Title: Bad Boys

Author: winbesters 

Request: “you said you were in a Dean mood so can you write kinda something about Dean reaction to seeing you being taken away in like a cop car due to them thinking that you actually murdered someone not a monster?” - anonymous

Word Count: 573

Trigger Warnings: Aggressiveness, Mention of Murder

Fic:

              Hands riddled your hips like frenzied frat boys at a strip club. It wasn’t the romantic frisking that would lead to hot sex and a shameful breakfast in the morning, but rough handling at the hands of brutal cops who had assumed the worst. You always knew one day your job would catch up to you, but not like this. Maybe you would be sleeping and a vamp would suck you dry- and not in the hot way. Maybe an angel would get pissed and burn your pupils out. There was no way of telling, but you never thought it would be getting arrested for murder. You had a reason to kill Bob Newton. He was a werewolf that had broken (and eaten) too many hearts. However, you couldn’t alert the authorities to that startling information for they would definitely let you rot away in an asylum.

               “You gotta be so rough?” You interrogated, your voice mushed from your cheek being squished against the glass on the cop car. You could feel the man’s hot breath on your neck as he continued to pat you down for weapons.

               “It’s part of the job, ma’am. Y/N, You are under arrest. Anything you say can and will-,”

               “Hey! What the hell is going on? There a problem officer?” Dean’s crude voice splashed into the night air like a frightened fish back into the water. The cop halted in his words as he finished cuffing your wrists behind your back. It was times like this you wished you had a kink for being tied up so it would be slightly more enjoyable. You peeled your sticky skin off of the window and eyed Dean has he waltzed over to the vehicle, ID in hand and a suit covering his bones.  

               The cop immediately had a sense of trepidation and anxiety flood his veins for he could tell this man had some amount of authority. He observed the ID and bit his lip as he stared back to the Winchester. “Yes, sir. I have suspicions that she committed a felony. A local man was murdered in his home, and DNA evidence points to her. I was just arresting her and was about to bring her in,”

               Dean nodded his head in understanding. He slid over to you and flicked the silver handcuffs with his nails and looked back at the cop and his name tag. “Officer Pillot, unhand this federal agent. She is currently undercover investigating a string of murders across country. Her DNA was found at the crime scene due to the fact that she was able to investigate it first, being a ‘fed’, after all. I’m sure that someone must have told you that the FBI was involved, right? You don’t want me to tell your chief that you tried to apprehend a federal agent who was just trying to do her job, right?”

               You raised your eyebrows in amazement at the improvised rant and the cop’s voice stuttered. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. Please don’t tell my boss. I promise I’ll let you guys handle the case,”

               He flung himself quickly over and undid the handcuffs and didn’t hesitate to flee in his obnoxious vehicle. You put your hands on your hips and stared at the eldest Winchester. “That was quick thinking, Dean. I’ve never seen someone lie as well as you,”

               “I hate you, Y/N,” He smirked, lying once again.

               “Hate you, too, Winchester,”

Title: My Flower

Requested by: castieltheangelic

Author: winbesters

Word Count: 370

Trigger Warnings: Mention of Torture
A/N: Sorry it’s so short. I haven’t been feeling well. 

Fic:

                 His arms were around your waist.  There was no need to add any more of a description. That in itself was perfect enough. His arm draping over your hip felt like a weight of comfort that you wouldn’t mind holding you down for eternity. His hot breath lazily flowed from his nose and pleasantly rubbed your skin that you wished could be even closer to his, but it was physically impossible. You were the two halves that were released from Pandora’s box that were finally reunited.

               Reluctantly, you pulled your head away from the crook of his warm neck, his scruff scraping your cheek as you did so. You had to look into those eyes once again. They brought you a level of comfort that felt surreal. His eyelids flickered open and his irises absorbed you like a flower in the sun;  ironically, he was your flower. You watched him grow by the nurture of your sunlight- kindness. You watched his sprout leaves by your water- love.  You were never going to let him wilt. His lips curved into a slight grin as his hand glided up your side and up to your head, brushing your hair behind your ear ever so carefully.

               “Hello there, stranger,” His raspy voice sounded like rocks being scraped on pavement; it was hoarse from the pleading and yelling that he had done the day before. There was a scratch next to his left eyebrow, but the scarlet blood was now dried, preserving the rest of the liquid underneath. “You sleep well?”

               “Because you’re here,” You replied sleepily, you both sprouting slight smiles. It was too early in the morning to be sporting bright grins, but God, did he make you want to. You slowly slid your head closer to his, combining your lips. They were surprisingly soft against yours as they meshed lovingly. You both reluctantly pulled away for air as you glared at each other. Just yesterday, he was being tortured beyond what anyone’s mind could ever conceive, but now he was here with you and you thought the world of that. You could be living in a box without any food, but If Castiel was there, you would feel warm and full.

Title: Miracles Happen

Author: erasedean

Request: Can you write a dean x reader where Dean walks in on the reader singing and dancing to Miracles Happen (the girl version) from The Princess Diaries and a bunch of fluff 

-  jensensfreckleddick (aka ari my love)

Word Count: 492

Triggers: None

Fic:

Your week had been shit. You didn’t get to sleep in, your car sputtered out its final miles in life, and you even forgot to take your birth control two times not that it was too terribly important. It wasn’t like you were getting any action anyway. To let loose, you found yourself swinging your hips in front of your mirror as if you were a stripper who owed someone money the next day. Your room in the bunker was your solace in a way. It was an escape from all of the monsters, monstrosities, and murky creatures that lurked around every corner. But for now, this was your time and that was no time to think of such things.

               “Miracles happen once in a while,” You belted from your diaphragm with such a force it threatened to knock down every brick that held the rustic structure together. You grabbed your brush from the vanity and held it to your mouth passionately as your let your emotions flow through the melody. ”You showed me dreams come to life, that taking a chance on us was right,” You leaped onto your mattress that released a crunch from the springs while you continued your performance with no notice of the figure standing in the door way leaning on the frame, a smile plastered on his chapped lips. “All things come with a little time,-“

               “When you believe…” Dean finished, the smirk remained in its habitat. You immediately froze on impact in embarrassment and shock. You had the hunter cat-like skills, but you had failed to notice him in every way. He waltzed from the door frame and over to your stage where he held out his hand, but you rejected it and turned the other way with your hair dramatically hanging over your shoulder.

               “I’m sorry, but I refuse help from a fan. I’m too famous for you to touch me. I’m a world-renowned singer, you know,” You kidded to hide your embarrassment as you batted your lashes.

               Dean placed his hand on his chest and huffed out jokingly as if he were offended as he walked around to the other side of the bed to face him. He glazed up at you from your height as you both tried to hide your smiles. “Well, I’m actually famous, too. I’m a known criminal. I steal hearts,”

               You shoved your shoulders back as you chortled at the ridiculous remark. He wrapped his arms around your calves as he lifted you off the bed and slid his arms to your hips while your feet finally made contact with the ground. “You are such an idiot. You know that?”

               Dean’s eyes crinkled around the edges as he grinned shyly, looking into your eyes deeply as if you were the only thing in the world. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot,” He spoke, placing his lips on yours as naturally as his first drink of coffee in the morning.

Title: Clingy

Author: erasedean

Word Count: 983

Triggers: Cursing

A/N: This was not meant to be good to any extent. I got the idea for it and I thought it was hilarious. Enjoy!

