Tag to 3x03 or "Bad Day at Black Rock" with a reader-insert. The reader is a hunter, like the boys, and has been with them since she was a young child and is considered their baby sister. In the tussle to get the rabbit's foot away from the two guys at the beginning of the episode, both Sam and the reader touched it. It's gonna start off right after Bela steals the foot out of Sam's pocket and runs off, leaving Dean to have to deal with his two younger siblings' now abysmal bad luck. This is actually my very first SPN fic, as well as my first reader-insert, so go easy on me. Some word-for-word bits here and there, Sam and Dean might be OOC, I haven't quite got the hang of their characters just yet. Hope you guys like it.
Supernatural and its characters are the property of owner Eric Kripke, I'm just taking them for a little ride. A familiar ride, but a ride nonetheless.
Dean and Y/N shared a horrified look as Sam turned out his jacket pocket, revealing that the rabbit's foot wasn't where he'd last put it. The eldest Winchester jumped up from the booth, "son of a bitch…" and hurried out of the diner with his siblings tailing him.
The three Winchesters stopped just outside of the doors to look both ways, and then Dean gestured for them to head towards the front of the Biggerson's lot, "c'mon."
The three hunters ran towards the front, and Dean stepped off of the curb, having spotted what looked like their waitress driving away. A shout of surprise coming from behind him, followed by a higher pitched squeal, two unceremonious thumps, and a nasty crack brought the hunter up short.
Sam was lying flat on the asphalt, grimacing as he struggled to sit up. Y/N, having tripped over him, was lying over his left shoulder, grimacing as she rolled off of him, revealing that she'd scraped a nice bit of skin off of her chin and the left side of her jaw. Dean returned to their aid and gingerly helped his sister up and off of their brother before pulling him up to his feet too.
The knees of Sam's jeans were torn open, the fabric soaked in blood from his badly skinned knees. He gingerly straightened out his legs, rubbing bits of asphalt off of his palms.
"So what, now your luck turns bad?" Dean looked between his younger siblings, incredulous. Y/N removed a bandanna from the inside pocket of her jacket and pressed it against her chin with a soft hiss. Sam gave a weak shrug, "I guess."
"I wonder how bad…" The eldest hunter turned away to head towards the Impala, leaving Sam and Y/N standing together, slightly disoriented from their fall.
"At this rate," Y/N muttered, looking between the two of them, "we'll be lucky to last the rest of the day."
"You're telling me," Sam looked down at his knees, the hints of a puppy-dog face coming on, "let's get to the car before Dean leaves us."
*at the robber's apartment*
The jinxed Winchesters, with the help of their older brother had managed to get from Biggerson's to the apartment of Grossman and his now-dead partner's apartment with little incident. Y/N had barely escaped another fall when, upon exiting the Impala, her foot magically entangled itself in the seatbelt. Dean caught her before she could hit the ground and freed her ankle from the sneaky seatbelt.
Now the three hunters were entering Grossman's apartment. The balding man was sitting on a rickety dining chair in the middle of his living room, drinking a bottle of what appeared to be whiskey and gazing morosely at a picture of himself and his deceased partner. Slow Spanish music played softly in the background.
Dean gingerly pushed the door open and let himself in, eyeing Grossman piteously. The poor man sobered up some and mumbled, "Oh man. What do you want?"
"Heard about your friend," the eldest Winchester said softly, "it's bad luck." Sam situated himself behind a sickly greenish-yellow colored armchair, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Y/N stayed in the doorway, not trusting her luck to move any further into the now-perilous looking abode. Both hunters looked anxious to get out as quickly as possible.
"Piss off." Grossman grumbled, shooting a weak glare at Dean, who shrugged off the harmless hostility, "we know someone hired you to steal the Rabbit's Foot. A woman."
"Yeah?" the grieving man asked sarcastically, "how do you know that?"
