Supernatural, Hunting, Living And Love (Revisited)

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love (Revisited) Part 3

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

6.5k word count

Summary The part in which you begin to question if Dean actually has feelings for you or is just stringing you along. Also you prove your a kick ass hunter through the power of research.

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers, slow-burn

Warnings mention and description of death, s-assault, talks of people with disabilities in a negative light. Your disability doesn't make you a burden! You are amazing, you are loved!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I cried for what felt like an eternity, held tightly in Dean's arms. At some point, he had moved us over to sit on his bed, never once letting me go. When I finally pulled myself together enough to move away from him, I could only manage to stare at the ground in front of the bed.

"Never seen a dead body before?" Sam asked gently.

I nodded, still unable to speak, my voice too shaky to trust. The room fell into a comfortable silence. Dean stood up from the bed and began moving around, retrieving his bag from a random corner. He pulled out a Metallica shirt and brought it over to me.

"You can borrow this for now, so you don't have to go out to your car to get your own clothes," he said, handing me the shirt.

I accepted it and walked off to the bathroom to change. I hung my wet swimsuit over the towel rack and made my way back to Dean's bed. The boys nodded in acknowledgment as I crawled under the covers, hoping that if I lay there long enough with my eyes closed, sleep would eventually come. But my mind had other ideas.

As I tried to sleep, I overheard the boys talking.

"This has really shaken her, Dean," Sam said softly.

"I know, Sammy. I wanted to keep her out of this life. We're supposed to save people, not drag them into our kind of crazy," Dean replied, frustration evident in his voice.

"Come on, man. She chose this for herself. She had the opportunity to walk away, but she decided to take up this life. There's not much we can do about that."

"I just want to make sure she's somewhere I can keep an eye on her. I want her to be safe," Dean said, his voice tense.

"You can't expect her to just pack up and leave, Dean. What's gotten into you, man? You've never acted like this."

"She's... I don't know... she's different."

"You're in love."

"Dude, don't even go there," Dean snapped, ending the conversation.

The room fell silent, and eventually, I drifted off. When I woke up, it was dark outside. The cheap alarm clock next to the bed read 4:30 a.m. I sat up and looked around the room. Dean was asleep on the lounge, and Sam was in his bed. I felt too restless to sleep, so I quietly tiptoed across the room to grab Sam's laptop from the table. I took it back to Dean's bed and started going over the information Sam and Dean had gathered while I was asleep. It seemed they hadn't gotten much further than I had.

I knew burying myself in the case wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I needed to stop whatever was happening from hurting anyone else. But since we had all arrived at a dead end, it meant we needed to look at this from a different angle. I closed Sam's laptop and snuck out to my car to grab a change of clothes. I quietly slipped into the bathroom, changed out of Dean's shirt, retrieved Sam's laptop from the bed, and slipped quietly out of the hotel room. Rather than take my car and risk waking the boys, I decided to walk. I just wanted food and free Wi-Fi, and there was only one place I knew where I could get both: McDonald's.

I walked the six blocks to the nearest McDonald's, ordered more hash browns than should be legally allowed, and took a seat in a back corner while I waited for them to be ready. I opened Sam's laptop and began going over all the information again. I pulled up the details on all the victims and the pool, rereading everything. My hash browns arrived, and I ate them while pouring over the information, but nothing stood out. Twelve deaths now, and there seemed to be no connection between them—different ages, races, genders, religions. Not a single overlap, and nothing that stood out as a reason why these people.

Even when I removed deaths that could reasonably be discounted, like the first death or the boy who apparently slipped down the stairs and the twins who drowned in the wave pool, the puzzle still didn’t add up. It was frustrating. I groaned and sank back into the highly uncomfortable plastic chair. I took a glance around the now busy McDonald's, then checked the time in the bottom right-hand corner of the laptop. 6:23 p.m. My eyes widened as I realized I'd been sitting in the same spot all day. I hurriedly packed up the laptop and went to retrieve my phone, confused as to why Sam or Dean hadn’t been trying to call me all day. My hands rummaged through my pockets, coming up empty. I dumped out my messenger bag, finding nothing. Shit. I mentally cursed.

I quickly shoved everything back into my bag before sprinting into the parking lot, hoping I had simply left my phone in the car. A quick glance, however, showed no sign of my car. Right, I walked here. I groaned, rubbed my hands over my face, and began the walk back to the hotel. Dean was probably thinking I'd done something stupid, and Sam probably thought I stole his laptop. I mean, technically, I did, but I was going to return it, and I never intended to be gone all day.

The walk back to the hotel seemed to take twice as long as the walk to McDonald's. But when the hotel finally came into sight, I quickened my pace. I came to a quick stop, however, when I heard arguing in the room.

“I’m telling you, Dean, she might not come back,” Sam yelled. “And she probably took more than just my laptop.”

“Oh, so you think she took your laptop and God knows what else but left behind her phone and her car that cost way more than anything we own?”

“I mean, how well do we really know her, Dean?”

“If I may intercede, could it not be that she is somewhere researching the case and that time ran from her grasp?” A third voice I didn’t recognize chimed in.

“What…do you mean time got away from her?” Dean asked, baffled.

“Is that how you say it? If so, that’s what I meant to say,” the voice responded.

“Hate to say it, Sammy, but I agree with the angel,” Dean said.

I reached out and knocked on the door, not wanting to barge in while tempers were clearly high. The room fell silent. Heavy boot steps made their way towards the door. There was a moment of silence before a quiet "Thank God" could be heard from the other side of the door. The door swung open to reveal just Dean and Sam in the room. I was certain I had heard a third voice. I stepped quietly past Dean into the room. From the look on Sam’s face, I could tell Dean must have made some gesture behind me directed at him. I glanced toward the bathroom, expecting to see the third person, or at least for the door to be closed, signaling someone was inside. But to my shock and confusion, the door was open, and the bathroom was empty.

“Who were you talking to?” I asked, looking between them, confused.

“We weren’t talking to anyone,” Dean said, glancing over at Sam. “Maybe you heard the TV,” he motioned to the TV that was on but muted.

“Anyway, where have you been?” Sam asked, changing the subject, though he was clearly still mad at me.

“I went to McDonald's to use their Wi-Fi and continue researching. I was up at 4:30, and I didn’t want to wake you,” I explained, looking over at Dean, who had moved to sit on the end of his bed. “Sorry I took your laptop without asking, Sam. I left mine behind at my mother’s when she kicked me out.”

I handed Sam back his laptop. He took it without so much as a thank you and immediately began checking it over. I wanted to scoff and roll my eyes but knew that would only piss him off more.

“So, did you find anything?” Dean asked.

“Nothing. I even tried removing the deaths that could reasonably be written off as accidents, and even that didn’t resolve anything. I am, however, confident that we’re likely dealing with a vengeful spirit,” I said.

“And how did you reach that conclusion?” Sam scoffed, tossing his laptop on his bed.

“We’ve ruled out burial grounds and anything sacred. Then, if you look at location and the fact that all the deaths were witnessed and nothing supernatural was seen, it leaves a very short list. Of that list, I felt that a spirit was the most likely,” I explained, keeping my eyes locked with Sam.

“Why a vengeful spirit? Why not a water sprite?” Sam asked with a smirk.

“Seriously, Sammy? A fairy? Have you ever, in all your years of hunting, found any reliable concrete evidence that fairies are real?” I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms, met with silence from Sam. “That’s what I thought. Spirit it is.”

Dean sat on his bed, a smirk plastered on his face, clearly amused. “So if that’s the case, then I guess we should head back to the pool and ask more about these deaths,” Dean said, clapping his hands together.

Sam silently huffed and made his way to the door. Dean muttered something along the lines of "he’ll get over it" before moving to the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on while I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. With nothing else to do for the night and both boys otherwise occupied, I retrieved Dean’s shirt from the corner where I had tossed it that morning and got ready for bed. I was just chilling on the bed, enjoying a nice stretch and yawn when Dean stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but his towel. The boy really knew how to make a girl blush.

