move unless she breaks it." You felt your heart drop into your stomach. Sam and Dean had spent so much time teaching you how to defend yourself, and it was all turning out to be useless.
"Trust me," Isobel began as she stalked a wide circle around the three of you, making sure to keep her distance. "I don't plan on letting you two boys move." Once she had completed her circle, she came to a stop. "And as for you?" Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she looked at you. "Eritis mihi in pupa." Instantaneously, you felt the rigidness leave your limbs, and you took a hesitant step forward.
"So, what?" you snarled. "You want this to be a one-on-one fight? Fine." As you glanced over your shoulder to look at the Winchesters, you let your love for them show in your eyes. If this is what it came down to, so be it. Because of you, they had been dragged into this, and you had no intention of letting either of them get hurt. "Let them go," you commanded. "I'm the one you want anyway, just let them go and take me."
"Y/N, no!" Dean shouted. Sam's eyes darted between you and Isobel anxiously.
"What are you doing?" Honestly, you had no clue. Improvising at best, but throwing yourself into a suicide mission at worst. Isobel let out a soft tsk sound.
"Actually, that's not true. I want all three of you," she corrected. "And as for a fight? Well..." Her mouth curved into a malicious smirk. "This won't be much of a fight." With visible strain, she moved her arms up in a fluid motion, and then pushed them to the side. Much to your horror, your legs began to move against your will, walking you right up to the witch.
"What is this?" you demanded as you tried to keep your fear at bay. "You're afraid I'll kill you, so you make me your puppet?" She cackled, a vicious grin on her face.
"Oh, you're not killing me." The witch moved her hands in a circular motion, and your body turned around to face the boys. Tears of pure terror welled up in your eyes as you realized that this was what she had been planning all along. This had all been a trap. And you and the Winchesters had walked right into it. "You're killing them." Again, against your will, your limbs moved, and you found yourself pointing a gun at Dean's head. You let out a choked sob. After everything you had been through, this is how the story would end? With you killing Dean Winchester?
"Y/N," he said calmly, his green eyes burning into yours. "You can fight this."
"No," the witch piped up from behind you. "She really can't. But good try." Your finger stretched outward, itching to pull the trigger of the gun. As you looked at Dean, all of your favorite memories with him flashed before your eyes. How your heart had raced when he charmed his way into your life at that shitty diner. The smell of worn leather in the front seats of the Impala where you shared your first kiss. The feel of his warm arms around you when he told you he loved you for the first time. Sam and Dean exchanged a grave look as you let out another cry of distress.
No. You had fought too damn hard and hurt too damn much for everything to go to shit now.
Muscles cramping, your hands began to tremble, and you tried your damnedest to resist.
"I won't," you growled. Sweat beaded on your forehead as your shaking increased. The witch had already taken your mother from you. She wasn't taking the only family you had left. You would die before you killed the Winchesters.
"You will," Isobel growled into your ear. "I figure this is fair," she prattled on. "You took my mother from me years ago, so I took yours. But that still wasn't enough. I want to take every last thing you hold dear. I want you to watch as the life drains out of the eyes of the only people you have left. And then I'm going to kill you too. Slowly. I'll take my time with it, and you'll be begging for me to just kill you already." The witch was standing directly behind you, uncomfortably close. That's when it hit you. The day when Dean was teaching you how witch-killing bullets worked many years ago.
“So, are these suckers organ-specific? Like, a wooden stake to a vampire’s heart or something?”
“Doesn’t matter where you get ‘em, so long as the bullet hits its mark.”
So long as the bullet hits its mark.
The weight of the gun in your hands seemed more insistent somehow as you made your choice. Your entire body was shuddering violently now as you forced your arms back toward yourself. Every muscle you had screamed in protest. Had you been in control of the rest of your body, the resistance in your arms would have been great enough to bring you to your knees. Warm liquid dripped from your right nostril, and the unmistakable taste of blood touched your lips.
"No!" Isobel shrieked from behind you. She began to chant a frenzy of words and touched her index and middle fingers to your temples. The memories you were using to fuel your strength vanished, and all you knew was the white-hot pain that flashed behind your eyes. A scream ripped from your throat, leaving it raw as you battled through the feeling that your head could split open, and that would be it. For a brief, horrifying moment, your arms began to point the gun at the boys again.
"Y/n!” Through all the hurt, you heard Dean's voice in your thoughts, calling you back to him. Panting heavily, you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the witch from your head. You were stronger than this. You refused to be controlled by the bitch that killed your mother. She was never going to hurt anyone ever again.
