To Hell With It (Supernatural Reader Insert)
Hate that I Need You
You soon found yourself daydreaming in the back of the Impala as Dean drove towards your group’s destination goal. A small farm town in the boonies of Ohio was being plagued by the presence of not just one, but two demons. Usually you would be buzzing with excitement in the back at the idea of a new hunt, but right now you felt nauseous.
The idea of Dean liking you back had pretty much ruined your day, a very disappointing fact considering the anticipation and planning that had gone into this hunt. You were the kind of girl who loved killing demons and getting her hands dirty versus working a steady nine to five job in a safe location.
The entire car ride you toyed with the thought of Dean actually wanting you in return. Admittedly you played out scenarios in your head like a hormonal teenage girl, a fact that you didn’t really feel comfortable sharing. Although you were feeling quite ashamed at the moment, everything else just felt numb to you.
It had all started after this morning’s little slip up by the door which you still curse yourself for being so foolish enough to eavesdrop. On the other hand, having obtained said information, your heart felt like it was soaring. On the other other you had slept with Sam and pretty much ruined whatever chance you had.
“You okay back there Y/N?” Your thoughts were broken by the sound of Dean’s voice traveling back to your position in the backseat. An honorary spot that was chosen by you three years ago.
“Yeah, I’m good.” You replied simply, not wanting to talk to either one of them. All you needed was a moment to yourself, which was going to be hard to obtain because you were with the Winchesters almost 24/7. The entire day you, Sam, and Dean had hardly talked. Using words sparingly and interacting as little as possible.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” He asked you, his eyes staring you down in his rearview mirror. Although he couldn’t see you do your eye roll, he could definitely hear the loud snort you gave as a reaction. Dean had been a little concerned about your newer role in the hunt. Ever since you pieced together a few clues that led to finding out that the demons like to take young H/C women as their victims, you had volunteered yourself as live bait in order to make the catching and killing parts easier.
See, in your mind you had already planned out everything, but you failed to update Dean or Sam about any of it. It was this usual lack of communication that made the Winchesters wary about you. Even after living with you for so long, they still considered you unexpected and random.
While the brothers lacked the certain method behind your madness, your mind worked a million miles a minute; calculating and observing everything new to your environment. All those years you had trained yourself to stay on top and always be on the look out paid off, although one of the consequences was that you always seemed arrogant to others due to your silence, but in all actuality you were lost within thought.
Even now as the car turned onto a dirt road, transitioning to bumpy potholes from the smooth asphalt it had once been on, your mind still wandered at its own accord. The quick switch of terrain notified your brain that you were closer to the hunting site. Once you started to pay more attention to your surroundings and not to the fact that Dean was sitting just a couple feet away from you, you were able to concentrate on the task at hand.
You took a quick deep breath and mentally prepared yourself for what might happen. Injuries, death, the whole sha-bang. None of it really got to you though, you were a lot tougher than you looked; a mistake many drunken men have made late at night in the bars you seem to frequent more and more often. With one last shaky breath you watched through the windshield as the lights of the Impala illuminated a gravel driveway Dean had chosen to turn down.
Low hanging branches hung from the tree’s trunks that were planted right along the sides of the driveway. Obviously the owner didn’t want anybody seeing anything because the trees provided a great wall to block out nosy eyes. It was creepy traveling down the driveway at night, you had the paranoid sense that something was going to pop out any minute now. You didn’t notice at first that you had started to lean forward a little bit. Your hands gripping the back of the passenger seat and your head in between the two seats in the front.
Sam shot you a look, no doubt wondering what you were doing, but you didn’t see it. Your attention was on the giant manor like estate that was now looming in front of you guys. The car’s headlights could only do so much in comparison to how big the house was. It was definitely old, that you could tell without any help. Paint peeled off of the siding in moldy strips that fell onto the dead grass that surrounded the entire establishment. Some of the windows were boarded up while others had shutters hanging on at odd angles, even more had no glass in their pane’s. The roof was missing entire slats of shingles, leaving gaping holes all over the infrastructure. The front entrance had two huge oak doors with stained glass inserts; although they were covered in mud and dust. The door on the left hung open suspiciously, you blamed the wind and faulty building, but you knew someone- or something, had been in there.
Sam, Dean, and you glanced at each other. No one was nervous; but you were all hesitant to get out of the car. None of you really had a clue what to do next, you were hoping Sam or Dean would volunteer to go in first, but when it came down to it, you would probably going to be the one to step foot in it.
Knowing that this couldn’t be pushed off any longer, Dean exited first. His boots snapped twigs that laid underfoot as he walked to the trunk to get his supplies. You were about to get out when Sam suddenly stopped you. He had turned around in the seat, his hand reaching out for your arm. You removed your hand from your door handle and looked at him. It was dark, but you could still see him in the close confinements.
“Y/N, be careful.” He warned/begged you. You were known for risky stunts, but this time things were a little different. At first they were impressed with what you could do or would be willing to do, soon after that they became slightly annoyed, and then when you really started to grow on them, they worried about you every single time you even mentioned a plan of yours.