“Sorry, the room was quiet, so I just thought you’d, you know, left,” Dean said awkwardly.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, unable to form a proper sentence. Dean seemed frozen in place too, his expression unreadable. My eyes wandered over Dean’s chiseled chest. It was clear he worked out—a necessity in his line of work, but it still caught me off guard. Before I could stop myself, I was standing in front of him, my hand reaching out to trace the contours of his chest down to his stomach. His skin was marred with old scars, and I felt the muscles twitch beneath my touch.

Dean placed a finger under my chin, gently lifting my head so our eyes met. The intensity in his gaze made my heart race. Neither of us moved for several moments, locked in a silent standoff. When it became clear neither of us was going to break away, Dean began to close the distance between us.

“I brought dinner,” Sam suddenly announced, walking in the door.

Dean and I jumped apart, startled, as Dean made a beeline for his clothes, quickly pulling on a shirt before heading back into the bathroom. I silently cursed Sam for the interruption. He glanced awkwardly between the now-closed bathroom door and me, clearly realizing he had walked in at the worst possible moment. Sam didn’t say anything, and I took a seat at the table as he began to silently dish out the fast food he’d bought. Dean’s and my dinner was burgers, while Sam had opted for some kind of salad. Dean emerged from the bathroom moments later, fully clothed. He grabbed his burger and fries and left the room, mumbling something about going to see a friend.

Sam and I ate in silence before he went to shower. I retreated to Dean’s bed, pulling his shirt up over my nose to breathe in his scent. The comforting mix of sandalwood, leather, whiskey, and gasoline filled my senses, but I was jolted back to reality when Sam suddenly exited the bathroom and started talking.

“What’s happening between you and Dean?”

“I...uh…what do you mean?” I stammered, caught off guard.

“After we left last time, Dean kept talking about you. He was hoping we’d see you again, but at the same time, he was hopeful you’d listen to him and take his advice,” Sam said as he sat on his bed. “He clearly loves you, but I don’t think having you around is best for Dean.”

“If there was anything between Dean and me, it would be none of your business,” I snapped, my anger flaring. “I love Dean. I’ve felt myself falling for him from the moment I met him. I hoped you guys would come back, but I accepted that you probably wouldn’t. Besides, who are you to say what’s best for Dean?”

“I’m his brother,” Sam yelled, his voice filled with frustration. “Having you around is distracting him, and in this line of work, distraction guarantees death.”

Sam’s outburst scared me, and all I could muster was a quiet “Goodnight, Sam” before curling up in Dean’s bed. Sam stormed out of the room, and moments later, I heard the roar of Dean’s Impala as it drove off. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I cried myself to sleep in the now quiet room.

When I woke the next morning, Sam and Dean were already discussing their game plan for the day. I sat up in bed, listening to their conversation before heading to the bathroom for a quick shower. After getting dressed, I packed my swimsuit into a bag and slung it over my shoulder. Dean grabbed his car keys and asked if I was joining them in his car or if I’d be driving my own. I chose to go with Dean to save on gas. The less money I had to spend, the better.

We drove in silence until we reached the pool. The parking lot was nearly empty. Dean found a spot close to the entrance, parked, and turned off the engine. He asked me to go in ahead of them to check if the police were still around. I made my way into the building, scanning the area from the reception desk. There was no crime scene tape, and no signs of police presence.

“Sad, wasn’t it?” a voice said from behind me.

“What?” I asked, turning to see a woman standing beside me.

“Didn’t you hear about the suicide two days ago?” she asked.

“Oh, they ruled that a suicide?” I replied, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah, they said the girl had been sexually assaulted a couple of weeks ago, and that was apparently her breaking point. Poor thing.”

I nodded in agreement as the woman walked off towards the pools. I headed back outside to inform the boys, who were now dressed in their suits and digging through the trunk. I wasn’t going to question when or how they had changed. I grabbed my bag from the back seat and filled them in on the details of the recent death. Dean and Sam exchanged a knowing look before we all headed back into the pool. I paid to swim while Sam and Dean flashed their badges, continuing their story about investigating on behalf of a victim’s family.

As Sam and Dean went off to speak with the staff, I wandered around the pool area, trying to piece together anything that could help with the case. I checked an information wall in the reception area, but it said nothing about the incidents. I walked around to the locations where the previous accidents had occurred but found nothing out of the ordinary. Frustrated, I was about to head back to Sam and Dean when I overheard two familiar voices that made my blood run cold.

“I swear she was here the other day with two hot guys.”

“Oh my god, I always knew she was such a slut. You watch—soon she’ll be pregnant and won’t have any idea who the father is.”

“Look, there she is.”

“Hi, Rachel. Jordan. Do you work here too?” I asked, panic slowly creeping in.

“Yeah, what of it? It pays well,” Jordan replied, crossing her arms.

“Oh, okay. I-I was just going to go for a swim while I wait for my boyfriend to finish up.”

“Boyfriend or boyfriends?” Rachel snickered.

Not wanting to continue the conversation, I quickly turned and fled. I had been outside in a general seating area, but I made my way back into the main swimming complex. I spotted Sam talking with a lifeguard near the wave pool, but I didn’t want to face him after last night, so I hurried on, continuing my search for Dean. It wasn’t until I saw him speaking with the man behind the snack counter that I realized how badly I was shaking. Dealing with my high school bullies had rattled me more than I wanted to admit.

I changed direction and headed for the changing rooms instead. I needed to calm down before continuing the investigation. If there was one thing I agreed with Sam on, it was that distractions could get me killed. I made my way to the sinks and splashed some cool water on my face, staring at myself in the mirror as I tried to push down the anger and fear that were consuming me. Fear of the bullies and anger at myself for still not having the courage to stand up to them. After a few deep breaths, I dried my face and headed back out to the pool area where I had last seen Dean.

A quick glance at the snack counter told me he was no longer there, starting my search for him all over again. Luckily, it didn’t last long. I spotted him in the adults-only area above one of the 25-meter pools, which had sun chairs and a spa. Unfortunately, he was speaking with them. I sucked in a deep breath and walked towards the area, steeling myself. I walked up beside Dean and laced my fingers with his, standing silently by his side as I listened to their conversation. Dean was asking questions about the other accidents that had occurred at the pool, but at the same time, he was absentmindedly rubbing circles into my hand with his thumb. It was incredibly distracting, and I found myself staring at our hands, lost in thoughts about last night.

"Here’s a question: How does someone as unattractive as her end up with someone as handsome as you?" My head snapped up to see Rachel giggling at her own comment.

"Yeah, it just doesn’t add up unless you’re only with her because of her money," Jorden chimed in.

"Or maybe because she was easy to get into bed," Rachel added with a laugh.

"Shut up, both of you," Dean said sharply, turning to face them. "Y/N is the most beautiful, amazing, intelligent, sweetest person I’ve ever met. God knows I don’t deserve her, but here she is right next to me, and that makes me one hell of a lucky bastard." He said this with a look of intense sincerity before turning back to me with a smile.

I was stunned into silence, my cheeks burning with a deep blush. Clearly, Dean’s words had left them speechless too, as they quickly excused themselves. Dean watched them leave before turning back to me.

"So, did you find anything?" Dean asked, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Oh, uh, a woman told me that the death the other day has been ruled a suicide and that the girl had been assaulted about a week ago," I said.

"Assaulted? Did she mention if the friend who was with her here was also there then?" Dean asked, a sudden realization crossing his face.

"No, she didn’t. Why?" I asked, puzzled.

"I think I know what’s going on. We need to find Sam," Dean said urgently.

Dean, still holding my hand, led me out of the adults-only area. He scanned the pools and seating areas before dragging me up the ramps toward the reception. Dean’s determined stride must have looked intimidating, a grown man pulling what appeared to be a teenage girl. I felt the eyes of the onlookers on us as we reached the reception and practically sprinted to Sam, who was talking to someone at the desk.

