I decided to give uploading my stories here another try, just to see if there's any interest for them here. So, here we are with another one of my self insert longfics! I got into this series very very late, and still haven't watched past season 3, but it's come to mean a lot to me in the short time I've known it. I'm excited to share the ideas I have for it!

Per usual, if self insert stuff isn't your cup of tea, your browser has a back button for a reason. Note that I'm not interested in critique or criticism.

1. There Are Very Few People Who Will Say Yes To Chasing Ghosts. I'm One Of Them.

I know it breaks your heart, move to the city in a broke down car and.

Four years, no calls, now you're looking pretty in a hotel bar and.

I can't stop. No, I can't stop.

It was a day just like any other. How many stories have you heard that start with that?

I know, I know, it's a cliche start to a story, but how else am I supposed to do it? Because it really was a day just like any other. The day before (October 24) had been my eighteenth birthday, but I hadn't really done anything special for it. I'd spent it mostly like I was going to spend this day. Except we'd had cake.

My mom was off at work, and thus I'd commandeered the dining room table to set up my computer and drawing tablet. It's nice to sometimes not spend all day in my room, y'know? It was my house, too, after all.

I had put on my favorite stand-up comedy show from George Carlin ("What Am I Doing In New Jersey?!"), and got to sketching. Because yeah, I'm an artist. But not like. Painting pretty women and landscapes artist. I'd much prefer to draw my favorite video game characters over some lady sitting on a bench.

It was while I was sitting there, engrossed in my work, that a firm knock came from my front door, effectively breaking me from my concentration and entertainment. I turned to stare at the door with blatant confusion on my face.

I hadn't been expecting anyone. No deliveries, no friends. And my mom of course, had a key.

So who the hell was at my door? I swore, if it was some religious door knockers again...

I paused my show, and got up to peer out of the peep hole. At the door stood a tall blond man who was wearing a jacket over a plaid flannel. With a T-shirt underneath all that.

I didn't recognize him immediately, but even through the door I could feel that he was... Expecting something from me?

Oh, yeah, wait. Guess maybe I should explain that, huh?

So, I'm a psychic.

And no, not like some Romani palm reader who can tell if you're lying by kissing you with Whiskey on her lips.

I'm talking about a real, genuine psychic. Someone who can perceive parts of the world that normal people can't, someone who can sense and interact with the auras of the metaphysical.

I got it from my mom. Psychic powers are always genetic, like your hair and eyes. There's only one exception to that rule, and we'll get to it later, at some point.

Everyone's powers are different, and I'm not sure if what exactly your powers will be is hidden somewhere in your genetics. But it's definitely a genetic thing.

My powers are pretty simple. Or at least they started out simple, but that's a can of worms we'll get into later, as well. Let's stick with this basic train of thought, shall we?

I have the power to sense other people's emotions as if they were something tangible that can be felt, seen, heard, etc. etc. Everyone's emotions are different and unique; If I spend enough time around someone, I can learn to identify them just by their emotions.

It's generally called Empathy, which of course, normal people can have in some way too, as it's sort of an emotion in and of itself. But the psychic form is so much more powerful; It exceeds the limit of physicality and just simply comprehending the emotions of others from physical and auditory tells. It's the act of perceiving someone else's feelings almost as if they are your own; As if they're a physical part of someone, and they're reaching out to touch you with them.

And sometimes it's a pain in the ass, because when you can feel how pissed your mom is at your dad, you can't help but be affected by that.

But that's neither here nor there. The guy at my door, we've gotta get back to the guy at my door, don't we?

Just from looks alone, I didn't know him. But that didn't mean that his reason for being here wasn't important. So I opened the door and peered out. "Uh, hello...?"

Upon seeing me, this man looked me up and down. He was looking for something familiar, it seemed. When his eyes met mine, he found it. He recognized me somehow, something that reverberated through his... Nostalgia? Fondness for the past? Fondness for... Me in general?

How did he know me...?

He then gave a lopsided, fond, and slightly awkward grin as he seemed to solidify the fact that I was who he thought. "Yeah, hey, uh... Listen, I know this is kinda out of the blue, but..."

I stared at him as he trailed off. I was focusing hard on his emotions. Beyond nostalgia, there was excitement. And nervousness. About seeing me. Further implying that we knew each other.

There was... Familiarity. He thought he knew me well. And beyond that there was... Something else. Something that said he was scared. Of being rejected, it seemed...

And that was starting to creep up on him as he realized that I didn't immediately recognize him. He scratched the back of his head. "Uh, jeez, ah... You're Asher, right?"

