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How I survive the day in a room full of 4-5 year olds.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 9

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.8k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings mention of murder and murder-suicide no details though.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A dusty roadhouse in the middle of nowhere Australia

“Bobby, I’m tellin’ you she’s got a death wish, mate” Johnny spoke into his phone.

“I’m not sure how you expect me to help with that Johnny” Bobby grumbled back “Owning to the fact that I’m in the US and all”.

“Look all I know is ever since those hunters of yours where here she’s been going after every evil thing by herself, she’s refusing help from everyone, and I’m worried she’s going to come up against something she can’t handle on her own”.

“Yeah, Deans been the same way Sam said” Bobby sighed “The idijit wiped out a whole Vamps nest on his own a month back, refused to let Sam anywhere near it”.

“She called this morning asking for another case but I have nothing left, I don’t have time to track down leads either” Johnny scratched his chin.

“I think we need an intervention” Bobby twisted the lid off a bottle of whiskey pouring himself a drink “Give me a couple of days to talk to Sam and I’ll get back to you”

…

I paced up and down the hallway of an abandoned house I had broken into 5 days prior. I had been searching for a hunt almost ever since. The hunt I had come here for was a complete bust, just some dumb humans breaking into people’s homes and pretending to be werewolves. Johnny had no hunts for me, I couldn’t find anything worth pursuing and the longer I went without a hunt the more I thought about Dean. Even with the man out of the country I still couldn’t get him out of my head. It was like he had a hold over me that I couldn’t escape. My pacing was interrupted by my phone ringing. I quickly ripped my phone out of my pocket.

“Johnny tell me you got something for me”

“Hay y/n yeah I got something but you’re not going to like it” Johnny sighed

“A hunts, a hunt”

“Yeah, but this ones in the US…” Johnny trailed off “But hay its big place, right?”

“Right, what am I looking at?” I tried to ignore the US part.

“Bobby’s sending me the information now, how far are you from here?”

“Two days drive if I leave now” I said heading to my car.

“I should have the info by then, so are you taking the case?” Johnny asked.

“Yeah might as well” I shrugged.

“Great I’ll also get all the paperwork you need ready” Johnny sounded like he was shuffling paper around.

“See you in 2 days”

I hung up on Johnny and jumped into my car.

…

“Did she take the bait?” Bobby asked answering on almost the first ring.

“Yeah she did, she’s on her way here, all her paperwork’s ready to go” Johnny smirked.

“Great, Sam and I found a place, we’re just making it escape proof” Bobby said “Now we just need to get them both inside without the other one knowing”.

“And that’s your problem, I’m getting her there my parts done” Johnny chuckled.

…

I made the 2-day trip in a day and a half. I travelled mostly at night and stuck to back roads so I could floor it and the cops wouldn’t know. By the time I made it to Johnnys roadhouse I was exhausted and in need of sleep. Something I promised myself I could do once I was on the plane. Once I parked the car I basically ran into the roadhouse. All I wanted was to get started on this case as soon as possible. I let the door slam behind me announcing my arrival to Johnny. He looked at me from behind the bar and just chuckled.

“When do I leave?” I asked taking a seat at the bar.

“You can be on a flight out tonight if you want to take the case” Johnny slid a file across the bar as me.

The case seemed like a standard salt and burn. Vengeful spirit, haunting a long-abandoned house. Teens and adrenaline junkies had broken in to explore the place only to end up as the latest murder-suicide to happen in the property. Looks like the spirit was a former owner who was killed on the property and his body never found.

“How do they know he died on the property?” I asked looking up at Johnny.

“Well Bobby said…”

“Bobby?” I cut him off “Bobby wants me to work this case?”.

“Well yeah after the Winchesters failed to find the body, he thought you were the next best bet” Johnny shrugged.

“I’m not working with the Winchesters” I stood up to leave.

“No, no their gone, they’ve gone to hunt down a Wendigo somewhere in Arizona”.

“Fine so long as they’re not there I’m in” I dropped the folder back on the bar.

Johnny smiled at me and handed me another folder. It had a plane ticket, and all the documents I would need to get over there.

“Now I know you love your car, but I’ve organized a car for you when you get there, info’s in that folder” Johnny pointed at the folder in my hand. “I’ve also organised a friend to pick up your car from the airport to keep it safe”

I nodded and walked back out of the roadhouse. I jumped back in my car and headed the for the airport. The sooner I got on the plane the sooner I could sleep, the sooner I sleep the sooner I reach the US, the sooner I get to the US the sooner I can finish this case and get the hell out of dodge.

…

Deans P.O.V

 “So, this case Bobby sent us what exactly did he say?” I asked Sam who was looking at a map.

“Honestly not much, abandoned house, the owner was apparently murdered in the house by the locals back in 1880, they hid his body in the house. 2 years ago the house was sold and the new owners started renovations this apparently angered the spirit because he started murdering anyone that entered his house” Sam said without looking away from his map.

“So basically, we have a missing body and a mad as hell ghost” I looked at Sam in confusion.

“That about covers it” Sam sighed folding up the map. “Its 3 days drive”.

“Alrighty then” I nodded, tapping the steering wheel. “I don’t understand why you needed to come along though; you could have stayed at the Bunker”.

“Because your spiralling Dean and I’m scared your going to do something stupid” Sam looked at me pulling his signature bitch face “You can’t keep going at it alone dude, you need to let me in”.

“I’m fine Sammy” I groan rolling my eyes.

Sam went to say something else but I turned the music and ignored him. This was about to be the longest 3 day drive we’ve ever done.

…

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I made the airport in great time. I checked in and headed for the food court. I still had 2 hours before I would be seated on the flight so I figured I might as well get something to eat and go to the toilet before I boarded the flight that way I could just pass out once I was in my seat. Being at the airport however was making me panic. All I could think about was how in the few hours I would be back in the same country as Dean and that just meant I had more chances of running into him. And being distracted when I had to deal with a hunt was the last thing I needed. I had even cut off my best friend to be free of this man and yet I still let him have some hold over me. Nope just shake it off, concentrate on the case.

…

Dean’s P.O.V.

Sam had fallen asleep hours ago. I was tired but I didn’t want to stop. I just wanted to get to this hunt. Who knows maybe then I could hit up a bar and have a little fun. Nothing better to end a hunt with then an ice-cold beer. Yet ever since being in Australia, being around her, it gave me a feeling of guilt. I don’t know why it’s not like we were a thing, its not like I was betraying her in anyway. Its been 6 months I have no reason to even think about her anymore. I know Theresa’s hurt that her best friend won’t talk to her anymore but that doesn’t have anything to do with me. Does it?

I shook my head put her to the back of my thoughts and tried to think about this case. It was weird that Bobby sent us a case when the mans been yelling at me to take it easy. It must be important to stop this thing if he was sending us. I took the map from Sams lap and checked to make sure we were still headed the right way. The house seemed to be in the middle of nowhere which was a little weird for a house wracking up a body count then again with the number of kids looking for a cheap thrill and a haunted place to film to put online it’s not surprising that people have ended up wandering into the place. I looked out the review mirror revved the engine and turned up the music.

…

As I thought the 3-day drive felt like a 3-month drive. I managed to break some of it up by getting Sammy to drive while I slept. I was woken by Sam who had pulled us up behind an almost normal looking house. It was a little worn down, enough to look creepy but not enough to say it was abandoned. But if it was as Bobby had said and someone brought the place and started doing it up then it makes sense that the place was less abandoned looking. We climbed out of the impala and walked towards the house. I opened up the door and stepped inside some sort of dinning room/kitchen area. Before I could do or say anything the door behind me slammed shut. I spun around on my heels to hear the door lock.

“Sam what the hell?!” I yelled through the door.

“It’s for your own good Dean” Bobby’s voice rang through the door.

“Bobby? Why are you doing this?” I slammed my fist on the door.

“You need to man up and solve your problems” Bobby said.

I could hear the click of a padlock from the other side of the door. I cursed under my breath. And turned back into the house and headed for the front door, hoping they hadn’t locked it yet. I grabbed the handle and began to forcefully jiggle it. Locked. I heard the stairs creaked behind me. I spun around and felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

“Oh son of a bitch”.

“Dean? What are you doing here?”.

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.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 12

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

That night, I found myself in Dean's bed. After finishing my bath and changing into my pajamas, I made my way down the hall to his room. He was lying sprawled out across the bed, relaxed in nothing but a black t-shirt and boxer briefs. Taking a steadying breath, I lay down beside him, feeling a little out of my element but strangely comfortable.

