Chapter Text
You yawn as you lean against Sam, he’s rifling through lore while picking through the hex bag and mumbling to himself. You’re both seated on the old stained couch of the motel room that looks as though it belongs in the 80s. The case with the man who choked on razor blades, it makes you nauseous just to think about it but this is the life Sam and Dean live. You’ll never look at a piece of candy the same, though.
Dean comes in with a bag from the convenience store, and some candy that he pops into his mouth quickly. You gag and Sam looks disgusted, “Really? After that guy choked down all those razor blades?”
You rub your throat and grimace as Dean proceeds to gross you out even more, “What? It's Halloween.”
You cringe, “It’s still gross. I’ll never be able to eat candy again.”
Dean shrugs and plops down on the couch next to you. You are officially in a Winchester hunting research sandwich and it’s a miracle that you’re not claustrophobic.
“Don’t be a downer. Anything interesting?” Dean throws an arm around you and focuses his attention on the hex bag.
Sam sighs and picks up the weed that was in the hex bag. “Well, we’re on a witch hunt, that’s for sure, but this isn’t your typical hex bag.”
“Hmm, how you figure?” Dean leans forward and picks up what looks like some charcoal from the open hex bag.
Sam indicates to the dried coiled up piece of grass, “Goldthread, an herb that’s been extinct for two hundred years. And this –” He picks up the silver coin, “is Celtic, and I don’t mean some new age knock-off. It looks like the real deal, like 600 years old real.”
Dean sniffs the piece of charcoal that he had grabbed and shrugs. Sam continues, looking mildly disgusted at Dean. “And um… that is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby.”
Dean gags and puts the bone back just as you shove him off the coach, “Gross!” you cried.
Dean shudders, not really looking bothered at the fact that he is on the floor, more at the fact that he sniffed the bone of a dead baby.
Sam proceeds to pick up the charred baby bone, “Relax guys, it’s like, at least a hundred years old.”
Dean sits up from where you had thrown him, “Oh, right, like that makes it better? Witches, man, they’re so friggin’ skeevy.”
You shudder as Dean goes over to the chair next to the couch and sits down. Sam continues, “Yeah, well it takes a pretty powerful one to put a bag like this together. More juice than we’ve ever dealt with, that’s for sure.” He motions to Dean “What about you? Find anything on the victim?”
Dean smirks, “This Luke Wallace? He was so vanilla that he made vanilla seem spicy.”
You laugh, “Typical suburban white guy.”
Sam scoffs for a lack of leads. Dean shrugs, “I can’t find any reason why somebody would want this guy dead.”
You grin, “Yeah well maybe he was so boring that he pissed someone off.”
Dean chuckles and gets up to rifle through his candy hoard. You stay seated next to Sam as he types away on his laptop looking for leads. You let out a yawn, wishing you didn’t have so many nightmares. There weren’t as much nightmares as they were flashes of people from a past you had barely any recollection of. Sam turns to look down at you dozing off against him with a look of concern.
“How much sleep did you get last night?”
You give him a sarcastic look, “Oh, like you and Dean aren’t textbook insomniacs.”
He gives you his signature bitchface while Dean gives you a toneless laugh from his spot across the room. Sam continues to look at you, waiting for an answer before you finally cave after ten seconds of his puppy dog eyes.
You sigh, “I’m just getting flashes of memories and stuff, people I don’t really know and it just wakes up. I can’t really sleep much afterwards.”
Sam slips an arm over your shoulder and squeezes your arm. “Maybe we can buy you some sleeping pills or something.”
You give him a thankful grin, “Thanks, Sam.” You elbow him in the ribs and he releases you with a surprised grunt, “now get your butt back to looking for a witch.”
Living in close quarters with the Winchesters for these past couple of months has caused you to develop a sort of sibling dynamic with them. They treat you like the little sibling they never had. It’s been really comforting to have them. You didn’t know what you would do if you hadn't crawled out of the ground and found Dean. You felt like you were meant to be here. It felt right.
Your thoughts drift to Beatrice, in your mostly forgotten past. Your heart begins to ache with a hole you so desperately try to push down. You sink into the couch further, your side pressed against Sam’s as you read over his shoulder. You’d picked up a lot of things while alongside the Winchesters. You rarely asked questions unless necessary, opting to absorb the information around you rather than dig for anything that wasn’t immediately in the open.