I nodded slowly, and that was when I noticed the necklace hanging around his neck. I'd seen it before... My eyes darted back up to his face; He had light freckled skin, dirty blond hair, and green eyes.

Green eyes that were suddenly becoming familiar...

I'd known them my whole life, I realized. I gasped softly, and suddenly I knew him. All his emotions made sense now, and I knew him.

"Dean..." I breathed out, almost not comprehending that this was happening. It had been so long...

He smiled at me to confirm that, the action more fond and happy, now. His nervousness was ebbing now that he knew I recognized him. "Hey, Ashe,"

I laughed slightly, something that came out more like a rush of air I hadn't realized I'd been holding in. I'd kept in contact with Dean and his brother over the years, but I never thought I'd physically see them again.

Looking back on it, I suppose I was really stupid to think that anything could have kept me away from them.

"Wh-What are..." I started to say, but just couldn't seem to find the right words to ask why Dean Winchester was at my door after all this godforsaken time.

"Would you believe me if I said I just really missed you?" Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow and almost grinning at me.

I gave another breathy laugh. "I don't know..."

I could sense that there was a reason he was here. A purpose. Something he needed. And I certainly didn't know what...

Dean could tell that I was a bit flabbergasted here, so he dropped the flirty sarcasm that I hadn't exactly been expecting. "Well, can't blame me for tryin'. Can I uh... Would you mind if I...? Can we talk?"

I nodded. "Yeah..." Then I opened the door further and stepped away to give him room.

"Thanks," Dean mumbled as he stepped inside. Once I closed the door behind him, I turned around to watch him look around our living room. "This is uh. A nice place you've got,"

"Uh. Yeah," I replied, studying Dean as he turned in a slow circle to look at everything. He was much older than the last time I'd seen him of course, but... If I looked hard enough, I could still identify him as one of my best friends. His eyes were still the same, the curve of his lips and the slope of his nose. He was just. Older, now.

But it was his emotions that really drove it home for me. This was my best friend, right down to his very core. There were new layers, of course. He was older now, but he was still Dean. Still the same guy who'd saved me from a monster seven years ago.

Dean sighed as he turned back to me. "I'm beating around the bush, I know,"

"Why are you here, Dean...?" I asked softly, staring at him.

Dean grinned. "What? Don't wanna see me?"

"No, no," I sighed, almost offended that he'd thought to say that, though I could feel it was a joke. "Of course I'm happy to see you, I just. This isn't a social call..."

Dean sighed again and bit his lip. "I forgot, you're hard to lie to. Alright, alright..." he shuffled around a bit before finally deciding to explain. "Dad and I are hunting something in the area... There's been some mysterious deaths... Now, it could be nothing, but..."

"You want me to take a look...?" I asked slowly, sort of finishing his sentence. I could feel that's where this was going.

Dean nodded, as if he was going to say more and I'd just dumbed it down. "Yeah. See, there aren't many psychics around here. Not real ones. And, well..." he paused to scoff slightly. "We can't go to your mom..."

I sighed. "Yeah, smart idea... So you come to me,"

"Yep, pretty much," Dean replied.

I stared at him for just a moment. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say. Or do. "Dean, I..."

"I understand if the answer is no. You've been outta this life for a long ass time... I get it if you don't wanna come back, even for one second," Dean interjected, as if he thought I didn't like what he'd just asked of me.

The truth was quite the opposite. I couldn't believe that the opportunity to come back to the hunting life was right here in front of me, even if it was only fleeting. My mom had taken me from it and kept me far away, and now here it was again.

Here Dean was, again.

But I was still conflicted, despite this. I wanted to help. I wanted to help more than anything. But if my mom found out that I'd been with the Winchesters... That I'd been on a case...

She'd have my head.

But... This was Dean... And John was involved, too. They were my family once, and if you asked me, that hadn't changed. I could feel that Dean didn't really think it had, either, even if we were both different now.

That helped me make up my mind. To hell with the consequences.

I shook my head and laughed. "You're crazy if you think I'm not gonna help you. I never wanted to leave..."

Dean smiled, lopsided but warm. "So that's a yes?"

"Absolutely," I replied. "Lemme get my shoes,"

And so off I went to my bedroom, to retrieve and pull on my shoes. I then returned to the living room to start unplugging my computer and things to take them back to my room.

