"Hello?" you asked before realizing you hadn't yet pushed the glowing, green answer button on your phone. "Hello," you repeated your voice groggy and filled with sleep.
"Hey, it's me," the voice on the other end said.
You were instantly awake. "Sam," you said. "Is everything ok?" You prayed it was but knew it wasn't. There weren't usually many reasons Sam would call you in the middle of the night. You were friends. Best friends, even. But that still wasn't a good enough reason for Sam Winchester to call you in the middle of the night."Sam," you needed his attention and to skip the formalities. "What's wrong? How can I help?"
You could hear him attempting to hold back a tremble in his voice.
"What's wrong? What do you need?"
"It's fine. I shouldn't have called."
"Sam," you reprimanded. "You wouldn't be calling at…" You trailed off, glancing down at your phone. "Two in the morning if everything was fine and dandy. So now I'm awake and starting to get cranky. How can I help?"
You heard Sam sigh through the phone line. "We need some help with research." You figured as much. While you'd been chastising the younger Winchester, you'd slipped in clothes other than your pajamas.
"On it. What am I looking for?"
"Sorry to wake you," he apologized.
"Sam, it's no bother. But it will be, if you don't give me some information soon."
"Well, we thought we were hunting a werewolf, but there are just some pieces that don't add up…" his voice trailed off, and you could still hear the shaking.
"What's wrong? What happened?" You needed to know if he was hurt. He was your best friend after all. You cared about him a lot. He wasn't your boyfriend, but you cared about him as if he was. You were positive he had no idea, and you were almost as positive he didn't feel the same way. But that didn't matter to you. If he was injured or in trouble, and you could do something to help you would.
"We thought we were hunting a werewolf, but that's definitely not it…"
"Sam do you have any idea what it might be if it's not a werewolf?"
"Didn't have time to check...might be a berserker, skinwalker...don't know." He sounded so lost.
You were surprised at this. Sam was meticulous beyond measure. That's how this whole thing began. You and Sam bonded over research on a hunt. And Sam was an even more thorough than you. So the fact he and Dean were now stranded on a hunt with an unknown monster made you nervous.
"Sam," you said slowly. "What's wrong? What happened?" If you were calm, maybe Sam would calm down.
"We thought it was a werewolf. Did the research and...and...everything. Dead bodies everywhere, hearts ripped out. All the pieces added together. But now, now Dean's hurt and…" he trailed off.
"Sam, is Dean okay?" You projected an absolute air of calm you hoped would channel through the phone to Sam.
"He's fine. Couple of scratches though, deep ones, which is why I need you to do the research. I can't take care of Dean and patch him up and research at the same time."
"Send me what you've got so far. I'll see what I can find while you take care of your brother."
"Are you sure about this? I mean I know we woke you up," Sam apologized.
"Sam, it's fine. I'm awake now. And don't ever feel like you can't call me," you reiterated. "Like I said, send me what you have. I will get the research done. Just take care of your brother. And be safe." You almost said I love you. But caught yourself just in time. If you wanted Sam to focus on the hunt, you couldn't be throwing that kind of information at him especially when you were almost positive he didn't feel the same way.
How had you gotten yourself into this mess?
As you booted up your laptop, you relived the moments that had gotten you to this point.
The whole thing had begun on a hunt months ago. You were tracking down a nest of vampires, nasty, blood-sucking parasites, who went from town to town draining people dry. Normally, you weren't much of hunter, instead choosing to pass along relevant information to those who could better utilize it. But this time you had called every single one of your contacts only to be met with the response that they were too far away, too busy, or on another hunt. Which how you had ended up currently hunting the vamps you had found instead of staying safe in your current motel room handing the research off to some other, more experienced hunter.
"Crap, crap, crap," you said raising your machete, hoping you were ready for anything. How on earth had you gotten sucked into this? There wasn't one possible person on your contact list who could have taken this hunt. You knew the basics but no way did you want to be hunting down big, bad, fuglies on your own. You knew rule number one was to never go hunting without backup. But if there was no one to take the hunt, there was no one to provide back up either.