Fic:

                    You were gazing at the man who was complaining to his older brother about something that was completely ridiculous. He was sitting in a worn, beaten chair in the library across from Dean as his voice spoke aloud.

               “I don’t know, Dean. She was too clingy and I just couldn’t take it. I tried, man. I did. God, I feel like you,” Sam whimpered as he covered his face with his hands in shame. Dean rolled his eyes at the remark and snapped the newspaper that he was holding in front of himself as his legs were propped up on a chair across from him. As you acknowledged what Sam said, you couldn’t help but get a little heated. ‘Too clingy’? Sam was the epitome of clingy. Once you went to the bathroom without telling him and he almost sent out an Amber Alert. And the girl he was talking about, she couldn’t have texted him about meeting up again more than twice in the past four weeks. On behalf of the women in the world, you knew you had to act.

                       You roamed from the doorway of the library and marched your way over to the complainer. With a thump, you plopped down into his lap as he vibrated with shock from the surprise attack. Dean glanced up from his paper to gaze at the sight in confusion, but went back to his reading- or hidden porn magazine.

                “Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” Sam asked as he placed one arm around your waist and the other on your thigh, a little more higher than God would approve of. He was giving you a smirk as he squeezed your skin slightly with intrigue. You gave him a sly smile in return.

               “Well, I heard you talking about how some girls can just be so clingy, so I decided to show you what ‘clingy’ really is,” You flashed him a quick, fake smile as his brows furrowed in bewilderment. His lips did that half-smile, half-frown thing they do whenever he is enthused.

               “And how do you expect to do that?” He inquired. You lifted your arms and laced them around his neck lovingly, but that sentimental emotion was about to be crushed.

               “By clinging to you all day, literally,” A fake smile once again pervaded your face while he chortled. Dean slammed his newspaper down on the table, folded his arms across his chest, and looked on in amusement. “Sam Winchester, I am your new clingy one-night stand,”

               Dean chuckled to himself as he began to stand up. “The one of many…Welcome to the club, Y/N,”

             A few moments later, Sam had gotten up and waltzed his way into the kitchen where he was attempting to reach into the fridge to make a sandwich. You had wrapped your legs around his waist as if you were prepared to do the down and dirty, but this was a lot more fun than that. Dean was propped up against the island as he watched the embodiment of struggle maim his brother. You had your head propped on his right shoulder and you and Dean shared smiles. Sam finally accomplished his mission of returning the mustard to the fridge as he turned towards his brother who he hadn’t noticed. Dean received a massive eye roll from his younger brother because he knew he was there to just watch.

               “How you doin’ over there, Y/N?” Dean questioned to the back of your body. You were now facing the fridge. Sam was attempting to pick up his sandwich.

               “Well, I’m a little tired. My legs are getting sore. Sam, get a boner or something so I have something to prop up on,” You relayed as Dean let out a child-like laughter at the remark. The younger Winchester glared at his brother with murderous intent.

               “Maybe if you got off of me, you could go lie down and I could eat my sandwich in peace without a human body blocking the way,” He sassed, but it didn’t affect you at all.

               “I’m sorry, Sam. It’s just that girls can be so clingy. I just can’t peel myself away from you,” You kidded as you stared him in the eyes lovingly. “I love you, Sammy,”

               He shared the same look he had given Dean earlier with you. “Dean, do you remember that one time I told you that ‘Sammy’ was a chubby twelve year-old? Well, he’s not going to be chubby because he’s going to die from starvation,”
               “Just apologize, man. Call that girl and meet up with her just to close things up. Speaking of closing things, Y/N, I’ve never seen a girl hold her legs open that long for Sam,” He chuckled as he waltzed away from the travesty in the kitchen.

               As you both stood there while Sam tried to find some way to cram the nutrients into his mouth, a loud rumble erupted into the room. You furrowed your brows as Sam’s eyes shot wide open with shock. “You that damn hungry?” You questioned him.

               “Y/N, this isn’t for food. This is for-,” His sentence was cut off as another rumble tore through the air, his legs charging into panic towards the bathroom.

               You started to scream as you realized what was happening. “No, no, no , no! Sam let me get off!” You could have sworn tears were starting to form. “Let me down you, ass! I don’t want to see yours!” However, he didn’t listen to you. He dodged into the bathroom and slammed the door shut and right before the deed was about to set into action, you were able to drop from his body and run from the gas chamber. You bent over with your hands on your knees outside of the door, reflecting on your close encounter.

          Dean emerged from the hallway. “I’m telling you, he’s lethal after one burrito.”

Title: Doctor, Doctor

Author: imaginesupernaturally

Request:  I’m on mobile so I don’t know if I’m doing this right. Sorry if I’m not! Maybe an imagine or one shot about how the reader can’t open a medicine bottle and goes next door (Sam and Dean’s hotel) to ask if they could. Instead they see a very wounded Winchester who needs help. Panic ensues.

Word Count: 1,996

Trigger Warnings: Cursing, Pills, Blood

Fic:
               A headache swam through your head about as elegantly as an elephant in a watering hole. Pounding pain slid through every particle inside of your braid as you raised your hand to rub the area, which was no panacea. However, an old bottle of Midol you carried in your purse could maybe do the trick. You quickly dove into the leather holy grail and retrieved an ancient bottle of pain relievers that were so old, Jesus might’ve taken a few back in the day. You gripped the grooved cap and began to twist it, but it was to no avail. The inferior plastic was no match for your strength, but apparently something else was. Spilt nail polish outlined the crease where the cap met the bottle, the red liquid mocking you as it kept you away from your cure. “Okay… God is testing me right now,” You muttered as you laid the bottle down on table that held the television, and began to slugger it with your heels. Click, click, click! The beating helped nothing except to strengthen the pain in your head that was already near paralyzing. If the headache had been Popeye, it was like it had just eaten spinach.               

  “Damn it!” You sighed as you focused on a scuffle going on outside. Feet were shuffling hurriedly past you door and stopped next door as keys rattled around. A slight groan was able to be heard from one of the people outside, presumably a man from the gruffness of it. Soon, the door was open and the flooded in, quickly throwing their bags aside and slamming the door shut. You stood there, looking down at the irritating bottle on the table, to the door, and then to the wall right ahead of you as if you could see your neighbors through the paneling. An idea popped into your head which might not have been the safest, yet you convinced yourself that they possibly weren’t murderers. You weren’t in the mood to handle murderers. You took a leap of faith and stepped from your room and walked swiftly to the room to your right, hesitating as you stared at the army green door that was worn from years of abuse and drug raids, probably.  You reluctantly raised your hand as your knuckles collided with the weakened wood, creating the most awful sounding knock ever. Well, it was to you since you had Satan in your head dancing around.               

  A moment passed and the door didn’t budge. Maybe it was a sign from God that these people were murderers and that you shouldn’t bother them? Oh, screw it.             

    As you lifted your hand to knock once again, the door cracked slightly to reveal one green eye peering from the small space. You couldn’t see much of him, but you could tell he was a man of strong stature. You lowered your hand as you prepared your speech. “Hi, uh, I’m Y/N. I was wondering if you could open this bottle. It’s not a homemade bomb or anything, I promise. I just have a headache,” You shook the bottle slightly to show that it was harmless.                 His eye flew to the bottle then it flung back to you. “How many you have in there?” He asked. That’s a weird question. Why would he need Midol? Was he on his period?             