"So uh..." Dean drawled as I closed my computer lid. "You're uh- How old are you now? Yesterday was your birthday, don't think I forgot,"

I laughed quietly. "Yeah, I'm eighteen now. And you coulda called, y'know. Sam did,"

"Yeah, I know," Dean hummed, but he knew I was semi-joking. Mostly bc I was grinning at him, but also because he knew me. "Got caught up with this thing, you know how it is,"

"Yeah, I know, believe me," I laughed as I hauled my laptop off to my room. "You're here now, so I'll take it,"

Dean scoffed. "Y'know, you haven't given me a hug yet," he yelled down the hall.

Oh. Well shit, I hadn't. I had to rectify this, I suddenly realized.

So I put my computer away, shoved my keys, wallet and phone into my pockets, then strode back into the living room, right into Dean's arms.

He crushed me to his chest, like it was the first time he ever had. And technically, it sort of almost was. It was the first time we'd physically seen each other in seven years, after all.

And somehow, it didn't feel like it had been all that long. Not right at that moment, because it felt like we were picking up right where we'd left off. Dean was familiar, oh so familiar, and it was so good to have him near again. Only one thing could make this better...

"Have you heard from Sam?" I asked as I pulled away to look up at Dean. Damn, had he gotten tall...

"Nah, not really," Dean replied. "Kinda doesn't want me and dad bothering him, but y'know. He's Sam, that's how it goes with him,"

I sighed softly, but it was through a smile. Yeah, I knew how Sam was. Sometimes he didn't see eye to eye with his brother. Or father. I knew that he'd gone off to college when he turned eighteen. He'd emailed me about it. In fact, I talked to Sam quite a bit more than Dean, since Sam wasn't backpacking across the country fighting monsters.

But I wasn't going to hold that against Dean, of course.

"Cut your brother some slack," I said. "Not everyone wants to hunt evil things,"

Dean hummed lowly, and I could feel that there was something more there. Something that wasn't about the job. I looked up at Dean, into his eyes. He held my gaze for a moment, before breaking it, knowing just what I was doing. "C'mon, Ashe, not now. We've got a job to do, yeah?"

I nodded resignedly; I'd let it go for now. "Yeah. Let's go,"

And so, with me in the lead, we headed out of my house. I locked the door behind us, then turned to Dean. "So. I take it we're walking?"

"Mhm," Dean hummed. "Just a few blocks down, dad's waiting at a little diner, doin' his research and stuff,"

"Got it," I replied, and let Dean take the lead to get us there. It was my neighborhood, but I can't navigate for shit.

"So uh," Dean drawled as we started walking. "That thingy you had connected to your laptop, that's for drawing, right? You still do that?"

I laughed softly. "Like anything in the world could make me stop,"

Dean laughed, too. "Yeah, y'know, that sounds about right. Damn, man, you and Sammy, ya'll used to... Make the craziest stuff,"

"Yeah," I laughed, a few things coming to call in my mind. "Yeah, we kinda really did. I still have a lot of it, too,"

"No," Dean drawled in fake disbelief, with a hint of teasing behind it. "Really? Oh man, you gotta let me take a look at it,"

I scoffed. "Dean, even I don't like looking at that stuff. It's cringy,"

"Yeah," Dean purred. "That's why you gotta let me see it,"

"Pfft. Yeah, sure," I scoffed.

"Oh, c'mon," drawled Dean, clearly teasing me. "I was around when a lotta that stuff came to be. You're saying I ain't allowed to see it now?"

I glanced over at him. "No, because I know you're going to tease me. And Sam, if you find anything of his,"

Dean made a face that said, 'Yeah, you know, I would, maybe.' "Yeah, well, I'm the oldest, it's my job description to make fun of you guys,"

I slapped his arm. "Bullshit,"

"No, really," Dean said. "There's rules for this stuff, didn't you know that?"

I gave him a look that made him laugh and bump me with his shoulder. "Alright, alright. But you gotta lemme take a look. Nostalgia, y'know?"

I sighed. "I'll think about it. You know my mom would kill me if she knew I was with you right now, right?"

"Does she hate us that much?" Dean asked, looking down at me.

"She hates what you do," I replied. "She hates John's work ethic, too. And she hates that you wanted to be just like him,"

"Just like him? Oh now that's bullshit, honey," was Dean's response. "I'm me, end of story,"

"I know that," I said. "But my mom sees it differently,"

"Yeah, well," Dean hummed. "Your mom always was short-sighted, even with all her psychic stuff..."

I made a small noise. "Yeah... She's... Not the easiest person to know,"

"But she's your mom," said Dean. "And you love her, right?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Despite all her shit, yeah,"

Dean smiled. Me and my mom were a bit like him and John, which was something I could guess he was thinking, too, judging by the way he understood how I felt about my mom.