Sam or Dean would usually brief you during a hunt, once they sussed out what the monster was, on how to kill it. You never really came face to face with one, at least not yet. Dean had talked about teaching you some self defense and basics about guns before you were allowed out in the field with them. You hadn’t got around to it yet. You weren’t exactly in a rush, you were pretty content to play peacemaker between the brothers for now.
___________________
Sam had caught wind of a new unusual death at a Halloween party. The boys had allowed you to tag along for the questioning, even gifting you your FBI get up and ID. As soon as you got there, you noticed a blonde girl wrapped in a shock blanket answering questions with a police officer. Something about her set off alarm bells in your head but you couldn’t quite place it. It was like her soul didn’t match her appearance. It didn’t sit right with you, you’d mention it to the boys later.
Sam went to join the questioning but was stopped when Dean threw his arm out to block him, “I got this one.”
Sam rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Two words: jail bait.”
“I would never-” You and Sam just ignore him, breaking away in different directions to look for a hex bag. You whipped around towards Dean, using your pointer finger to push your nose up.
“Piggy Piggy” You sang quietly.
Dean just glared at you as he made his way over towards the blonde being interrogated by the officer.
Just as ‘Tracy’ was telling the officer “It’s just so weird. The water in the tub – it wasn’t hot, I had just been in there myself.” Dean walked up with his badge held up. You were rifling around the liquor cabinet that looked as if it had been tampered with, the lock on the front had a bunch of scratches in it. Teenagers.
“Your friend didn’t happen to know a man named Luke Wallace?” Dean questioned the teen.
She feigned innocence, “Um, who’s Luke wallace?”
“He died yesterday.” She shrugs in response, something about her gives you the creeps. Sam holds up a hex bag from under the couch, he waves it at Dean and you.
Fucking witches.
______
Sam had figured out that this was a witch performing a ritual to raise Samhain. A centuries old demon that had been the reason for the entire halloween tradition, you were mildly amused when Sam had pronounced his name wrong. ‘Samsquatch, it's pronounced Sah-Win.’ When he asked how you knew that you blanked for a moment and didn’t have an answer for him, he left it alone after that.
The boys had given you a piece of paper with an exorcism written on it and Sam suggested that you memorize it the best you could and keep it in your pocket for the time being.
Dean went to stake out the Wallace’s house, seeing if anyone from that house party showed up at the house. You were alone with Sam, helping him with research to the best of your ability while you shared a pair of earbuds, introducing Samsquatch to the world of Micropop music. He had actually enjoyed it so far, asking you the names of certain artists he had found to be particularly good as you both sat shoulder to shoulder while rifling through dusty old books Sam had most likely borrowed from Bobby or stole from a library.
Sam had paused in his reading for a moment, he turned to look at you bobbing your head and mouthing to the words of Cupid by Jack Stauber.
“Hey, y/n?”
“Hmmm?” you didn’t turn to look at him, you just flipped a page in your book.
“What did you remember? That day, with the witnesses?” His tone was calm and careful, he looked at you with concern.
You immediately dropped your book, shoulders tensing as the gaping hole in your chest returned. Beatrice’s face flashed through your mind, you only remembered a few things. Watching that show that somehow had Sam and Dean in it, her driving you to the hospital after you had gotten beaten up (you don’t remember how that one happened but it seemed important), her laughter, her smile, her concern, the way she would always take care of you. You don’t remember why she took care of you, or what you needed to be taken care of for, but she was there. Then you remember jumping off that bridge after your life had gone to shit. You decided it was probably best not to mention the Tv show. You had no idea how to put it into words. It was so much.
You looked at him with a teary smile, “My best friend. I think she might have been like a sister to me, I’m not entirely sure.”
You started to shake a little, trying to hold in your sobs. Sam wrapped his arm around your shoulder to comfort you. “How did she die?”
You laughed, more of a huff of air, it was a bitter and ugly sound laced with all the things you didn’t want to say. “The same way I did, I’m pretty sure…”
Sam pulled you close as you let tears run freely down your face. You didn’t want to tell Sam how you had died, you didn’t want him to think less of you or treat you like glass. “I left her there…” You paused to wipe your tears. “In that hell hole, I promised her I would stay and I didn’t.” You weren’t sure how you knew that both of your lives had been awful but it was a vague recollection.