“Sam, I’m going to be fine.” You told him, a confident smile etched into your face, although he probably couldn’t see it due to the lack of light.
“Just promise me, okay?” Your heart started to beat irrationally fast and for what reason, you would never know.
“I…I promise.” It was weird saying those words, never once had either of the brothers made you promise them that you would stay safe. It was an odd heartwarming feeling knowing that they both cared for you deeply.
“Good.” He replied, letting out a breath as if he had been holding it in for a long time. You were pondering this, when suddenly the next thing you knew you were being pulled into a quick kiss. Sam had pulled you closer to him and connected lips, at first you didn’t react back, but then you slowly started to melt into the feeling of being with Sam. His kisses were slow and passionate, they would slowly build themselves up until they were fast and fiery. Right now though, this kiss sort of felt melancholy, if you could use that word to describe it that way.
When he pulled back, you sucked in a breath of air and gulped. You had gotten yourself into a lot of trouble by passing the thin line of friendship and relationship. Deep down though, you liked it. The conflicting feelings for either of the Winchesters did tear you apart inside, but in the back of your mind you were always so happy. It was this contradictory thinking that kept your mind busy and perplexed. How could you like two people at the same time, even when one of them acted like a colossal douchebag to women, how could your heart be so torn over this?
Ignoring any and all thoughts that romanticized the Winchester’s, you exited the vehicle and Sam was close behind you. The sound of your door’s slamming practically echoed amongst the pine trees that enclosed the area.
“You two done?” You jumped at the surprise of Dean standing by the trunk. His arms full with supplies that he had grabbed and a scowl directed towards you and Sam. He narrowed his eyes further when Sam put his hand on your lower back. Instinctually you moved closer to him, his side felt warm against yours, it was great seeing that Sam was so much taller than you; you could just cuddle up to his side and- NO. You thought to yourself as you tried to get rid of the image of you and Sam cuddling. The last thing you needed was to be distracted right now.
“Shut up Dean.” Sam replied while walking past him, with you in tow. When you two reached the trunk, you could hear Dean mumble under his breath.
“Who does he think he is, telling me to shut up.” If Sam heard it he chose to ignore it, but you held back a small laugh, it was funny hearing Dean sound so pathetic for once.
Serves him right. You thought as you started to grab a few items from the trunk. Maybe it was because you were ignored by him for so long that you held a slight bitterness towards him, but it would definitely come out a random times. You weren’t generally a mean person- scratch that, you could be a mean person whenever you felt like it, but sometimes guilt would make you feel bad, a consequence you never looked forward to.
Loaded with a gun, salt rounds, flashlight, plus some extra salt for good measure, you were ready to infiltrate the demons hideout. With confident steps forward, you led the way to the door, Sam on your left and Dean on your right. Each step you took brought you closer and closer to the scary looking exterior of the house; the inside could only look worse. In your gut you felt a mixture of unease. At the moment you had the feeling that something bad was going to happen, the gnawing pain told you to turn back and never return, but you had to keep pushing forward.
Setting your shoulders back and head up high, you continued walking towards the death trap of a house, hoping beyond hope that nothing would go wrong. Dean ascended the porch steps first, each step he took left a boot print in the layer of grime and a squeak emitted from the wooden steps; they looked like they would fall apart any minute now. Once he stood on the front porch you and Sam followed. Silently your group moved on into the house, Dean pushing the left door open slowly. Another squeak forced out by the rusty hinges on the door jam, no doubt alerting anything within reasonable distance that you were here. Once everyone had piled into the entryway; Sam, Dean, and you stopped and took a moment to analyze your surroundings.
Located right in front of you was the most dilapidated looking staircase you had ever seen. Cobwebs hung on the solid wood banisters, caking everything in a dirty mixture of dust and dirt. The fabric covered stairs had a musty odor to them that seemed to travel throughout the entire house. Considering that most of the flooring under your feet were wooden planks, the musty smell also had to be coming from the old drapes that had still managed to hang on their once brass poles. Some planks in the floor were missing; leaving giant black shadows that would probably prove to be dangerous if stepped near, making the unfortunate soul fall through the floor.
Everything in the house had to be over fifty years old and the condition of the items wasn’t looking so good. This was the perfect hideout for anything dastardly or evil; no one would suspect anything to inhabit this place, except for the stereotypical ghost rumours.
“Alright. I’ll take the left.” Dean announced, his voice sounding eerily misplaced in the ancient surroundings.
“Then I’ll go to the right and set up the devil’s trap.” You declared, not wanting to waste anymore time.
Sam sighed, “Looks like I got the upstairs.” His tone sounded defeated, but it wasn’t the first time he received the short end of the stick.
“Sorry not sorry.” Dean told his little brother, grinning and clapping his shoulder with his hand. You bit your lip and studied the staircase even further. It looked like it would collapse at the weight of a feather, now add someone who was built like a moose and the odds are that it won’t be a good outcome.
As you all parted ways, it was your turn to stop Sam.
“Now you need to be careful.” You warned him, still eyeing the dirty stairs wearily. He smiled at you, but you still scowled at the fact that he had to be so separated from the rest of you.