Dean wrapped an arm around me, his fingers absentmindedly weaving through my hair. I found myself inching closer, resting my head on his chest, my hand splayed over his stomach, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall as he breathed. Just as I started drifting off, I felt the soft rumble of his laughter under my cheek.

“This is freakin’ weird,” he murmured, half amused, half uncertain.

I yawned, my own voice drowsy. “Tell me about it.”

A silence settled over us, but it was comfortable—almost warm, even with the lingering strangeness of sharing a bed. He shifted, pulling me a little closer, and his breath brushed against my hair.

“Guess we’ll have to get used to it,” he said softly, almost to himself.

There was something in his voice, a hesitance or a quiet vulnerability that surprised me. Dean wasn’t usually the type to dwell on emotions or look too closely at things that made him uncomfortable. I wanted to ask what he meant, but his fingers resumed their soft, steady rhythm through my hair, and I found myself sinking further into the quiet safety of his embrace.

Eventually, Dean’s breathing evened out, and I realized he’d fallen asleep. I stayed awake a while longer, listening to the reassuring beat of his heart beneath my cheek.

The next morning Dean and I were up and pacing at the hatch waiting for the groceries to be delivered. Sam, Theresa and Bobby had stopped answering our calls weeks ago. Hell, I was convinced we could be dead and they probably wouldn’t come checking on us. The creaking of the hatch sent both of us running to be the first one at the hatch.

Sam stood on the other side of the hatch, arms crossed, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You two done yet? Or do I need to leave you in there another week?"

Dean glanced at me, a mix of frustration and reluctance clear in his eyes. He’d never been good at talking about feelings, and being forced into it? That was a nightmare. I felt his hand twitch slightly, the tiniest hint of tension under his cool exterior.

“We’ve dealt with it, okay?” Dean called out, his voice taking on that half-annoyed, half-pleading tone he used when he was trying not to lose it. “Just open the damn door.”

Sam’s skeptical laugh filtered through the small space. “I’m not buying it, Dean. You’ve been dancing around this for months, man. What makes you think I’ll believe you after a couple of weeks stuck together?”

I sighed, stepping closer to the hatch. "Sam, it’s not about the time we’ve been locked up. We talked. We... figured some things out." I glanced at Dean, who gave me a small, almost imperceptible nod. "We know where we stand now."

Sam's footsteps moved closer, and his voice dropped lower, more serious. "And where’s that?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably beside me, running a hand through his hair. "We're good, alright? You can let us out now."

"Yeah?" Sam’s voice was filled with suspicion. "So, what’s the plan then? Gonna keep pretending nothing happened, or have you two finally admitted you’re crazy about each other?"

I blushed at Sam’s bluntness, but before I could respond, Dean stepped forward, his jaw tightening. "We’re done pretending, Sam. Now, can you let us out or do I have to kick this door down?"

A long pause followed. I could practically hear Sam’s wheels turning as he debated whether we were telling the truth or if this was just another one of Dean’s deflections.

Then, finally, the sound of keys rattling echoed through the hatch.

"Alright," Sam said with a sigh. "But if I find out you’re still avoiding this… next time, I’m locking you in for a year."

The hatch creaked open, and the sunlight streamed in, hitting us both like a slap to the face. Dean shot me a sideways look, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk.

"See?" he muttered, nudging me lightly. "Told you we’d get out."

I smiled back, rolling my eyes but feeling the weight of everything that had just happened. Maybe we weren’t entirely done figuring things out, but one thing was for sure—we weren’t pretending anymore.

As we stepped through the door, the sudden brightness of the outdoors made me squint, but Dean’s hand in mine kept me grounded. His grip was firm—steady. For all the tension and frustration that had built up over the days, that simple touch felt like an anchor.

We looked around, expecting to see Bobby or even Theresa. But to our surprise, it was just Sam, leaning against the Impala with his arms crossed, watching us with that annoyingly knowing expression.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s everyone else?”

Sam shrugged, pushing off from the car. "Just me here. Bobby and Theresa are waiting back at his place. Figured they’d leave me to deal with you two first.”

Dean huffed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Of course they did." He gave me a look, half-exasperated, half-amused, then started toward the Impala, pulling me along with him.

“You sure this isn’t some other test, Sammy? Locking us up wasn’t enough for you?” Dean teased, though his voice had a sharp edge to it.

Sam just raised an eyebrow. "Get in the car, Dean."

With a sigh, Dean let go of my hand long enough to open the passenger door for me, his fingers brushing mine again as I slid into the seat. There was a certain comfort in the familiar scent of the leather, the faint smell of gun oil and coffee that always clung to Dean’s car. It felt like slipping back into something safe, even though we both knew things between us had shifted. Maybe for the better, maybe not, but we’d figure it out.

Dean climbed in beside me, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. Sam, of course, got in the backseat like it was his right to act all high and mighty.

As Dean started the engine, the low, familiar rumble of the Impala washed over me, sending a shiver of nostalgia down my spine. It was almost as if nothing had changed—except, this time, Dean’s hand found mine again, even as he steered the car down the gravel road.

Sam didn’t miss it. His gaze flickered to our joined hands, but he didn’t say anything. Just smirked that knowing smirk of his.

The ride to Bobby’s was quiet. I could feel the tension in Dean’s shoulders, the way he gripped the wheel a little too tightly. Maybe it was because we were driving back into reality, back to where things were messy and complicated. We’d had time in the house to confront some things, but the real world? That was another story.

After what felt like an eternity, the Impala pulled into Bobby’s driveway. The old house stood like a sentinel, the weight of all the memories, good and bad, hanging in the air. Theresa’s car was parked off to the side next to my Impala which one of them had clearly driven here, and I could already see her and Bobby waiting on the porch.

Dean cut the engine and exhaled slowly, his fingers still intertwined with mine. He glanced at me, his expression a mix of reluctance and resolve. "Ready for round two?" he asked quietly, though his voice had a teasing edge.

I smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "As long as you are."

Dean’s mouth curved into a smirk, and he leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head before we climbed out of the car. Sam was already out, walking toward the porch where Bobby and Theresa stood waiting, arms crossed, looking like they had their own set of questions ready to go.

Whatever came next, Dean and I were in this together now. And maybe, just maybe, we could handle whatever round two had in store.

As soon as we stepped out of the Impala, Bobby and Theresa descended on us like we’d walked straight into an interrogation room.

Bobby’s gaze was sharp, arms crossed over his chest as he stood on the porch, his eyes flicking from me to Dean and back again. Theresa, standing beside him, had her hands on her hips, her expression unreadable but clearly sceptical.

“Alright,” Bobby started, his voice gruff but laced with that tone that let you know he wasn’t buying any crap. “You two better not think you’re off the hook just because you’ve been let out. Sam might’ve let you out, but I need to hear it from you.”

Dean gave me a quick side-eye before stepping forward, but before he could say anything, Theresa cut in, arms dropping to her sides as she took a step closer. “Are you really done pretending? Or is this just some act to get out of that house?”

I could feel the weight of their stares. Dean had tensed up beside me, his jaw clenched, clearly not in the mood for another round of questions, but we had to deal with this.

“We’ve worked it out,” I said, speaking up before Dean could snap back with some sarcastic comment. “We’re not just playing along. We know it probably seems like that after all this, but it’s… different now.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced. “Different how? You’ve been avoiding this for years, and now all of a sudden, a few days locked up together, and you’ve figured it all out? I ain’t buying it.”

Dean let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "We’re not saying everything’s magically perfect, Bobby. It’s not. But we’re done running from it. Done pretending like there’s nothing going on."

Theresa folded her arms, her expression softening just a bit as she tilted her head at me. “And you? Are you done pretending? Because this only works if you’re both all in.”

I felt Dean’s hand brush mine again, a small, subtle reassurance as I looked from him to Theresa. “Yeah, I’m done pretending. We both are. It wasn’t easy, but we talked. And we’re going to keep talking. We know where we stand now.”

Theresa studied us for a long moment, her eyes lingering on our joined hands. “You better,” she finally said, her voice gentler but still firm. “Because if I find out you’re back to ignoring each other, I’ll lock you both up myself. And believe me, it won’t be as nice as Sam’s version.”

“If I had my way all you would have gotten was a blanket on the floor and a pot to piss in” Bobby grunted in agreement, stepping forward with his no-nonsense look firmly in place. “You got a lot of history between you. I ain’t saying you gotta figure it all out today, but you better not go back to pretending none of this exists.”