"Because she just stole it back from us." Dean seemed loathe to admit that tidbit of information, and he was right to be, as Grossman began to laugh.
Sam took a step forwards, "see man, this is seri—whoa!" his foot had slipped under the power cord of a radio, tripping him up. The hunter turned to keep the radio from falling with him and, in the process, hooked a nearby standing lamp into the fray and fell to the floor, radio in hand.
Y/N made to move, absently attempting to check on her brother, but Dean stopped her, knowing what she was doing without even looking, "Y/N, stay where you are… please. Sam, you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good." The younger Winchester brother grabbed onto the back of the armchair to pull himself back up to his feet.
Dean nibbled on his bottom lip for a moment, exasperation clear in his green eyes, and then returned his attention to Grossman, "We want you to tell us her name."
"Screw. You." The balding man shot back. Like hell was he gonna help out this yahoo after he'd stolen the foot from him and gotten his partner killed.
"It wasn't a freak accident that killed your partner." Dean's voice was still soft, which was surprising for him.
"What?"
"It was the rabbit's foot."
Sam finally got his feet back under him and, in the process, bumped Y/N right off of hers. The huntress slammed into the ajar door painfully and felt a slight pinch in her left ankle before she lost her balance entirely and fell to the floor. Just her luck that the floor was wooden and her palms instantly had splinters in them.
Dean breathed an exasperated sigh, "Sammy, do not touch her. Y/N, you okay?"
"I just had all 200 pounds of Sammy slam me into a wooden door," her tone was filled with sarcasm, "I'm peachy." Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to Grossman, who looked incredulous unconvinced.
"You're crazy, man." He uttered, a nervous laugh slipping out.
"You know I'm not. You saw what happened, what it did, all the flukes, all the luck. When you lose the foot your luck goes sour; that's what killed your friend," Dean paused to let that sink in, and then gestured towards his siblings, "and now my brother and sister here are next, and who knows how many more innocent people after that."
"Now, if you don't help us stop this thing then that puts all those deaths on your head. Now, I can read people… you're a thief and a scumbag… but you're not a killer. Are you?" the eldest Winchester turned to check on his younger siblings and stifled an exasperated sigh before looking back to the man in the chair, who seemed to be seriously mulling over what Dean had told him.
Sam and Y/N glanced nervously at each other, wondering whether or not Dean had gotten through to Grossman.
*later on*
Dean stepped lithely off of the curb, unknowingly avoiding a huge wad of chewing gum as he did so, carrying Y/N over to the Impala so he could set her down and take a look at her ankle. Sam, following behind, wasn't nearly as lucky, and there was a sickening squelch as his foot sank into the pink wad of grossness. Dean's phone chimed in his pocket, and he fished it out and put it at his ear, using his shoulder to hold it in place while he tended to Y/N, "hello?"
"Dean, great news," Bobby's voice filtered through the receiver, "wasn't easy, but I found a heavyweight cleansing ritual that should do the trick." Y/N watched over Dean's shoulder as Sam lifted his foot up, grimacing at the gigantic wad of gum stuck to his sneaker.
"Bobby, that's great, it's just… uh, Sam," Dean turned to look over his shoulder at his brother, and breathed a sigh at the sight of the gum on his shoe, "Sam lost the foot."
"He what?" Bobby's voice was sharp, filled with disbelief.
"Bobby, listen, listen…" Y/N tuned out her brother's voice as he leaned down to untie her boot, too busy watching Sam as he walked over to a sewer grate to scrape the gum off. Nothing good will come of that, Sammy… She hissed a little as Dean pulled the pewter grey boot off of her foot, revealing her slightly swollen ankle.
Carefully balancing Y/N's foot on his thigh, and keeping up the conversation with Bobby, Dean grabbed a roll of gauze to wrap her ankle in tightly to brace it. Meanwhile, Sam was busily rubbing the bottom of his sneaker against the grate to get the gum off, and his sister watched with apt curiosity. Faintly, Y/N heard Bobby give them confirmation of who their mysterious waitress was. Some chick named Bela Lugosi… or Bela Talbot… whatever. Whoever she was, she was on the top of Y/N's list of people who needed a good punch to the face.