   Your eyebrows creased a little as you struggled not to just flee back into your hotel room out of discomfort and embarrassment. “I-uh. Only two I think…” Your head tilted out of confusion.              

   “Mind if I have those?” He asked quickly as he hand flung out, grabbing the bottle from your weak grasp, and slamming the door shut. You stood there for a moment shocked at had what just taken place. Did he just steal your pills? However, this didn’t phase you completely as you began to bang on the door, ignoring the pain in your head for the moment. You were more pissed off than in pain at this point with your fists colliding with the worn paint, and your foot occasionally kicked the door. With one final kick, the door flung open to reveal the hotel room. A blood trail ran from the door to the bed where another was lying down, his hand over his abdomen as if in pain. His face was contorted in pain as he winced and let out a groan of pain, which was what you heard outside earlier. The man who had stolen your pills emerged from the bathroom with them in his hand and a glass of water in the other. He acknowledged your presence, but continued to move towards the other man as he forced the pills down his throat. The man on the bed gagged slightly, but let the medicine slide down his throat. Most people would run out the door with no question, yet you didn’t. You were a med student, so you weren’t scared of blood and you figured you could use that skill at the moment.               

 Your hand reached out and shut the door as you slid over on the other side of the man. You took off your jacket and laid it across the man’s abdomen as he flinched in pain. The other man looked at you in confusion. “What the hell are you doing?”             

   “I’m a doctor,” You lied. Well, you would be one in a few years. “Do me a favor and grab the pillow cases over there and apply them to this wound as I get some supplies from my car. The man didn’t falter one bit as he ran over and began to undress the feather pillows. You stared at the injured man as his eyes tightened in pain. “Hey,” You said as you rubbed his arm gently and placed his hand on your now ex-jacket. “I know this is gonna suck, but put pressure on your stomach until I get back, okay?” He nodded his head in agreement as you fled the room, grabbed your supplies, and headed back. The healthy man was now attempted to add pressure without injuring him further. You sat the supply box down and began to filter through the instruments. Thank God you kept this for emergencies.                

 “What happened?” You asked as you applied rubber gloves on your hands. If the situation hadn’t been so tense, you could have mistaken it for a prostate exam since you were alone with two men in a room.         

       “Gunshot. Close range. It got him right on his side,” The man explained. “I’m Dean. This is my brother Sam.”               

  You nodded your head to them both as you walked closer to the victim. “Alright, Sam. You have two choices. I can either get Dean to knock you out and you’ll wake up with a terrible headache, or you could stay awake while I remove the bullet. I see no blood underneath you, so the bullet didn’t pass all the way through. If I don’t remove it, you could have complications down the line, like not being able to board planes because you set off the metal detector,” The older brother gazed at you with seriousness draping across his face. “Okie dokie. Not the time for jokes,” You muttered embarrassingly while you began to remove the jacket and pillow cases.          

       “I’ll stay awake-,”            

    “Sammy, are you sure? I have no problem putting your lights out,” Dean admitted as he glared into his brother’s eyes with compassion. Sam nodded his head as his lips pursed with the pain that he was about to experience. “You better know what you’re doing,” He coldly directed towards you.      

           “I could do this in my sleep, sir,” You lied once again. You could actually do it in your sleep if you counted dreams. “Now, Dean, whenever you see blood seep out and bubble up from the wound, I need you to dab it with the pillow cases to absorb the blood so I can see better, okay? Don’t rub,”                You lowered your hands upon the wound, your left hand holding the flashlight and your right with a long pair of tweezers. You gazed around at first to see the damage, but you couldn’t access it. There was too much blood, yet you had to push on anyway. Someone’s life depended on it. You carefully slid the tweezers down into his side, as he moaned slightly. Dean reached over and dabbed the area which thankfully removed some of the blood that bubbled up. As you slowly dug the tweezers in deeper, you finally hit something that was too hard to be an organ or a vein. You watched Sam’s face every time you touched it for a reaction, but there wasn’t any. “This is the part that sucks, Sam,” You confessed as you gazed at him. He was obviously trying to hide the discomfort of having a pair of tweezers in his abdomen. “I found the bullet and now I can extract it. It didn’t hit any organs so it won’t hurt nearly as bad as it would. I’m going to remove it slowly so I don’t cause any excess damage, okay?”             

   Sam nodded as strongly as he could while his hand wrapped around his brother’s in anticipation and anxiety. Dean looked at with you and blinked with reassurance as if he finally had faith in you. You put the flashlight down, grabbed a pillowcase and circled it around the wound that was bound the flood whenever the bullet was removed. You slowly tugged on the bullet which caused Sam to let out a shriek of pain while blood flooded from the hole and enveloped your hand.           

     “Sammy, it’s okay. I promise. She’s doing good. Just pretend you’re a woman and you’re having a baby, alright?” He was trying to soothe his brother, at least. Dean’s eyes swam to yours as he shrugged his shoulders in defense. You shook your head in response and went back to your diligent work. This time, you managed to pluck the bullet even farther out, almost removing it completely. Sam screamed in agony as tears began to stream down his cheeks and onto the fabric beneath him. Dean was also becoming watery-eyed from watching his brother suffer from so much torment.           

      “Okay. This is the last pull, okay?” You reassured as you tightened the tweezers on the bullet once more and removed it from the cavity, leaving a pool of blood behind. You quickly covered the wound with cloth and let the bleeding halt before you sewed him up, ending the doctor visit for good.                 After the needle left his skin for the last time, he moaned faintly, but it was one of relief rather than pain. He stared at you in admiration. “I still hurt like a bitch, but thank you. You know, for saving my life. You’re a good doctor,” He reassured you which caused a small smile to form on your face.                

 “Truth is, I’m not a doctor…” You slid from your gritted teeth as Sam furrowed his brown and Dean swung around in shock. “Guys, I’m kidding! Gosh,” You lied once again, realizing the truth would not help you in this case. “Well, I guess I should go back to my room. If either of you get any more gunshot wounds, just give me a call, or you know, steal my meds again,” You chuckled awkwardly as you began to reach for the door.       

          Dean’s voice broke the air. “Why don’t you bring your stuff over here and hang out with us for a while? We could have a couple drinks and you could keep an eye on your patient,”         

        You placed your hand on the golden doorknob as you bit your lip sweetly and gazed at the man. “Sure. Just let me check on the stab victim in room 304 real quick,” You kidded as you waltzed to your room to grab your things, anticipating to get back to your operating room.

Title: Daddys’ Daughter

Author: imaginesupernaturally

Word Count: 661

Trigger Warnings: Fluff?

Fic:

Leaves that outstretched from the bush prodded at the angel’s skin viciously as if taunting him for being an overbearing parent. Every time the brown twigs would attack him, he could only imagine how the boy’s fingers were trailing across his daughter’s arms, just trying to reach for her- oh, Father.

               “Dean, I cannot just sit here and allow her to be the victim,” Castiel grumbled as his legs began to out stretch themselves in order to stand. He caught a glimpse of her sitting in the passenger seat and the perpetrator in the driver’s, probably planning on how to take advantage, or at least that was what Castiel thought. The boy’s car was parked in a drive-in, similar to what had been around in the fifties yet it had a younger vibe due to the amount of phones illuminating through every vehicle in the lot.