Dean nodded, his expression softening just a bit. “We’re not going back to that. We’ll deal with it—together.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but there was a shift in the air, like Bobby and Theresa were finally starting to believe us, even if only a little.

Theresa sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides as she exchanged a look with Bobby. “Alright,” she said, her tone a little warmer now. “We’ll hold you to that. Just… don’t mess this up.”

Dean smirked, a bit of his usual confidence sneaking back in. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Bobby shook his head, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes as he muttered, “Well, let’s hope you’re telling the truth this time, or I’ll find a way to make sure you never leave each other’s sight.”

Dean squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back, a silent acknowledgment that we were both ready for whatever came next. We weren’t done dealing with everything between us, but for the first time in a long time, we were on the same page. And that was enough—for now.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 10

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2.1k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none unless you count cranky asshole Dean.

Authors Note: Just wanted to let you all know this story will be roughly 20 parts and I already have the ending. I know many people will hate the ending but for now, the ending I have planned feels perfect.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I’d been upstairs for what felt like hours, my senses on high alert. The EMF reader was silent, offering no clues about the supposed haunting. Just as I was about to give up, I heard a door slam shut downstairs, followed by muffled voices. Curiosity piqued, I crept towards the staircase, careful not to make a sound.

Peeking over the railing, I saw nothing unusual. But then, a frantic scramble echoed from below. Footsteps pounded towards the front door, followed by a series of violent shakes. As I strained to see what was happening, a familiar pair of worn jeans and scuffed brown boots came into view. It was Dean.

Heart pounding, I considered my options. The window was too small, and I doubted I could make it without breaking my neck. Before I could decide, the stairs creaked beneath my weight. My blood ran cold as Dean’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto mine.

"Oh, son of a bitch," Dean muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

"Dean? What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to sound casual despite the pounding in my chest.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" he countered, his steps growing closer.

I crossed my arms, attempting to look intimidating. "Johnny sent me over to take care of a case," I lied through gritted teeth.

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think there’s a case here," Dean said, pointing dramatically at the front door.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confusion and fear swirling inside me.

I jogged down the stairs, pushing past Dean. My heart hammered in my chest as I fumbled with the front door handle. It didn’t budge. Not even a centimetre. Panic started to creep in as I realized I was trapped. I raced to the back door, desperation fuelling my movements. It was locked too, solid as a bank vault.

A wave of dread washed over me as I circled the house, my eyes scanning every window. My worst fears were confirmed. Freshly installed metal bars blocked every escape route. I was trapped.

The sound of breaking glass echoed from the lounge room. I hesitated, fear and anger battling within me. Slowly, cautiously, I peeked around the corner. Dean stood in the middle of the room, his face a mask of fury as he stared at his shattered phone.

"All the windows are barred, and I'm guessing the doors are reinforced," I sighed, leaning against the doorframe. My mind raced, trying to come up with a plan.

Dean rubbed his face, his frustration evident. "Yeah, apparently until we figure our shit out, we're stuck here," he muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, my voice rising in irritation.

Dean threw his hands up in exasperation and walked further into the house. I rolled my eyes and pulled my phone out of my pocket. It was time to call Theresa. Being trapped here with Dean was one thing, but being trapped here with angry Dean was another.

“Hey, Y/N, don’t even think about asking. Sam’s not letting you out,” Theresa giggled.

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do in here?” I groaned, frustration lacing my voice.

“Figure things out with Dean. The guy’s crazy about you and you feel the same. Just stop being stubborn and admit it,” she insisted.

“Yeah, right,” I retorted, cutting her off before she could continue.

I let out a heavy sigh and trudged up the stairs in search of Dean. Maybe we could fool everyone into thinking we were burying the hatchet. That might speed up our escape. What did they want from us anyway? Friendship? Something more? I had no clue. I found Dean in one of the upstairs bedrooms, his frustration evident as he yanked at the iron bars on the window.

"I thought we already ruled that out,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Dean exploded, his voice echoing through the room as he yanked at the bars, "Well, do you have a better idea, genius?" I stumbled backward into the hallway.

"Okay, hear me out," I offered, trying to calm him down. "They want us to get along, right? So let's fake it. Put on a show, tell them everything's peachy, and then make our escape."

He paused, his anger slowly subsiding. "Bobby and Sam know me too well. They'd see right through us."

I shrugged, "I don't know, Dean. We're clearly not gonna be best friends, so they're wasting their time."

Dean stared at me for a moment before nodding. "Maybe you're right. They can't keep us here forever. We just have to wait it out."

"Perfect. Pick a room. Just make sure it's on the other side of the house," I replied, turning and walking away.

I retreated to the far end of the house and shut myself in a room. Collapsing onto the bed, I realized I was in for a long haul. Now that I had a moment to look around, something was off. The room was spotless, almost sterile. The furniture was new, or at least very recently used, and the bedding was fresh. How had I missed this before? I’d been so focused on the case and getting out that I’d ignored the obvious.

A loud bang downstairs startled me. I leapt off the bed and raced into the hallway. Dean was emerging from the opposite end, presumably claiming that room as his own. Our eyes met as we both made a beeline for the stairs. Our bags were sitting by the front door. No sound of entry. How had they gotten inside? Dean joined me in examining the door and surrounding walls, his curiosity as piqued as mine.

"See that gap around the wall?" Dean pointed to a small, almost imperceptible indent. "Looks like a hidden door to me." He leaned into the wall, exerting all his weight. Nothing. He stepped back and tried ramming his shoulder into it, but the wall held firm.

I rolled my eyes, grabbed my bag, and retreated to my room. With the door closed, I rummaged through my belongings, searching for the pocketknife I always kept hidden. My heart sank when I realized it was gone. Someone had been through our bags. Panic set in as I remembered Dean's shirt, a piece I'd stolen months ago. That was a huge mistake.

I needed out, and I needed out now. They'd secured the windows and doors, but surely they hadn't reinforced the walls. If I was going to escape, I'd have to cut through. First, I had to check the kitchen without Dean seeing me. They had to have left us at least a couple of knives.

I found Dean in the lounge room, feverishly attacking the wall with a mismatched collection of utensils. I sighed, casually opening drawers. Two steak knives were exactly what I needed. I slipped them into my waistband and grabbed a soda as a cover.

Back in my room, I moved the chest of drawers to reveal a section of wall. With trembling hands, I began to cut. Hours later, as dawn approached, I'd finally breached the interior wall. Relief washed over me until I saw the solid metal sheet beyond. Disappointment and exhaustion crashed down on me. I covered the hole, dragged myself to bed, and clung to Dean's shirt for comfort.

…

Deans p.o.v.

I spent hours trying to break through the small door, but I knew, I knew Bobby would have made this house escape-proof. The man knew what he was doing, and he sure as hell knew me well enough to anticipate that I would do anything to break out. There was no way either of us was getting out of here unless Bobby and Sam got what they wanted. I sighed and tossed aside the knife I had been using to try and pry the door open. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I dropped into one of the armchairs and glared at the door, hoping my growing anger would somehow make it open. I inwardly chuckled, thinking about Sam and his demon blood. Bet this place wouldn’t hold him, I thought. Finishing my beer, I headed up to bed. There was no point in continuing to break out today. I could try again tomorrow.

When I woke, it was almost 10 a.m. It was different not having Sammy smacking my foot or his and Theresa's laughter as they entered the room with coffee and breakfast to wake me up. I sat on the side of the bed and rubbed my face. The house was quiet. I made my way to the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards and fridge to make a cup of coffee and some breakfast. I got two cups of coffee and some bacon and eggs ready before heading back upstairs to check on Y/N and let her know breakfast was ready.

I opened the door to the room she’d been hiding in to find her passed out on the bed, still dressed from the day before. She had something hugged tightly to her chest. I crept quietly towards the bed, not wanting to wake her. As I pulled the object slightly out of her arms, a familiar logo caught my eye. I chuckled and tucked the shirt back into her arms. Moving back over to the door, I banged on it. Y/N jolted awake at the sound and looked up at me in shock, trying to push the shirt under her.

“Breakfast is ready, sleeping beauty,” I chuckled before walking off down the hall.

…

Your P.O.V

As soon as Dean was out of sight, I grabbed the shirt and stuffed it back in my bag, cursing under my breath. I hoped he hadn’t recognized the shirt, or we’d be in for an awkward conversation. I made my way slowly and quietly down the stairs into the kitchen, where the smell of coffee and bacon greeted me. Taking a seat at the table across from Dean, I saw him with a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth, giving me a goofy grin while munching away. I had to fight everything inside myself to not smile back. I had fought so hard over the last few months to put everything I felt for Dean behind me, and I was determined to keep it there. I was going to make sure Bobby and Sam’s plan failed.