If I die because of that stupid foot that she stole from us, I swear to God I'll haunt her ass…
A splash caught the huntress's attention, and she choked on a giggle at the sight of her Sammy with only one shoe and a dejected look on his face. He'd been trying to reach down into the grate to get his lost shoe but, alas, luck certainly wasn't on his side today. The tall hunter stood beside the grate, shoulders slumped, and rather impressive puppy-dog face on display. Dean thanked Bobby for the information, who then called him an idjit and told him to look after his siblings, and pocketed his phone before turning to look at Sam.
Surprised by the sad look he was receiving, Dean spoke sharply, "what?" Sam looked down at his hands for a moment, and then looked at his older brother miserably, "I lost my shoe." Y/N snorted quietly with laughter as her big brother's gaze dropped down to Sam's black-socked foot and then back up to his puppy-dog face. He gave a soft, exasperated groan and handed his sister her boot, "can you put that back on without somehow strangling yourself with the strings?"
"Ya know, it would be nice if you did it for me," Y/N grumped, "I mean, you did take it off and my ankle's sprained. It'd be killing two birds with one stone. I won't magically strangle myself with the shoestrings, and you won't have to worry about me messing with my stupid ankle."
"God, you two are so damned high maintenance today," the eldest Winchester grumbled, nonetheless kneeling down to put Y/N's boot back on, "I can't wait till this screwed up crap is over and done with."
"Yeah, but you love us, though," Y/N teased lightly, reaching up to ruffle her big brother's hair, "don't act like you don't."
"Of course I do," Dean responded gruffly, a slight tinge to his cheeks, "why else would I go on this screwed up goose chase to get that foot back?" He finished tying Y/N's shoelaces in a double knot and helped her get off of the Impala's trunk, "think you two jinxes can get in the car without giving yourselves a concussion and a black eye?"
"I think we can manage," Sam, who'd finally shuffled back over to the car, grumped dryly, "jerk."
"Put a sock in it, bitch."
*at the motel*
"Thanks, Bobby, hey we owe you… another one." Dean hung up the phone and turned to the two abused hunters in the car, "alright, Bobby's got it on good authority that this Bela chick lives in Queens. It'll take me about two hours to get there."
"Then why are at a motel?" Y/N asked, at the same time that Sam inquired, "so, what are we doing then?"
"You, my dear brother and baby sister, are staying here 'cause I don't want your combined shitty bad luck getting us all killed." Dean pulled further into the lot, and Y/N spotted a large brown, grey and white RV sitting in a corner. For some reason the presence of it didn't sit well with her, but the unsettled feeling in her gut was soon ignored, and she was back to feeling annoyed with the stupid bitch who'd caused her bad luck in the first place.
*in the room*
"What we even supposed to do?" Sam grumbled as Dean entered the room first, taking in the furniture and surroundings.
"Nothing, don't do anything," the eldest of the three hunters hurried to a small table and grabbed two of the chairs, "both of you sit down," he put the chairs two feet apart, facing each other, "don't move, don't turn on the light, don't turn off the light, don't even scratch your noses." He sat both of his siblings down in the chairs, "if I come back and you two are dead, I'm coming after you and it won't be pretty."
Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes at him, "bye, Dean. Don't worry, you won't have to commit suicide over us." The eldest Winchester didn't look convinced, and he reached out to ruffle both hers and Sam's hair before leaving the room. Sam, who was facing the door, sighed when the door shut and looked at his little sister.
"Sorry about your ankle."
"Eh," Y/N gave a noncommittal shrug, "I've had worse. I only wish that our moronic big brother had bothered to pull out my splinters," she held her reddened palms, "with our screwed up luck, it's only a matter of time before an infection starts setting in."
