This work is posted on Ao3 under the same name and account username.

Back at it again.
I have a relatively new laptop, and apparently my Microsoft Word cannot verify my account, so I've been working off my One Drive. Sorry if there are any mistakes.
I'm trying to keep one chapter in between posts, so I can have something to fall back on, but Season 4 is almost closing out, I'm excited.
Thank you all for your continuous support. I've want to answer all of your questions and comments, but I've been so busy lately. Just know that you are always in my hearts, and you are the reason why I continue to write, and why I am proud of this thing I wrote. Anyways, enjoy.

Your life was never dull and you could honestly say that with the utmost confidence.

Well… it wasn't like you had anyone to compare with; you were lacking a bit in the friend department. But then again, there was no such thing as "friends" in the hunting life. Hunter's couldn't get attached, it was too dangerous and risky.

At least that's what John had said your whole life growing up.

You hunted ghosts and demons, and now apparently angels—anything that wasn't remotely human.

Despite everything that was revealed to you, you ignored said everything and kept forward. The apocalypse was looming over the world and being petty wasn't on top of the list.

You were introduced to Zachariah, who was apparently Castiel's superior, when you were living your "dream life" as "Y/N Remington," a security guard in a Fortune 500 company called Sandover Bridge and Iron, a company founded in the 1800s that had experienced the train wreck that is the Great Depression. Only when you were called into HR and saved from almost offing yourself by old-fashioned hanging by "Dean Smith" and "Sam Wesson," did you go through the charades of a ghost hunt with the two men.

Sadly, the ghost hunt pointed to the founder of the company who died back in the early 1900s, where he awakens during economic distress. His spirit took slackers and turned them into model employees who eventually kill themselves when they fail.

All for a "lesson" did Zachariah tell you that hunting was an inevitability and that no matter what, you would be in the same exact position every time.

Dick.

Time had passed, and you were proven yet again of the inevitability of hunting in your blood by the obscure, occult-centered Supernatural books. It was dangerous to learn the future from a prophet. Once the vision came, it was made into stone.

"As he has seen it, so it shall come to pass."

Pretentious asshole.

You still tried your damndest to prevent the nosy, drunk man, Chuck, from writing more. You didn't think you could handle any more of his pity, let along the sad, doe eyes that lingered on you as Cas hovered over him in the middle of his living room as Dean attempted to kidnap the prophet to protect Sam from Lilith.

Stupid demon whore. If it wasn't for Sam's arrogance… regardless.

You were still buzzing from the mysterious power that was emanating from that man. You chalked it up as him being a prophet—as if he was like an angel but not. So far all "heavenly" entities have felt a bit different from the waves you felt from Castiel when you were in his presence.

Odd.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Chuck had whispered grimly. You were skimming through his bookshelf when you turned to look at him.

"About what?" you asked, genuinely confused.

"About everything. Everything that I've written...? It was all true, hell… I lived it. It should have never gone the way that it did."

"It's okay Chuck, really." You chuckled at his franticness.

Chuck dragged both hands down his cheek, scratching at his messy beard.

"No, no… Y/N, you don't understand, it's not okay… I'm truly, truly, sorry."

Before he could finish, Dean and Sam burst through the door, ready to blow town and head out for the next big case.

Taking one last look at Chuck, his eyes glistening with something hidden beneath, you gave him a nod before picking up your bag and walking out the door, leaving thoughts of the weird man behind you.

Minnesota.

Sitting in the backseat, you were eyeing Sam as he researched this boy, Adam Milligan, and Dean in the meanwhile was driving furiously through the highway.

Another Winchester son, as you overheard their conversation. You were getting into the backseat of the car, shaking your head and ignoring Dean as he went on reacting to the tuna sandwich that you handed over to him, knowing that it had been sitting in the well of the backseat for the past 2 days.

There was no surprise that John was out and about sleeping with the victims of his case. However, because of his actions, one poor sap had to deal with the aftermath.

It was unfortunate, buy it came with the territory.

Hunter's couldn't love. Soulmates were a farce.

With a grimace, you watched out the window as trees passed by, slighting regretting never going back to pick up your car and hauling ass.

You still haven't had the conversation with them either, unsure of how to break it to them that you remember all the lies and the manipulation. How they had a literal angel come and wipe your memories with a simple request.

Freaking Winchesters.

Speaking of Winchesters, Dean had been fuming the entire time, from the moment the three of you got the call, to the moment you were sitting in the diner. He had been so sure that the boy he was about to meet was a demon, setting up an elaborate trap, or a shapeshifter who happened to snag the right bloke at the right time, allowing them to finally bring down the big, bag Winchesters. The Long Con.

Sam, on the other hand, was excited. You knew that he had always thought about how it would like to have another sibling, one he could be a big brother to like Dean had been with him.

Seems like you did not make the cute as an "acceptable" sibling.

You felt bad for this Adam fellow. He was an aspiring med student, home for a short break after finding out that his mom was missing.

Kate Milligan, the woman who turned John Winchester's heart of stone back into the warm-blooded organ that it once was, only for so long after the death of his soulmate. And there, you used to think that having a soulmate was the end all.

But then again, there was Maddie the Wolfie.

Huffing, you felt eyes turn to you as you stood in the Milligan household.

"How'd you know Dad?"

Side eyeing the boy, your eyes shifted back to the door where Sam and Dean were having a hushed conversation behind. You were silently hoping that they would be back, rather wanting to feel their shitty emotions than to have to spend another second with the void that was net to you.