Which is how you ended up in an abandoned house with a machete chasing down the monsters you'd only mostly read about. "Crap," you said again as you nearly cut yourself rounding a corner. Your ears were perked, listening, analyzing every sound, waiting for the sound of footsteps or voices. You rounded another corner, machete raised high and ran smack into a man who towered above you. He had to be six feet or more. "Get out of my way, you parasite," you said before bringing your machete up for a swing.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," the man in front of you put his arms up in surrender. His eyes roved around taking in everything about you. "You're a hunter?" he asked; confusion colored his voice.
"Of course," you said with way more confidence than you felt. "Why else would I be in an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere with a giant knife?"
The man in front of you chuckled, bringing his hands down from the air to rest at his sides. His arm muscles were huge, bulging underneath his flannel shirt. "Well, I could think of a few reasons. For one: you might be some weird serial killer. Or you could just really like hanging out in abandoned houses. Three: you could one of the monsters my brother and I are hunting. Show me your teeth."
You loosened the grip on your weapon, and used your free hand to push at your upper gums to show they were hard and fastly attached to your teeth. "Now yours," you said because you knew darn well you weren't a vampire but had no idea about the man standing in front of you.
The man carefully and slowly raised one of his arms to his mouth. He repeated your gesture, pushing on different spots on his gums to prove he was human. "Satisfied?" he asked.
"I still don't know who you are," you responded.
"Sam, and you?"
You held back unwilling to tell this total stranger your name. He looked like a hunter and sounded like a hunter, but how were you to know if he was another monster in disguise albeit not the one you were searching for. You were about to continue with your interrogation when another voice echoed through the raised your machete in defense against the intruder.
"Sam! All clear over here. Sammy, where are you?"
"Over here," the stranger, Sam, called back to the disembodied voice.
"What'd you find? Dead, bloody vamp carcasses I hope. Man, I hate them almost as much as witches. What's with monsters and the exchange of bodily fluids?" The monologue stopped as another man rounded the corner. He was tall, though not nearly as tall as the man standing in front of you. His green eyes cut through the darkness like a cat's, zeroing in on you. "Who's this?" he asked. "A vamp?"
Having been through this rigamarole once already, you sighed in frustration before once again poking at your mouth. "No fangs," you said derisively.
"Doesn't mean anything," the newer man shot back.
"Fine, have it your way," you said before moving away to continue your search.
"Wait. Who are you?" he asked. You ignored him and rounded a corner, searching for the vampires.
"Another hunter," Sam said.
"Really?" The man who had joined you seemed unimpressed.
"Why's that so hard to believe?" you fired back, brandishing your weapon.
"It's just that you're...you're…" he stuttered searching for the right words.
"I'm what?" you asked in a voice that dared him to say something derogatory.
"You're, well that," he said gesturing to all of you.
"I'm what?" you asked again. "I'm short, skinny, a girl. Come on, finish your thought. You know you want to."
Sam watched the man who had joined you as though waiting to see what his response would be before stepping in. That made sense considering this new addition was probably the aforementioned brother.
You stood toe to toe with the new guy. No way were you letting this cocky supposed hunter take you down. "I'm what?" you repeated staring him down for an answer.
"I just meant you don't look like a typical hunter," he finally finished.
"I'm not." You smirked before turning away from the two men. "Now if you'll excuse me. I have some vampires to hunt.
"Uh-uh no way, lady. We have some vampires to hunt. You are going to go back wherever you came from." The new guy blocked your path.
"Dean come on," Sam said pulling at his arm. So the other guy's name was Dean. Nice to know. And fitting too, considering he seemed to have the same attitude as James Dean. What a wannabe.
"No this is my hunt, and I intend to finish it. Why don't you leave?" you retorted. "I was here first."
"I'll rock, paper, scissors you for it," Dean said.
You could see Sam rolling his eyes just out of his brother's line of vision. He shook his head. But no way were you giving in. You fixed both brothers with a hard stare. Sam shrugged his shoulders in defeat and mouthed the word rock over his brother's shoulder. You responded with a confused look, to which he mouthed rock again.
"You're on," you said taking Sam's hint. The two of you took your stances. You threw rock to Dean's scissors taking the game.