Dean and I ate in silence. When our plates were empty, I collected them and took them to the sink to wash. Dean stayed at the table, clearly wanting to say something but looking like he didn’t know how to start. Just as he seemed ready to speak, a voice called out from the window.

“Dean? Are you in there?”

“Cas? Man, am I glad to hear your voice.” Dean rushed over to the window. “Get in here and zap us out.”

I walked over to another nearby window to see who this Cas was. Standing in the yard just outside the house was a man in a trench coat. He looked to be about Dean's height with dark brown hair and stubble. He honestly didn’t look like someone Dean should know, and what kind of name was Cas anyway?

“I can’t get inside, Dean. Something is stopping me.” Cas looked over at me. “It’s good to see you again.” He said the last part while looking directly at me. Again? What did he mean, again?

“Do I know you?” I asked, surprised.

“You probably don’t remember me; I am the angel Castiel,” he said, his face showing no emotion.

“Yeah, introductions later. Bobby and Sam have us locked in here in some twisted attempt to make us get along,” Dean said. “And if you can’t get in, it means they put up wards.” Dean looked around the walls.

“Wards? Do you mean the drawings on the walls?” I let slip before I could stop myself.

“You’ve been in the walls?” Dean looked at me, confused.

“Kinda tried to cut my way out,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck, embarrassed.

“Show me.”

I led Dean back upstairs into the room and pointed to the chest of drawers. Dean moved the drawers in one swift movement, making it look effortless. It was impressive, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. Dean looked into the hole and cursed.

“Angel proofing. Dammit, Bobby, you’re good,” Dean cursed, storming back downstairs. I had to run to keep up. He went back to the window where Castiel was still waiting.

“Sorry, Cas. The place is angel-proof,” Dean sighed, resting his head against the bars.

“Maybe I could speak to Bobby and Sam?” Castiel offered.

“It’s no good. They won’t let us out until we do what they want,” Dean said, turning to me with a look of anger, like this was somehow all my fault. I glared right back at him and stormed back upstairs to hide in my room.

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

This is the single greatest gift ever. Gifted to me by my partner in front of my mother! Also my Canolli's were a hit. Sonny would be proud.

Objection! Part 9

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

5.3k word count

Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Authors Note: I am not happy with this chapter. I might come back to it after Christmas. I might edit it while I'm away who knows. I feel like it could be so much better.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Sonny brought the car to a screeching halt in front of the DA’s office, the tires protesting loudly as we stopped. I barely waited for the engine to cut before throwing the door open and sprinting toward the building. Sonny and Olivia were right behind me, their footsteps pounding in unison with mine.

We burst through the doors, startling Carmen, who was seated at her desk with a cup of coffee in hand. Her usual calm demeanour faltered as she looked up at us, confused by our urgency.

“Carmen!” I barked, my voice sharper than I intended. Her eyes widened in alarm. “Has anyone been in my office today? Did anyone leave anything for me?”

“What—what’s going on?” she stammered, clearly thrown off by my tone.

“Just answer the question!” I snapped, running a hand through my hair as my nerves got the better of me.

She frowned, clearly trying to process my outburst. “There was a delivery earlier. A box—it’s on your desk.”

My stomach dropped. I turned toward my office door, already dreading what I might find. A cold sweat prickled my skin as my mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last. God, please don’t let it be a piece of her. Not like this.

But Sonny had already shoved past me, charging into my office with no hesitation. He grabbed the box from my desk, ripping the lid off in one swift motion.

For a moment, none of us breathed. Then Sonny pulled out… a plush chinchilla.

Olivia blinked, breaking the silence with a deadpan, “Is that a rat?”

“It’s not a rat!” Sonny shot back, glaring at her as he held the plush defensively. He studied it with an intensity that would have been comical if the situation weren’t so dire.

Meanwhile, I was struggling to keep up. “What the hell is this supposed to mean?” I muttered, stepping closer to the desk. My eyes landed on the folded piece of paper still inside the box. I snatched it up and unfolded it with shaking hands.

Olivia leaned in, reading over my shoulder. “For the next six clues, you’ll have to ask—but be quick, or she’ll pass.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and ominous. I felt my stomach churn. “Ask who? And what does ‘she’ll pass’ mean? Is he threatening her life, or is this another one of his games?”

Sonny, still holding the chinchilla, finally spoke up. “It’s not a rat—it’s a chinchilla. And I’m pretty sure the only place in the city with chinchillas is the Bronx Zoo.”

“The Bronx Zoo?” Olivia asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sonny nodded firmly. “It was Y/N’s favourite place growing up. She’d go there every chance she got. And every visit started and ended with the chinchillas. It has to be the zoo.”

We didn’t waste any time. Back in the car, Sonny took the wheel again, his driving just as reckless as before. The urgency in the air was suffocating, every second ticking by like a countdown to disaster.

As the car sped through the city streets, Sonny spoke over the roar of the engine. “When we were kids, our parents would take her to the Bronx Zoo for her birthday. Every year. The first and last thing she’d do was visit the chinchillas. She loves them.”

I stared at the plush in my hands, trying to reconcile the sweet memory Sonny shared with the grim reality we were facing. My fingers tapped anxiously against my thigh as I tucked the Chincilla away with the book from earlier. “The note,” I said, turning back to Olivia. “What do you think it means? ‘Ask’? Ask who? Ask what?”

Olivia shrugged, her expression tight with worry. “It could mean anything. Marco’s been deliberately vague this entire time. He’s toying with us, and he knows it.”

I clenched my fists, frustration boiling beneath the surface. Every step of this chase felt like a slap in the face, a reminder of how helpless I was in protecting Y/N. But there wasn’t time for self-pity. We had to stay sharp.

Sonny glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Whatever it means, we’ll figure it out. We have to. Let’s just get to the zoo first.”

His voice was steady, but I could see the tension in his grip on the steering wheel. We all knew the stakes. And with every mile closer to the Bronx Zoo, my determination solidified.

I couldn’t let Marco win. Not this time.

…

Sonny pulled the car to a jerking halt outside the Bronx Zoo. I barely had time to exhale before Olivia was already out, her badge flashing as she approached the ticket booth.

“We’re NYPD,” she said briskly, showing the man behind the glass her identification. “Has anyone left anything for us? A package, a message?”

The man blinked, startled by her intensity, and shook his head. “No, ma’am. Nothing’s been left here.”

I stepped forward, pulling out my phone to show him a picture of Marco. “What about this man? Have you seen him recently?”

The guy leaned closer, squinting at the screen. “I don’t think so. But I can’t say for sure. We’ve had a lot of visitors today.”

It was frustratingly vague, but there wasn’t time to press him further. We headed straight through the gates, the familiar smell of popcorn and animal enclosures hitting me as we walked. Despite the urgency of the situation, I couldn’t help the faint pang of nostalgia that tugged at me. Y/N had spoken about this place before, about how much she loved it as a kid. And now, it felt like Marco was using that love against her—and us.

“Where to?” Olivia asked, glancing around the sprawling zoo grounds.

“The Mouse House,” Sonny answered, as if it were obvious. “Chinchillas. Let’s move.”

We navigated the winding pathways, dodging families and strollers, my eyes scanning every face we passed. My nerves were taut, every sound and movement setting my heart racing.

The Mouse House was dimly lit, the soft chatter of visitors echoing off the walls. The smell of hay and sawdust hung in the air as we wound our way through the narrow corridors. My pulse quickened with every step, my eyes darting to every corner, searching for anything out of place.

When we reached the chinchilla enclosure, I stopped short. There they were—tiny, fluffy creatures with twitching noses, hopping around in their habitat like nothing in the world could bother them. Y/N’s voice echoed in my mind, her excitement as she’d once described them to me after I asked her about her computer background, the only reason I had recognised the Chincilla plush for what it was.

But there was no sign of Marco. No sign of Y/N. Just the glass enclosure and the animals inside.

Sonny was already scouring the area, checking behind benches and trash cans, while Olivia questioned a zookeeper standing nearby. I stood frozen, my gut telling me we weren’t in the wrong place—but we were missing something.

“Barba,” Sonny called, his voice sharp. He was crouched near the edge of the enclosure, holding something in his hand. A folded piece of paper.