"Don't jinx it." The younger Winchester brother warned, knowing full well that, without the rabbit's foot in their possession, there was literally no point in saying the words.
"Sammy, I don't think it's scarcely possible for me to not jinx it," she watched her brother as his nose twitched and he reached up to scratch it, "and didn't Dean say not to do that?" Damn, now her nose was itching too. She wriggled it around, grumbling curses under her breath. This is gonna be a long night…
*a while later (A/N: Right after the scene where Dean breaks into Bela's house and they're pointing their guns at each other.)*
Y/N watched as Sam twiddled his thumbs and shifted his weight around his chair. She'd long since given into temptation and scratched her own nose and, as far as she could tell, the apocalypse hadn't commenced because of it. Maybe Dean was being irrational. She shifted around in her own chair and then, sensing that her bladder was full to bursting, stood up, "I'm gonna go pee."
"Don't fall in." Sam teased, sounding more like Dean than he did himself.
"Shut up, Sam." Y/N grumbled, carefully making her way over to the bathroom door, "if I make any noise that doesn't sound like normal bathroom noise, don't you dare come in there. Our combined bad luck might just kill me." With that, she stepped gingerly over the threshold and into the small bathroom. For some reason, the sound of the door closing behind her seemed like a death toll. Ignoring her irrational fears, Y/N quickly unbuckled her belt, as quickly as she could without disturbing her splinters, and unbuttoned her jeans, pushing them down to her ankles.
Alright now, Y/N eyed the toilet like it was a rabid werewolf, let's get this over with.
The moment she sat down on the seat, Y/N realized that she'd been had. Almost instantly, she felt like her ass had been sucked into the rim of the seat and, testing it out by rising slightly, she knew that she was stuck fast. A low, annoyed groan slipped through her lips and she kicked the door angrily. With her left foot… which was attached to her sprained left ankle. Hot sparks of pain swept up Y/N's leg, and she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out.
"Y/N?" Sam's voice was muffled, "everything okay?"
"Oh," she responded, "everything's wonderful. Simply wonderful." She spat the word wonderful like it was the most blasphemous of curses. Seeing as she wouldn't be getting out of the toilet anytime soon, Y/N allowed herself to relieve her bladder; she deserved some form of relief after the absolutely appalling day she'd had. Of course, even this wouldn't last, as the scent of smoke began to trickle into the little bathroom.
"Sam!" Y/N yelled, "Dammit, Sam, what the hell did you do?"
Y/N could hear him grumbling curses and crying out in surprise. There was a faint crackling, like there was a fire in the room, then the loud rustle of fabric… closely followed by a loud tearing and one final cry from Sam before the very audible thump of his huge, Sasquatch body hitting the floor. Then silence.
"… Sam?" the huntress asked quietly, hoping that her brother was still alive. Throwing all sense of formality to the wind, Y/N undid the lock on the door… or tried to. The damn thing was jammed. She stifled an enraged scream as she began to lose feeling in her ass and settled into for the wait. To her surprise, not even five minutes later, there was the sound of someone fiddling with the motel room door.
Thank God, it's Dean—wait… Y/N looked down at her watch. It was a two hours' drive from Buffalo to Queens and, even if Dean had managed to get the foot back with no trouble whatsoever, he still had another two hours to drive back to Buffalo to get them. And besides, her brother had a key; there'd be no reason for him to have to pick the lock. Reaching out to turn off the bathroom light, Y/N resorted herself to staying as still and quiet as possible. Fortunately, for once, the light went off.
Hey, I've got my cell on me! Y/N did a silent cheer and fished her cell phone out of her jeans' pocket in the darkness. Of course, her terrible bad luck intervened and the damn thing was completely out of juice… even though the battery had been nearly full not long ago.