"Best two out of three," he said.
"I won fair and square, Motorcycle Boy," you said.
Dean looked offended at the name. "I don't drive a motorcycle. Wouldn't dream of touching such an ugly piece of machinery. And where did you get that from anyway."
"Well I assumed since you were wearing that ratty leather jacket, you must have a vehicle to match," you said sarcastically. You were getting a little sick of this hunter and his high and mighty attitude.
"Hey, my jacket is awesome. And don't be insulting my baby. She isn't a motorcycle; she's a classic," Dean defended.
"I don't care what you drive. What I do care about is finishing my hunt." You had no idea why you were fighting this so hard. You hadn't even wanted to do this hunt in the first place. Where had this defensiveness come from? You had tried so hard to get rid of this hunt. You couldn't even count the number of people you'd tried to pawn this off on. But now that you were involved it felt like giving up, to hand this hunt over two guys you didn't even know. It felt like cheating to not see this through. You glared at Dean.
Then Sam was there between you. "Guys, we still have a hunt to finish. Why don't we just team up and get it done?" he reasoned.
Both you and Dean turned to him open mouthed.
"Team up?" Dean asked incredulously. "Sammy we never do that. This is our hunt, we did the research. We should finish it."
Sam glared back at his brother equal parts angry and incredulous. "We never hunt with other people? Are you kidding me right now? Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Rufus, Jody...I could go on."
"That's different, Sammy. We know those people."
"Not on our first hunts with them we didn't. Remember the first time Bobby sent us to Rufus. Or when we met Ellen and Jo. If I recall, there were weapons involved those times too."
"It's different Sammy."
"It's Sam. And no it's not. This is one hunt Dean. The least we can do is work together until all the vamps are dead."
Dean rolled his eyes. "I guess. 'Cause we sure as hell aren't leaving her on her own."
"Are you saying I'm too much of a girl to handle this?" you asked, your voice filled with resentment.
Dean scoffed.
From the pointed look his brother sent him, you knew that's exactly what he'd been thinking.
Sam butted in before you could even think about punching his partner in the face. "What my br-partner meant to say was: we don't know anything about you except that you're another hunter and technically we can't even prove that. We're not saying you're incapable. We're just saying we don't know you."
"Sammy, you're not saying we're giving her the hunt?"
"No, Dean. Haven't you been listening. We should all do this hunt together." You could sense Sam attempting to be the voice of reason. "We're not going to let her take this hunt on her own after we did all the research on this hunt."
Even though you could hear the reasoning, you were becoming enraged at the fact this man you'd never met, this Dean was questioning your skills as a hunter. They probably needed to be questioned, but now this was a matter of honor and principle not about what you could or could not do. "Am I not competent?"
"I'm sure you're plenty competent. It's just that we don't know you," Sam replied. "All you've told us is that you're another hunter. You haven't even told us your name."
"You don't need to know my name to work with me." You became defensive once again. Who did this hunter think he was questioning your abilities as a hunter?
He had just pointed out they didn't know you. So where did he get off telling you you didn't have the qualifications for the job?
"Would you back off?" you accused getting in Dean's face. Since he was verbally getting your face, you decided to retaliate by physically getting in his face. You may have been smaller than him, but no way were you going to let him intimidate you. "I'm perfectly capable of handling this hunt on my own. If you don't want to stay and help don't. Your choice but I have a hunt to get done." After your rant, you moved to push past the men once more. This time, however, instead of Dean, you were blocked by the bulk of Sam. There was a giant, 6'4" wall in your path. "Move."
"If we do this, we do this together," Sam determined.
"Fine."
"Fine."
You and Dean glowered at each other around Sam before agreeing to his terms.
You pulled a folder of your research from your duffle then shouldered it. "Well, if you're serious, let's just do this and get it over with."
"So what do we know?" Sam asked, seemingly just eager to get this hunt over with as you were.
Dean pulled a newspaper clipping from his jacket pocket. So disorganized. "Been a ton of animal deaths in the area lately. Like a crazy huge amount: mostly cows but the occasional horse, dog, cat… You name it someone around here has found it dead."