“The only person you need to worry about is yourself, not me.” He told you and then planted a kiss on the top of your head. You heard a scoff from behind you and you figured it was Dean, but you didn’t care.
“Whatever, you still need to be careful.” You called out to him as he turned and started his treacherous journey up the dry rotted staircase. Now all that was left was you and Dean, you looked at each other.
“What? I don’t get a be careful?” Dean teased, slightly pouting his lips and batting his lashes. You rolled your eyes in an unflattering sneer. Just because you liked him didn’t mean he still wasn’t an asshole.
“Shut up Dean.” You said before taking leave. Your feet moving you forwards even though it was against your will. Once you had gotten inside the bad feeling doubled, you weren’t sure what was going to happen and it was a terrifying thought. You had been on over hundreds of hunts in your lifetime and this was the one to make you feel uneasy. Of all the hunts this was one of the least dangerous ones ever, granted every hunt was risky, but compared to this; there were worse by far.
Each step you took was enhanced by the sound of creaking and popping beneath you. The wood groaned as if it was about to give out on you any second. You were trying to step lightly and not fall through while searching for a room to set up shop. As you tiptoed around the corner of a hallway that seemed to lead into a sitting room, out of the corner of your eye you saw a shadow flick past you. Quickly you slammed your back against the wall to give you a wider spectrum of sight, unfortunately the shadow was long gone, taking with it whatever clue you could gather to find out what it was.
Paranoid and alone, you continued your journey through the rooms located on the right side of the first floor. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in a different room altogether. Two plush armchairs laid with their backs on the floor, their rose pattern worn down with various stains. Paintings hung vicariously on the four walls of the room. Each painting contained a person within their frames, whether you knew it was family of the old owner of the property you couldn’t tell. They were random portraits all painted in random eras, nothing that couldn’t be pieced together with a little work, but you had other priorities to attend to right now.
The wood floors in this room weren’t as faded or dull due to their constant protection provided by the three rugs that were strewn about. Each rug had its own design, one was floral, one had a geometric design, and the last one was a mixture of colors that accented each other quite nicely. Whoever it was who lived here had great taste in how to decorate, it must have been beautiful in its heyday.
You looked around for a couple more minutes, your flashlight being the only way you could see anything. Figuring this was the only room available that wasn’t falling apart, you started the process of making a devil’s trap. It wasn’t a hard concept to grasp, all you needed was paint or something that was like paint and practice. At first they seem intimidating to make, but after studying from books and the gained experience from making them yourself, devils traps became less and less on the list of almost impossible.
After letting the red paint dry, you covered up the pentagram with one of the rugs. Right when you picked it up dust flew up from everywhere and made you cough violently. Your hacking didn’t stop as you dragged the rug over your devils trap with one arm and covered your mouth and nose with your free arm.
As soon as the rug touched the ground you heard a thump from upstairs. Dust and dirt fell from the ceiling, the old chandelier you just now noticed because you looked up, shook and swung from its hook in the ceiling. You stopped moving and stayed perfectly still, your senses on overdrive as you tried to find any source of danger around you. Nothing was around you, but now your flashlight chose to start flickering. Panic started to take control over your mind as you beat the purple plastic flashlight against your palm.
“Work! God damnit.” You commanded in a hushed growl, your blood turning cold and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as the light finally died. You were left all alone in the dark room, there was no sound, no movement as far as you could tell, and this wasn’t looking good for you at all. You debated on whether or not to try and maneuver your way out and try to run into either Sam or Dean, but your thoughts were cut off by a hand yanking on your arm.
With a yelp you instantly shuffled your feet backwards, your body’s way of trying to escape an unhappy ending, but it was just your luck that one of the armchairs was right behind you. The heels of your boots knocked into the soft chair and sent you falling backwards. Your hands reached out for anything in front of you to stop your fall and you just so happened to grab the wrist of your attacker. Effectively pulling them down with you, except that they managed to land right on top of you. The weight of the body on top of you crushed the air from your lungs and you were left gasping until you felt a hand clamp over your mouth. Their clammy palm prohibited you from screaming out for help which you would have done if it wasn’t Dean’s voice that had just whispered in your ear.
“Don’t make a sound.” He told you, his breath tickling your ear and your heart started to pound at the fact that Dean Winchester was on top of you right now. Of course you followed orders and he slowly removed his hand from your mouth. You licked your lips and took in a deep breath, trying to refill whatever oxygen had left your body during the tumble. Slowly, Dean lifted his body off of yours, his actions quiet as he grabbed his own flashlight from its fallen place on the floor. He flicked on the light and the beam hit you directly in the face. You squinted and sat up, your chest still heaving.
“What the hell-” Being cut off by Dean was becoming a normal thing now as he put a finger to his lips signaling you to be quiet. Frustrated, you shut your mouth and gave him the sassiest glare you could manage from your spot on the floor. He didn’t notice it, but it made you feel better inside.
Still glancing around, he crouched down so that he was at your level. Dust floated in the air around you, making itself obvious wherever the light of the flashlight fell. It even coated your jacket, the fall making you look more like a dust bunny than anything else.
