INITIUM - Supernarural Season One [Dean Winchester x Reader]

IX - Home

A semi truck blares its horn as it passes the motel, jolting Sam awake. He pants desperately for air, his heart pounding from the nightmare he just woke up from. His face scrunches in confusion. What the hell was that? That woman he saw in his dreams... she was a complete stranger, the young man had never seen her before. So why was he having these reoccurring dreams with her right in the middle of it? And the tree--why was it so familiar?

He looks over to his brother's bed, hoping that he didn't wake him up, and finds Y/n and Dean curled up under the covers once again. Sam sighs, the sight of his best friend and brother enough to calm his nerves. He contemplates on trying to fall asleep again, but there's no way he'd fall asleep after being this riled up. 

Apparently, Sam's rushed, heavy breathing woke you up, you shifting under the covers. You squint and look around the room. You're clearly not in the armchair anymore, the comfy mattress underneath you and warm back against your own providing as a dead giveaway. You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, careful not to wake up the sleeping Dean next to you. 

"You, stupid idiot," you murmur to your sleeping companion. You'd have to scold him in the morning, you take note to yourself as you notice the figure sitting up in Sammy's bed. "Sammy?" you ask, your voice groggy from sleep. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Y/n," Sam whispers apologetically. "I didn't mean to wake you." 

"No, it's fine," you reassure him, waving your hand lazily as you yawn. You pause, observing Sam with hard eyes: the sheen coat of sweat on his brow, his alert demeanor, messy hair. Your features soften when you realize what probably woke him. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Sam swallows, casting his eyes somewhere else, reflecting on what he saw. Sam shakes his head no, hesitantly as if he wants to tell you but doesn't know how. "No, not now. I just--it's just a nightmare." 

You nod, not wanting to push Sam to his limit. "Well," you yawn and pat Sam's knee, "I'll be here when you're ready to talk." 

Sam smiles, grateful for your understanding. "Thanks, Y/n." 

You hum in reply, shuffling over to Dean's bed to climb into your side. Once you get situated under the blankets, Sam chuckles quietly to himself. "What?" you ask, keeping your head planted on the pillow. 

"Don't move so I can take another picture," Sam teases. The image Sam snapped of you and Dean clouds your mind, make you blush a deep red. You growl and throw a spare pillow at Sam. Sammy laughs then, the pillow hitting his chest. 

"Shut up," you hiss, having no control over the growing smile on your lips. 

[A FEW HOURS LATER]

"Alright. I've been cruising some websites. Think I found a few candidates for our next gig," Dean says from behind Sam's laptop. He sits alone at the small, circular coffee table near the window, while Sam sat on his bed, leaning against the wall and sketching, and you made yourself a sandwich from the groceries you bought earlier. 

Dean takes a sip of the coffee you picked up when you went shopping. "A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali. Its crew vanished. And we got some cattle mutilations in west Texas. Hey!" Dean shouts at Sam. Sammy looks up from the notepad, a blank expression on his face. "Am I boring you with this hunting-evil stuff?" 

"No, I'm listening," Sam reassures him, resuming his doodle. You look at the boy, worried about your short conversation before; his nightmare must be bothering him. "Keep going." 

"And here a Sacramento man shot himself in the head...3 times," Dean says, holding up three fingers. He shakes his hand at Sam, trying to get his attention. "Any of these blowing up your skirt, pal?"