Sam looked at our interlaced hands with a questioning expression before Dean, realizing we were still holding hands, awkwardly let go. He rubbed his hand on his suit jacket before shoving it into his pants pocket and waited for Sam to finish his conversation. Sam thanked the receptionist and led us to a more private corner.

"I think I’ve figured out what’s going on here, Sammy," Dean said before Sam could speak.

"Well, fill us in," I said, both exhausted from running and impatient.

"I’m pretty sure our spirit is viewing these people as burdens on those closest to them," Dean explained.

"Care to elaborate?" Sam asked, crossing his arms.

"One lifeguard mentioned that the American victim’s mother said they were here to see a world-class behavioral specialist to help calm down the kid. Another lifeguard told me that one of the victims fell over the railing from the spa area to the concrete below—she was in a wheelchair, and she died instantly," Dean said.

"And the assault—she would have been depressed," I whispered.

"So what? That doesn’t bring us any closer to figuring out who the spirit is," Sam said. "It could be someone who felt like a burden or someone who saw others as a burden."

"Then we need to look at all the deaths and figure out who fits the pattern and who doesn’t. We know it has to be someone who died here," I said, looking between them.

"Then let’s investigate each victim more closely," Dean agreed.

Sam and I nodded, and we all headed to the parking lot. As we stepped outside, Dean was rummaging for his car keys, Sam was absorbed in his phone, and I was staring at the ground. None of us paid much attention to the parking lot until Dean looked up, his face contorted with anger.

"What the hell?!" he exclaimed. Sam and I turned to see the empty space where the Impala had been.

"Oh dear, was that your car?" A familiar voice came from behind us.

"You bitch!" Dean shouted, storming toward Jorden.

"I’m sorry, but the car was illegally parked," Jorden said, unfazed by Dean’s rage. She maintained a smirk as Dean nearly confronted her.

"Baby was parked perfectly!" Dean yelled in her face.

"Well, not when I came out," Jorden said with a dismissive shrug, turning on her heel and walking back into the building.

"Come on, I know the way to the impound lot," I sighed, leading the way.

Dean walked beside me, while Sam trailed behind us, his gaze burning into the back of my head. I had no idea what his problem was. All we needed to do was finish the case, and then they could go back to the U.S., where they wouldn’t have to see me again—assuming no more cases came up here. The walk to the impound lot took nearly 45 minutes, during which Sam’s intense stare and Dean’s monologue about his car made the time drag. I stayed silent, plagued by the thought that if I hadn’t been here, Jorden wouldn’t have targeted Dean, and Sam wouldn’t be so worried.

"Oh, thank God," Dean said suddenly, breaking my reverie.

"Oh, we’re here," I said, looking at the impound lot sign in a daze.

"Hey, Sammy, why don’t you go get the car, and I’ll wait out here with Y/N?" Dean said, his voice tinged with concern.

Sam scoffed, rolled his eyes, and walked into the lot. I watched him disappear among the rows of cars, some crushed and piled high. Dean observed me watching Sam, and once he was sure Sam was out of earshot, he spoke.

"What’s going on with you?" Dean asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Huh? What? N-nothing is wrong," I stuttered.

"Don’t even try it, short stack. You’ve been silent since we left the pool. So are you going to tell me what the problem is, or am I going to have to make you talk about it?" Dean’s voice grew serious.

"Honestly, it’s fine. It’s probably just in my head," I tried to smile.

"Oh no, you’re not getting out of it that easily," Dean said firmly. "Now spill."

"It’s just that I feel like I’m the problem," I sighed. "Everything that’s happened today could have been avoided if I weren’t here. Hell, everything that happened last night might have been prevented too if I think about it." I hugged myself awkwardly.

"Okay, first off, you are not the problem. You’re far from it," Dean said, uncrossing his arms and pointing at me. "Secondly, I never want to hear you call yourself a problem again."

“Well, Sam seems to think I’m a pretty big issue, and Jorden only did what she did because of me,” I said, my voice breaking as tears began to fall. Before I could stop them, Dean had me wrapped in his arms. One arm was around my back, his thumb gently rubbing my arm, while the other hand cradled my head against his chest. He kissed the top of my head and rested his chin lightly on it.

"I’ll talk to Sam," Dean said softly. "And as for those girls, I think they’d have been snobby no matter who was here."

I nodded, resting against Dean. It felt like an eternity before Sam returned. Dean released me, and we put some space between us. We talked about Jorden and Rachael, recounting their high school antics. I admitted how I still felt like a failure for not standing up to them. Dean, however, pointed out how he’d noticed the envy in their eyes whenever they saw me. He even mentioned how he’d make it obvious he was checking me out, just to see them squirm with jealousy. I chuckled at that, wishing I could’ve seen their faces.

Sam arrived with four bags of stuff but no Impala.

“Where’s Baby?” Dean asked, his anger palpable.

“Sorry, Dean. They’re right about to close. I paid the fine, and they said we could pick up the car in the morning,” Sam explained.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed. “Did you at least check for damage?”

“Uh...” Sam looked nervously between Dean and the pavement. “The passenger side is dented. It looks like they pushed it with another car. Sorry, Dean.”

“SON OF A BITCH!” Dean yelled.

I quickly placed a hand on Dean’s arm to get his attention. “It’s okay, Dean. We can go to my mum’s place for the night. She won’t be home anyway, and we can come back first thing in the morning to get Baby and assess the damage then.”

“I’m gonna kill them,” Dean’s voice trembled with anger as he tried to calm down.

I took Dean’s hand in mine and began leading him away from the impound lot. Sam asked how far the walk was and how I could be so sure my mum wouldn’t be home. I told them it was about a 20-minute walk—a distance I knew well from my teenage years, dealing with my car being impounded for various reasons. My mum worked abroad most of the year, managing a large baby and children’s business. She was rarely home, spending her time between London and Sweden. I’d been looking after myself since I was 14, often hosting friends like Theresa to avoid feeling too alone.

By the time I finished explaining, we were at my mum’s house. I led them down the steep driveway to the side gate. It was unlocked, so I lifted the metal latch and walked into the small backyard, which hadn’t changed since my last visit. I entered through the sliding door into an open living room, kitchen, and dining area, with a staircase leading upstairs.

“Those two lounges are pull-out sofa beds,” I pointed to the metal sofas that looked like they were from the '80s. “I’ll be sleeping through that sliding door, which is my old room. The door next to it is a bathroom with another sliding door into my room.”

“Oh, I have to see your room,” Dean said with a laugh.

He went straight for the sliding door, pushing it open and stepping inside. His immediate burst of laughter drew Sam in, and I followed, feeling embarrassed by the state of my room. The pink and purple walls, the fairy bedspread, and, most mortifying of all, the life-sized cutout of Gerard Way taped to the ceiling above my bed.

“Are you sure you have the right house?” Sam laughed. “I mean, come on—fairies?”

“It was a phase,” I huffed.

“Sam, did you see the poster on the ceiling?” Dean laughed.

“Oh, get out, both of you,” I said, waving my arms around.

The boys left the room, still chuckling. I locked the sliding door and the bathroom door, craving a moment of peace and a hot shower. I rummaged through my cupboard, found an old band shirt I used to sleep in, and headed for the shower. As the hot water washed away the day’s stress, I allowed myself to relax. Afterward, I dressed, dried off, and climbed into bed. In the silence, I heard Sam and Dean speaking softly in the lounge area.

“She’s a distraction for you, Dean,” Sam’s voice was hushed but intense.

“That doesn’t give you the right to upset her. Besides, once we’re through this case, we can go home, and you can go back to pretending she never existed,” Dean replied.

“But you won’t. You’ll always wonder if she’s okay, if she’s alive,” Sam said. “This is why hunters don’t get happily ever afters.”

“Don’t worry so much, Sammy. Once we’re home, I can hit up a few bars, get laid, and get her out of my system. It’s worked in the past; why wouldn’t it work this time?”