We then crossed into the parking lot of the diner where John was apparently waiting for us. The lot wasn't as crowded as it could have been, and I easily picked out the familiar Chevy Impala parked up near the doors.

"Oh my god, you guys still have it..." I breathed in wonder and almost disbelief.

Dean grinned. "Sure do. We keep her looking nice,"

I smiled so hard it hurt. Suddenly, it was really hitting me; I was with one of my childhood friends again. I was with Dean. And we were working a case. This was happening. My old life was right there where I could touch it again.

And it felt so damn good, to have it again.

We stepped inside the diner, and located John sitting far in the back, his familiar journal spread before him, along with a laptop and various other papers.

"Heya, John," I said as we approached. He was older than I remembered, a little more gray, but that was definitely still John.

He looked up at us, and smiled. "So Dean convinced you to come join us, huh? Glad to have you, Asher,"

I smiled. "Didn't need much convincing. I'd rob a bank if you guys asked me,"

John chuckled and nodded, knowing that I probably wouldn't actually rob a bank if they asked. "Good to know,"

Dean and I slid into the booth across from John, and I scanned my eyes over the papers before him. "So what are we looking at?"

"Unusual homicides," John mumbled. "Various people working the night shift at a local museum keep turning up..."

"Dead?" I questioned almost rhetorically, keeping my voice quiet. John nodded to affirm this. So I then asked, "How many?"

"Four," John replied.

I nodded and thought about it. "And they all worked the night shift at this museum? You think the museum is part of this?"

"I do," John answered with a nod. "Considering they were all found mutilated in the museum come morning, yeah,"

"Well damn..." I breathed. I'd almost forgotten. A few things, actually; How gruesome this job was, and how blunt John could be.

I sighed and started mulling everything over in my head. I'd never properly learned how to work a case, but I'd watched a good few cop shows. Surely that would be of some use, right?

"Listen, I understand if this information makes you not wanna do this," John suddenly said, while I was mulling over the case in my head.

"What?" I asked, actually a little baffled by that statement. "No, no, that's not. Don't be silly. I'm just. Trying to figure out how one is meant to work a case, is all. Never really got to do it proper, y'know?"

Sure, yeah, I was scared. And no one wants to be anywhere near a murder. But there was no way I could say no to this. More people would die if I didn't help, and this was my family who were involved.

I didn't care if it had been seven years. Dean and John were still family to me. And judging by their feelings for me, it was mutual.

So I wasn't backing down.

John hummed and nodded to my statement. "You sure? We won't blame you if you change your mind,"

"John," I admonished. "I'm in, or I wouldn't be here. So what do we do about this?"

"I'm not sure," said John, accepting that I wanted to do this without further protest. "First, we have to find out what this thing is. I'm thinking a ghost, poltergeist maybe. Do you think you could sense one, if it's there?"

I nodded. "Should be able to, yeah,"

"Alright," said John, beginning to put away his papers. "Then we've got a plan,"

"Uh, hey, hey, wait-" Dean interjected as John started to get up. When John looked over at him, Dean gave him an 'Are you forgetting something?' look and said, "Food? Y'know we're kinda..." he motioned around to solidify the fact that we were indeed in a diner.

John sighed, a little exasperated with Dean, but sat back down. "Fine, fine,"

"You want anything?" Dean then asked me. "I'll pay,"

Normally, I'm rather adverse to people buying things for me. But this was Dean, and Dean had always had special privileges. "Sure. They've got kick ass onion rings here,"

Dean laughed. "Hell yeah,"

And then he began trying to flag down a waitress. I slapped his arm gently. "Wait for them to come over here, don't do that,"

Dean gave a guilty smile, but leaned back in his seat. "Alright, alright..." Then his smile turned teasing. "Y'know, Sam always got on my ass about that, too,"

"Yeah?" I asked. "Well, I knew there was a reason I like him,"

"Hey," said Dean, putting fake offense behind one word. "C'mon, I thought we had something special,"

I scoffed and bumped his shoulder. "Of course we do,"

Dean smiled and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. It felt like the natural, right thing to do. Like we hadn't been away from each other for seven years. Like we'd just gone away for the weekend and were back to business as usual.

It was a bit strange, but it was good. It felt good to have Dean here again, and in some ways, it was good to see John again, too.

Speaking of John, he then asked me a question. "So how've you been? How's your mom?"