               Dean lunged for Castiel’s hand and yanked him back down to crouch behind the thick foliage in order to preserve her date. The angel’s body collapsed back onto the ground as he shot daggers at his lover’s green eyes. “Cas, baby, it’s okay. You have to trust her, okay? Mary is a Winchester- correction. She’s a female Winchester. There’s no tougher kind, so if he tries to lay a hand on her, we’ll have a body to hide,” His hand glided across Castiel’s upper arm in comfort as his lowered it down to grab his hand. Dean’s fingers delved into Castiel’s hands, yet the angel didn’t return any amount of pressure back, leaving Dean defeated. Castiel elongated his neck and glared through the back windshield in hopes to find a reason to stop the date. He didn’t expect to be this worrisome. Hell, he’s an angel. He could launch the boy into the sun if he wanted to, but Mary was his world and he couldn’t allow someone to corrupt and pollute her. Dean had been surprisingly calm about the whole situation because he spoke of something called “parental trust”. The angel had known nothing of this for he felt as though his father left him long ago, yet Dean had learned this lesson by raising Sam.

               Castiel lowered his body back down, turned his head towards Dean and gazed into his hypnotizing eyes. A sigh flew from his lips as he sat down and leaned against Dean’s chest as the hunter entangled his arms around the angel’s warm body. Castiel could feel Dean’s scruff against his forehead which comforted him slightly. “I just don’t want her to grow up, Dean. Right now she’s on her first date and before you know it, she’ll be getting married and moving out. I don’t want to let go,”

               “Baby, you don’t have to let go. She’ll always be our little girl. She’ll always come running to me whenever she doesn’t know which band t-shirt to wear and she’ll run to you whenever she can’t find her favorite pair of jeans. She’ll always need us whether she likes it or not. And I’ll always need you whether I like it or not. I love you,” Dean craned his head closer to Castiel’s, breathing in his scent.

               The angel’s eyes shut for a moment in relaxation then snapped back open to reveal and calmed looked. Moving his head closer, he allowed his lips to mix with Dean’s lovingly as if it were their wedding day all over again. “I love you, too,” He muttered as a group of kids waltzed by the bushes, scrunching their eyebrows in confusion at the two men cuddling together on dirt behind a bush. Dean shot his head over the glare at the teens.

               “What, you never seen two men kiss before?” He yelled as they darted away back towards the parking lot, leaving Castiel giggling. “What?”

               “I’ve never seen two men kiss either,” Castiel explained. “So, maybe it’s time we revisit the idea of installing a mirror on the ceiling above the bed,”

Title: The C-Team, Chapter Three

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Author: walkingdean

Word Count: 2,854

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Cursing, Death

Summary: TFW & the reader investigate the house where the case happened when they realize what did it, and that it’s striking again. 

Fic:

    The air inside of the rustic car consisted of different emotions from every contemplating body in the vehicle. The rugged driver tugged at the gearshift with his leather jacket hanging just over his wrist comfortably, parking the beloved contraption. His brain was pumping with different reflections that he attempted to understand. A feeling of reluctance overcame him for he did not await the future- he never has due to the life that he has lived so far. The longer he lived, the more suffering he endured such as going to hell, his brother losing his soul, and the worst fate of all- the death of his parents that he had never recovered from. He hadn’t known the prophet in the backseat for long. Hell, he had only known her for about four hours at this point, but he didn’t want her to die. He never wanted anyone to die while the Winchesters were reigning over a case, yet it was different with her. She was so innocent to what she could do with her abilities and Dean felt as if he had to guide her because he had nursed Sam during his tribulations years ago with his abilities from the Yellow-Eyed Demon, Azazel. Call it poetic, but Dean felt that he was meant to be her shepherd- if shepherds had the overwhelming feeling that they were going to fall in love with the sheep. On the other hand, Sam had formed the idea that she could almost act like a sister in his life. He felt no romantic attraction for he felt Dean could barely keep his pants on around her, so whatever sort of relationship he felt with her was completely platonic. However, Castiel felt slight resentment towards her due to the past of her type of prophet and the literal hell that they had risen up in the past.  The angel was wary of her and his prediction that he hoped would not come to fruition. And finally, the prophet sat in the back seat just attempting to process what had happened in the past week; she had witnessed a murder, sent to a mental institution, and was now in a car with two supernatural hunters and an angel of the Lord. And you thought your week has been crazy?

               Dean stumbled out of the Impala as his eyes adjusted to the harsh sunlight that struck down on the ground like rain during a hurricane. The rest of the crew quickly followed behind, yet she had hesitation about getting out. The yellow hazard tape that dressed the front yard of the Peterson house was almost as vibrant as the blood that had spilt out of the youngest member of the clan just days ago. The grass was annoyingly green and happy unlike the rest of the houses that rested on the block. No more cop cars harassed the street for they took all of the evidence that they could and called it quits on the investigation; she had it in the back of her mind that the cops probably assumed her as the prime suspect as of now, but she could barely care. She just wanted the hideous being that took an innocent life off the streets.

               “So, why exactly do we have to come back here?” She questioned as she struggled to catch up with the crew. “I’m pretty sure the cops would have found anything worthwhile,”

               Dean shook his head in disagreement has he charged on towards the house of horrors, or rather his ‘job’ in his point of view. Sam was matching him in his stride while Castiel was behind them and the prophet followed. “The cops would look for anything physical: weapons, blood, signs of a struggle. We get that information from them, which we don’t need because we have you, and then we look at the unnatural side of the case: smells, plasmas or ectoplasm, and the behavior of the flesh-easting bastard. We’re like the CSI cast revamped, I guess,”

               Sam casted a side glance to his brother, his eyebrow cocked and a smirk spread on his lips. “I thought you said you hated procedural cop shows? Are you watching them like you watch Doctor Sexy?”

               Castiel had a grin grow like a wildflower on his face at the banter that was nonetheless true. Dean rolled his eyes dramatically as his cheeks blushed in embarrassment. “Anyhow, if you could just go inside the house and get any vibes from the place that have importance, let us know. We’ll be doing the investigating,”

               Dean saw no harm in his directions, yet irritation bubbled up inside the angelic being for he saw it as Dean encouraging the ticking time bomb to take advantage of her powers and increase their effectiveness. She still had no clue as to what she possessed, and Castiel wanted to keep it that way, but Dean wasn’t helping. Cas felt as if Dean was doing it on purpose as he could tell that Dean had already formed a connection with the prophet; he probably thought that if she found out what she really was, she could learn to control it sooner but the angel had his doubts with that scenario. Hopefully, she would become scared enough of what she can do that she’ll stop using her abilities for good.

     Whenever Dean rested his hand on the doorknob to the front door after he had finished picking it, she could feel her chest swell tremendously with anticipation and reluctance. Of course, she wanted to help in any fashion she could for Jacob deserved that at the least, but she was circumspect to even setting the sole of her foot within the haunted house. The brothers and the angel had already made their way inside and were poking around the kitchen and living room that looked the exact same way it did the last time she was there. She could picture Jacob running around in his Hawkeye pajamas that he always got picked on for by other kids when he mentioned it. He wasn’t a huge fan of the Hulk, Iron Man, or Captain America. He always sided with the lesser known, the underdog without even realizing it. He had a good heart that was horrifically ripped from him.