I couldn’t listen anymore. I looked up at the poster on my ceiling and cried, letting the tears come until I fell asleep, just as I had on so many nights in that room.

“You know she’s different, Dean,” Sam said.

“Oh yeah? How would you know that?” Dean asked.

“You love her. It’s obvious,” Sam shrugged. “After we were here last, you kept bringing her up. You literally got every form of social media to track her down and see what she was up to. You were worried about her then, but now that you have her number, what happens if she doesn’t message or call you? What will you do?”

“You know what? I’m done with this conversation,” Dean said, turning his back to Sam, trying to get some sleep.

Suddenly, I was jolted awake by a familiar voice yelling from the lounge room. “Who the hell are you? Why are you in my house?”

It was my mother. I jumped out of bed and raced into the lounge.

“Mum, it’s okay. They’re my friends,” I said, stepping into the room.

“Y/N, what are you doing here? I thought you were traveling and had no intention of ever coming back,” Mum said.

“We just needed somewhere to crash for the night while Dean’s car gets fixed. We’ll head out in the morning. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“I wasn’t. I just flew in early this morning from London. Are you going to introduce your friends?” Mum asked, gesturing to Sam and Dean.

“This is Sam and that’s Dean. They’re brothers,” I said, pointing to each one.

“Are you sleeping with them?” Mum asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mum! Seriously, why would you ask that?” I almost shouted.

“Sorry, ma’am, we’re just friends. Travel buddies,” Dean spoke up, trying to defuse the situation.

“Oh, American. I see. Figures you’d end up with someone American. It was always going to be that or someone British,” Mum shrugged.

“Seriously, Mum,” I sighed.

“What? I’m just stating the facts. Would you boys like breakfast before you all rush off? God knows my daughter can’t stand me, and now that she knows I’m home, she’ll be dying to leave as soon as possible,” Mum said dramatically.

“That sounds great, thank you very much,” Sam said with a smile.

I sighed and went back to my room to change. I grabbed another old band shirt and a pair of ripped skinny jeans, then packed a suitcase with items I should have brought earlier—my laptop, extra clothes, and my jewelry box. I placed the suitcase next to the boys’ duffle bags and headed upstairs to the kitchen.

Sam and Dean were already at the dining table, chatting and laughing with my mum, who was busy cooking pancakes. I sat silently at the table, listening to their conversation. Dean seemed to be getting along great with my mum, which only made the previous night more painful. I knew I was falling for him, but if he planned to leave, return to the U.S., and pretend I never existed, why make a big deal about not letting me out of his sight? Why go out of his way to comfort me?

“Okay, breakfast is ready,” Mum said cheerfully.

“Oh, this looks amazing, Miss Y/L/N. Thank you,” Dean said, taking the plate of pancakes from my mum and placing it on the table. The boys began to dig in, enjoying what was probably their first home-cooked meal in a long time. The conversation with my mother continued effortlessly, and I couldn’t help but notice how convincingly Dean lied about how we met, what they did for a living, and why they were in Australia. It made me question if everything he’d told me was a lie. Maybe I needed to be more like Dean and just move on after this case was over.

Guess who just deleted the entire Masterlist for Supernatural Hunting Living and Love. Yep my tired ass clicked delete instead of edit. All I wanted to do was update the list!

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love (Revisited) Part 2

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

4.5k word count

Summary After completely ignoring Deans warning you find yourself reunited with the Winchesters after a perplexing case brings them back down under.

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

Warnings mention and description of death

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

It's been a year since I met the Winchesters. I tried to return to my old life, but the knowledge that there were creatures out there that could kill me at any moment made it impossible to concentrate. So, I decided to hit the road. I packed my most important belongings into my car and left everything else at my mom's. I dropped out of university and began searching for other hunters. The Winchesters didn’t leave me a how-to guide on hunting monsters, so I had to figure it out on my own. I traveled far and wide, leaving messages for hunters wherever I could—monster books in libraries, notice boards, online chat rooms, you name it. After two months of relentless searching, I was finally contacted by a guy named Johnny. Johnny owned a roadhouse near Broken Hill, one of the few hubs for hunters. He gave me a list of known hunters' hubs, a list of essential tools, and a job to get me started. "An easy find and burn," he said. He advised me to call him for jobs for now and assured me that I would gradually learn how to find my own hunts. And that's how I ended up on the job I'm working today.

I had driven through the night to get back to Sydney, to the suburb of Blacktown where my story began. It was the first time I'd been back since everything that happened with the boys. This time, a similar case had brought me back: a ghost causing accidents at the local pool, leading to 11 deaths so far. Something needed to be done soon. The latest incident occurred just a week before. A paraplegic kid had seemingly stood up from her wheelchair, climbed onto a diving board, and dove headfirst onto the cement below. The ghost was escalating its attacks, putting this case at the top of my list. Before tackling the case, though, I needed to rest. I decided to book into a hotel, take a hot shower, eat, and sleep. I had only enough money for one night, so I found a cheap hotel close to the pool with vacancies and pulled in. As I parked and hopped out of my car, a certain vehicle caught my eye. Everything else was quickly forgotten as I ran to the room the car was parked in front of. I stopped to catch my breath before knocking on the door.

"Well, well, look who we have here," Dean said, crossing his arms with a smirk as he opened the door.

"Hey, Dean," I smiled.

"Y/N, is that you?" Sam asked, appearing behind Dean.

"In the flesh," I replied. "What brings you two back to town?"

"We're working this case," Dean explained. "A friend of ours called after getting a tip from a hunter here—some ghost killing a bunch of people at a pool."

"What a coincidence. I'm working that case too. It's been on my radar for the last three months, but it's really ramped up in the last month, so I figured I should probably get my ass back here and take care of it."

"I thought I told you to stay away from all this," Dean suddenly snapped, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"I tried, Dean. I really did. But I couldn't shake it. I was second-guessing everything and everyone, and I felt like I needed to do this to feel safe," I said, recoiling at his words.

"I told you there were other people like us doing this job so you could be safe. Trust me, this isn't the life you want."

"You packed up and went back to the States. You left me here where there are barely any hunters. What did you expect me to do?" I snapped back.

"I expected you to listen to me!" Dean yelled, jabbing a finger toward the ground.

I flinched away from Dean, and he immediately noticed. The regret on his face was clear. He tried reaching out to touch my arm, but I moved back. Sighing, he stepped aside, allowing me into the room. Sam motioned for me to come over to the sole table where he was working on his laptop. Dean, meanwhile, moved to sit on his bed on the opposite side of the room. Sam ran me through everything they had found so far. He mentioned a friend of theirs named Bobby, who had been contacted by a local hunter overwhelmed by the case. It was something I had noticed too, and it had only motivated me more to become a hunter. Over the past year, I had been taking on the harder cases that other hunters struggled with. I had made contacts at all the hunters’ roadhouses in Australia and had hardly had a day to myself since. I told Sam about Johnny, a name he instantly recognized. Apparently, Johnny had been the one to call Bobby, requesting the boys' help after many other hunters had come up short.

"What have you found so far?" I asked Sam.

"Well, the earliest accident recorded at the pool was two months after it opened," Sam replied.

"I found that too during my initial research. She was running, slipped on the wet floor, and got impaled on a sign pole. Not a nice way to go, but it doesn't seem like something to create a vengeful spirit," I said.

"My thoughts exactly," Sam sighed. "But I can't find anything about the place being built on a burial ground or sacred site or anything."

"So, what you're saying is there's no reason for these deaths to be ramping up at this joint?" Dean finally joined the conversation.

"Well, none we can find," I said. "This is why I've avoided the case for so long. Every time I've looked into it, I haven't been able to find a reason. Nothing I know of could be causing this, nothing Johnny knows of could be causing this. Maybe Bobby might know something?"

"I'll call him," Sam sighed.