I moved quickly, snatching it from him and unfolding it. The message was written in Marco’s now-familiar scrawl:

“You’re halfway there. Keep following her heart, and you might just save it.”

My grip tightened on the paper as frustration bubbled up inside me. “Her heart?” I muttered aloud, staring at the words. “What the hell does that mean?”

Olivia glanced over my shoulder. “Could be literal, could be figurative. Either way, it’s cryptic as hell.”

Sonny stood, brushing off his pants. “Her heart... what else did Y/N love? Something she always talked about?”

The weight of the chase pressed down on me like an anchor, each step feeling heavier than the last. Marco was toying with us, stringing us along with vague clues, and Y/N’s life was slipping through our fingers. Every moment wasted felt like a step closer to losing her.

As we reached the far end of the Mouse House, I spotted a man standing behind an ice cream cart, his colorful setup a jarring contrast to the dimly lit surroundings. He greeted each passerby with an enthusiastic grin, cheerfully handing out cones piled high with creamy swirls.

I approached cautiously, hope flickering weakly in my chest. Maybe he had seen something. Maybe he held another piece of the puzzle.

"Free ice cream today!" the man announced as I neared, his voice full of warmth. He held out a cone toward me, the scent of vanilla and sugar wafting in the air. "Some generous guy came by this morning and paid for the whole cart—said to make sure everyone got one."

I forced a polite smile, though the tension in my chest made it impossible to enjoy the gesture. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” My tone was clipped, businesslike. I pulled out my phone and held up the screen, showing him the photo of Marco. “Was it this man? Did he pay for the ice cream?”

The vendor leaned closer, squinting at the screen. After a moment, he nodded with a bright smile. “Yeah, that’s him! Paid in cash, too. Real nice guy, seemed like he just wanted to spread some joy.”

I clenched my jaw, my frustration barely contained. The ease with which Marco charmed people was infuriating, his calculated moves cloaked in harmless gestures. “Did he say anything else? Leave anything behind?”

The man shook his head, his cheerful demeanor unshaken. “Nope, just told me to give out the ice cream. That’s all.”

I nodded tightly, stepping back from the cart as a dull ache settled in my chest. “Thanks,” I muttered, my voice devoid of the gratitude I should have expressed.

“Have a good day!” the vendor called after me, his voice far too bright for the grim thoughts swirling in my mind.

I turned to Sonny and Olivia, who were already watching me. Their expressions mirrored my own—a blend of frustration and helplessness. The ice cream clue was another dead end, another cruel twist in Marco’s game.

Sonny ran a hand through his hair, pacing in agitated circles. “What now? Ice cream? Are we supposed to figure out some connection to ice cream now?”

I exhaled slowly, the weight of the situation pressing down harder. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But Marco’s not doing this without a reason. There’s something here. We just have to see it.”

The thought gnawed at me as the three of us stood there, the clock ticking relentlessly in the background. We had to figure this out—and fast.

“What now?” Olivia asked, her tone edged with impatience.

“He paid for the ice cream and told the guy to give it out for free. That’s it.” I ran a hand down my face, trying to think. “Nothing else. No clue.”

Olivia looked at Sonny. “Anything? Does Y/N have some connection to ice cream? A favourite parlour or something?”

Sonny shook his head, his hands on his hips as he stared at the ground. “Not that I can think of. She likes ice cream, sure, but nothing stands out.”

The thought of involving Amaro stung, like a sharp jab to an already tender wound, but I swallowed my pride. It wasn’t about me—it was about Y/N. If he could help us, I’d endure it. My voice came out lower than I intended, weighed down by reluctance.

“Maybe we should ask Amaro,” I said, each word feeling like it dragged itself out of me. “He knew about the bookstore—maybe he knows something we don’t.”

Sonny’s eyes widened, but not in surprise—more like a light bulb had just gone off. He snapped his fingers, his expression shifting to determination. “Wait. What if Marco means we need to ask the people around her? The ones who know her best.”

Before I could respond, he was already pulling out his phone, his fingers moving fast as he dialed.

Amaro picked up after just a few rings, his voice calm but questioning. “What’s going on?”

“We’re at the zoo, following Marco’s trail, but we’re stuck,” Sonny explained, his words rapid and urgent. “Do you know if Y/N has a favorite ice cream spot?”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by muffled voices as Amaro apparently relayed the question to others nearby. I clenched my fists, waiting, frustration bubbling beneath my skin.

After a brief silence, Amanda’s voice came through, clear and confident. “The Museum of Ice Cream,” she said firmly. “Y/N takes Jesse there all the time for girls’ days. It’s their go-to spot. The sprinkle pool is Jesse’s favorite part.”

Sonny’s face lit up with relief. He snapped his fingers again, nodding. “That’s it. Amanda, you’re a genius. Thank you.”

Amanda’s voice carried a hint of urgency now. “If Marco’s sending you there, don’t waste time. Go.”

“We’re on it,” Sonny promised, already moving toward the car.

I followed, my chest tight with a mix of emotions. Gratitude that Amanda knew the answer, frustration that I hadn’t, and an undercurrent of desperation to get to Y/N before it was too late.

…

The ride to the Museum of Ice Cream was suffocating. The only sound in the car was the hum of the engine and the occasional impatient sigh from Sonny as he maneuverered through the city streets. I sat in the back, staring out the window but seeing nothing.

My thoughts churned like a storm, each one landing heavier than the last. Amanda and Nick had known Y/N’s favourite places, her habits, her joys. Nick had known about the bookstore, Amanda about the Museum of Ice Cream. Even Sonny, her brother, had insights into her world that I could never claim.

I was her colleague, her partner. We worked side by side every day, and yet, what did I know about her? Not enough, that much was clear. Somewhere along the way, I had convinced myself that knowing her professionally was enough. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

The sharp screech of brakes jolted me out of my thoughts. Sonny brought the car to a halt in front of the brightly coloured façade of the Museum of Ice Cream.

“Let’s go,” he said, already climbing out.

We moved as one, a silent agreement to head straight for the sprinkle pool. If Amanda knew it was Y/N’s favourite, Marco did too.

Inside, the museum was alive with colour and laughter, a stark contrast to the grim tension between us. We weaved through the exhibits until we reached the sprinkle pool, a massive pit filled with foam sprinkles where kids dove in gleefully while parents looked on.

As we stood there, scanning the room for any sign of a clue, a woman in a pink uniform approached us with a broad smile. The logo on her shirt marked her as a museum employee.

“Good afternoon!” she said brightly, handing each of us a card.

I glanced at it: One Free Family Meal at a Restaurant of Your Choice.

Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you handing these out?”

The woman kept her smile, but there was a hint of confusion in her expression. “A courier dropped them off this morning with a note. It said to give them to everyone who enters today as part of a promotional event. It’s unusual, but we followed the instructions.”

The moment she walked away, Olivia turned to Sonny. “What’s Y/N’s favourite restaurant?”

Sonny rubbed a hand over his face, clearly frustrated. “There was this place we went to as kids, every Sunday with our parents and grandparents. It became a tradition, and Y/N kept going even after the rest of us stopped. But I can’t remember the name.”

His fingers were already flying over his phone as he tried calling someone. After three attempts, he cursed under his breath and scrolled through his contacts again. This time, he paused and hesitated before dialling.

“She’ll know,” he muttered.

The line barely rang before it connected, and he began speaking rapidly in Italian.

“Mamma…sì, ho ricevuto il tuo messaggio…mamma…mamma...sì, saremo lì per Natale, non ce lo perderemo, lo sai…ascolta, qual era il ristorante dove andavamo con i nonni? Pensavo di prendere un buono per coccinella per Natale…Grazie mamma… Ti voglio bene, ciao” (Mum yes I've been getting your messages, Mum Mum, yes we'll be there for Chrismas we wouldn't miss it you know that, listen what was that restaurant we use to go to with Grandma and Grandpa? I was thinking I would get a gift certificate for ladybug for Christmas. Thanks Mum. Love you bye)

Olivia and I exchanged a glance, neither of us able to follow the conversation. But we didn’t need to. The tight set of Sonny’s jaw and the relief in his expression told us all we needed to know.

When he hung up, he turned to us, his voice firm. “La Nonna Restaurant. Let’s go.”

He didn’t wait for a response, already heading back toward the car. Olivia and I followed without question, a new wave of determination driving us forward.

…

Sonny drove with single-minded focus, weaving through traffic as the city flew by in a blur. La Nonna was etched deep in his childhood memories, and now it was the thread we followed, hoping it would finally lead us closer to Y/N.

