Spotless: Larghetto

Chapter Thirty

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Gibson child OMC, Lee, Sam, Pamela

Word Count: 3310

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, angsty af flashback, Dean does Uncle things, apologizes, and makes up his mind-ish, still unbeta'd

Shout out to @lastactiontricia for her help talking me through this one

Series Masterlist

The moment Dean's ass hit his seat on the Proud Mary the following afternoon, it all clicked into place. They were back on the road. The apology tour was in full swing. Okay, no one actually called it that, but it was essentially that. Something settled inside him with the realization, his ribcage was suddenly spacious from the lack of shrapnel. Dean took a deep breath to adjust for the extra room.

Huh.

The rest of the band found their usual books and Kevin waited patiently until everyone seemed settled before he plopped down on the aisle seat a row ahead of Dean. 

The last ones on the bus were Gibson and Bobby, who no doubt was running the kid around the venue to burn off some of that unquenchable energy only children possess. 

“Alright, Gibby go find your daddy! I've got a bus to steer,” Bobby sent him off simply, before turning to the rest of them. “Everybody ready?”

“Sound off,” Pamela bellowed to make sure everyone who had to be there was there.

“Gibson?”

The little dude giggled at being first. “Here!”

Bobby smiled as much as he ever did and turned to the other side of the bus.

“Kid?”

“Present!” Kevin replied.

“And Dean's here I made sure of that already,” Bobby muttered, not letting Dean off the hook for yesterday so soon. Dean tried not to look too put out by it; he deserved worse. Everyone else sniggered and oo’ed at the burn. 

Bobby’s attention slid further back, eyeing people as he said their names. “Sam?”

He didn’t say anything, but Dean was pretty sure he caught Sam raising his hand in his periphery.

“Pam’s got her ducks in a row, I see. Trouble, you good, darlin’?”

“All good, Bobby,” you said somewhere in the back.

This was so good. You described what's happening on the bus so well it feels like we're there with them. I'm so excited for the next part!

Questions: How?

A Supernatural Fan-fiction

Featuring: Sam Winchester X Female Reader

Setting: Starts in Season 6, breaks off in Season 8

Chapter 1 of my Questions Series

A/N: I started a challenge for @ericaprice2008 and needed to build up to the fluff parts. There is canon level violence and a story of a dying kid. This is a collection of back stories from Y/N’s perspective. Other chapters are from Sam’s, hope y’all like how it goes! A comment or a reblog goes a LONG way. xoxo Stu

Sam smiled shyly down at you, his eyes twinkling with hope. And the only thing that crossed your mind was ‘How did I get so lucky?’

You first understood how misunderstood the Winchesters are, after a case in Indiana. The Brothers that had started and somehow thwarted the Apocalypse, Death and an array of demons were just regular guys with a few too many chips on their shoulders.

You and your cousin Rafe had been closing in on a pair of Djinn who were also running a substantial drug operation. Which, of course, made it harder to get to the monsters themselves. After two weeks and Rafe getting abducted did you get them within your grasp. Suddenly two bulky dudes were barking orders; guns in one hand and knives in the other.

“Back off pricks. These djinn are mine.” You spat, glaring at each of them suspiciously.

“Cool it, sweetheart. That’s fair. I can tell it’s personal,” the cocky one started, side eyeing the giant. In silent agreement they helped you flank the bottom feeders, making good use of your blood caked blade.

By the time you got to Rafe, it was too late; his body limp and drained. The look of euphoria the only solace as the sick satisfaction of killing his captors had already begun to fade. You tried to act strong in the presence of these strange hunters, but you all knew it was a mask.

Hours later and you had begun to hold normal conversation again. You chuckled humorlessly upon learning their identities. After all, they were their own type of legend. Sam spoke to you in low tones, his long hair floating in the night breeze as you told him about your cousin and how you had been hunting together most of your lives.

“How’d you get started?” He asked, true curiosity in his fathomless eyes.

You sighed and dove into your origin story: “Family camping trip. Rafe’s little sister was dying of cancer and we went as a last hoorah, so to speak. The Wendigo came at night, dragging our parents out in to the woods. Rafe, Julia and I slept in one bed. I saw it, lingering in the shadows by the door.

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Oh man if only I didn't have to adult today and I could sit and read the rest!