Sam grabbed his phone and left the room. I looked at Dean in confusion. We were working this case together, so why would Sam leave? Dean mumbled something about Sam thinking best when he was walking around. I just shrugged and stayed at the table, waiting for Sam to come back. Dean and I fell into an uncomfortable silence. I knew he wasn't happy with me being here and giving everything up to become a hunter, but I didn’t see any other choice. I understood the dangers; I knew a hunter's life was often short. But if it meant making a difference while I was still here, then so be it. Dean needed to understand this.

"Dean..."

"Save it. I know I won't be able to change your mind, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let you leave my side," Dean said, looking over at me. "I wanted to save you from this life. I wanted you to walk away and never look back. I don't want you to end up broken like me."

"It's not like I have anything to lose. My father abandoned me, my mother and I barely talk, and I don’t exactly have any other family. Just friends, and as far as they know, I came into a small fortune and I'm off traveling the world," I sighed.

"Sounds like every hunter origin story I've heard before," Dean chuckled coldly.

"Why? What's your story?" I asked.

"Mum died, Dad abandoned us, then he died. I'm one of the lucky ones, though, because I got Sammy. And I guess now I have your dumbass to look out for too," Dean smiled at me.

"You make that sound like a bad thing," I laughed.

"Oh, it is. You're a pain in my ass," Dean laughed too.

"Who, me? Nah, I'm delightful."

Sam walked back into the room, greeted by the sight of Dean and me laughing our asses off, a stark contrast to how he had left us. He looked between us before awkwardly starting to explain that Bobby would investigate the situation, contact some other hunters in the area, and call Sam back if he found anything. Until then, Dean decided it would be best if we grabbed some food and called it a night. Dean left Sam and me to clean up the table while he went to get what he called the world’s smallest McDonald’s burgers. Sam and I just shook our heads at him and continued to tidy up. We talked about what the guys had been up to since they were last here and everything I had done. Sam was quite impressed at how quickly I had learned to spot signs of the supernatural and my ability to research and handle problems. It turned out they had heard from Bobby about a badass new hunter on the scene out here, but they had no clue it was me. It didn’t take us long to clean off the table, and soon Dean returned with the food. He dumped the bags on the table and began tossing burgers at each of us, cursing when he reached for the fries and found they had all fallen out in the bag. Sam and I shook our heads at Dean and started on our burgers while he fixed the fries. After we had eaten, we all agreed to get some sleep while waiting for Bobby to get back to us. Sam went off to shower first while Dean kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the bed. I, on the other hand, moved toward the door, planning to book my room for the night.

"Where are you staying?" Dean suddenly asked, stopping me in my tracks.

"Going to book a room for tonight, then probably sleep in my car until this is over. Why?" I turned back towards Dean.

"You can't be serious."

"Well, normally I'd loo or a free campground, but we're in the middle of a city. Luckily, I recently found this really cool inflatable bed thing. You move the seats forward, put it in the back seat, and it acts like a real bed. It's actually pretty comfortable," I rambled.

"Like hell you're sleeping in your car. Take my bed, and I'll take the couch," Dean grumbled, getting up from his bed. "Besides, it saves you the money you'd spend on a room for a single night."

"Dean, I can't kick you to the lounge again," I sighed.

"Nonsense. Hunters need a safe place to sleep."

"We don’t exactly get paid, Dean. I do odd jobs in the towns I’m in between or sometimes even during hunts, just to get enough to eat and to put fuel in my car. I can’t afford a hotel room."

"And that’s where credit card scams come in," Dean smirked.

"How? I mean, you’d need fake IDs and birth certificates, not to mention the limits. Eventually, they’d cut the card off."

"Bobby hooks us up with a whole host of fake IDs—cops, FBI, CIA, you name it. The trick with credit cards is to get the card with the highest limit. For instance, a card with a $10,000 limit before repayments are needed. Use it for the case, and before you get out of dodge, withdraw the remaining amount. That way, when they come looking for Mr. Hector Rodriguez, it looks like he never left town."

"Jesus, Dean, that’s insane."

"That’s the life," Dean shrugged, making himself comfy on the lounge.

I took off my shoes and made myself comfortable on the bed while waiting for Sam to finish with the shower. I had planned to use the bathroom to change, but I must have been more tired than I realized because I nodded off. I woke up the next morning to an empty room and noticed that Dean’s Impala was gone too. They must have heard back from Bobby and headed off to chase a lead. It kind of sucked that they didn’t wake me up first, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, mostly for background noise, before heading to my car to grab a change of clothes. With clothes in hand, I went to the bathroom for a shower. I always found that the shower was the best place to organize my day. I turned the water on, cranking up the heat until it was almost unbearable. As the shower screen fogged up, I began to write out my plan for the day. First, I needed to find some breakfast, then I needed to locate the guys. The problem was, I didn’t have either of their numbers and wasn’t keen on driving aimlessly around the city to find them. After washing up, I begrudgingly turned off the water. As I reached for a towel, I was horrified to realize there were only two towels in the bathroom. I rummaged through the room but found no additional towels. I returned to the bathroom, eyeing the two towels on the rack. At this point, I was almost dry, so I grabbed the obviously unused towel and quickly dried myself off, hanging the towel back as neatly as possible when I was done. Once I was dressed and dry, I grabbed my phone and keys before heading out to my car. I was honestly surprised that Dean had managed to pick out which car was his and which was mine. The engine roared to life as I settled into the driver's seat. I drove to McDonald's to grab a breakfast deal. After I got my food, I figured I might as well continue investigating the case on my own. As I waited in the drive-through, I pulled out my phone to continue my research. It was then that I noticed a text message from Dean, which caught me off guard since I hadn’t saved his number.

Hey sleeping beauty, when you get this, give me a call. If I don’t answer, I put Sammy’s number in your phone too.

I chuckled to myself before dialing the number. After a few rings, Dean picked up.

"Hey, enjoy your sleep?" Dean laughed.

"It was great, thank you. Your bed is very comfy."

"At least someone’s enjoying my bed," Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, you should really try it sometime. It's so comfy and warm, it would put you straight to sleep," I taunted.

"Pfft, who needs an awesome bed when they have a perfect lounge to sleep on?"

"Where are you anyway?" I laughed on the phone.

"About to head to the pool," Dean sighed. "We’ve exhausted the library. They have nothing on the pool that we didn’t already know, so the only place left is the pool."

"Have fun with that. I’m just getting breakfast. Oh, and here it comes!" I squealed, winding down the window.

"Yeah, yeah, stuff your face then get your ass over here," Dean chuckled, hanging up.

I took my food with a thank you before pulling into the parking lot. After parking my car, I started on my breakfast. It didn’t take me long to finish, and I tossed my rubbish into a nearby bin before heading to the pool. When I arrived, I parked towards the back of the lot and went inside. It annoyed me more than it should have that I had to pay to enter the pool, even though I had no intention of swimming. It felt weird paying just to watch, but being on my own, it seemed the only option. I walked down the ramp into the main pool area, which featured a wave pool, a splash pool, and two 25-meter pools. It wasn’t overly busy, so it didn’t take more than a quick glance to spot Sam and Dean. It also helped that they were the only people in the building in suits. They were standing near the wave pool controls, talking to a lifeguard. As I started making my way towards them, I was suddenly halted by the sound of a giggle. It was a giggle I would recognize anywhere, sending an ice-cold shiver down my spine. I almost turned around and fled back to my car, intending to wait for Sam and Dean to finish. The only thing that stopped me was Dean spotting me and giving me a wink, which caused the lifeguard to look over her shoulder towards me. I squared my shoulders, held my head high, and walked over to them. Upon reaching them, however, my mouth started spilling out words before my brain could catch up.

"Hey, babe," I said, leaning against Dean's side. "I thought I’d come for a swim while you take care of things, but I don’t have any swimwear." I winced inwardly at the cringe-worthy line.

"Oh, hi Rachel! Haven’t seen you since graduation. Still lifeguarding, I see?" I greeted, trying to mask my awkwardness.