Adam had your stomach turning in a way where you felt cautious—maybe in danger.

Silence.

"Not much of a talker, huh? Honestly, when we met, I almost thought that I had an older sister... Did you work with Dad and my brothers?"

Frowning, you shuffled your feet, feeling as if he was just going to keep asking you questions. Instead, you answered in a low tone, threatening and impatient.

"John Winchester raised me. As well as the broken drunkard he was, could. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Hey! What are you two talking about?"

Dean "the moment killer" came in at the perfect moment, but you figured his trained hunter ears heard the better part of your conversation. Turning to Adam, you winked, mentally fist bumping at the look of bewilderment on his face. Turning back to Dean, you responded with a wide grin.

"Nothing!"

To anybody else, it would have seemed as if Dean had just accepted the answer, but judging by the tick of the muscle in his jaw, you knew that you were in some deep shit.

The next few days, the three of you treated this as any other case, minus the fact that Adam was their brother. You still hadn't mentioned that your "emotional EMF" was going static whenever you were in the same room as the boy. It didn't help that Sam was teaching him the basics to hunting as if they were going to bring him along after all this was done.

Regardless, you didn't need to. Adam was dead... with a capital D.

D. E. A. D. as is the Winchester curse.

Two ghouls they were, siblings. They had decided to get their revenge by going after the hunter that had killed their father all those years ago. That unlucky bastard ended up being John Winchester.

And the cycle continues.

You felt a tear drop down your right cheek as you watched Adam's corpse go up in flames.

Sam was the first to go, then you next, but as you took a step, you heard Dean call out.

"Y/N, wait."

Hesitantly, you stepped back and faced him.

"You need something, De?"

Standing there, you stared expectantly at the man in front of you.

"The other day, when you were talking to Adam—fake Adam... Why did you tell him that?"

Feigning innocence, you asked, "Why'd I tell him what?"

Sighing, Dean looked from the flames, up into the sky, before leveling on you.

"Can we not do this? I'm tired of what it is that's happening here. Of losing those that I care about. Can you just level with me?"

Nodding, you let him continue.

"Why did you say that to Adam? About Dad."

Shrugging, you tucked your hands into your jean pockets.

"I don't know what you expect me to say, Dean... I'm sorry?"

Letting out a breath, Dean looked back at the burning pyre of his brother. You could see the guilt and regret bleeding through his eyes.

"Dad loved you, you know."

"Dean—"

"Let me finish...

"You were just as much as his child as Sammy and I are—were. I don't get why you don't see that."

Chewing on your bottom lip, you thought hard on how you were going to respond.

"Dean, it was never the same. Do you know how hard it has been for me these past several years? To finally see why you don't belong?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm tired, Dean. I'm tired of being your third wheel. I'm tired of believing that I'm not worth a damn. Sometimes I wonder how it would have been like if Dad left me there that night. If I died in my crib, would anybody have mourned? If Dad left me at an orphanage, would I have been loved? Look at these hands, Dean."

Shoving your sleeves up to your elbows, your arms shot out, exposed as a reminder to Dean that John Winchester could not save everyone. The man that he worshipped was not perfect.

"How could a family love something like this?

"I'm tired Dean... of the lies, the deception."

"What are you—"

"I know, Dean."

"What?" He muttered, skeptical of the next words to come out of your mouth.

"I know..." With a heavy sigh, you pulled down your sleeves past your fingertips, tugging as much as you can to hide yourself from the visible world.

"I remember everything. From Sam's demon mojo to how you asked Castiel to erase my memories.

"I know, Dean. So, please... try to spare me the theatrics."

Dean stood, silent and unmoving.

"I just wish to God that everything was how it used to be. But Dean, everything from the beginning was about you three. About Yellow Eyes and about your Mother. Dad's wife—his soulmate. I just happened to be there at the right time.

"Tell me Dean, do you think that Dad would have sold his soul for me that day at the hospital?"

You took Dean's silence as more than enough.

"I wish everything was different, Y/N, I really do. But, please know this... you are very important to me... to us. Just because we've been dealt a bad hand, it doesn't mean we can't play our cards right."

Scoffing, you ran your sleeve-covered hands across your cheeks.

"Sam won't even look at me, De." You sniffled, not realizing when tears had begun to fall. "He hates me—my very being. He's hated me since the night that you died.

"Why does he hate me?"

Dean stepped forward, cradling your head as you cried into his shoulder. The flood gates had been unleashed and you knew that it would stop.

Several minutes passed in silence.

The distant sound of a car door opening and Sam shouting out if we were done yet, forced you to step back, making sure to rub your face against your inner elbow to hide your tear tracks—to hide your moment of weakness.

"I don't expect you to understand, Dean. But that's just what I saw—what I know. I hope one day that this will change, though."

With one last look at the now-charcoaled remains of Adam Milligan-Winchester's funeral pyre, you walked back to the car, preparing yourself for whatever comes next.

Y'all are the best. This chapter is a little shorter, but I wanted to get a move on and finish up the Season for the writing. Season 5 is the good stuff.
Tell me what you liked, let me know what you're thinking. I won't be able to get back to you, but know that I read each and everyone of your comments. I know some of y'all had questions, too. But I will try to clear them up as soon as I can!
I am also taking a career-orientated exam on Wednesday, so I am focusing and studying for that as well. I guess there's only so much that you can do but wait and see what happens next.
Anyways, I will get back with you lovers soon.
I love y'all, miss y'all. Have a good one.