“Did you hear that?” He asked you, his eyes still not looking at you.
“Hear what?” You replied starkly, there had been no sound.
“Earlier. That loud thud from upstairs.” He said, this time his eyes fixed onto yours.
“Yeah, what about it?” You asked him, you moved your legs so you could get up and Dean reached his hand out to help you up. You gulped and stared at his extended hand. Quickly you recovered and firmly grasped his hand with yours, his hand squeezed yours as he helped you up, which meant that he did most of the work by actually pulling you up. Your hand felt like it was on fire when it came into contact with his. Your skin and his skin connecting made a lightning like feeling flow through your palm and up your arm, leading straight to your heart.
All too quickly he let go, a disappointment to you who felt you could hold his hand forever and be content.
“I don’t know what it was, but we should go check it out.” He told you, still holding the flashlight aimed slightly at your face so he could see you. He waited for a response from you.
“Okay lets go.” You told him, nodding your head in agreement to his idea. Dean took the lead because of your lack of a flashlight which meant you followed behind him. The worst part was knowing that your back was open to anything, you could be attacked at any minute and if that idea didn’t make you want to run away, you don’t know what would.
Dean lead the way out of the parlor room you were in and down a hallway that led out to the entryway you had been in earlier. Nothing had happened here, no furniture was moved and there definitely wasn’t anyone in the room, so you moved on. You and Dean approached the stairs and slowly climbed up them. Each step creaked dangerously with the weight of you two combined. At this point though, falling through the stairs was the last thing on your mind. You were solely focused on getting upstairs and finding out what made that sound and if Sam was in danger.
Once you reached the top of the staircase there was another hallway. The hall was narrow to the sides but opened up wider when it reached the landing you were now standing on. A carpet runner covered the middle of the hallway, its deep rich color still radiating from underneath the layer of dirt. It’s dark red hue was covered by stains just like everything else in the house, but they seemed oddly out of place. As if the stains weren’t old at all but had been made within a week or so. Things weren’t adding up about this place.
Behind one of the doors on the right of the hallway an orange light leaked from underneath the half an inch gap between the floor and the wooden door. You elbowed Dean in the side to get his attention and then pointed to the door. He looked at you then nodded, letting you know that he got the idea. Flicking the flashlight off and letting the dark camouflage your approach, you and Dean walked in sync towards the door. You gripped your gun which you had stuffed into the waistband of your jeans; a risky decision that you made. Dean moved in front of the door, his hand twisting the knob so painstakingly slow that you wanted to scream at him, but you withheld the urge.
Unlike most of the house, the door swung open silently. You and Dean quickly entered to find two things. One: there was a fire going in the fireplace and two: an unconscious Sam was leaned up against the wall; blood trickling down the side of his face from a gash on his forehead.
“Sam!” You and Dean both called out his name in surprise and raced forward to try and help, but you were both stopped. Two people you assumed were under possession of the two demons appeared in front of you. One had a young vessel, a guy who looked around the age of 24. He had dark shaggy hair that curled at the ends and a pair of deep blue eyes that soon become engulfed by the usual black color, signaling a demon inside. His physique was athletic and tall, his stature towering over you, making you feel small.
The other one was older, probably around 40 or so. He had an impressive widow’s peak that made his light brown buzzcut almost impossible to see. His green eyes transitioned to black, as he wickedly grinned at the both of you.
“What do we have here? A Winchester and their slut perhaps?” The younger looking demon said, his lips also curling into a devious smile that could only mean one thing. Being insulted like that only quickened the response time of you whipping out your gun and aiming at the demon who dared talk about you like that. Before you could pull the trigger and squeeze off any rounds, the younger demon flicked his hand at you and the gun flew out of your hands and across the room. Not a moment sooner he flicked his hand again, this time sending you across the room.
With a painful boom sound, your back slammed against the wall; rattling every bone in your body. Pain rushed up your spine as you found that you couldn’t move. The demon had imprisoned you to the wall, making any motion impossible.
“Y/N!” Dean yelled and ran towards you, but before he even made it close to your spot by the wall he was also knocked back, but by the older demon. You watched in horror as the younger demon approached you, he stood over your body as it crumpled against the wall. The flames from the fire cast shadows over his face, the flickering source of light making everything seem scarier.
“Pretty girls like you shouldn’t play with guns.” He scolded, making a tsk sound after talking. Suddenly your body was being lifted up, the demon had grabbed ahold of one yours arms and put you on your feet with your back still pressed up against the wall.
“I have to say, you are the prettiest girl the Winchesters ever got themselves mixed up with.” He purred in your ear. When he pulled back the smile was still on his face and you wanted nothing but to slap it off of him, if only your arms weren’t locked by your sides.
“It would definitely be a shame to kill you before having a little fun. Seeing as you’re such a beauty and all.” He laughed wickedly and once the words came out of his mouth, your heart started to beat harder until you felt like it was going to explode. You watched him lean in closer as if you were out of your body. His lips connected with yours and all you wanted to do was scream and fight against him, but you couldn’t. You wanted to cry and shout all at the same time, but your throat constricted with no result.