The weight of my inadequacies pressed harder against my chest as the car sped toward La Nonna. I sat in the back seat, silent, letting the others talk around me. I was haunted by my lack of connection to this piece of Y/N’s life. La Nonna, a place that seemed etched into her family’s history, was foreign to me. While I worked alongside her every day, Marco had exposed just how shallow my understanding of her truly was.

The car came to an abrupt stop outside a cozy, brick-fronted restaurant. The windows glowed warmly against the fading daylight, and the air was rich with the scent of freshly baked bread and garlic. It should have been inviting, but urgency overrode any appreciation for its charm.

We pushed through the door, and the sound of light chatter and clinking plates greeted us. Behind the counter stood an older woman, her kind eyes lighting up in recognition as she saw Sonny.

“Sonny Carisi? My goodness, it’s been ages!” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with both surprise and affection.

Sonny managed a quick, polite smile, but his tone was sharp and efficient. “Mrs. Marinelli, I’m sorry, but we don’t have time to catch up. Did someone leave something here for us? A note, a package—anything?”

Her expression shifted to concern as she studied his face. “A young man did stop by this morning. Left an envelope and told me to hold onto it. Said someone would come for it later.” She reached under the counter, pulling out a plain white envelope and handing it to Sonny.

His fingers trembled as he tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of paper with Marco’s familiar cryptic handwriting. Sonny handed it to Olivia, who read aloud:

“Music spins memories and history unfolds. Find what was lost where vinyl molds.”

Olivia’s brow furrowed as she lowered the paper. “Music and vinyl? What does that even mean?”

I clenched my fists, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. “It’s vague on purpose. Marco’s playing games, and every second we waste gives him more power over us.” My voice was tighter than I intended, but the clock was ticking, and Y/N’s life hung in the balance.

Sonny began pacing the narrow space in front of the counter, muttering fragments of the clue under his breath. Olivia pulled out her phone, her fingers flying as she searched for connections. I stared at the note, willing it to make sense, but the answer danced just out of reach.

A buzz from Olivia’s phone broke the tense silence. She glanced at the screen and frowned before answering. “It’s Finn. I sent him a picture of the clue.”

She put the call on speaker, Finn’s steady voice cutting through the static. “You’re looking for Academy Records,” he said without hesitation.

Sonny stopped pacing, turning sharply toward the phone. “What? How do you know that?”

Finn’s tone was calm but certain. “Y/N loves that place. She’s dragged me there a few times. She’s got a thing for vinyl—old classics, rare finds. If Marco knows her as well as it seems, that’s where he’d send you next.”

Sonny exhaled sharply, already moving toward the door. “Thanks, Finn. We owe you one.”

The three of us piled back into the car, the engine roaring to life as Sonny floored the gas pedal. The urgency in the air was almost suffocating, but my thoughts spiraled inward.

Academy Records. Another corner of Y/N’s world I had never stepped into. Finn had shared moments with her there, moments I couldn’t even imagine. I didn’t belong in her life—not the way these other people did.

But there was no time to dwell on regrets. I could make up for my failures later. Y/N’s life depended on us moving faster, thinking smarter, and staying one step ahead of Marco’s game. I forced my focus back to the road ahead as the city blurred by, the cryptic note burned into my thoughts.

Marco’s game wasn’t over yet, but neither was ours.

…

We reached Academy Records in what felt like record time, the tires screeching as Sonny brought the car to an abrupt halt. None of us waited for a complete stop before flinging our doors open and rushing inside.

The store was small and chaotic, a maze of tightly packed shelves stuffed with vinyl records. The faint crackle of an old jazz tune played over the speakers, mixing with the smell of aged cardboard and faint traces of incense. Behind the counter stood a young man in his early twenties, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he barely glanced up at the jingling bell above the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked lazily, his tone oozing disinterest as he set down a cup of coffee.

Sonny stepped forward, the urgency in his voice cutting through the young man’s nonchalance. “We’re looking for something that might’ve been left here—a note, a package, anything unusual.”

The man blinked, finally giving us his full attention. His expression turned thoughtful, and then he shrugged. “Some weird guy came in this morning. Didn’t buy anything. Just left this.” He ducked behind the counter and came back up holding a folded piece of paper, slightly crumpled, as if it had been handled with as little care as possible.

Olivia took the note, her movements cautious, as though the thin piece of paper might hold a detonator. She unfolded it and scanned the words before reading them aloud: “Where the horses run and the waves crash loud, her laughter lingers under the clouds.”

The riddle hung heavy in the air, its poetic phrasing a stark contrast to the stark reality we faced.

Sonny groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “Another damn riddle. We don’t have time for this!” His voice was sharp, frustration spilling over as the minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity.

I clenched my fists, staring at the note as if I could will it to reveal its secrets. Marco’s games were wearing us down, but Olivia’s sudden shift in expression caught my attention.

Her lips parted slightly, a flicker of recognition lighting her face. “I know where this is,” she said, her voice steady.

Sonny and I turned to her simultaneously, disbelief and hope mingling in our gazes.

“It’s Coney Island,” she continued with certainty. “The carousel. Y/N takes Noah there all the time. He talks about it all the time— the way Noah’s face lights up when he tells me how they ride together.”

Her words hit me like a gut punch. Another place Y/N had shared with someone else, another moment I’d never been a part of. The hollow ache in my chest grew, but I shoved it aside.

“Then we go now,” Sonny said, his tone clipped as he turned and headed for the door.

Olivia and I followed close behind, my mind racing as we climbed back into the car. The streets blurred past the windows, but all I could think about was the clock ticking down and the desperate hope that we weren’t already too late. Sonny drove like a man possessed, weaving through traffic with a focus that bordered on reckless.

In the backseat, I sat in silence, my thoughts a chaotic storm. I couldn’t help but feel like I was failing Y/N in more ways than one. She had shared so much of herself with the people around her—Sonny, Olivia, even Finn—and yet I had missed so much.

Olivia’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Rafael, don’t beat yourself up.”

I looked up, startled. She wasn’t even looking at me, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, but somehow she knew exactly what I was thinking.

Olivia continued. “What matters is that we get to her in time.”

I nodded, though her words did little to ease the tightness in my chest.

…

The car skidded to a stop at Coney Island, and the carousel loomed ahead, its brilliant lights casting flickering reflections on the damp boardwalk. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and purple, but I couldn’t spare a moment to take it in. All I could think about was Y/N—her life hanging by a thread, and the clock relentlessly ticking down.

The salty breeze hit me as we stepped onto the boardwalk, the faint sound of crashing waves blending with the distant laughter of families enjoying the evening. But the carousel's joyful melody felt like a cruel juxtaposition to the dread coiling in my chest.

We ran, the weathered planks of the boardwalk groaning under our hurried steps. The carousel lights grew brighter as we neared, their spinning patterns like a beacon pulling us forward. Sonny, Olivia, and I spread out immediately, questioning everyone within earshot—carousel workers, parents corralling their children, teenagers clustered with ice cream cones. But every inquiry met with a blank stare, a shake of the head, or a polite, “Sorry, haven’t seen anything.”

Frustration mounted like a storm inside me. My breaths came heavy, each one laced with the weight of Marco’s cruel taunts. Standing in front of the carousel, I repeated his chilling words aloud, barely realizing it: The longer you take, the more water fills her space.

Sonny spun on his heel, his face a mask of fury. “Are you serious, Barba?” he snapped, his voice cracking with anger. “We’re standing next to the damn ocean! How the hell are we supposed to figure this out from those stupid words?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came. My throat tightened as Sonny’s frustration boiled over. He marched toward me, jabbing a finger at my chest.

“This is all your fault!” he shouted, his voice raw. “You’re the reason she’s in this mess! Marco didn’t just pick her out of nowhere—why? Why did he go after my sister?”

Olivia shot me a desperate look, shaking her head as if to warn me against saying what I knew I had to. But the truth had been clawing at my chest for weeks, and it wouldn’t stay buried any longer.

I lowered my gaze, my voice barely audible. “Because I’m in love with her.”

Sonny froze. His hand hovered in mid-air as if the words had physically struck him. Then, in an instant, the shock gave way to a surge of anger. He grabbed my collar, yanking me close, his face inches from mine.

“You’re in love with her?” he spat, his voice shaking with rage. “And because of that, she’s lying out there somewhere, maybe drowning while we waste time chasing riddles? You didn’t even know anything about her, Barba. Her favorite things, the things that make her, her. You didn’t even know where she got your coffee. You think loving her makes up for all the ways you failed her?”