"I won’t!” Your voice echoed thunderously throughout the clearing, and suddenly, you felt the cold, hard barrel of your gun against your skin.
Time froze when you met Dean's gaze. There were still so many things you wanted to tell him. Even though you had patched up your relationship, you had never gotten the opportunity to put into words just how much he meant to you. Things tended to be more chaotic when he was around, but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Because with the chaos came love, laughter, happiness, and a sense of belonging that you had never known before you met him. You loved him with every fiber of your being, and if you had to choose between him or you, it would be him - every single time.
Dean stared intently at you, alarm flashing behind his eyes. He knew what you were about to do. And if you didn't make it, you could only hope that he would forgive you for it.
The bullet tore through you in milliseconds, ripping through layers of skin and muscle, and suddenly, the witch's fingers were gone from your temples. Your muscles tingled and ached with adrenaline and fatigue as the gun fell from your hands into the tall grass. Turning around, you took a few staggering steps back as you clutched at your new would, which was profusely bleeding. Isobel Gray was motionless in the grass as dark red soaked the soil beneath her. Her raven hair splayed out in a halo around her head as the moon reflected in her unseeing eyes. She was dead.
She was dead.
You let out a laugh that sounded crazed as you sunk to your knees, and the boys were at your side in an instant, the immobilization spell broken. Dean peeled away the shoulder of your shirt to put pressure on the wound, shaking you a bit. You let out a hiss of pain.
"Why the hell would you do that?" he demanded. You brushed off his worrying and swallowed hard. The adrenaline was wearing off, and your energy was fading fast.
"I had to," you answered, pained. "You know I had to." The older Winchester spluttered in frustration.
"No, you didn't, Y/N! Not like that! You could've killed yourself!" You waved him off. It wasn't like you hadn't thought of that already. You had made your choice, and the world was better off because of it. Patting Sam's arm appreciatively, you bobbed your head at the witch's body.
"Please, for the love of God, someone make sure she's actually dead. I think I might keel over if she isn't." Still looking you over in concern, Sam complied, cautiously padding over to Isobel to check. For a terrifying moment, you were afraid he might tell you that you had somehow missed. That she was alive. But he never did.
"She's dead," he confirmed. It was over. It was finally over. The rest of the world around you ebbed with inky darkness, threatening to take over the rest of your vision.
"I did it," you panted. "Holy shit. I actually did it." Dean put more pressure on your bleeding bullet wound, earning a loud pained groan, accompanied by a few not-so-nice words. Sam came back over to you and Dean, patting you gently on your good shoulder.
"That was incredibly brave," Sam informed you. Dean scowled darkly at his brother.
"Like hell it was!" he barked. "It was fucking stupid, is what it was! Do you even know how goddamn risky that was, Y/N?" You didn't care. All that mattered was that you had finally finished what you had sworn to do after the death of your mom. Now, you could finally grieve and allow yourself to heal. You took one final look at Isobel's body and smiled weakly but triumphantly.
"Fucking bitch." You slumped back limply into Dean's arms, who tightened his grip on you, panic filling his face.
"No, no, no, sweetheart. Don't you do that, you hear me? I just got you back, I ain't losin' you again, baby." Exhaustion pulled you into its unforgiving grasp, and you sunk down deeper into its hold. "Y/N, open your eyes! Y/N!” Dean's name was on your lips as the rest of the world dulled to black, and his worried shouting followed you into the void before fading to nothing.
Thank you for reading!
There are only two chapters left in the Only You Series! Add yourself to the Taglist while you still have the chance!
Tags: wounded!reader, protective!Dean, worried!Dean, car accident
Word Count: 1,163
(Gif not mine)
The day had cooled off quite a bit once the sun had gone down. The air had a clean smell and a dewy feeling, signifying rain was on the way, but it wasn't at all humid. A soft breeze made the weather absolutely perfect for driving with the windows down. If you died and went to heaven, this would be yours. Nothing but you, the melody of a Journey song playing in the background, and the sound of the Impala's purring engine as her tires roamed the road. Drumming your fingers on the steering wheel, you let out a content sigh. It had been your goal to be home by now, but with weather as perfect as this, you didn't mind making a pit stop for gas. Since you were the last one to drive, Dean would kill you if you took her back to the bunker with less than half a tank. When your phone began to ring loudly, you swore. You had thrown it in one of the grocery bags to give yourself a free hand. Being extra careful to make sure your eyes never left the road, you dug through the bags in the passenger seat, searching for the damned thing.