"Killed by exsanguination." You looked pointedly at Dean, Mr. Show-off. "Drained of blood, " you added with a smug smile on your face.
"Vampires," Sam confirmed.
"Do you know how to kill them?" Dean asked sarcastically directing the derisive question at you.
"I think I've got it," you said brandishing your weapon, spinning the machete close to Dean's face, so close in fact he could hear the whistle of the blade as it nearly grazed his nose but didn't touch. Just close enough for him to back away from the whoosh of air.
"Hey watch it. Save the crazy for the vampires, lady," Dean said taking a full step back from you.
You smiled broadly. Good. Maybe keeping him on his toes would make him leave you alone.
"Would you two knock it off?" Sam rolled his eyes stepping between you once more. "Can we just get this done and kill the monsters, not each other?"
You groaned, but nodded.
Dean resignedly did the same. The three of you completed the hunt without any more hitches other than Dean's attitude.
You moved away from Dean and spent most of the hunt near Sam. The two of you spent the hunt trading information, whispering in places where there was no danger of being heard. Despite his jerk of a partner, brother you surmised from Sam's early slip-ups, Sam was rather pleasant to talk to. You knew the two of you were only sharing standard monster shop talk, but somehow it seemed like more.
The two brothers walked you back to your car, Sam placing his hand on your shoulder as the two of you walked slightly behind Dean.
"Are you sure, you won't tell us your name now?" he whispered as the two of you were out of Dean's earshot. "Please?"
"What and get rid of the mystery?" You laughed.
"It would be preferable since we just completed a hunt together."
"My name's Y/N. Only first names since you only gave me yours." You didn't know why, but for some reason, you didn't feel the need to be serious or sarcastic with him. Instead you felt you could be playful with him.
You could see him holding in another laugh so as not to alert his brother. He whispered back, "Winchester. Our last name is Winchester."
"Here's my number," you said handing him a slip of paper. "Call if you ever need any more assistance with research. It's kind of what I do."
By now, the three of you had reached your vehicle. "Thanks for walking me back to my car. You really didn't have to do that."
"Our pleasure." Sam said waving the tiny slip of paper with your number on at the window while Dean pouted nearby.
"Use it any time," you said before driving away.
Over the next few weeks, Sam would call to double check his research with you. You exchanged information, sometimes giving him life-saving material or corrections.
You're not sure when it happened. But over time, the conversations shifted from hunts and research, things you worked with, to family and hobbies, things you loved. Sam would call to complain about Dean or tell you about Castiel's latest escapades rather than just to double check facts.
You seemed to becoming more friends than hunting acquaintances. And you liked it. It was wonderful to have someone to talk to. To share your day with. Someone who cared how you felt and what you were going through. You'd never had a close friend before.
It became so you waited for Sam's calls. You were nervous when he went on dangerous hunts. If he told you he was hunting, you would double and triple check all the background of the hunt even if Sam didn't ask you to.
You were worried about him. You tried to tell yourself it was because the two of you had become such close friends. But you if you were honest with yourself, you knew it was developing into something more than that. You were pretty sure Sam didn't feel the same way.
That didn't stop you from worrying about him though. Which is why you were currently awake at three am searching up the town where Sam and Dean were hunting. Searching what this creature could possibly be. You still couldn't believe Sam had rushed into this without researching. This was so unlike him. Why wasn't his head in the game? Could he possibly be thinking the same thoughts you were?
You shook off those prodding ideas as you opened another tab on your browser. There was no way Sam felt that way about you. No matter how much Dean joked. Dean's jokes were what had caused the current situation and set up anyway.
Over the months since that first hunt, you and Sam had become closer and closer. You started as acquaintances, evolved into friends, morphed into best friends. What had started as fact checking had become daily phone calls asking about your day or just chatting about anything that came to mind. Phone calls the older Winchester apparently had interpreted as romance.
And that was why you were currently in some nondescript motel room doing research on your laptop instead of having infinite resources at your fingertips.
You thought back to what had caused this self-imposed exile in the first place.