"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle," a male voice with an accent Y/N couldn't place spoke, "it's our lucky day, Kubrick. He's gone and knocked 'imself out."
"This isn't luck, Creedy," another man spoke, with a note of reverence in his voice, "can't you see? This is God helping us to do His work."
"Whatever you say, Kubrick," Creedy replied, "let's get him tied up before he wakes up on us."
Oh, hell… Dean, you need to hurry…
*when Sam wakes up*
Y/N listened to the tell-tale sounds of duct tape being used to secure Sam to whatever apparatus Creedy and Kubrick had chosen. It'd been going on like this for quite a bit, and the huntress's legs were beginning to fall asleep from lack of movement. She wanted to burst out of the bathroom and keep these nutjobs from hurting her brother, but her attempts, as much as she could try and keep them from hearing her, to free herself from the uncomfortable toilet seat had proved fruitless. Y/N didn't even want to think about the embarrassment she'd suffer when Dean finally got here and helped her get loose… and the ice she'd have to apply to her sore ass.
"Oh, he's awake," she heard Creedy remark, and sat at attention at once.
"Back with us, eh?" Kubrick asked rhetorically, and she heard the soft squeak of him getting off of the couch or one of the beds.
"We didn't even have to touch you," Creedy's voice was gleeful, "you just went all spastic and knocked yourself out. It was like watching Jerry Lewis tryin' to stack chairs." He chuckled a bit at this comparison, one that Y/N definitely didn't understand.
"Who are you?" Sam asked, clearly disoriented, "What do you wan—" someone snapped their fingers sharply, quieting him, and Y/N furrowed her brows, wondering which of the strange men it was.
"I used to think your friend Gordon sent me…"
"Gordon?" Sam's voice was filled with disbelief and exasperation, "oh, come on…" Y/N rolled her eyes, even in prison, that nutcase is still obsessed with killing Sam… he needs a new hobby ASAP.
"He asked me to track you down and put a bullet in your brain."
"Great, that sounds like him." Sam remarked, sounding like he was completely done with this mess.
"But, as it turns out… I'm on a mission from God."
A mission from God, right, Y/N barely kept herself from snorting sarcastically, last time I checked, God was totally against killing. Thou shall not kill, anyone?
The sound of the back of someone's hand meeting flesh dragged the huntress's attention back to what was going on outside of the bathroom, and she stifled an enraged yell at the sound of Sam's pained grunt. Y/N, however, couldn't keep herself from bucking against the stupid toilet seat, and there was a loud cracking sound as she, and the seat, slammed back down onto the commode.
Oh shit…
"What was that?" Creedy questioned, "Was that comin' from the restroom?"
"Leave it, Creedy," Kubrick snapped, "there's much more important matters at hand here."
"Right, God's work, of course." If Y/N didn't know better, she'd say that Creedy was as thoroughly disenchanted with the whole 'God's work' spiel as she was.
*after Dean steals the foot*
Y/N heard a splash of water, and then the sound of Sam spitting it out as he came to. She'd managed to keep quiet all this time, even though her brother was being beaten for answers that he didn't have in the very next room. It hadn't been easy; the dried blood running from her split bottom lip and down her chin was proof of that, as where the bright red, bleeding crescents that her nails had cut into her splintered palms.
"You were a part of that demon plan to open the gate, weren't you?"
"We did everything we could to stop it—"
"Lie, lie, lie!"
What the fuck do you know, you sick son of a bitch? Y/N's thoughts were loud and angry, I certainly didn't see you there, trying to help us stop it from happening!
"You're in on it," Kubrick continued, "You know what their next move is, too, don't you?"
"No, I don't, okay, you're wrong about all of this."
"Where are they gonna hit us next?"
Sam heaved a weary sigh, and Y/N stifled a shout as Kubrick struck out and slapped him again, judging the sharp clap she heard. Her eyes were burning with tears, but she forced them back, refusing to allow her weakness to show, even if there was no enemy to see and take advantage.