Each word hit harder than Sonny’s fists ever could, and I knew he was right. I had been so wrapped up in my feelings for Y/N, so afraid to cross a line, that I had let someone else exploit the space between us.

“You put her in danger because you couldn’t keep your feelings to yourself!” Sonny yelled, his voice cracking. “And now we don’t even know if she’s still alive!”

The punch came out of nowhere, his fist slamming into my jaw with a force that sent stars dancing across my vision. Pain exploded across my face, but I didn’t raise a hand to defend myself. I didn’t move at all. I deserved it.

“Enough!” Olivia shouted, stepping between us and pushing Sonny back. “This isn’t helping anyone!”

I touched the corner of my mouth, feeling the warm stickiness of blood on my fingertips. “It’s fine,” I rasped, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “I deserved that.”

Sonny’s chest heaved as he let go of my collar. He turned away, his anger still palpable, and pulled out his phone. “I’m calling backup. I want every available unit down here now. We’re combing every inch of this place until we find her.”

…

The flurry of officers and emergency responders that followed was both chaotic and a small comfort. Red and blue lights danced across the dark waves as search teams spread out along the beach, the docks, and every hidden corner of the area. Voices called out over the roar of the surf, flashlights sweeping over shadowed nooks and crannies.

But Marco’s words kept gnawing at me: The longer you take, the more water fills her space. My mind turned the phrase over again and again until a horrifying realization struck.

“The tide,” I whispered, my stomach twisting. Then louder, I shouted, “We have until high tide! Wherever she is, it’s going to flood!”

The words sent a ripple of urgency through the search teams. Everyone moved faster, their voices growing sharper and more determined.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a voice shouted from beneath the docks, “Over here!”

We all ran toward the sound, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. Beneath the wooden structure, in a small crawlspace created from rocks barely visible in the growing shadows, lay Y/N. The water was already lapping at her face. A paramedic was already down with her checking for signs of life. When he yelled back that she still had a pulse I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

“Get her out of there!” Sonny yelled, his voice cracking with desperation.

Officers scrambled to free her, lifting her carefully onto a stretcher. My breath caught as I saw her face—so still, so unlike the vibrant woman I knew. But the faint rise and fall of her chest told me she was still fighting.

The paramedics arrived in a flurry of motion, stabilizing her as they carried her toward the waiting ambulance. Sonny climbed in immediately, his hands shaking as he gripped hers.

Then, to my utter shock, he turned to me. “Barba,” he said gruffly, his voice tight with emotion. “Get in.”

I hesitated for only a second before nodding, climbing into the ambulance and taking the seat across from him. The ride was silent, save for the beeping monitors and the hum of the engine. Sonny didn’t look at me, his focus entirely on Y/N, but his invitation spoke volumes.

All that mattered now was that we had found her. She was alive. And we would do whatever it took to keep her that way.

Tag List!

@geeksareunique @pinkladydevotee @pumpkindwight @chriskevinevans

Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 8

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings boring filler chapter?

Note Short filler chapter. The next chapter will start seeing the slow burn come to an end!

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Four weeks evaporated faster than a desert mirage. Another team of hunters had cleared out the vampire nest I'd targeted, forcing me to scramble for a new lead. My gaze darted across the laptop screen, searching for a hunt far enough from Sydney that I could just jump in my car and disappear as soon as the casts came off. Dean, meanwhile, had mastered the art of the disappearing act himself. Most days, he was a ghost in my own house, materializing only to grab intel on the next hunt before vanishing again.

Truth be told, I didn't need the Winchesters anymore. I was a functioning weapon again. They could have left the day we were discharged, but Sam, bless his heart, insisted on sticking around until I was fully healed. He'd even convinced Theresa to return to the States with them. I genuinely felt happy for her, a bittersweet ache blooming in my chest. It stung that Sam, despite the grim realities of our work, could find solace in companionship, while Dean and I seemed perpetually adrift in a sea of loneliness.

The tension between the brothers simmered just beneath the surface, erupting into low-grade hostility during their late-night conversations. I tried my best to tune them out, but the sound of my own name being tossed around like a grenade always snagged my attention.

The last week was a blur of activity. Sam spent his days drowning Theresa in paperwork for her move, while Dean fussed over his beloved Impala, babbling about some shady contact who could "sneak her" past customs. I, on the other hand, was a silent observer, counting down the minutes until I was free. My escape plan was already hatched. Despite promising Sam I'd take it easy, my duffel bag sat fat and expectant in the closet, crammed with everything I needed to hit the road running.

Finally, the day arrived. The Winchesters and I piled into the car, a strange, tense silence hanging heavy in the air. Dean, still grumbling about his "baby" being in the hands of strangers, insisted he could feel the difference between his car and mine. Sam and I exchanged tolerant smiles, knowing it was pure delusion.

The hospital visit was a repeat of the last one, only this time, a sliver of hope flickered in my chest. The x-rays seemed to confirm it. The doctor, a man with a perpetually weary smile, announced, "Looks like we can ditch the dead weight."

"This one first," I declared, holding up my arm, the itch beneath the cast a maddening fire. "It's driving me insane."

The doctor chuckled. "That'll be the built-up…evidence of your resilience." He set to work with a saw, and the moment my arm was free, I cradled it close, both rubbing and scratching with fervor. The stench that hit me was ripe and metallic, like a forgotten gym bag. My skin, exposed for the first time in weeks, was a stark contrast of shades - a sickly brown under the cast giving way to the healthy pale of my upper arm. The doctor, unfazed, explained the science behind the offensive odor – trapped sweat and bacteria. Charming.

As quickly as they came off, the casts were relegated to the dustbin of history. Relief washed over me, mingling with a raw, exhilarating anticipation. Back in the car, the weight of the situation settled on my shoulders. A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down. Tonight, when the Winchesters were safely on their flight, I'd be gone. Johnny, a fellow hunter with a nose for trouble, had sent me a juicy case on the other side of the country. People were vanishing along a desolate stretch of highway in Western Australia, all last seen at the same gas station. Humans? Or something more sinister? Johnny had arranged for me to meet a local hunter to investigate.

"Earth to Y/N," Dean's voice broke through my thoughts. "You zoning out on us, or are you ditching us at the airport?"

"Relax, your chariot awaits," I offered a tight smile.

"Seriously, what's got you lost in thought?" Sam asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Just contemplating the best way to break something and convince you two to stick around a bit longer," I deadpanned, then burst out laughing.

The joke landed with a thud. Dean muttered something about me being a "psycho," and slammed on the gas, eager to get the goodbyes over with.

At Theresa's place, a "for sale" sign sat like a grim sentinel in the yard. She wore a bittersweet smile, a reflection of my own conflicted emotions. We shared a hug, her goodbye a mix of excitement and sadness. As they disappeared into the bustle of the airport, I lingered for a moment, watching them go. Then, with a deep breath, I climbed back into the car. The airport shrunk in the rearview mirror, replaced by the endless ribbon of highway stretching before me. The ache in my chest sharpened – a potent cocktail of grief for the life I couldn't have and the thrill of the hunt that pulsed through my veins.

The drive was a blur. Every passing mile chipped away at the lingering vestiges of the Winchesters. The radio, usually a source of unwelcome distraction, remained silent. My thoughts were consumed by the case file Johnny had sent. The disappearances in Western Australia were unsettling. People, mostly lone travelers – men and women – vanished without a trace, their last known stop a deserted gas station along a desolate stretch of highway.

Johnny, ever the pragmatist, suspected foul play – a human trafficking ring or a deranged serial killer. But a sliver of doubt lingered in my mind. The isolation of the location, the pattern of disappearances… it all felt uncomfortably supernatural.

The local hunter Johnny had arranged for me to meet was a woman named Maya, someone with a reputation for handling the strange and unsettling. Her contact information was a single cryptic sentence: "Look for the blue ute with the bumper sticker that reads 'Honk if You've Seen Chupacabra.'"

A wry smile touched my lips. This was going to be interesting. The promise of a new hunt, a chance to unravel a mystery, fueled me forward. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the deserted highway, I pushed on, the ache in my chest replaced by a steely determination. The Winchesters were a fading memory, a chapter closed. The hunt was on.

Objection! Part 3

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

1k word count

Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

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Coffees and food in hand, I made my way back to the district attorney's office. As I walked through the door, I heard a familiar voice call out behind me.