Broken glass.
Broken bones.
Screaming.
Cold.
Cigarettes.
Hot.
Blood.
Bruises.
Vague truths that you both had experienced. You could never recall details, or names, or faces, you just knew. You knew that you had protected each other, up into adulthood. Then your life that you had tried to build came crashing around your feet, or at least you think it did. You didn’t know. You remember someone you didn’t want to see again had ruined it. You and Beatrice were struggling to pull yourselves from that shit town.
The cool rush of air, then nothing, then the pine box, then Dean, and then warmth. Safety. Family.
You gripped the back of Sam's shirt in an effort to ground yourself.
Sam rubbed soothing circles on your back, resting his head atop yours. One thing was for sure, he was way better at comfort than Dean was. You found it funny, but you couldn’t find it in you to laugh.
Sam made sure you ate something before he let you curl up on the bed that wasn’t covered in books. Thankfully you managed to sleep without dreams. Sam continued to listen to some of the songs you had shown him as he researched.
He eventually called Dean to see if he had found anything.
Muffled “Hey.” came from Dean on the other side of the line, it was obvious he had been stuffing his face.
“How’s it going?”
“Awesome, yeah, I talked with Mrs. Razor Blade again.” The crinkle of plastic could be heard through the speaker of Sam's cheap burner phone. “I’ve been sitting out in front of her house for hours and I’ve got a big steamy pile of nothing.”
Sam rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Look Dean, someone planted those hex bags, someone with access to both houses. There’s gotta be some connection.”
Dean sounded fed up, “Yeah, well I hope we find ‘em soon cause I’m starting to cramp like a –”
Dean paused, he had seen the teenager from the house party. The blonde one with the stripper name. The one who had obviously lied to him about not knowing who Luke Wallace was. “Son of a bitch.”
Sam hadn’t caught on. “Quit whining.”
“No Sam, I mean son of a bitch.”
____________
You had been texting back and forth with Bobby recently about the book you had found on your grave, there wasn’t much he could do in the way of translation since there were hardly any sources to actually help him achieve such a feat. In your words 'enochian is a bitch.’
You had offered to get Castiel to translate the book but Bobby had quickly shot it down saying something along the lines of ‘Even if those feathered hippies dragged Dean’s ass out of the hotbox, that don’t mean we should trust em.’ You silently disagreed with Bobby on that count, something about Castiel just made you feel warm and safe in a way no one else had been able to.
You had bought yourself a pack of cigarettes and a zippo lighter from a local gas station. You hadn’t actually smoked one yet and the boys had no idea that you had the pack. The pack of Marlboro red shorts just reminded you of Bee so you kept them on you at all times. They were starting to burn a hole in your pocket though, you kept craving them. You knew even if you got a moment away from the boys to light up they would inevitably smell it on you and ask questions. So you endured.
You were sitting in the backseat of the impala nursing a soda that Dean had snagged for you from a vending machine. The boys offered to let you come with while they questioned the teachers at school about Tracy but you decided to hang back. After they saw her at Luke Wallace’s place and you had told them about how she felt older than she looked they were pretty certain that she was the witch. You were fairly exhausted though, the energy of this town was starting to feel strained and slimy in a way you couldn’t really put into words and you were starting to get antsy. You couldn’t wait for Sam and Dean to gank her so you could blow this joint and move on to the next town.
Sam and Dean came back into the impala discussing Tracy and her ‘crazy bitch syndrome’. Dean quickly yanked off his tie and you could tell his energy was strained. It was like he was trying to eat a salad and was forcing himself to swallow the lettuce without gagging. You leaned forward in your seat and placed a hand on his shoulder. All of a sudden your mind was filled with screaming and you quickly yanked it back. You placed a hand on your now throbbing head.
“Doe?”
Sam and Dean had turned around in their seats to look at you with concern. You were breathing pretty heavily. You had no idea what just happened. One second you had tried to comfort Dean and the next you were experiencing the worst torture you had ever experienced.
“Yeah I’m fine- I- I just got a migraine all of a sudden.”
They both looked skeptical but decided not to press the issue. Dean started up the impala so you could head back to the motel room and come up with a game plan.
Dean was suffering. You didn’t know how to help him.