"Gordon told me about you, Sam," Kubrick's voice was calm again, "about your powers. You're some kind of weirdo psychic freak."
"No, not anymore," Sam's voice was suddenly desperate, but weary, as she struggled to discredit Gordon's claims, "I have no powers, no visions—nothing."
"Lie!" Another slap. A single tear slipped, unnoticed, down Y/N's left cheek. He's not a freak, dammit! My brother's no freak. If anyone deserves to be tied up and beaten, it's you!
"No more lies," Kubrick's voice calmed again, almost freakishly quick, "there's an army of demons out there pushing at a world already on the brink. We're on deck for the endgame here, right? So maybe, just maybe you can understand," there was a brief pause, and Y/N could hear the sound of a firearm being drawn from someone's waistband, "why we can't take any chances."
The safety clicked off, and Sam began trying to placate the gunman, "whoa, okay, okay, no do—hold on a minute!"
"Hey," Creedy's voice was next, "Kubrick just—"
"No," Kubrick was adamant, "you saw what happened, Creedy. Ask yourself, why are we here? Because you saw some picture on the web? Because we chose this motel instead of another? Luck like that just doesn't happen."
"Look, I can explain all of that if—"
"Shut up!"
Sam released a sigh, and Y/N just barely kept herself from lunging off of the seat again.
"It's God, Creedy. He led us here for one reason. To do His work. This… is destiny."
Y/N clenched her eyes shut, knowing that there was probably nothing more to be said. She didn't expect to hear a second gun cock and her older brother's voice, "Nope. No destiny. Just a rabbit's foot." She leaned back against the toilet seat and heaved a relieved sigh, not caring that it was totally audible to everyone outside of the bathroom.
"Put the gun down, son, or you're gonna be scraping brain off the wall."
"Oh, this thing?"
Dean, what the hell are you—I know he's not actually thinking about putting his gun down…
"Yeah, that thing."
"Okay," Y/N gasped sharply, "but you see, there's something about me you don't know." The youngest Winchester pressed a hand to her heart when she heard Dean's precious Berretta clunk down on a table or whatever. You moron, this is not the time to get cocky!
"Yeah?" Kubrick questioned sarcastically, "What would that be?"
"It's my lucky day."
He didn't…
The sound of something solid clinking against metal met Y/N's ears, and Dean's laughter sounded.
He touched the damn foot. God help us if he manages to lose it...
In the midst of her thoughts, Y/N noticed that all the tussling had gone silent with the sound of hard plastic clunking against someone's forehead and that someone crumpling to the floor. There were several beats of quiet and then she heard Dean remark, "I'm batman."
"Oh, can it, you damn moron." It felt good to speak her mind. Sam retorted sarcastically, "yeah. You're batman."
"Y/N?" Dean called out, "what the hell—what are you doing in the bathroom?"
"I had to pee," Y/N responded, "long story short, the lock is jammed and I'm…"
"You're what?" the doorknob began to jiggle, and Y/N shouted, "Dean Winchester, don't you dare!"
"What the hell is wrong, Y/N?" the eldest Winchester was exasperated, "don't tell me," he coughed to hide a snicker, and Y/N felt her cheeks grow hot, "did you fall in or something?"
"No, you dumbass," she retorted, mortified, "mybuttsstuckinthedamnseat."
"Your… your butt's what?"
"Dammit, my butt's stuck in the damn seat! Happy now?"
"Oh," Dean sounded out of his depth, "I think I've got some motor oil in the trunk that you could use to… ya know… squeegee your way out…"
"Kill. Me. Now…"
*after the embarrassing ordeal* (A/N: There's gonna be a slight change to the ending here. It's nothing major that will affect the canonical events of season three… at least I think so.)