      Castiel stood inside of the home, waiting for the prophet to breach into the stained area. “Are you coming?” He asked. There was a hint of annoyance that wasn’t hidden very well in his voice. Sam and Dean glanced behind them to see the prophet still standing on the porch, then when back to plundering through cabinets and pulling out their EMF reader to scan around. They didn’t worry too much because they assumed it wouldn’t be the easiest thing for her to come back to the unholy ground, but Castiel lacked the human knowledge to understand that. She glared at him with her eyes beginning to water. She placed a foot on the hardwood flooring which sent shocks of electricity through her legs and up to her brain. Soon enough, her entire body was inside as she decided to stride up the stairs to the bedroom that Jacob took his last breath in. As she walked down the lengthy hall, the aura of the house was becoming a force to reckon with. Along with the ability to see spirits, the power to get energy from people, places, and things also came along with the package for her. Whenever she was first hired, she could tell the Peterson’s were good-natured, do-well people that would kill a fly. Whenever she had shaken Mr. Peterson’s hand, she received the knowledge that he had been in New York whenever 9/11 had taken place; he was one of the citizens that helped rescue stranded victims on the first couple of bottom floors. He was meant to die that day, but he didn’t. And she knew this. Whenever she had hugged Mrs. Peterson, she learned that she had recently had a miscarriage and it was to be a girl, but she lost it after she was in a car accident two months before. All of this was learned the first time she met the family when she responded to their ad in the paper. She has yet to touch either of the Winchester’s or Castiel with her hands, so she wasn’t too familiar with their back story, but the vibe they gave off was coated in pain and misfortune. Most people had this, but it was only for a moment because something put them in a bad mood. However, these two had a stigma about them that made them seem like swirling vortexes of suffering.

     She came to the end of the hall that led into Jacob’s messy room. Legos and toy arrows from his Hawkeye playset were always scattered around like lethal, fun booby traps that could make a person want to amputate their foot if they were to put their weight on it. Yellow tape outlined where his body was devoured on the carpet; blood still stained the white flooring like fine wine that was spilt too soon. She rested her head on the archway and crossed her arms in thought. She was fighting hard not to cry, especially since she didn’t want any of them to see it. Footsteps were ringing behind her as they marched their way up the stairs and made their way to her back, peering over her at the scene.

     “Are you okay, Y/N? It’s okay if you want to go back to the car for a bit,” Sam expressed as his brooding figure glared down at her. His eyes glanced over to the red splatters as his mind tried to fathom what had caused them.

     “Yeah, I’m okay, Sam. It’s just weird being back here. It doesn’t seem real. I’m still expecting Jacob to put his gum in my hair whenever I tell him he can’t go outside,” She chuckled faintly to herself as she lifted her head off of the arch and strode into the bedroom that once housed a kindred soul. Her feet were wary to not intrude on any of the blood or the way that Jacob had “organized” his room with toys scattered everywhere. She placed her hand on the bed which gave her images in her head of him bouncing with jubilee upon the mattress to his parents’ dismay. Sam was poking around the room curiously, opening every drawer and door with expectance. He eventually made his way to the window where he crouched down.

      “Was this open the night that the attack happened?” He questioned her. She stared at him for a moment, trying to remember, but she couldn’t.

      “I’m not sure. Jacob would open it sometimes so he could launch arrows outside on the neighbor’s cat. I can probably get a read off of it and it’ll tell me if it was, if that’s alright,”

      “Yeah, that’s fine. Whatever will work,” Sam agreed as he scooted over to make room for her. She gazed at the glass for what seemed like a millennium trying to prepare herself for what she would see, and Sam could tell there was some hesitation. “Whatever you see, it’ll help us get rid of whatever took him, alright? This is for him. Not for you, Dean, or me. This is for him,”

       His eyes poured into hers deeply which sent a wave of reassurance through her as she placed her hand upon the glass. Image upon imagine soared through her mind as she shut her eyes to see them better play out. First, she saw an older man handling the window as he installed it into the hole in the wall while he was on a ladder outside. That flew from her eyesight as it was replaced with children leaping in front of the window, jumping from couch to couch. They were dressed as if it was the seventies with their short hair and bellbottomed jeans. After that slung itself away, Jacob appeared getting dressed in his favorite pajamas, turned away from the window. It was closed. It slowly started to rise as Jacob turned around to find the source of the noise was something creeping in through the hole. The lock turned violently, but before he could call for help, the being tore into him, rendering him speechless. He could hear her threatening to call his parents which he didn’t want, but he couldn’t open the door. Tears began to run down his face-.

      She yanked her hand away from the paneling before she went even deeper. Tears began to swell in her eyes as her throat closed tighter than a virgin’s legs on Easter. She rubbed her hand on her jeans to rid herself of the oil that she collected from it as she sniffled quietly. Sam stared at her with his eyes growing in concern. “It was closed. I saw the thing open the window from outside,”

      “Are you okay?” He asked. Of course he was concerned that the window had been closed, but he was more preoccupied with the emotional heap in front of him. She nodded her head.

      “Yeah, I’m fine. I just saw more than what was necessary,” The prophet explained as she sat on the floor next to Sam who was still crouching. “So what does the closed window mean?”

    He sighed and decided to give up on talking about her emotions. “Well, while you were doing that, whatever it’s called-,”

    “Reading,”

     “Okay, well. While you were reading, I noticed something on the outside of the window,” He revealed as he slid his finger against the outside ledge to reveal a yellow powder coating his finger.

     She furrowed her brows as she leaned in closer to it. “What? That’s just pollen,” She shrugged her shoulders in confusion.

   “Smell it,” He ordered and she did to which he received a face of disgust in return. He smiled softly at the childish reaction. “That’s sulfur. Whenever ghosts are somewhere, they sometimes leave this behind. A ghost wouldn’t need to open the window. It could just walk through walls if it wanted to,”

     She bit her lip in puzzlement. “So, you’re saying we’re hunting something that’s a ghost, but not a ghost?”

    Footsteps were beginning to sound on the stairs. Sam nodded his head. “Yeah, good job. The only thing we have to do is figure out what it is and how to kill it,”

    Dean and Castiel waltzed into the room suavely. Castiel began to fiddle with the Legos on the ground as Dean made his way over to the sitting prophet and younger brother. Dean decided to plop himself down as well. “Thought I’d join the campfire crew. What’s next? Are we going to sing Kumbaya My Lord?”

    Sam and the prophet rolled their eyes as Sam began to relay the information to his brother who had found nothing downstairs. “So, you’re saying we have a monster that’s not a monster, and a ghost that’s not a ghost? What the hell?” Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the drawing from a few hours ago as he gazed at it. His eyes flickered to her. “If this thing had to resemble any animal, what would it be?”

     Everyone in the room, including the distant Castiel, furrowed their brows in confusion. “I…I guess a human? Arms, legs, a face, a torso,”

      “Sammy, I know what this is. You remember a few years ago whenever we were in Douglas, Georgia and bodies kept going missing from the morgue?”

    Sam nodded his head, but still seemed to not make the connection. “Yeah…but how does this relate?”

     “Well, it turns out it was monster that liked to dine on dead bodies. I think this is the same thing, it’s just gone rogue. It’s killing people to eat their bodies,” Dean’s head bobbed enthusiastically as a lightbulb seemed to illuminate brightly over Sam’s head.

