Marked.

t w o

Sam
_____________

I really should finish my works before I start new ones but yeah. I've decided this is going to be a continuous storyline between Dean x Female Reader but other characters are going to be sprinkled in. (Ie. Sam) anyways. Read on.
_______________________________
Sam woke up to muffled screams and a loud banging. He pushed away the lore books he'd fallen asleep on and grabbed the pistol from the table. Creeping quickly along the hallways, he peered into Y/N's room and saw nothing but her opened laptop on her bed. Less signs of a struggle and more signs of a woman off on a snack scavenge, an endearing midnight trait of Y/N's. But hearing her voice from down the hall, he ran quickly to rouse Dean against his better judgement. The Mark's effects on Dean had been getting worse, and the last thing Sam wanted to do was bring his brother into another fight, but if Y/N was in trouble and he wasn't informed- Sam's heart dropped as he took in Dean's empty bed. Adjusting his grip on the gun in his hands, he sped quietly down to the kitchen.

Dean had his hands latched around her throat, his face a mask of almost unrecognizable cruelty. Sam's blood ran cold as he saw the mark of cain, bloodshot and more prominent than usual on his brother's arm. He quickly wrapped his arms around the older Winchester and threw him down. He knelt on his brother's chest and aimed his pistol between his eyes, his hands remarkably steady. He had to be steady. "Dean!" he barked.

Dean blinked, and met Sam's eyes. "Wh-" he began, and then his face went white as he saw Y/N, slumped unconscious next to the fridge. Pushing Sam off and scrambling to his feet, Dean staggered for a moment, staring in horror. Sam, not missing a moment, went to kneel by Y/N, checking her pulse and injuries. "She's not badly hurt, Dean." he murmured. "She is unconscious, but we'll put her to bed and give her some time to recover." he turned to Dean. "Do you want to take her?"

His green eyes were locked on Y/N's face, his jaw slack. Even from across the kitchen, Sam could see his entire frame shaking. "I can't..I can't.. jesus christ Sammy..I can't fucking touch her." he choked out. He spun suddenly and slammed his fist into the nearest cupboard, the one that held bowls and plates. The cupboard dented inwards, and Dean's eyes fell as his face contorted. "Jesus fucking-" he cast one last tortured glance at Y/N, and then to his brother, running his fingers through his hair. Grabbing his keys, he stalked out of the kitchen, punching the doorway on his way. "Dean," Sam called, but he was stopped by the sound of the bunker's door to the garage slamming. Sam cursed quietly, and carried Y/N to bed. He took a cloth and wiped the blood off of her face, wincing as he noticed a bruise already forming. He set a glass of water beside the bed with some advil before closing the door behind him as he listened to the impala roaring to life and skidding out of the bunker.