Y/N was too mortified and sore to get out of the car after the horrid process the three Winchesters had to go through to free her from the toilet. Some smelly motor oil, a broken toilet, and a few ice packs later… well, the deposit they had on that room had long since flown out the window. So Y/N remained in the car, sitting on a few bags of ice wrapped in towels taken from the motel bathroom, lying against one of the doors to the backseat. Her hands, splinter free courtesy of Dean, had been cleansed and bandaged properly.
The sound of a car pulling up nearby caught Y/N's attention and, curious, she spotted a woman in a medium brown leather jacket and black pants getting out of a very expensive looking automobile and hurrying off in the same direction that Sam and Dean had gone to bury the foot. Hm, she mused, wonder if that's the infamous Bela Talbot. She forgot about her soreness and currently bad luck as she got out of the Impala, determined to see what the bitch was up to. Couldn't be anything good, since she shouldn't have known that they'd be at this cemetery.
Y/N double-checked the safety on her Berretta, knowing full well that she was taking a risk by carrying it with her, and began the trek to the spot where Sam and Dean were burning the foot. She sent a quiet prayer up to whoever was listening, I know my luck's shot to hell right now, but please… don't let me shoot myself or let this chick see me tailing her…
When Y/N finally caught up to Bela, she found Sam with a bullet wound in his shoulder, Dean looking smug and satisfied, and the rabbit's foot burning into ash. Something told her not to reveal her presence just yet, and she watched as Bela walked towards the headstone where Dean had left his jacket... and, from this angle, she could see the scratch tickets he'd bought on the way here peeking out of one of the pockets.
Mmhm, not so fast, hun…
"You can go now, Bela," Y/N emerged from the shadows, her berretta at her side and at the ready, "but leave the scratch tickets here, please. It's not polite to steal, you know." She was sore and her ankles was sprained because of this chick. She'd be damned if she let her get another one over on her and her brothers. Speaking of whom, they were extremely unobservant… probably because they weren't nearly as good at pickpocketing as she was… or Bela was, for that matter.
"From one fantastic pickpocket to another," Y/N smiled with mock sweetness, stepping forwards and snatching the tickets from Bela, "that was a pretty obvious move. I might not steal as often as you do, but I'm hardly blind."
"Impressive," Bela eyed Y/N up, "surely you could find better company than those two."
"I could," the huntress shrugged, "but these boys are my family and they'd be pretty lost without me… oh, and you just shot my big brother in the arm, so if you were offering, that'll have to be a hell no."
"Damn straight," Dean crowed, "you tell her, little sis."
"She's a Winchester," Sam chuckled, despite his pain, "that much is obvious." Y/N watched the disgruntled Bela retreat from the area and kept her eyes on her until she got into her fancy sports car and drove away before handing the tickets to her big brother, "you should keep better eyes on your things, Dean; people might steal them." She spoke slowly, as if she were talking to a child.
"Har har, very funny," Dean ruffled her hair gently, "isn't your ass still sore, anyway?"
"Not funny," Y/N whined, "it slowed me down, that's why I wasn't here to stop her from shooting Sammy." The aforementioned Winchester made his way over to his two siblings, "ah, it's just a flesh wound, and you saved Dean's pride, so it's okay."
"Shut up, bitch," Dean shot back, though it was easy to see that he was amused, "let's get Y/N back on ice and get your shoulder fixed up, and tomorrow," he waved the scratch tickets in the air with a cheerful grin, "we cash these i—shit!" in his exuberance, the Winchester accidentally threw the scratch tickets, and some of them landed into the smoldering ashes of the rabbit's foot.
"No, no, no!" Dean dropped down on his knees, desperate to save his winnings. Y/N and Sam shared an exasperated, amused look and watched him try to salvage the four tickets that had caught fire from the ashes. With their combined injuries, there was no way they'd be able to get down on the ground and help him.
"Come on, Sammy," Y/N touched her brother's hand, "let's leave Dean to his grieving." Sam busted up laughing, and his older brother shot him a heated glare before turning back to the tickets, "this isn't funny, bitch, we lost almost five thousand just now!"