    “Oh, yeah! It was that Jikininki. That would explain why Y/N thought it was a ghost, left sulfur behind, and needed an entryway,”

     The prophet glared at the brothers with her eyes growing bigger by the second. “Okay. I’m sorry, but what the hell is a Jikininki?”

     Dean inhaled as he revealed the information. “It comes from Japanese Buddhism. It’s basically a ghost that’s reincarnated as a monster that feasts on dead bodies as punishment for being greedy in their physical life. In this case, the asswipe has started killing people in order to feed. All we need to know is how to gank the fu-,”

     Dean stopped his sputtering lips in their tracks as he observed the prophet, Sam doing the same. A glazed over look rocked around in her eyes, her mouth faintly hanging open. Dean placed his hand on her shoulder and shook her slightly. “Hey, Y/N. What’s the matter?”

    Her eyes focused back to him quickly as all the blood drained from her face. “It’s back,” She confessed as she returned to stare at a seemingly blank wall that was behind the figure of her mother-who was missing her skin, just like Jacob.

Title: The C-Team, Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Author: walkingdean

Word Count: 1, 853

Trigger Warnings: Cursing, Mention of Sex, Alcohol

Summary: Dean and the reader may have a connection that’s confusing for them both while Team Free Will learns information about the reader that she doesn’t even know herself. 

Fic:

The crisp gust of wind that had infiltrated everyone’s lungs punched through nostrils and mouths to escape their captivity after the sudden transportation. Dean and Sam’s expressions seemed relatively normal as to where her chest was heaving to understand what had just happened. Those depressing white walls and barred windows were exchanged for a hideously tiled floor and green walls that mimicked the image of what a kid would chuck up at a carnival after a few too many rides on the Tilt-A-Whirl. In fact, her stomach felt as queasy, if not more, than that child. Her eyes drifted to the new figure in the room- one she did not recognize. Something about him gave her a calming sensation, yet it was not the same as what she had received from Dean. This was more of a ‘you’re okay in my presence’ feel.  

               “Thanks, Cas,” Dean murmured as his feet skidded across the tile towards the fridge to retrieve a chilled beer that he felt was well deserved. Sam looked at his brother who had decided to drown the drink before ten o’clock with an irritated glare as he sat down on the bed, turning his eyes to her. His elbows were relaxed comfortably on his thighs with his head tilted upwards. The new man just stood there, glaring at her with an expression not even she could identify.

               After Dean took the first chug, he motioned his arm to the man in the room while his eyes shifted to you in a quick manner. “Y/N, this is Castiel. He’s an angel of the Lord, yada yada yada and all that jazz. He was here for the death of the dinosaurs and the birth of Madonna, not that those two events are too far apart,”

               Castiel dropped his bottom lip slightly as he glared at the loosened-up hunter. “I find Madonna’s music relatable. Yes, this is a material world. However, I am not a girl. But I still relate,” Dean rolled his eyes as he began to plunder through a book bag laying on the table in the small kitchen area. However, the sweet banter did not distract her mind and let the new information evade her understanding. She squinted her eyes slightly as she took a few steps towards Castiel, hiking her finger up as she poked his cheek softly. She repeatedly did this in curiosity for she could not comprehend how an ethereal being could inhabit a body, let alone be able to be touched with her coarse finger. She could even feel his stubble.

               Castiel’s eyes shifted to Sam in fear and concern to which she halted her experimentation. “How did you get in there?” She questioned him. Sam had a small grin form on his lips and Dean let out a chortle at the bluntness and child-like curiosity. Castiel coughed in his throat slightly.

               “A man named Jimmy granted me access to his physical form. His spiritual form resides in heaven now. And Dean, why are you laughing?” He turned his head to face the older brother with confidence as he awaited the answer. Dean strode back into the room with a beer in one hand and a pen and notepad in the other.

               “Ah, no reason. Just reminded me of something I heard in a porno once,” Dean nonchalantly stated as he stood next to her. Castiel tightened his eyes in confusion.

               “Are you talking about the kind of movie that had the pizza man and she couldn’t pay him for his work so she su-,”                

               Sam hurriedly jumped from the bed as he placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Hey, Cas. Come with me to the vending machine,” He suggested as he lead the innocent angel out, shutting the door loudly behind them. Dean sat the beer down on the bed side table, sat on the bed, and motioned for her to do the same. She slowly paced herself as she sat down for she did not know his intentions with this, but it was revealed to be harmless. He lifted the pad and pen to her and she stole it from his cracked hands.

               “Alright. To be honest here, Sam and I don’t know what we’re dealing with. We’ve dealt with all kind of things, but we’ve never seen or heard about what you described to us. Just try sketching it out so we can find what we’re hunting. I don’t know whether I should Molotov this fucker or drown him,” His eyes were peering into yours deeply because you two were so close. You could even feel his breath on your neck which smelt of beer.

               She nodded her head and stabbed the pen against the paper to begin the traumatic recreation of the creature. “I can probably do that. I was actually kind of worried when I saw this in your hand because I thought you would ask me to draw you like one of your French girls,” She giggled slightly, her cheeks turning scarlet from the sudden ounce of courage that was foreign to her; something about him made her want to venture out of her comfort. Dean began to rise from the comfy fortress as he made his way to the door with a cheeky smirk tearing his lips apart. Thoughts were running through his head because he wasn’t sure whether he was grinning from the humorous joke or from the closeness of their body’s just moments ago. He soon felt his own cheeks flushing harder than a toilet at a packed football game.

               “I prefer Asians, actually,” He replied as he exited the room to join Sam and Castiel outside. You freakin’ idiot, he thought. First you make a joke about porn and now your fetish? God, what is this girl doing to you? Get a grip. You’re Dean friggin’ Winchester.

               Dean’s line of sight was met with the two men in a deep conversation next to the neglected pool that was littered with leaves, algae, and battered beer cans. His boots scooted against the gravel which alerted the two to his presence in the discussion that was obviously intriguing both of them greatly. “I’ve got her in there drawing-,”

               Sam quickly interrupted his older brother’s train of thought with no hesitation as Castiel’s eyes widened in concern that danced elegantly in his blue eyes. “Cas thinks Y/N is a prophet!”

               The angel gave Sam a glare that was bathed in intense sass then directed his eyes to Dean once more. “I don’t think. I know. Now that Kevin is gone, a new prophet had to be created and she was the next name on the list,” Dean’s mouth dropped slightly while his irises pranced between the angelic being and his brother who were both awaiting a response. However, Castiel’s mouth quickly began to sputter information once again. “But she’s not a prophet like Kevin was with reading the tablets. You remember Chuck and how he could see you two in his dreams? Y/N’s ability is to see spirits, but that type of prophet hasn’t been seen for over 6,000 years,”

               “Wait,” The older Winchester interrupted with his hand raised in disagreement. “So, you’re saying that any medium out there is a prophet? If so, Sam was a little child of God not too long ago, buddy,”

               Castiel heaved a breath of irritation with the hunter’s assumption and cockiness. “No, Dickchester,” Sam tried to hide a smile at the comeback that left the angel’s lips so surely. The corners of his mouth bent down as they usually did when he tried conceal the evidence of amusement. “With the type of ‘medium’ that she is, she can improve her abilities beyond anything we’ve seen. God did away with that breed because of the complications that arose from it, but for some reason there’s a rare prophet sitting in that hotel room,”

               Dean crossed his arms as he absorbed the information while Sam interjected. “What do you mean ‘complications’? What happened?”