"Y/N, yes, I am. It pays quite well. How did you end up with such a handsome man?" Rachel asked, crossing her arms and giving me a disapproving look.

"Well, as you probably heard, I’ve been traveling the world, and during a trip through America, I found this handsome man," I said, smiling up at Dean.

"Lucky you," Rachel scoffed.

"Yeah, lucky me," I replied, still smiling at Dean.

"Anyway, baby, here’s my card. Go get yourself some swimwear and have a good time," Dean said, handing me a card.

"Thank you," I said, taking the card and giving Dean a quick peck on the cheek before darting off.

As I was leaving, I heard Dean say, "Now, if you don’t mind, we’d like to ask all the staff about the incident."

I went to the main counter and bought a swimsuit—one of the things I had left behind when I packed up and left, thinking I’d never use it again. With the swimsuit in hand, I headed back to find Sam and Dean to return Dean's card, thank him for his help, and apologize for putting him on the spot. As I wandered back into the main pool area, I quickly spotted Dean standing at the edge of the splash pool, talking to a lifeguard. Just as I was about to approach him, a hand suddenly came down on my shoulder. I jumped and spun around, ready to punch whoever had touched me.

"Wow, easy there," Sam chuckled.

"Sam, why would you do that?" I slapped him on the chest.

"I didn’t mean to scare you. Just figured I should fill you in before you blow our cover story any further."

"Yeah, sorry about that," I muttered, dropping my head.

"Oh, it’s fine. No harm done," Sam smiled. "Anyway, we were researching the deaths this morning, and one of the victims was a young girl on holiday from America. So Dean and I decided to come in and ask some questions, posing as representatives from the American Embassy investigating on behalf of the parents."

"That’s actually pretty smart. I’ll go change into these swimmers and stay out of your way. Also, can you give Dean back his card?" I handed it to Sam. "I feel kinda bad for taking it."

"Well, it’s not our money anyway, so nothing to feel bad about," Sam smirked.

I laughed at Sam's comment and walked away with a wave towards the female changing room. Only two other people were in the changing room when I walked in—two young girls, probably no older than 18. It seemed they had just finished their swim and were getting ready to shower and change. I ducked into an empty changing booth on the opposite side of the room from them. They were giggling and whispering between themselves as I walked by. If only they knew what was happening here, what was happening in the world. I quickly slipped into the swimsuit—no easy feat when both you and the suit are as dry as the Sahara Desert. Just as I bundled my clothes in my arms and was about to open the door, the room was suddenly filled with a blood-curdling scream. I dropped my clothes and threw open the door. One of the girls from earlier was now pressed up against the wall on the opposite side of the room, while the other lay motionless on the floor.

I ran over to the girl on the floor and dropped down by her side, assessing her for any signs of life. She was gone; her neck was clearly broken. Standing up, I walked over to the other girl as more people began pushing their way into the bathroom. Sam and Dean were among them. Seeing the scene, they began pushing people back and asking for someone to call emergency services. I took the other girl into my arms, shielding her face from the horrific sight and encouraging her to look away. I nodded to Sam and Dean, knowing they would need to leave the building quickly but quietly while I stayed behind to answer questions. I tried to ask the girl what had happened, but all I could get was the word "why," spoken in a whisper between sobs. I just held her, rubbing circles into her back while waiting for help to arrive.

It felt like forever, but it was probably no more than 15 minutes before the police and ambulance arrived. The police stood back, allowing the paramedics to do their work. Once the paramedics confirmed there was nothing they could do for the girl on the floor, they turned their attention to her friend. They checked her over and then escorted her to a waiting ambulance. The police followed, making sure I stayed put in the room. Returning to where I had discarded my clothes, I gathered them up and sat on the bench running the length of the room. Holding my clothes to my chest, I suddenly felt naked in the now-empty room. It wasn’t the first time I had seen a dead body, and living the life I chose, I knew it wouldn’t be the last. But that didn’t make it any less jarring. The absolute stillness of her body, the lack of the normal rise and fall of her chest, the absence of any movement, the fading pink hue of her skin—it was all so stark, so sudden. I closed my eyes and prayed she went quickly.

The quiet of the room was soon broken by the arrival of crime scene techs and coroners. They completely ignored my presence and went about their tasks, examining the deceased girl and the room. The only interaction I had was with a woman who came over and asked for my clothes. Confused, I asked why, since they hadn't been near the girl. She insisted it was needed just in case and that they would get them back to me as soon as possible. Reluctantly, I handed over my clothes and filled out the paperwork she provided. With no other address to use, I gave her my mother's address for the return of my clothes.

I watched as the coroner bagged the girl's body and removed it from the room while the techs continued to take pictures and discuss their theories about what had happened. Eventually, after what must have been 30 minutes, the police returned to the room to speak with me. They asked a flurry of questions that blurred together: Did you know the victim? No. Did you see what happened? No. Do you know Samantha? Was that the other girl? No. What were you doing here? Changing to swim. On and on, question after question. They questioned me for over an hour. It felt like a waste of their time, as I had nothing to offer—they were asking a witness who hadn’t witnessed anything. Before they let me go, I asked what Samantha had said about the incident. They gave me the usual response: they couldn’t divulge much but assured me that the investigation would reveal the truth.

I thanked the officers and left the room. I fell into a sort of autopilot. Before I knew it, I was out of the pool, in my car, and back at the hotel, with no recollection of the drive. I parked next to Dean’s Impala. As soon as I shut off the engine, I began to shake uncontrollably. I took a few shaky breaths, gripping the steering wheel tightly. I climbed out of the car and walked to the room door, knocking and waiting for someone to answer. When the door finally opened, it was Dean standing there.

“They took my clothes,” was all I managed to say before the weight of the day hit me. In the year I had been working cases, I had never seen a dead body or witnessed someone die. I had only read about it, keeping a safe distance from the true horrors. The only dead body I had seen before this was my grandmother’s, and I had hoped she would be the only person I would have to see die in my lifetime. Today’s events had dredged up all those memories and emotions I had tried so hard to bury.

As I broke down, Dean pulled me into the room and shut the door. He wrapped his arms around me, offering a safe, warm refuge where I could finally let my emotions flow.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 11

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.6k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

For 6 weeks we avoided each other. Only leaving our rooms to get something to eat or drink. Groceries where dropped off on a weekly basis, Dean was always waiting by the hatch when the drop off happened. I would sit by the top of the stair case to listen in to the brief conversation that took place, it was always the same. “Are you going to let us out yet?”

“Have you worked it out yet?”

“Fat chance of that happening”

“Then no”

For the next 2 weeks I tried to talk to Dean. Clearly waiting them out wasn’t going to work and honestly at this point I would rather be honest about how I felt and risk rejection then keep playing this game. At least this way I could tell Theresa I had tried. Surely they couldn’t keep me here if Dean was the one not playing by their rules.

My first attempted at talking to Dean was when our weekly delivery came. I waited for him to make his way down stairs then I followed behind him. Once the groceries had been delivered the hatch closed I tried to talk.

“Dean I don’t think waiting them out is working” I mentally slapped myself for pointing out the obvious.

“Clearly but we don’t have a better plan” Dean didn’t even look at me as he picked up all 8 bags of groceries in one go heading to the kitchen.

“We could talk it out like adults” I sighed.

“Hate to tell you sister but I have 10 years on you and a whole lot more life experience then you, you’re barely an adult” Dean still refused to look at me dumping all 8 bags on the counter top.

“9 years and I’ve been an adult at longer then you think”

“9 years” Dean rolled his eyes and walked off.

“Where are you going?” I called after him.

