Meet the Winchesters

Home

You were asleep when a rustling noise comes from the bed next to you. You usually are a very heavy sleeper, so you don't know why the noise roused you. You sit up slightly, not wanting to wake up your older brother, who was asleep next to you. You look over and see Sam sitting up, breathing heavy. You rub your eyes, and take off your covers, walking over to the other bed, you sit down and Sam jumps, seizing your arm.

"Hey, chill, it's me," you murmur patting the clammy hand that was gripping your arm, "You okay?"

Sam sighs, "Uh, just a weird dream, go back to bed," Sam lets go of your arm.

"I'll stay here, I think," you lift up the covers and slip under them, "If you need me, I'm right here."

"Oh, um, okay," Sam nods his head slowly. You turn away, facing the other bed. Sam moves to lie back down and then the bed settles, "Goodnight."

"Night, get some sleep, 'kay?" you yawn and flip the pillow over to the cooler side.

"Yeah, will do," Sam turns over to the other side, but then decides against it and turns to face you, "(Y/N)?"

"Hmm?" you ask, turning to face your younger brother.

"If, I, um, grab you in the middle of the night..." Sam starts, trying to find words that wouldn't sound too bizarre.

You chuckle faintly, "It's fine Sammy, it's not like you have cooties or something. Now let me sleep, unless you want me to be super crabby in the morning."

"Okay, goodnight," Sam sighs, you see him close his eyes, but you wait until his breathing becomes deep and even before you let yourself fall asleep.

Time Skip: 7 Hours

Dean is sitting at the small table in the room, across from Sam, looking at potential cases. Sam is sketching something on a piece of printer paper that he found somewhere. And you are sitting on the bed next to them, looking over your father's journal, looking for clues as to where he is. Dean speaks up, being the first to talk for at least half an hour, "All right. I've been crusin' some websites. I think I found a few candidates for our next gig. A fishing trawler was found off the coast of Cali; its crew vanished."

"People go missing at sea all the time, not that unusual," you remark, placing the journal on your chest and looking at your older brother.

Dean glowers at you, but continues, "We got some cattle mutilations in West Texas," Dean glances at Sam and notices he's still drawing, seemingly not paying attention to him, "Hey," Sam looks up from his drawing, glancing at you, then regarding at Dean, "Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?"

"No. I'm listening," Sam looks back down at his drawing, "Keep going."

"And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times," Dean looks up again and waves his hand in front of Sam's face, "Any of these things blowin' up your skirt, pal?"

"Stop pestering him Dean, he's doing something," you sit up, leaning against the headboard, placing the journal next to you.

Sam is still looking at his picture, "Wait. I've seen this.

"Seen what?" Dean asks, looking at Sam, and then you, confused. You shrug your shoulders. Sam gets up from the table and goes over to his duffle bag, which was sitting on the floor across the room, "What are you doing?" Sam finds whatever he was looking for and then stands there for a few seconds.

"Dean, (Y/N), I know where we have to go next," Sam turns back around, walking back to the table and sitting down, still holding the drawing and the other object he was holding, a picture.