"Y/N, Rafa is really putting you to work, isn’t he?" Olivia smiled as she caught up and fell into step with me.

"Lieutenant Benson, hardly. This is just a thank you for everything, and something to tide us over while we look over a case together," I smiled back at her.

"Oh, please, call me Liv," she laughed. "I hope my team didn’t scare you off."

"No, they're wonderful! If anything, I’m mad that Sonny didn’t introduce us all earlier."

"If it makes you feel any better, we all thought he only had one sister until Fin overheard him talking with Rafa about getting you a job. Then he tells us he has four sisters!" Olivia laughed, holding open Rafael's office door for me.

Rafael looked up from his desk, raising an eyebrow when he saw us all smiles and laughter.

"Getting along well, I see," Rafael remarked, keeping his face neutral.

"Yeah, just talking about Sonny," I smiled, placing a coffee and a sandwich in front of him. "This is a thank you for saving me at the courthouse earlier."

"Oh, no thanks needed. We all get lost there our first day," Rafael smiled. "Now, Liv, what can I help you with?" He turned his attention to her.

"The guy we arrested yesterday wants to make a deal. He’ll give us all the other guys he knows who are holding girls in exchange for a reduced sentence and protective custody," Olivia quickly switched to business mode.

"Tell him I’ll be in to discuss a deal first thing in the morning," Rafael sighed.

"Great, I’ll leave you two to whatever it is ADAs do," Olivia smiled, walking out of the office.

Rafael waved a hand at her as she left, then picked up a pile of papers from his desk and brought them over to a coffee table on the other side of the room. He motioned for me to sit down on the lounge next to the coffee table before retrieving his coffee and sandwich. He handed me some paperwork from the pile and directed me to read while he ate. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him trying to eat in manageable bites while fighting the urge to just devour the entire sandwich. It was clear this was his first meal of the day—or at least since breakfast. I felt a pang of guilt for not getting something more substantial. Mental note: find a good takeout place nearby to keep this man fed. Sonny would probably know a few spots.

I turned my attention back to the paperwork, my heart sinking as I read the case summary and saw who the defense attorney was.

"You're in for one hell of a fight here, Barba," I looked over at him.

"You got all that from just reading the case outline?" Rafael asked, taking the final bite of his sandwich.

"That, and the fact that the defense attorney is Buchanan. It's glaringly obvious from the outline what tactics he'll try to use," I sighed.

"So, you know about Buchanan?" Rafael smirked.

"And you, Cabot, Novak, Langan, Calhoun, Ellis... If they’ve worked in New York, I’ve likely studied them," I admitted, a little embarrassed.

"Know thine enemy," Rafael chuckled. "So walk me through it."

I nodded and began breaking down the case for Rafael. If Buchanan wasn’t the defense attorney, I’d say it was open and shut. But with the victim being a prostitute, it was a given that Buchanan would try to use that as a justification. Clearly, Rafael had already anticipated this, as there was an in-depth criminal record for the defendant and even evidence to make the victim look more like a saint. It was a strong case, and I told Rafael so—the real hurdle was Buchanan. We spent hours going over every piece of evidence, discussing everything, every possible defense, every argument that could be made. By the time we finished, the city outside was lit up with its nightlife. The clock on the wall read 9:30. Rafael had a massive smile on his face.

"You're every bit as good as Carisi said you would be," he smiled.

"I have to be," I replied with a small smile.

I could tell he wanted to press on my answer but held back, choosing to nod instead.

"So, you're happy to keep working for me?" Rafael asked.

"It would be my pleasure," I smiled.

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow at 8 at the 16th because, for every bit of good you are, you somehow managed to forget to pick up the files I asked for," Rafael smirked, my eyes widening in realization.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I completely forgot! Sonny is still working; I can run over to the 16th now and grab the files," I rushed to grab my phone, but before Rafael could speak, it rang. "Speak of the devil. Sonny, I was just about to call you."

"Great minds think alike. You still burning the midnight oil with Barba?" he chuckled.

"Yeah, I’m here with Barba. Why?" I asked, glancing at Rafael.

"Great! We’re all taking a break for dinner and wanted to see if you wanted to join us at Forlini’s?"

"That actually sounds amazing! We were just wrapping up here, so we’ll meet you there. Also, Sonny, could you bring along any cases you need us to look over? Please? I completely forgot to pick them up earlier," I added, feeling sheepish.

"Uh oh, first-day foul," Sonny laughed. "But yes, I can be an awesome big brother and bring them with me."

"Thank you, I owe you one," I hung up the phone and turned back to Barba. "The team is headed to Forlini’s for dinner and asked us to join."

"Sounds great to me," Rafael smiled.

We began packing up all the paperwork, slotting it back into the various files they had come from. Once everything was returned to its place, Rafael placed the files into a cabinet by his desk, grabbed his jacket, and slid it on while holding the office door open for me. I walked out as Rafael grabbed his briefcase and fell into step beside me, chatting about how, if he hadn’t been asked out for dinner with the team, he likely would have gone home and crashed without eating. I had to laugh and agree that I would have done the same.

I’d never been to Forlini’s, but Sonny had brought me food from there a few times, so I was looking forward to actually eating there for once. Rafael waved down a cab and told the driver where to go. When we pulled up in front of Forlini’s, Rafael had his wallet out and paid for the cab before I could protest. He climbed out first, holding the door open for me. My heart raced—he really was a gentleman.

Forlini’s was crowded, and Rafael placed his hand on the small of my back to guide me through the crowd. He said something about knowing where to find the others, but I couldn’t hear him over the noise. We came to a stop in front of a group of tables in the far back corner where Sonny, Fin, Amanda, Nick, and Olivia were already sitting, drinks in hand, laughing away.

"Should you be drinking if you’re still working?" Rafael chuckled, taking a seat and motioning for me to sit next to him.

"The only one here still working is Water Boy over there," Fin smirked, pointing at Sonny.

"Yeah, someone’s been neglecting their paperwork," Amanda laughed.

Sonny gave them a "stuff off" look before turning to me.

“Come è andato il primo giorno?” Sonny asked, leaning back in his chair. (How did the first day go?)

“È stato fantastico, perché?” I replied with a smile. (it was great, why?)

“Volevo solo assicurarmi che Barba ci andasse piano con te,” he said, a hint of concern in his voice. (I just wanted to make sure Barba went easy on you.)

“Ti preoccupi troppo,” I giggled, reaching for a menu in the middle of the table. (You worry too much)

It was at that point I noticed the entire table had fallen silent. Everyone was looking at Sonny and me with wide eyes, and Rafael looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. Clearly, Sonny hadn’t mentioned to anyone that he knew Italian.

“You speak Italian too?” Rafael was the first to break the silence.

“Uh, yes. Sonny never told any of you he could speak Italian?” I asked, looking around the table.

“No, he didn’t,” Olivia said, turning to Sonny. “What does Rafael mean by ‘you speak Italian too’?”

“Oh, I also speak Spanish,” I shrugged casually.

“Wow, Carisi, your sister’s amazing,” Nick smiled. “Veo que nos vamos a llevar bien, señorita.” (I can see we’re going to get along well, missy.)

“Hey, Amaro, eyes off my sister, alright?” Sonny pointed a finger at him, half-joking.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the two of them, and the rest of the table joined in. Rafael, however, seemed to be glaring at Nick. I decided it would be best to wait until it was just Rafael and me before asking what his problem with Nick was. I joined the conversation at the table, and the whole team treated me like I’d been working with them for years. I felt at ease with them faster than I had with anyone else. For the first time, I felt like I’d found where I belonged.

When dinner was over, Sonny handed the files I had left behind to Rafael and excused himself to return to the office. The others wandered off to their various homes, and Rafael offered to see me home, even though it meant traveling further than his own place. He hailed us another cab and held the door open while I climbed in. I gave the driver my address before turning to Rafael.

“Okay, spill it,” I said, watching him.

“What?” Rafael looked at me, caught off guard.

“You don’t like Nick. Why?” I asked directly.

“He’s a playboy. Ever since his wife divorced him, he’s been running through women like he needs them to breathe,” Rafael said, looking out the cab window. “I just don’t want to see him do the same to you. He’s already slept with Amanda and half the female officers in the 16th, so I wouldn’t put it past him to target you next.”

“I can take care of myself, but thank you for your concern,” I smiled, appreciating his protective nature.

The cab came to a stop in front of mine and Sonny’s apartment building. I wished Rafael goodnight before making my way inside, desperate for sleep before I had to be at the 16th at 8 a.m.