“To my room”

My second attempt, third and fourth attempts where all met with eye rolls as Dean walked away from me. It was becoming clear that the only way Dean was going to have a conversation with me is if he was trapped with no escape. Dean had made it a habit of going for a shower at the same time every night. He wouldn’t risk leaving the shower if he knew I was in the room. Or at least I hoped so. I had smuggled a butter knife back to my room one night after I had made myself dinner. I had then waited patiently for Dean to have his dinner and went to test the butter knife on the lock of the bathroom door. As I had hoped the butter knife was the perfect thickness to help me turn the lock on the door. I hid it in my room and waited for him to head to the shower. That night however Dean didn’t go for his shower as normal. He ate and went back to his room. I gave him an extra half an hour just in case he was busy with something for had forgotten. But when I heard the light switch in his room, I had guessed he had gone to bed. I wandered out into the hallway just to make sure he had gone to bed. The light that was normally visible under Deans door was off. Making plans to try again the next night I ducked back into my room long enough to grab my towel before heading to the bathroom myself. I dropped my towel on the bench before running a bath. I was exhausted from days of trying to talk to Dean. Not physically exhausted but emotionally exhausted. All I wanted was a nice long hot soak in the tub. Once the tub was full, I stripped down and submerged myself in the water. I took a face washer and submerged it in the hot water before laying it over my face. I took a deep breath, laid back and let myself relax.

“You’re looking pretty comfortable there” Deans sudden presence startled me.

“DEAN WHAT THE HELL!” I screamed grabbing the shower curtain dragging it in front of the bathtub to cover me.

“I’m sorry where you not trying to do this exact same thing to me?” Dean chuckled closing the toilet seat cover to take a seat on it.

“Well yes but only to get you to talk to me” I squealed.

“So talk”

“I…uh…I…”

“Oh so now you can’t talk” Dean chuckled again “Look it’s clear this avoiding each other plan isn’t working”

“And what do you suggest we do now?” I raised an eyebrow while looking at the shower curtain now hanging between us.

“I honestly don’t know” Dean let out an awkward chuckle “For once in my life I don’t actually have a plan”

“We could always try being honest”

The room fell silent. I watched the droplets of water slowly falling from the tap waiting, internally pleading for Dean to break the silence.

Dean shifted uncomfortably, his silhouette rubbing the back of his neck. His silhouette looking away, then back to me. I could almost see the gears turning in his head, the urge to argue or deflect swimming just beneath the surface. But instead, he surprised me.

"Being honest?" he echoed, as if testing out the words. "You really think that could work? I mean... after everything?"

I kept my gaze steady, resisting the urge to look away. "We’ve tried everything else, haven’t we? What do we have to lose?"

Dean let out a breath, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of everything we’d been carrying was pressing down harder than ever. The silence returned, but this time it felt heavier. I glanced at the tap again, watching the droplets hang in the air before they fell, one by one.

Finally, he stood up, pacing the small, dimly lit room. "You don’t just be honest” he muttered. "That’s not how it works."

"It might not," I admitted. "But pretending we’ve got it all under control isn’t working either. We’re running out of moves, Dean. This could be the only one left."

He stopped pacing, staring at me. The room was filled with a mixture of frustration and fear. “What if…What if we tell the truth and it just... makes everything worse?”

I swallowed hard. I hadn’t let myself fully think about that possibility. But now that it was out there, spoken aloud, it hung in the air between us like a dark cloud.

“Then we deal with it,” I said, my voice steady despite the doubt creeping into my chest. “At least we won’t be running anymore.” I whispered the last part.

Dean turned away from me, staring out the window again. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his back visibly tensing under his shirt.

"You’re really ready to do this?" he asked quietly.

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I thought about everything we’d been through, all the lies, the half-truths, the fear that followed us wherever we went.

“Yes,” I said finally. “I’m ready.”

Dean nodded, his back still to me. “Alright,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then we do it.”

He turned back to face me, his expression hardened with resolve. “But if this goes south…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. We both knew what was at stake.

Dean stood there, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his breath. The tension between us thickened as the silence stretched on. I was about to say something—to break the spell that had settled between us—but before I could, Dean crossed the room in a single, swift movement.

Before I could respond he had moved the curtain out of the way. His hands gripped my arms, not harshly, but with a firmness that caught me off guard. “If this goes south…” he started again, but his words faltered. His gaze, intense and searching, locked onto mine, and in that split second, I could see the conflict, the hesitation, and the unspoken emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

Then, without another word, Dean pulled me into him, his lips crashing against mine. The world seemed to blur at the edges, all the tension and fear melting away in the heat of that moment. His kiss was desperate, almost like it was the last lifeline he had left. It was raw, full of all the things he couldn't say out loud—the fear, the uncertainty, and something deeper I hadn't expected.

For a second, I froze, my mind racing to catch up with what was happening. But then, instinct took over, and I found myself kissing him back, my hands tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer. The world outside didn’t matter anymore—the looming threats, the uncertainty of what lay ahead. All I could think about was the way his hands held me, like he needed this as much as I did.

When he finally pulled back, both of us were breathless, and I could see it in his eyes—he was as terrified as I was. Not just of what we were about to do, but of what this moment meant.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, his voice hoarse. He let go of me, stepping back slightly, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off, shaking my head. “Don’t apologize.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but I could see the uncertainty in his expression, the conflict still brewing beneath the surface. This was new for both of us, and neither of us knew what to do with it.

For a long moment, he just stood there, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air. But despite everything—the danger we were facing, the uncertainty of the future—I couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, we were finally being honest.

Eddie: *sighs* No one will ever be truly in love with me... Buck: Are you sure? Eddie: Yeah... Buck, aggressively pointing at himself: ARE YOU REALLY FUCKING SURE ABOUT THAT?

A Well Kept Secret Part 2

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

1.8k word count

Summary You and Spencer have been in a secret relationship for a year. When you unexpectedly become pregnant it becomes harder to keep that secret.

fluff

Warnings mention of cheating while drunk.

Part 1

Six and a half months had crawled by since the life-altering night. Exhaustion clung to you like a second skin, your belly a growing testament to the little miracle nestled within. Today was the day you were finally going on leave, a bittersweet escape from the whirlwind of the BAU. No one knew the true story of the baby's father, a secret that gnawed at your conscience with every passing day.

Spencer had been a constant source of support, his gentle nature a balm to the storm brewing inside you. You'd even discussed godparents, a picture-perfect tableau of the BAU family surrounding your child.

"So how are you feeling?" Hotch asked as you lumbered into the office, the weight of the baby making every step a conscious effort.

"Fat and tired, but okay," You replied, managing a weak smile.

"How much longer will you be with us?" he inquired.

"Just here to pick up some things, then I'm heading home," You explained.

"Did you drive yourself?" he asked, a furrow appearing in his brow.

"No, Spencer dropped me off," You replied, your stomach clenching at the thought of the conversation that loomed.

"Well, get him to drive your home, then tell him he can have the day off too," Hotch said with a rare smile.

"Thanks, Hotch. See you when I get back, I guess," You shrugged.

Gathering your belongings felt like an eternity, each familiar object a reminder of the life you were leaving behind, at least temporarily. Stepping back out into the crisp morning air, you found Spencer waiting by the car.

"Ready to go home?" You asked, the words heavy on your tongue.

"Let's get you settled in, then I'll get back to work," he replied, his voice neutral.

The ride home was a tense symphony of silence. Every stolen glance at Spencer revealed a growing distance, a hurt you understood all too well. You kept your eyes glued to the ever-expanding landscape, the weight of your secret threatening to crush you.

Reaching the house, you managed to drag a box inside before collapsing onto the couch, the familiar ache in your back a dull throb. Spencer entered a few moments later, placing a bowl of popcorn and two drinks on the coffee table before settling the DVD player.

"What are you doing?" You finally managed, surprised by the sudden break in the tension.

"Well, if we both have the day off, why not spend it together before the baby comes?" he offered, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

Relief flooded you, warm and welcome. "Good idea," You whispered, scooting across the couch to lean against him.

"There's something I've been wanting to talk about," You began, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What is it?" he asked, his gaze holding yours.

"It's about the baby's father," You confessed, bracing yourself for the storm that might follow.

"I thought I was the father," he said, his voice betraying a flicker of uncertainty.

"You were," you stammered, "but there's something you need to know..."