"She's ah... Good," I replied. "I'm good. Life has kinda just. Y'know. Happened," I paused to bark out a short but quiet laugh. "It would take forever to tell you everything. I imagine life's continued happening for you guys, too,"

John almost laughed at me. He knew I wasn't going to be the kid he'd last seen seven years prior, but he was intrigued to see just what kind of adult I was, now. "Yeah... Yeah it has. I'm glad things worked out for you, though. For your mom,"

"Yeah. She's pretty happy here," I replied. Me, on the other hand? Well. I didn't hate it. But it hadn't ever felt quite right.

But right then? Right then felt right. And I knew why.

John nodded. "Good, good,"

And then we lapsed into a bit of silence. John had always been an awkward person, I had remembered that. And I didn't really hold it against him anymore. I myself was now very awkward.

"So," Dean drawled after a few seconds. "You got a boyfriend?"

"No," I laughed, not having expected that question.

"Girlfriend?" Dean then questioned. "I won't judge,"

"No," I said again. "Never have, either,"

"Well damn, Ashe, what rock are you livin' under?" Dean asked, tease lacing his voice. "What kinda rock are other people livin' under?"

I laughed at him, and also at myself. I didn't think I was attractive at all, all things considered. But Dean - And I could sense this to be true - Thought I was. And he just couldn't believe that no one had ever tried to date me.

I got the feeling that he'd done a lot of dating.

"I'm just. Ah... I dunno," I hummed awkwardly. Yeah, like I said, I don't hold it over John anymore for this very reason. "Just never felt my speed, y'know?"

"Suit yourself, I guess," said Dean. There was a nagging desire in him to say more, but he didn't. And I didn't go looking deeper for whatever he was feeling, though I hardly made the decision actively.

Because that's kinda how my powers work sometimes. I have to actively pay attention to catch certain emotions. The ones that are 'mumbled' rather than 'said' or 'shouted'. Certain people are easier to read than others of course. And I can ignore things if I try hard enough.

That was when the waitress finally came over to our table. "I see your party's gained a few new people. Would you like menus?"

"Sure would," Dean replied, giving the lady a sweet smile.

Yeah, he'd done a lot of dating in his life. I wasn't sure why, but that bothered me just a bit. I didn't pause to mull over that, however. Because it was a really dumb thing to be bothered by. So I stamped it down into the pit of my brain, and left it there. It was dumb.

The waitress smiled and was off to grab menus. A few moments later and she'd returned with them. "Here you are. Would you like to order your drinks now?"

"Yeah..." Dean drawled, looking over the drinks section of the menu. "I'll take uh..." he made a few popping noises with his mouth as he thought about it.

"I'll take a beer," John interjected.

"Okay," the waitress nodded and wrote this down.

Dean mulled over the menu for another second to two, before making his decision. "I'll take this uh. Mojito what's-it-call-it," He pointed to it on the menu.

"Alrighty. And for you, miss?" said the waitress as she wrote that down, too.

"Well," I laughed. "While my friends get drunk, I'll take cherry limeade, no ice,"

The waitress nodded and wrote it down. "Would you like a moment to look over the menu?"

"Yeah, maybe," hummed Dean. "She says you guys have onion rings?"

"We do, they're an appetizer. Would you like to order some?"

"Yup, think we will," Dean replied. Then, after a pause, "Make it two,"

That was written down with a friendly, "Alrighty," from the waitress. Then, "Would you like more time to decide what else?"

"Yeah..." Dean drawled. "Never been here before, y'know?"

"That's totally fine," said the waitress. "Take your time, I'll get those onion rings in for you,"

"Thanks," said Dean as the waitress headed off to wherever the kitchen was. He then turned his attention to the menu. "Sooo... What's good here?"

I shrugged and picked up my own menu. "Everything, pretty much. I don't come here often, but everything I've tried is good,"

Dean hummed, but said nothing.

"Dean, we don't wanna be here forever," said John. "Just pick something,"

Dean gave his dad a mock glare from over the menu. "Oh, c'mon. Y'know this is one of the best parts; Trying local cuisine. That place in Atlanta remains a favorite, y'know,"

John sighed, and looked to me as if I could help him. I laughed, instead. Yeah, it really did seem like we were picking up right where we'd left off.

It was like trying to finish a puzzle after covering it up for a while. Some of the pieces had moved, some had changed entirely, and we'd sort of forgotten what exactly we were doing with it. But it all still fit together into one recognizable thing, somehow. And once we got back into it, we remembered like it was yesterday.

And there weren't words for how damn happy it made me.

The lyric at the beginning is from Closer, by The Chainsmokers and Halsey!