"Ha!" you exclaimed triumphantly when you finally found it. Answering the call, you pinned the small device between your shoulder and your ear. "I'm on my way back right now," you explained. Considering you were running later than you had originally planned, you assumed Dean was calling to ask where you were with his baby. And his pie.
"Cool," was his reply. "Sam wanted to know if you remembered to get his rabbit food." You let out a chuckle as you rifled through one of the bags again, double-checking the contents.
"Kale, carrots, spinach, and bell peppers," you listed off. "Check. When I have I ever forgotten anything you boys have asked me to pick up?" Dean gave a snort.
"Don't get cocky, Y/N," he retorted. "No one's perfect. Now, here's the real question. Did you get-"
"Yes, Dean," you answered with a roll of your eyes. "I got the pie. Did you even hear what I just said? When have I ever-" A horn blared loudly, and you turned your head, the phone dropping to the car's floor. Headlights flew towards the driver's side door, and with a shattering impact, the oncoming car smashed into the side Impala, forcing it into a barrel roll. "Oh, f-" Your head slammed hard into the side of the interior, effectively cutting off your expletive as you lost all ties to the conscious world.
Beep. Beep. Beep. The obnoxious beeping was the first thing you registered, followed by the hellish scent of rubbing alcohol and stale air. You opened your eyes, blinking hard, but everything still faded in and out of focus, like a camera lens trying to adapt to different lighting. They had you on some sort of painkiller for sure. They had to. Why else would every color in the room be blurred together like a wet ink stain? When you tried to adjust your positioning, you instantly regretted it. Your head throbbed hard, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to breathe through the intense pain. Because of the whole hunter thing, you had had your fair share of hurt. This, though, made the list of top three worst injuries in your life, coming second only to the time a dickwad poltergeist impaled you with a museum's decorative katana. You opened your eyes again, thankful to find everything a bit more in focus this time, probably from the pain you had just accidentally inflicted upon yourself. Some good that painkiller did. You were definitely in bad shape. Your left arm was in a cast that went up to your elbow, and agony shot up your spine in little zaps whenever you so much as breathed wrong. You didn't even want to think about how long you were going to be bed-ridden.
"Y/N?" Your eyes focused on Sam, who was leaned against the wall across from you.
"Where's Dean?" A shuffling sound made its way over to you, and in an instant, Dean was sitting in the chair at your bedside, holding your good hand.
"Right here, baby," he reassured. "I'm right here." Sam pointed his thumb towards the hallway.
"The doctor wanted us to let her know when you woke up," he explained. You nodded your acknowledgment. The second Sam left the room, Dean leaned forward to kiss you, being careful not to hurt you.
"I thought I lost you," he whispered when he finally pulled away. "When Sam and I got there, I pulled you out of the car, and-" Your heart dropped into your stomach.
"Oh my God, Dean, the car!" you exclaimed. Dean shook his head, leaning his forehead against yours.
"I don't care about the car." Your eyes went wide as you drew back to look at him. "Not when it comes to you." The door to your room swung open, and the doctor strolled in, smiling warmly.
"Look who's awake," she said kindly. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm not dead, so that's something to be thankful for," you replied. The doctor nodded.
"It certainly is." She picked up a clipboard from the edge of your bed. "Well, you have three transverse fractures in your left forearm, and spinal contusions, which means that your vertebrae are bruised. Luckily, none of the blood vessels near the injury site were damaged, so you're only walking away with some moderate inflammation around the spinal cord. For recovery, we'll put you on some steroids to reduce the swelling, and keep you on painkillers to ease the discomfort. You'll probably be sore for the next couple weeks, though. But all things considered, I would count yourself very fortunate. If your boys hadn't called an ambulance when they did..." She didn't have to say the words to finish her sentence. Overwhelmed, you squeezed Dean's hand and shot Sam a grateful smile, incredibly thankful you were still alive.
"You feeling any better?" Dean asked after the doctor was gone. You shrugged.
"Not really," you answered honestly. "I'll be a hell of a lot better once we're out of here, but you know." Sam patted the top of your head and smiled down at you.
"Really glad you're okay," he breathed. You nodded in agreement.
"Thanks to you two," you pointed out. "If it weren't for your brother calling about his damn pie, I think I'd probably be worm food by now." Dean leaned forward in his chair, pushing your hair from your forehead.
"Hey, don't say that," he said firmly. "I don't want to think about it." You placed a soft kiss on his stubbled cheek.
"I'm really sorry about your car, babe." Dean shook his head again.
"I already told you, I don't care about the car." You looked at him with wide eyes.
"Dean."
"...Okay, I care a little bit."
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