You and Sam had met in a local library. Despite how close the two of you were getting, you both felt it was better to keep your headquarters secret. And meeting in sketchy motel rooms was, well, sketchy. So either Sam called you for information or the two of you met at a library near the hunt. You happened to be close enough to the brother's hunt to meet, so you met Sam at the local library to research with a plan to meet Dean at a nearby diner to go over relevant information to the case afterward.
You and Sam had been discussing the brothers' latest case. After the whole vampire incident where you'd first met them, you went back to being the brains rather than the brawn behind hunts. So you'd compiled a list of all the different ways to kill a wendigo.
You weren't sure why the Winchesters had asked for your input. You were sure they knew way more about wendigos than you did. They had been hunting for longer than you'd been researching.
You'd only been doing this a few years.
But based on what Sam had told you, the brothers had been doing this ever since they were able. They had grown up in this life while it had been thrust upon you.
Your father had been the go-to guy for hunters needing research or lore. Someone hunters could turn to in a crisis. With him gone, you became that source of knowledge. You had a home base, but more often than not you drove around meeting hunters with a stash of your father's books in your trunk offering advice and knowledge where you were needed. But the majority of his books were well hidden where only you had access to them. Your contact list grew larger and larger because in addition to having all of your father's contacts who knew and trusted you. You now had an increasing number of your own. The Winchesters as well as others.
Thinking about your contact list again drew you back to why Sam had called you, back when you'd first realized you were in love with him.
Wendigos.
Why had Sam called you? You knew he and his brother had hunted them before multiple times. Regardless, you'd trooped into the library to discuss the upcoming hunt. Sam was sitting in a corner surrounded by history and mythology books. You'd joined him, still confused as to why he had contacted you when he already had all the applicable knowledge.
"What can I help with?" you asked taking a seat next to him. As much as you wanted to believe Sam had called you just to be near you, that couldn't possibly be true because Sam didn't feel that way about you. Although your feelings for him had begun to change. You felt strongly about him, but you couldn't let him see. Because even though you knew his feelings didn't match yours, having it confirmed would crush you. Better to keep everything bottled up and shoved down than to have the illusion shattered.
"Wendigos," Sam said sliding his chair and one of the mythology books toward you.
"What about them?" you asked. "Pretty sure you and your brother have a better working knowledge of them than I do. I mean you've actually hunted them before. I've only seen pictures."
"That might be true," Sam said flipping through another book near his hand. "But you're the best researcher I know. And I'm thinking there's something off about this case, but I can't put my finger on it. I figured you might be able to puzzle it out." He leaned closer with the book, so close your heads were almost touching. You breathed in his smell. It was intoxicating. He smelled of gunpowder and old books and coconut. At least, you thought it was coconut. You couldn't process anything other than that he smelled wonderful. Which made you care for him all the more.
But again he didn't feel the same way, so you shoved those feelings deep down and focused on the research. The two of you were so absorbed in your fact finding mission you didn't realize how much time had passed. It felt as though you had barely started when your stomach rumbled. So did Sam's. The two of you laughed then silenced. Smiling at each other when the stern-looking librarian, turned her glare toward you. You ignored the rumblings of your stomachs and put your heads back together in research.
Which was how you had missed Dean coming into the library and coming closer to you until he was right on top of you. "You two lovebirds ready for some chow?"
You turned bright red at Dean's comment. You couldn't bring yourself to meet either Winchester's eyes. "We're just friends," you muttered.
"Sure," Dean said with his usual smirk. "Hey Sammy," he said ruffling his brother's hair, "you kissed her yet? Take her back in the stacks?"
"Dean!" you both shouted indignantly, only to be shushed by the librarian.
"What? You know it's true," he whispered.
"We're just friends," you and Sam responded simultaneously.
"Bull. There's so much tension between the two of you I could cut it with one of the machetes in the trunk."
You averted your eyes once more, pretending the table was the most interesting thing you'd ever seen. You let your hair fall in your face to hide the growing redness. You could feel the burn of the blush creeping from your ears the rest of your face. You couldn't believe Dean was doing this to you. Sam didn't like you like that. And here was his brother trying to call him out on something he didn't feel.