               Castiel sighed. “There were a couple plagues, floods, massacres that her kind created on purpose- the typical occurrences that take place in this sin-infested world. God realized that granting a prophet that much ability was dangerous as they were still human and born with sin. I just don’t know why he would allow one to be made now,”

               The three stood in silence as they all glared at the dusty and glass-riddled pavement beneath their feet. Different thoughts were swimming in the tides of everyone’s brains. Sam finally raised his voice. “We can’t kill her. She isn’t deadly, yet,”

               “But she will be,” Dean interjected. “Listen, I don’t wanna throw her away either. She deserves more than that for helping us with this case,”

               Sam pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers in concentration. “I mean, did all of the prophets go power-hungry, Castiel?”
               “Well, no. Only one didn’t fall to sin,” Her murmured as he scuffed his feet against the ground. “He’s known to have built a giant ship and saving many animals by God’s instructions. He lived for so long after the earth stopped it’s flooding so he could help the people who perished in the water deal with their death and move forward. Noah was a good man, but that was a rare case… I’m sorry, Sam, Dean. I don’t think this is going to end well,”

               The younger Winchester released his nose from the pressure by his fingers quickly as he began rambling. Dean could have sworn to God that a brilliant light bulb was glowing above Sam’s head. “When the Earth flooded, that was kind of the end of the world for then, right? Everyone died except Noah, his family, and some animals. Well, isn’t this the end of the world right now for us? Angels are just now getting back into Heaven, Crowley’s turning Hell into some sort of industrialized powerhouse, and God’s been vacant for a while. If this is the end for us and the end worked for Noah, then why can’t it work for Y/N?” Sam searched for validation from his audience which he received immediately from Dean, yet Castiel was still reluctant on his opinion.

               The angel stared at the door to the motel room that housed the dangerous weapon, but flashed his pupils back to the man on the soap box. “I don’t know if this will work, but there’s a chance it could. Just know that if this goes wrong-,”

               “We won’t let that happen,” Dean shoved his words into everyone’s ears, cutting off Castiel’s expression. The older hunter turned from the group and began to relocate to the room to chug even more beer, then Sam followed behind to have a cool drink himself. Castiel stood next to the pool alone as he gazed at the tainted water with remembrance of the flooding that happened so long ago infiltrating his mind. He raised his hand slowly as a glow emitted from his palm and transformed the pool into a healthy body that many could enjoy and walked away from the sight, retreating back to the motel room.

Title: The C-Team (Part One)

Author: walkingdean

Word Count: 2611

Trigger Warnings: Cursing, Mention of Blood, Mention of Death, Mention of Mental Illness, Mention of Sex

Summary: The reader is babysitting when something goes wrong. The Winchesters storm in, but it turns out she’s not completely inexperienced with the supernatural.

Fic:

It was drizzling. It was the type of downfall that reminded even the oldest of men of those magical days whenever they would beg their mother to go out and splash in the rain. It was the brand that an older sister could use to scare her squeamish brother by slightly hydroplaning on the way home from his practice. This breed of weather was natural to the citizens of Campbell Station as it was natural, but something that their programmed, simple minds weren’t used to was about to arise. No, it wasn’t some new fashion line that Kanye West proclaimed was the “step above the step above the future”. It was something that would cause even the most religiously-adamant humans to stop their prayers and question whether this world was theirs like their Father made them believe. But before you understand this bone-chilling tale, it is important that you know the story that made headlines- and to the notice of two very important men.

“Jacob! I told you to get out of the bath ten minutes ago!“ Her fingers rattled against the banister of the old wooden stairs. A crack of lightening flashed in the window behind her like a warning from God to get the child out of the water. Reluctantly, her feet relocated her to the top of the stairs where rustic paintings hung by thin strings that were so tense she could almost hear them screaming out for relief. The planks on the floor creaked with each ounce of pressure that was placed upon them as she slung the bathroom door open, revealing an eight year-old boy clad in only a towel, which was wrapped around his body up to his shoulders as if he were a housewife that had just gotten done with a well-deserved bubble bath- with rubber ducks.  He cocked his brown-haired head to the side with his blue eyes sparkling with sass as he placed his hands upon his hips.

“Don’t you know it’s not nice to walk in on somebody? I’m going to tell my parents that you don’t knock!” Jacob’s thin legs marched towards her with confidence as he slid past, heading to his room that was ever so mature with a sign on the door that sloppily read ‘Jacob’s Castle of Doom- Nobody Allowed’. She hiked her own legs up and urgently chased after the boy, yet her fist didn’t block the closing of the door in enough time to snag the young boy. She dropped the hardened hand as a sigh ran from her pursed lips. The lock turned fiercely.

“Jacob, you have three seconds to open this door before I call your parents,” Her red cheeks puffed out of anger as her temper began to boil. The door wasn’t moving.

“One…” the stern phrase spun from her tongue with irritation. “I’m so not getting paid enough for this,”

“Two…” Her hand began to intertwine its fingers around the brass door handle, anticipation filling her veins.

“Thr-,” A nightmarish shriek erupted like lava from an unnerved volcano from behind the wooden door. Her eyes grew in confusion as the screeching continued to get louder.  Swing after punch after blow from her hands did nothing the burst the door open. She felt that not even the wrath of God could force the forsaken thing open as she let her foot collide with the door next to the handle. The barrier exploded to reveal Jacob sprawled and submerged in a natatorium of scarlet blood that was spreading fast. His eyes flickered to her as a cry for help for he could no longer speak from the pain that was eating away at his flesh. But it was not only the pain, but the ghastly figure that lingered above his demolished body, sucking every ounce of life from the boy. The being made its way to Jacob’s face which he dissolved down the bone, rendering the boy unrecognizable besides the crystal irises that remained in their sockets. Red orbs pervaded through all of the blood with their glow that paralyzed her in her spot as they charged towards her, but before the monster could ravage her body as well it evaporated and left behind a gust of wind—and a hard story to tell Jacob’s parents.

Dean slammed the laptop down in front of Sam with a sense of pride and success that didn’t help alleviate the younger brother’s irritation with the treatment of his electronic as he rolled his eyes and took a look at the screen. Dean looked on with an eyebrow raised in amusement as he awaited a response from the concentrated man. His hazel eyes met his brother’s green gems with perplexity.

“I know, right? That’s some freaky shit right here,” Dean pointed to the device with certainty as he pulled up a chair across from Sam in the bunker’s library. He rested an elbow upon the surface of the mahogany table that used to be the home to many poker games back in the day. Sam raised his brows at his older brother in disappointment.

“Dean, we’re not doing this. There’s tons of better cases out there somewhere,” He slung the laptop back around to where the crude light was no longer blaring in eyes and now in the presence of his brother. Dean had an expression similar to a toddler’s whenever they can’t buy their favorite cereal.

“But, Sammy.  A girl who magically wakes up with three boobs? We can’t pass this up. Some extreme devil worship could be at work here,”

“Or extreme, hidden plastic surgery,” Sam retaliated quickly with reassurance. “I know the field has been a little barren lately, but keep looking. There’s gotta be something worth our time and not our porn fantasies,”

The older brother rolled his eyes at the rejection as he began to surf around for anything the least bit supernatural. Links upon links swirled around the pages like the sky whenever a rider is riding the teacups. Dean began to read some of the news stories out loud to Sam who was too caught up in reading an old journal he found in the study.