The words caught in your throat, the memory a bitter pill to swallow. Taking a deep breath, you blurted out, "There was someone else."

"I don't know," you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. "The night we were together, I...I had a little too much to drink, and then the next morning..." Your voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, the memory a blur of self-loathing.

Spencer stood abruptly, his entire body radiating anger and hurt. The air crackled with unspoken accusations. "So, you're saying the baby could be Morgan's?"

"I don't know," you repeated, tears spilling down your cheeks now. "The timing just…lines up with that night. But you're the one I wanted, Spencer. You're the one I..." Your voice broke, unable to express the depth of your feelings or the regret that gnawed at you.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. You both knew the implications. The life you'd envisioned, the little family you were building – it all hung precariously in the balance.

He stood abruptly, his entire body radiating anger and hurt. "We need to get this figured out."

Relief warred with fear in your chest. At least he wasn't walking out. "I thought maybe a paternity test…"

"Yeah," he snapped, his voice tight. "Let's do it."

The drive to the clinic was a blur. Neither of you spoke, the unspoken questions hanging heavy in the air. The sterile atmosphere of the clinic did little to ease your anxiety. Spencer held your hand silently as the nurse drew blood, his grip tight enough to leave white marks on your skin.

"How long will it take to get the results?" Spencer finally asked, breaking the tense silence.

The nurse glanced at a chart on the wall. "Typically, paternity tests take about a week to come back," she explained. "We'll call you as soon as we have them."

A week. Seven days stretched before you, an agonizing limbo. The weight of the unknown settled in your chest, a leaden companion. Looking at Spencer, you saw a similar worry etched on his face.

"What are we going to do until then?" you asked, the question barely a whisper.

He squeezed your hand, a silent reassurance. "We wait," he said, his voice gruff but determined. "And we try to focus on the good news, no matter what the results are."

"The good news?" you echoed, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest.

He offered a strained smile. "That you're finally on maternity leave, and we have a little miracle on the way, one way or another."

The forced cheer in his voice couldn't quite mask the underlying tension. You both knew the good news could turn sour depending on the test results. But for now, you clung to that fragile hope, a lifeline in the storm of uncertainty.

The following days were a blur. The house felt suffocating, the silence punctuated only by the tick of the clock. Every ring of the phone sent your heart racing, only to plummet when it wasn't the clinic. Spencer tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy, even taking a rare day off work to keep you company.

One afternoon, while flipping through baby magazines, you stumbled upon a section on twins. Double the bottles, double the diapers, double the trouble. A nervous laugh escaped your lips. The possibility of twins, once a distant thought, now loomed large, a complication layered on top of the paternity question.

Looking up, you saw Spencer watching you, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Thinking about double trouble?" he asked.

You managed a weak smile. "The doctor mentioned it as a possibility, didn't she?"

He nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Maybe that explains why you've been so exhausted lately."

His words brought a faint blush to your cheeks. The exhaustion was real, but so was the constant worry gnawing at you. You both knew the weight of the wait, the unspoken fear that hung heavy in the air. But for now, in the face of uncertainty, you clung to the possibility of a future, a future with a baby, or maybe even two, on the way.

You'd watch movies, fold tiny baby clothes, and talk about nursery paint colours, all the while a dark cloud of uncertainty hung over you.

One afternoon, while attempting to assemble a ridiculously complicated crib (courtesy of Rossi's overenthusiastic gift-giving), the phone rang. Spencer, closer to the receiver, snatched it up with a speed that belied his usual composure.

"Hello?" he answered, his voice tight. A beat of silence followed, then a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Yes, this is SSA Spencer Reid. Yes, I've been expecting your call."

Your breath hitched in your throat. The crib parts clattered to the floor as you scrambled to his side, your gaze locked on his face. He listened intently, nodding occasionally, before finally murmuring, "Thank you. We'll be there shortly."

He hung up the phone, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, they were a stormy gray, reflecting the turmoil within him. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, a smile that reached his eyes and banished the shadows.

"We need to get going," he said, his voice surprisingly calm.

"The results?" you stammered, your voice thick with anticipation.

He took your hand, his grip firm but gentle. "The good news, the bad news, or both? We'll find out at the clinic."

The car ride was a tense dance of silence and stolen glances. Your mind raced with possibilities; each one tinged with a sliver of fear. Would the results confirm your worst nightmare, shattering the fragile hope you'd built? Or would they clear the air, allowing you to move forward with a future you could finally embrace?

Pulling into the familiar parking lot of the clinic, you felt a wave of nausea wash over you. Spencer squeezed your hand reassuringly, his silent support the only anchor in the storm of emotions threatening to engulf you.

You walked into the clinic hand-in-hand, a united front despite the uncertainty gnawing at you. The receptionist, recognizing you, offered a sympathetic smile. "Dr. Lee will see you now," she said, her voice gentle.

Following the nurse down a sterile hallway, you entered the doctor's office. Dr. Lee, a woman with kind eyes and a calming demeanour, greeted you warmly. "Please, have a seat," she said, gesturing towards two chairs in front of her desk.

You sat, the silence deafening. Dr. Lee placed a file on the desk and took a deep breath. "I'm happy to report that we have the results of your paternity test, Mr. Reid. Okay, so do you want the good news or the bad news first?" the doctor asked, a small smile playing on her lips.

"The good news," you squeaked out, your voice barely audible.

"Spencer's the father," the doctor announced with a warm smile.

A wave of relief washed over you, so intense it almost knocked you off your feet. Spencer, however, remained silent, his expression unreadable.

"And the bad news?" he finally inquired; his voice low.

"It's twins," the doctor replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Your jaw dropped. Twins? That would explain the constant exhaustion and the way your clothes seemed to be shrinking daily. Looking at Spencer, you saw a mixture of shock and a hint of amusement flicker across his face.

"Well, that explains a lot," you finally managed, a shaky laugh escaping your lips.

"Double trouble," the doctor chuckled, her eyes twinkling.

Spencer chuckled too; the sound rough around the edges. Then, in a gesture that surprised you, he reached out and took your hand in his. "You got that right," he said, a newfound determination in his voice. "We can do this, together."

Leaving the clinic, hand in hand, the weight of the secret lifted. You were the happy (albeit slightly terrified) parents of twins, a future both daunting and exhilarating. There was still a lot to work through, the memory of Morgan a lingering shadow. But for now, the knowledge that Spencer was by your side, ready to face whatever came, was all the comfort you needed.

Objection! Masterlist

Objection!

Part 2 - Day One

Part 3 - Case One

Part 4 - A New Normal

Part 5 - The Runaways

Part 6 - An Admission

Part 7 - False Hope

Part 8 - Scavenger Hunt Part 1

Part 9 - Scavenger Hunt Part 2

Part 10 - Reunited

Part 11 - Stone

911 Story Idea

I had a story idea during a slow night at work and was curious if anyone would read it. So basically it's 911 as we know except Buck is engaged to the reader who is also a firefighter with the 118. Everything is going smoothly until one day something happens and the reader finds themselves working late alone with Bobby. Reader has always had a little bit of a crush on Bobby and this night one thing leads to another and Bobby and reader start an affair. The affair is eventually discovered by Eddie who threatens to expose them if they don't stop.

My problem is as much as it's an interesting idea its very much off character for Bobby and heaven forbid anything happen to Bobby and Athena.

Counting down the seconds to Objection Part 9

I'm working on it right now! I hope to have Parts 9 and 10 out before I head away for Christmas then I'm going to torture you all with a 2-3 week wait for the next part.

Well I was going to finish writing A Well Kept Secret today but everything has gone wrong. First we had power shut down on the street because one of the powerlines is broken. Then I locked myself out of my own house. I have 3 sets of keys and couldn't even remember to grab 1!!! The locksmith is currently busy and probably won't be able to help until late tonight. So now I'm sitting outside in the cold. All this because some random drunk dude walked into my house in the middle of the night last week and I've kept the house locked tight ever since.