You got up and began to stack the books you and Sam used onto a nearby shelving cart hoping by the time you were finished the redness would have died away. There was no way you'd be joining the brothers for lunch now. Any time Dean spoke, you'd be afraid there would be more comments like this conversation.
Sam came near with another stack of books. When he got close to the cart, you returned to the table to grab your messenger bag and laptop. The easiest way to avoid getting rejected was to not allow an opening. As you were packing up your things, Dean stood from one of the chairs he had pulled out to lounge in.
"Hey, listen, sorry about that. I didn't mean to embarrass you," Dean apologized.
You raised your eyes to meet his; sure the look of shock was evident on your face.
"Yeah I know. I don't normally apologize. But I just don't get how you're not seeing it, either of you. You're crazy about each other. Crazier than a coven of witches, and those ladies are wacky. Why don't you just tell Sam how you feel?"
"There's nothing to tell Dean. We're just friends," you repeated before walking away.
That was the last you had heard from the Winchesters until tonight. So much for Dean's romance theory. It had been weeks without a phone call or even a text from Sam. Quitting the younger Winchester was proving to be harder than you'd thought. Going from talking to him almost every day to zero contact was torturous.
Dean was right about one thing though. You definitely had feelings for Sam. This forced wall between the two of you only solidified that fact. And the fact he didn't call further supported your belief the feelings weren't reciprocated.
You called Sam only to get his voicemail. Either he had turned his phone off to do more research or the brothers were in serious trouble. You left a quick voicemail listing all the things you had learned, and your hypothesis that the creature was a skinwalker. You also texted your findings and the location of your motel room. No doubt the Winchesters would need a place to crash after they completed this hunt. Despite the partially self-imposed silent treatment, you needed to know the brothers were in one piece. Especially Sam.
The next few hours were agonizing. You divided your time between double and triple checking your facts, leaving voicemails and texts for Sam with updates, and dozing. You never completely went to sleep; your ears focused on hearing the ping of a received email or the ding of a new voicemail or text message.
It was during one of your few catnaps that you heard the familiar rumble of the Impala. You bolted awake. The anticipation nearly killing you. You wanted to know if the brothers were okay. Things hadn't sounded good when Sam had called you. The fact Sam hadn't responded to your voicemails or text messages made the panic fester and grow.
Your heart was in your throat. It took all your restraint to stay seated on the bed with your laptop. The last thing you needed to do was rush the door. Either the Winchesters would walk through the door completely fine and laugh at your paranoia, or they would walk through the door seriously injured which meant you would have to make a first aid run. You steadied yourself, waiting to see which of the two extremes the brothers found themselves in this time.
You heard a faint knocking and resisted the urge to sprint toward the door. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves and erase the panic from your face.
"So you did get my messages," you said sarcastically once you had opened the door.
Standing in front of you leaning against the door was Dean, a hand pressed against his side where you could see a bulge of gauze underneath his shirt. "Yeah, thanks for the skinwalker memo."
Sam hadn't said a word. He was standing next to and slightly behind his brother, a look of guilt and uncertainty clouding his eyes. Why did he look like that? The guilt you understood. He hadn't responded to your messages. But the uncertainty you couldn't understand. What did he have to be confused or anxious about?
Sam's gaze was focused on the floor, refusing to meet your eyes. That is until Dean nudged him with the elbow of the arm not pressed to his side. "Go on. I know you've been thinking about it the entire drive. Just do it already."
Now it was your turn to be confused. Your eyes darted back and forth between the two brothers searching for an answer when you were whisked off your feet, and enveloped in a crushing yet gentle embrace. You felt Sam's lips press firmly to yours, a deep passionate kiss. When he finally pulled away, you were at a loss for words, your thoughts moving at a hundred miles an hour, your mind spinning like a tilt-a-whirl.
"What…?" your voice trailed off, still unable to fully process what had happened.
"I'm sorry," he said backing away.
You pulled him close once more, this time initiating the kiss yourself.
This time Sam was the one who pulled away questioningly. "What was that?"
"Something I should have done sooner. And what was that?" you asked referencing when he had walked through the door.
"Something I should have done a long time ago," he said.
"It's about time," Dean said entering the room and taking a seat on the bed as Sam pulled you into his arms once more.