The demon’s lips were still on yours and he somehow managed to get his tongue into your mouth. You felt bile churning in your stomach as he also slid a hand up your shirt, fondling your breast and making you feel disgusted. It was when he removed his hand from underneath your shirt and moved both of his hands to the top of your pants, that you found an inner strength. With his nasty tongue still inside your mouth, you bit down hard with all the might you had.
Blood, the taste of iron infiltrated your mouth and coated your tongue. With an angry yell, the demon pulled back, but in the process he slapped you hard across the face. Your cheek burned as he spit blood out onto the floor, you stared at him defiantly, this bastard wasn’t going to get the best of you and he sure as hell wasn’t getting into your pants.
”You little bitch!” He screamed and in anger he drew back a fist which resulted in him punching you right in the face. His knuckles slamming into your left eye, surely leaving you with a shiner. You let out a whimper and you slowly slid down the wall, what the demon had cast over you to keep you frozen had dissipated in his anger and shock at being hurt himself.
What unfolded next was kind of a blur to you because it happened so fast. When you were down, the demon had managed to kick you in the side, his shoe meeting your ribs and making you cry out in pain again. Then you heard two gunshots. As your vision became starry from the amount of pain you felt, you saw the outline of the demon slump to the ground where he did nothing else.
The next thing you know you were being picked up by someone. You blinked away the blurriness and saw that Dean had slung his arms under your legs and behind your back to pick you up. Blood droplets had sprayed all across his face and the front of his clothes when he had shot the older demon; making him look intimidating. Dean’s jaw was locked tight, he gritted his teeth and looked down at you in his arms.
“Are you alright?” His tone of voice still deadly. You nodded your head slightly.
“I’ve been through worse. Just focus on getting Sam to the car.” You told him, hinting that he could put you down now. His arms didn’t loosen, only tightened their hold as he walked out of the room.
“Um, what are you doing?” You asked in, your brow knit in confusion. Your eye had started to swell a little, causing your vision to become slightly obstructed.
“I’m taking you to the car, what does it look like I’m doing!” He exclaimed. Sighing you realized that you couldn’t get out of this one. You let your head drop onto his shoulder and your eyes close as he carried you down the stairs and outside to the car. A dull throbbing pain kept you grimacing, your ribs and eye felt like they were going to explode any second now, the pain kept building up.
Once outside, the cold breeze met your sweaty skin and relaxed you a bit. Some muscles tensed and became slack, your body practically melting in Dean’s arms. Somehow Dean had managed to open the passenger side door and gingerly slide you into the seat. Before he left he slipped of his leather jacket that he seemed to wear over everything and placed it over you. Instantly warming your skin, his body heat still clinging to the leather that smelled like alcohol, cologne, and motor oil; a very strange mixture.
“Thanks.” You told him, smiling in appreciation.
“No problem.” He replied before shutting the door and returning to the house to grab Sam. Once Dean had left your eyelids started to droop, there had been enough excitement for one night, what you really needed was a decent night’s rest.
Worst thing about writing/reading Supernatural reader inserts is that my name is Sam and it makes it hella confusing.
To Hell With It (Supernatural Reader Insert)
Hate that I Love You
The scowl on your face only went away when you raised the glass full of whiskey to your lips and downed it. The amber liquid burned slightly as it made the journey down your throat and into your stomach. With a clink, you set the glass down a little too forcefully, earning you glances from the men surrounding you at the bar, but you weren’t paying attention to them.
The entire night you had your gaze fixated on one particular person in the entire run down, hole-in-the-wall bar. Your eyes had been following the figure of Dean Winchester all evening long and you were quite fed up with him. Not that he had necessarily done anything directly to you, but it was his actions with others that made you want to vomit.
Through the hazy atmosphere of dimmed lights that shed little to no actual lighting throughout the crowded room, you had been witness to Dean’s shameful flirting. Anger boiled deep down within you, a rage that couldn’t be justified because you couldn’t blame him for any of it. Sure, you had fallen in love with him and in your mind you tried to blame the older Winchester for it, but your brain was too rational for tricks like that.
The only person you could blame was yourself. You had fallen in love with a man who would probably never settle down for the rest of his life and for some reason, half of you was perfectly fine with it. Of course the other half just wanted to wring him by his neck and then start to cry because your emotions were getting a tad out of hand.
It had all started when you decided to stick around with team Free will. Being a hunter all your life, you always felt safer when in a group versus just by yourself, which you had been for three years before you met the Winchesters. Even on that first day you met them, you knew. You knew that Dean had your heart and there was nothing you could do to stop it from slowly slipping from your clutches, where it was safe.
You would like to view yourself as an intellectual and a superior when it came to basic human emotions, but this time it was different. What once was cold and guarded was now beating irregularly and pounding against your ribcage, begging for departure; a departure that lead straight to Dean Winchester. It still shocked you that you were capable of such emotions. You used to pride yourself on your ability of becoming detached, but now all you wanted was interaction. Granted, you only wanted it from one person in particular, but the need was still there.