"How much were we up by before you started flailing around, jerk?" Sam inquired, smirking slightly.
"Like… like 46 thousand." Dean simpered.
"That leaves at least 40 thousand, Dean, that's more than enough for us to treat ourselves to something really nice for once." Y/N responded, "I know, it's not your precious 46 grand, but it's still quite a bit for us. Imagine if I hadn't seen Bela and she'd gotten away with all of the tickets? You'd be even more upset than you are now. So come on, put those tickets in your pocket, and let's go find us a room so we can get Sam patched up." Her ass was starting to smart again, and she was more than ready to get some ice back on it. This was, by far, her most embarrassing injury to date.
"Alright, alright, little sis," Dean shouldered the shovel and the bag with their stuff in it, "come on, Sammy. Let's get you two cripples someplace comfortable."
"Sounds good to me," Sam responded, "we're not cripples. Luck just hasn't really been on our side lately."
"You're telling me," Dean snorted with laughter, "I'm still stuck on that miserable ass look you had on your face when your shoe fell in that grate." He was still howling with laughter when the three hunters got back to the Impala and Sam didn't seem pleased. Y/N carefully crawled into the backseat and sat down on her ice bags, closing her eyes breathing a sigh of relief as she did so. Dean's face was literally an inch from hers when she opened them again.
"Dean, wha—"
"Just making sure you're comfortable back here," he responded quietly, "I didn't know you were a pickpocket."
"I never told you either, so," Y/N shrugged, "my mother taught me how… used to make me steal for her before she and dad got killed by that Kitsune. I was pretty good at it by the time you two and John found me."
"Mmm," Dean harrumphed, "she made you steal for her? You were only nine when we found you."
"She had chronic sticky fingers growing up and tried to pass it on to me," Y/N bit her lip, "frankly, I prefer being a hunter to a thief. If you guys hadn't come along when you did, I'd probably be just like Bela. A ruthless bitch who doesn't give a damn about anyone but herself."
"Yeah, the last thing the world needs is two of her," the eldest Winchester gently ruffled Y/N's hair, "you're alright, kiddo. Sammy," he reached out and flicked his finger against the back of his brother's head, "you settled in?"
"Yeah, no thanks to you," Sam grumbled, rubbing at the back of his head, "get in the car, Dean, before I get blood all over your precious—"
"Don't you dare, bitch," Dean hurriedly backed out of the backseat, "he didn't mean it, Baby." Y/N rolled her eyes at her brother as he stroked the Impala's back fender lovingly before shutting her door and walking around to the driver's side.
"About time, jerk," the younger Winchester brother smiled cheekily, "where're we headed?"
"You think they'll let us check back in at that motel—"
"No." the other two hunters cut his thought off succinctly.
"I was kidding."
"We can never really tell with you, Dean," Y/N responded with a smile, "there was another motel across town from that one. We'll stay there for the night, cash your precious tickets in the morning, and get the hell out of dodge before the motel owner sees what happened to his motel room. Sound good to you two?"
"Yep." Dean turned on the car, "hey, just what are we gonna treat ourselves with? Eh," he turned to look at Sam, "we'll figure it out after we get your little 'flesh wound' up. Definitely don't need bloodstains in my Baby's seats."
"Thanks, Dean, it's always nice to know how important I am to you."
"Aw, you're welcome, Sammy."
So I let Dean keep most of his scratch ticket money. Kind of pissed me off how Bela took the scratch tickets right out from under their noses and they didn't even notice, but hey, women tend to be more observant than men, right? Okay, I'm done for now, but I'd like to do some other episodes with reader-inserts in the future, but with school… I'm in the last couple of weeks of my first semester in culinary school and then summer school will be starting up two weeks after, so I won't have a lot of free time to do some writing. Hope you guys enjoyed it!
~CloudSpires1295~