“Okay, Sammy. The best possibilities I’ve found so far are cannibals that are feasting on senior citizens in Oklahoma or-. Holy shit,” Dean’s mouth dropped open with shock and intrigue that he felt ashamed to express, even to himself. His eyes focused in on one headline in particular.

“Dean…” The younger Winchester shut the journal and looked at his brother with concern dancing vigorously in his eyes.

He tore his eyes away from the screen to let them lock with Sam’s in astonishment as his lips trembled in fascination. “So, this babysitter was watching this kid while the parents were out on a date. She claims a ghost cleaned the kid like a barbecue rib on the Fourth of July in less than five seconds flat. It went for her, but then it disappeared. They have her in a mental hospital with a diagnosis of schizophrenia, mania, and sociopathic tendencies,”

Sam grimaced at the poor girl’s fate. “Yeesh. Most people just get the crazy card and are sent on their way, but this girl is getting the full on treatment. Says a lot about how the kid was skinned,”

Dean nodded his head in agreement as he shut the computer down and began to stand up. “So, are we gonna do this or do I need to go by myself and leave you to read some more of the Anne Frank chronical over there?” He stated with a sarcastic smile. Sam rolled his eyes as he agreed and left the library, leaving behind his cherished reading material.

The eerie white walls that cuddled the equally pale floors reminded him of the last time he was in the hospital. Dean had a habit of staying away from healthcare facilities that didn’t specialize in curing gunshot wounds with liquor and floss like he had grown accustomed to. It was when Sam had lied in a bed unconscious for days which felt like years until a mysterious and troublesome solution had been made apparent. He had learned his lesson with angel possession and the painful arsenal that it carries: death, hurt, and a really bitchy brother. But this time he wasn’t here for familial matters. He was here for what he had been doing all of his life- saving people, hunting things, the family business.

               “So, why would the feds exactly get involved with a sicko like this?” The nurse pondered aloud. He kept walking with authority ahead of the brothers as if being a nurse at a low-grade mental institution granted him the right to act better than others. “I mean, it’s not even what she did. It’s the fact that she’s fucking crazy is what freaks me out. When I give her medicine, I’m always paranoid she’s gonna think I’m the ‘ghost’ that ate that poor little boy and attack me or something,”

               Sam locked eyes with his brother with a mutual understanding of what to do. “Hey, uh, it would make sense if you were scared of her for, I don’t know, eating a person. Mental illness doesn’t mean someone’s crazy,” Sam confessed as he saw the nurse shake his head slightly, pause at a door and begin to unlock it. The nurse back away and swayed his arms in a way to motion for the men to make their way into the clean-kept room. The only things that were inside were a mattress and a barred window that barely let any sunlight crawl through. The sun could be perched right outside, and someone would never be able to see it’s brilliance through the slits. Along the mattress sat a girl with a frail frame. Her cheeks were sunken in with her brown eyes that had a dull glow to them that mimicked the radiance they once possessed. Her body was curled into a ball onto the stale palette, her face gazing at the men I silence. Not a single bit of her body moved, much like Jacob’s door.

               Dean and Sam quickly erased their fed aura and replaced it with their rugged, ‘I know too much for my own good’ dispositions. They both stood in front of the girl, Sam’s brooding figure lurching much higher than his brother’s. “Hi, Y/N. I’m Sam. This is my brother Dean,” he began awkwardly. I was in an asylum once. You’d think I would know how to go about this, he thought to himself.

               “So, we know you’re not crazy. Hell, our lives are crazy so whatever tea you’re sipping from, sister, we have the whole gallon,” Dean interrupted his brother during the awkward silence. Her eyes immediately shot to him as his eyes ran shivers down her spine. They had the same glimmer as Jacob’s.  “So, this whole ghost thing. Did you smell anything funny, kind of like eggs recently? Any cold spots, things moving by themselves, electronics messing-,”

               “It wasn’t a ghost,” She finally spoke with a cracking voice from a lack of water. She had been rejecting food and water for days from either trauma or protest; she wasn’t sure herself. If it was for protest, it would be against everyone who assumed she was crazy. “I mean, I said that at first, but now I know it’s not. It didn’t give off the vibe as a ghost,” She began to squirm slightly from the excitement of finally releasing her thoughts to someone she thought might listen. They were the first people to even consider the supernatural aspects of the situation.

               Sam cocked his head in interest as he made a quick glance with his brother. “What do you mean ‘vibe’? Do you mean you’ve been involved with ghosts before?”

She removed her elbows that were caging her knees to reveal more of her face. It was pale from the lack of sunlight and nutrients, but more so the fright that she had felt lately. Sam was more concerned with an answer to the question at hand, but Dean was captivated by her face. Not in a negative way, but it put him in a trance of relaxation that he hadn’t felt in a long time by just looking into someone’s eyes. Not since his mom.

“You guys said you drink from the crazy fountain, right?” She asked as her eyes traded between each of their glares. She sighed as she began to prepare herself. “Well, I can sort of see these things—things that other people can’t see. Whenever you see a blank hallway, I see a man standing with an ax taking a nap in his frontal lobe. If you feel a cold spot, I see your grandmother hugging you- or slapping you based on your life decisions,”

The younger Winchester’s mouth dropped slightly while Dean’s lips came together in thought. “So you’re a medium?” The older brother asked in a calming way. There was no sense of doubt in his speech which she appreciated even more than usual given her stressful week.

“Y-yeah, if you want to call it that. But whatever attacked Jacob- that was no spirit. That was something that looked like it crawled from the depths of hell. It was grey with slimy skin and red eyes. Super skinny and tall. Its teeth were sharp like razor blades that tore-,” Her voice stopped as the memories of the attack came back. “Listen. All I know is that was some sort of evil thing. There was nothing pure about it,”

Dean sat himself up from leaning against the wall and crouched down next to her without breaching into her space on the mattress. “I know that this is a hard thing to talk about and Sam and I are grateful for the information you’ve given us. We hunt things like this- the things that do nasty shit like what happened to Jacob and we’re gonna find this son of a bitch and we’re gonna gank him. But we need you for this. Sam and I can’t sense stuff like you can. Are you in?”

She gazed into his eyes for what seemed like eternity while electricity shot through them both with the intimate connection. Her eyes shifted to Sam who was supporting Dean in his efforts to recruit her. “If it means I get to leave this place, I’m game.”Dean tapped her on her knee thankfully as he helped her up to her feet. She placed her hands on her hips and looked out the window to see the nurse standing guard right outside. “So, how are we gonna do this? I can’t exactly skip out of here,”

Sam grinned as he wrinkled his nose slightly in retort. Her mind began to swirl with possible ideas of what they could be planning. Did they have a trampoline outside her window to fall down on? But how would they get through the bars?

“We have a friend that can get us through pinches like this. Just close your eyes and you won’t feel a thing, okay?” Sam drowned his eyes into hers with reassurance that she trusted. She couldn’t explain it, but for some reason she trusted these two with no voice in her head begging her not too. There was no stranger-danger vibe even though she had only met them five minutes ago. They felt like childhood friends that she had come across in the supermarket. She closed her eyes while Dean called out the name ‘Castiel’. A cold front circulated through her body as she felt the world outside her eyelids spinning and the world faded to black.