You returned from your thoughts only long enough to spot Dean moving in on his next target. You sneered to yourself as a redhead with giant boobs started to play coy around him. You watched as he approached her, his signature smirk plastered on his face and all you wanted to do was march over there and slap it off…or make out with him. Either way, you hated Dean.
For a couple of minutes you watched him flirt and act charming around her, you already predicted the outcome of this interaction, but you didn’t want to see it. With another wave of anger and heartbreak you turned on your stool, now you were facing the bartender and not Dean. It was a small amount of relief that felt almost a little better. It was only until you heard a high pitched girly giggle come from somewhere behind you that you squeezed your E/C eyes shut.
Tears were threatening to void your eyes and you definitely did not want to cry in public. Damn this Winchester! You thought, as emotions you had never felt before started to wake up from their dormant sleep deep down in your heart. You had worked so hard to distance yourself from everyone and now you found yourself being slowly roped in. Feelings were not necessarily all that they’ve been racked up to be.
With all your might you tried to ignore the tears that wanted to escape from their lidded prison. Your attempts at blocking out the world by shutting your eyes tight only earned you weird glances from the people around you, not the satisfaction of a lack of certain feelings. Weakly you opened your eyes, the dim light casting shadows on your crestfallen features. If anyone looked at you hard enough they would see pain. A pain that shrouded your entire being like a veil.
The entire time you spent sitting at the bar idly, trying desperately to detach yourself once again, your state of well being fluctuated between strong feelings that controlled you. A nasty cycle of frustration, anger, sadness, and self loathing toyed with your mind; making you suffer more than you should have.
You motioned for the bartender to refill your glass, and he did. He was an older man with salt and pepper hair that manned his station behind the dark oak bar. He eyed you warily as he replaced your old glass with a new one, placing another whiskey in front of you. The bartender obviously knew when to mind his own business and you were thankful for it. The last thing you wanted right now was to be questioned and harassed by a stranger that would most likely annoy you rather than help you.
Damn him. You thought again as more alcohol entered your system. You had lost track after three and now you weren’t sure what kind of tab you were racking up upon yourself, but you knew one thing; you were going to regret this in the morning.
You hadn’t noticed the absence of the fat man who had been sitting on your left until a new body came to fill the empty space. Glancing to your side through groggy eyes, you saw Sam. He sent you an uneasy smile, the only thing you could manage was a slightly less pissed off grimace.
“What’s up?” Sam asked lazily, proof that he had also had a few drinks for himself. This entire week had been stressful for all of you, the hunt your group was currently working on was proving to be more difficult than expected.
You didn’t answer right away. It was hard trying to muster enough energy to be polite to who was now your favorite Winchester sibling. With all of the thoughts tumbling through your head at the moment, it was hard to choose just one reply that didn’t sound so bitchy. After all, Sam wasn’t the one who deserved it.
“Just dandy.” You replied sarcastically, your words also sounding messed up due to your slight intoxication. Before Sam commented anything else, he managed to order himself another beer, seeing as this night was the perfect mix of desperation and loneliness for everyone in the old bar.
He eyed you carefully and took a swig of his beer before responding. Maybe he could sense that you were not in the mood for pleasant small talk tonight. What you really wanted was to be left alone…forever.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked, obviously lacking the perspective to see that you were in fact not okay or even stable enough to function normally.
“Absolutely nothing.” You replied while finishing off the drink that was in front of you. You pondered for a second whether or not to stop. Screw it. You thought as you glanced around for the bartender who had now become one of your favorite people.
“C’mon, I know there’s something wrong.” Sam lightly slurred his sentence while he grabbed ahold of your shoulders and physically turned you around on top of your stool. You gazed at him through narrowed eyes.
“Leave me alone.” You told him and then twisted back, returning to your original position where you could stare at the back wall murderously and no one would judge you. That is except the bartender who would absentmindedly wonder into your line of vision. Suddenly you felt Sam’s hands on you again, turning you gently so he could see your face.
“You can tell me anything, you know that right?” He baited you with sympathy and that was the last thing you wanted at the moment. Inside you were a confusing ball of feels that just couldn’t decide on what to do, is this what a broken heart felt like?
Before you could even say anything, you felt a familiar lump in your throat, like you had swallowed cotton balls. Your chest started to tighten as you felt the prick of the first tear surfacing. Without saying anything you started to silently cry. It took Sam a second to realize that you had broken down, but when he finally did, he instantly wrapped his strong arms around you.
Silent sobs racked your body as you leaned into him more. It was a little awkward because both of you were still sitting on stools, but neither of you noticed. Sam’s hands started to gently rub your back, as your tears started to soak his flannel long sleeve. You held onto the fabric of his shirt and gripped it between clenched fingers, your knuckles practically turning white at the amount of force behind that little of an action.
Sam continued to try and sooth you, his hands moving from your back to your hair, calmly stroking so you could at least be lulled into a sense of soothing. You didn’t know how long Sam held you like that, but all you knew was that it felt good. Good to finally cry and good to be consoled by someone other than yourself.
After your tear ducts had been emptied and the streaks of wetness had dried on your cheeks you hesitantly pulled away from Sam’s sturdy chest. Seeing as he was a lot taller than you, you sort of had to crane your neck to get a good look at his face. He looked down at you with hazel puppy dog eyes that relayed a mixture of pity, pain, and confusion. He sent you a small smile and you gave him one back. His arms still held you close, but he was holding you back so he could get a better look at you.
“Better?” He asked, you nodded slightly, but in the back of your mind you still felt horrible. “So are you going to tell me now or do I have to force it out of you?” Sam asked you a question again, this time he weakly attempted at adding some humor into the situation. You grinned slightly at Sam’s willingness to be so open with you. Again, you looked up at his face.
Maybe it was the dim lighting or maybe it was all that whiskey you had chugged down, but you felt like you were looking at Sam for the first time. Really looking at him. You noticed how pretty his eyes really were, and how soft his shaggy brown hair was, but there was definitely something different about him tonight. Maybe it was how he held onto you and comforted you when you were feeling hurt, but before you could even think about your actions, you were leaning closer until your lips suddenly met his.
Your hands had clutched onto the collar of his shirt, effectively pulling him down to your level. He was caught off guard so at first he was shocked and didn’t kiss you back. Right when you were about to pull away cursing at yourself for being an idiot, he started to kiss you.
You started to feel warm and oddly tingly as his lips stayed connected to yours. Soft passion motivated the both of you. Dormant feelings started to rise again, but this time they were good ones. Emotions like happiness, love, and even desire started to pile up in your brain, making a mixture that produced a giddy high.
His hands cupped your cheeks, you could feel the rough calluses against your smooth skin, but then they moved. His hands trailed to your waist, leaving behind a path of nerves burning as they yearned for more of his touch. Your body felt like it was on fire, want and need starting to take over any sort of rational sense you had left. Granted, all of your rational sense was gone about three drinks ago, but you didn’t care. All you wanted was him and you were 99.9% sure that all Sam wanted was you.
Your arms seemed to have a mind of their own as they wrapped around his neck, your hands clasped behind his neck. You twisted the ends of his hair in your fingers softly as you both continued kissing. The only time your lips weren’t together was when for two seconds they broke apart to get in a few gasps of air to your oxygen deprived lungs.
All too soon though, Sam pulled away completely. A smile naturally lit up his face when your eyes met, cute dimples forming in his cheeks. You smiled too, this had to be the highlight of your week.
“Want to go back to the motel?” Sam asked you, you raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. Although you were thinking the same exact thought.
“Why the hell not.” You replied before quickly getting up, both of you fumbling off of the stools, your lower limbs not used to walking after sitting for so long. Sam grasped your hand as he pulled you through the now smaller crowd of barflies, around this time was when the real dedicated drinkers could be picked out of the crowd of people who only came to bars for one night stands or just socialization in general
His hand felt good intertwined with yours. Your smaller, daintier hand was almost engulfed by his giant strong one. His hand was warm against your cool palm, and just like earlier, every single cell in your hand buzzed with excitement at the feel of Sam touching you. With a giddiness that couldn’t be explained you followed behind Sam’s giant strides until you were finally outside.
The cool night air felt good against your heated skin, you had started to sweat a little because of the proximity of the people around you, and the fact that Sam had just made out with you. With a quick glance around the small gravel filled parking lot, you saw that the Impala was still in its parking spot when you guys had arrived. Sam still held your hand as he pulled you to the car, the force and strength behind his grip was impressive.
“Wait.” Your voice seemed to echo outside, not even realizing how loud you were talking. “Do you have the keys?” You questioned him, moving closer to him and lowering your voice as if Dean was going to pop up any moment and yell at the both of you for attempting theft with his baby.
With a wicked grin Sam pulled the keys from his jeans pocket and you couldn’t help but giggle. The thought of Dean being abandoned here at the bar was hilarious to you. Sam started to chuckle, but mostly at your reaction. And so with one last quick -not really- kiss, you and Sam climbed into the Impala and rushed back to the boys shared motel room. You had had the decency to rent your own room, but seeing as how the night was turning out, it wasn’t really all that needed.
The ride was quick, seeing as the motel was only about two miles away from the bar, but traveling by foot would be a whole different story, for Dean in the morning. At long last Sam pulled into the parking lot and parked as fast as he could. The result ended up being that the Impala was now taking up two spots instead of just the one, but Sam was past a point of no return tonight, and he could care less about the car.
The sound of your feet pounding against the pavement was the only sound in the pitch black nothingness of your surroundings. With seconds to spare Sam twisted the key into the lock, he pushed the door and it swung open to reveal a very normal looking, dark motel room that the Winchesters usually inhabited.
Before you could even take another step into the threshold of the room, Sam had swept you up in his arms. Carrying you like a husband would carry his new bride. You giggled and buried your face in his chest, blushing such an incredible color making your face feel hot. You could feel his deep baritone chuckle in his chest, the vibrations ringing in your ears.
Kicking the door shut behind him, it took Sam two long strides before he was within range of a bed. At this point neither one of you cared whose bed was whose, things were desperately needed right not. As soft as he could, he dropped you on the bed, another giggle emitting from your drunken form that layed sprawled out on top of the ugly maroon bedspread.
The lights weren’t on, but right now you could care less. The only thing your mind focused on was how Sam was now suddenly hovering over you. One of his legs in between yours while his arms held himself up above you. Again you two met in a fiery kiss that only caused a surge of raw pleasure in your gut, the tingly feeling returning as it started to spread all over your body. The old motel bed squeaked as Sam shifted his body, both of you paused, considering what a racket you two were going to make and then continued your actions.
Sam’s hands navigated themselves underneath the thin material of your shirt. Your hands met his as you both stripped off your outer layer of clothing. Planting sloppy kisses amidst the struggle of being twisted in clothing. Finally when all was said and done, Sam was left in his boxers and you were left in your bra and underwear. For a moment, Sam stared down at you, a smile slowly starting to spread across his face.
“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, tucking a lock of H/C hair behind your ear and kissing your cheek. You blushed harder than you did earlier as his kisses started to trail all around your body, and soon you were completely his.
“Well if it isn’t the two love birds.” You heard a very sarcastic voice in your half asleep mind. Groggily you opened your tired eyes halfway and was attacked by the bright sunlight shining through the curtain lacking window. Wincing a little, you looked down at the foot of the bed where Dean just happened to be standing, looking very pissed off.
You were starting to ponder why Dean was staring you down with a malicious look in his eyes, when you heard a muffled groan from behind you. Next you felt a muscular chest pressed up against your back, and thats when you remembered.
With a small noise that sounded an awful lot like a squeak, you quickly pulled the maroon comforter up, so now it was covering your naked body.
There was a grunt of realization from Sam has he sat up, looking just as pissed as his older brother did.
“Dean what-” Sam was about to question Dean’s actions, but Dean cut him off.
“What the hell you two?!” His voice was in that range of not quite talking normally, but not yelling either. You could admit that it was scary seeing him like this.
“First you take my car, then I find you guys shacking up, in MY bed!” You shrunk back against the pillows, a knee jerk reaction to seeing Dean, or even anybody, this angry. Sam scooted closer to you and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him; almost acting like a shield.
“When I noticed you were gone it made think that something bad happened to you guys, which then led to me worrying and searching around the bar for any clues, but no! You just took my damn car to use as your…your sexmobile!” Obviously Dean was struggling with the last part of his argument, your cheeks were tinted a light red when he had mentioned the word sexmobile.
“Dean, we didn’t-” You tried to stop his rant by interjecting, but he cut you off too.
Everyone one in the room was feeling a little flustered at the moment and when Dean was finally done with his soliloquy, the room was awkwardly quiet.
The only sound you could hear was the faint voices of a tv from the room next you, and the buzz of the mini refrigerator that was located in the kitchen of the shared motel room.
Dean was still standing at the foot of the bed, his fists balled up in anger, which was strange to you. Dean wasn’t really the one to get pissed off by situations like this. If anything you assumed he would be congratulating Sam and cracking jokes about each of your performances last night.
For a second you brought your eyes up to his, looking in them. Amidst the green mixture, you thought you saw pain, but he looked away before you could analyze any further.
“Sammy, I need to talk with you…outside.” He motioned towards the door, but soon exited that way. Slamming it shut behind him.
You and Sam looked at each other, both confused and wondering.
“I guess I better get out there.” Sam said as he got out from under the covers. You nodded in agreement, still a little shocked at what happened.
Hurriedly, you two found your clothes from the other night; dressing as quick as you could so Dean wouldn’t have another conniption.
Sam walked towards the door, buttoning his jeans in the process, he glanced behind him at you before he could open the door.
He saw the worried look on your face and he smiled back at you, trying to ease your feelings.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.” He told you and then with another sweet smile he left. Now you were all alone, with nothing but your thoughts and that annoying buzzing sound coming from the mini fridge.
It had been around twenty minutes when Sam had left the room and you were bored out of your mind. Not only was there nothing to do, but the tv only had four channels which consisted of Fox News, ESPN, and PBS which actually repeated itself twice, for a grand total of four boring channels.
Since it was eight in the morning, PBS was playing children shows and you settled on watching Sesame Street to pass the time easier. It didn’t.
Your annoyance rose when Bigbird couldn’t find the letter W he had sat on, thus hiding it from his view. Groaning softly you rolled off the bed you had already made, and turned off the tv. The archaic box, flicked off and now it was quiet again.
You could hear Sam and Dean’s voices coming through the door faintly. With curiosity waiting at your doorstep, you tiptoed -as if they could hear you- to the door and put an ear against the white painted wood.
Of course it was your luck to come in at the worst moment possible.
"Sam, you know I like her."
With a gulp, your eyes widened. Not wanting to listen anymore you ran away from the door. Sitting back down on the bed, you repeated what Dean said over and over again in your head.
Chewing on your bottom lip you could only think about one thing.
These Winchester boys were going to be the death of you.