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What Goes Bump In The Night

Author's note: Hi, this is my first fanfiction I have ever written, though I am not new to writing fiction. A...  Show full author's note »
Author's note:

Hi, this is my first fanfiction I have ever written, though I am not new to writing fiction. A friend of mine convinced me to post my writing, so here I am! I have always been incredibly fond of the TV series Supernatural because of the depth and realism it has in spite of the fantasy world it is set in. I find myself constantly day-dreaming of being apart of it, and it eventually inspired me to write about it! I hope you enjoy, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated.

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Chapters:   1 2 Next »

Part I

You are fourteen years old, turning fifteen soon. You have an average build, thin but not too thin. Standing 5’4’’ tall, you take on the beginning curves of a woman’s body. Your hair is a chocolate brown that falls in waves down to the middle of your ribs. You have lightly tanner skin thanks to your African father, and bright blue eyes that stands out from all your other features. A splatter of freckles you hate reside on your cheeks, accompanied by high-ish cheekbones

Thanks so much for reading! Stay tuned for part II! Any feedback is welcome! I hope you enjoyed!

and on-point eyebrows.

“Okay, okay, fine. Yes, he’s kind of cute.” You roll your eyes, leaning your body to playfully bump your best friend.

“Um, no, he’s not ‘cute’. He’s hot. And he’s totally into you!” Laura beams, her blonde and short but tight curls bouncing to match her enthusiasm. You shake your head, although you can’t help the little rush of heat that spreads to your cheeks at the thought. You reach your locker and quickly trade out your books for the next class while listening to her rambles, hopping from one topic to the next in rapid succession. You love her and have loved her since the third grade, but even you can grow tired of her constant state of bubbliness. The first bell rings and you both start down the hallway to make it to class.

“Biology next, right?” she asks. “You know what that means.” She winks and turns in the direction of her own class, leaving you exasperated and rolling your eyes once again. The warning bell sends you out of your daze and you hurry into the classroom just as the remaining students file in. Noticing he isn’t there yet, you start mentally preparing yourself for acting like a normal human being when you realize that the teacher is standing right by your desk. You look up at him expectantly. 

“Miss (y/n), your Aunt is in the office waiting for you. I just got a call. You’ll be heading home for the day”, he says with a polite smile. You nod and scoop up your books to your chest, relieved you don’t have to make a fool of yourself to him, but confused at the sudden change of plans. Why is Aunt Alison picking me up so early? Is something wrong? As soon as you reach the office you’re greeted by your Aunt, a short plump woman with lines on her face making her appear much older than she really is. She stands up immediately and regards you with a tight, thin-lipped smile. You nod a hello, slinging your backpack on your shoulder ready to go, but you know something is wrong. She’s too rigid. Her smile is too forced. She doesn’t say anything despite your continuous questions. You finally get the hint and fall silent. Not one word is uttered the entire ride home. 

Home isn’t really home. Not exactly. You still have memories of the little blue house with your mother and father, their smiles and laughter always filling the room. They died in a car accident when you were five or six years old. At least, that’s what Aunt Alison and Uncle Rob always told you.  Died on impact, they said. And so you were torn from your happy life in Oregon and thrown in a small town in the middle of Nebraska, of all places, with your Aunt and Uncle, the only family you had left. It’s not that you don’t love them. They’re kind and goofy and do their best to make you comfortable. But they just aren’t Mom and Dad. And you never fit in on top of that. The only person you can stand is Laura, not that there is many friend choices in the tiny school, anyways. You carefully look at your Aunt’s tight face, waiting for an explanation. After what seems like an eternity, she slowly turns to you and gives you a small smile. 

“Nothing is wrong, sweetie. It’s just… your Uncle and I need to have a little conversation with you. That’s all.” And with that she tersely steps out of the car and scurries inside. You sigh and follow behind her, worried about what kind of trouble you got yourself into. You were never the type to get into mischief, but something as small as not cleaning your room could draw out an entire lecture from your guardians. The minute you step inside you feel something is off. Very, very off. There is something in the air. Immediately you tense and look to your Aunt for direction, who has her eyes narrowed. She turns to you and gets eye level with you, her expression full of grief and fear.

“Aunt Alison…w-what’s going—”

“Shhh, sweetie. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be alright.” By the way she’s trembling it seems like she’s trying to convince herself more than she is you. 

“You’re just going to have to trust me, okay? There are things… things you don’t know. Things we’ve been hiding from you. Oh, I love you. I love you so much…” Panic and confusion is coursing through you. She’s not making any sense. What the hell is going on? Suddenly, a crash echoes from the backyard. You both jump, and she quickly hugs you before continuing, her voice now deadly serious. You’ve never seen her this way before.

“I can’t believe this. We’re… we’re too late. (Y/n), listen to me. Go into your room. Hide. And whatever you hear, whatever happens, do not come out.” There are so many questions running through your mind and so much muddled fear, but the ominous instruction and tone of Alison’s voice sends you flying straight up the stairs without another word. You don’t know what is happening. You don’t know where Uncle Rob is, or what the crashing noise from outside was. All you know is you will obey them, whatever the reason may be. Despite the panic, you feel numb from the shock and adrenaline running through your veins that leave little room for anything else.

You slam your bedroom door and lock it, thinking to drag your desk in the front of it as well just in case, your belongings toppling off of it in the process. Looking frantically around the room, you decide to shove yourself in the little closet with your clothes and shoes, sliding the door shut behind you. The shutters are closed in a way that lets you see into your room, but no one can see in. Now immobilized, the panic truly sets in, and you begin to tremble. Thoughts are whirring through your mind at a hundred miles per hour, and you can’t make sense of any of it. Suddenly, you get the idea to grab your phone. You can call the police and let them handle whatever is going on. You eye your backpack several feet away at the foot of your bed, contemplating leaving the safety of the closet. Before you get the chance to make a move, it happens. Everything else happens so fast. So fast.

Another crash and a blood curdling scream. Then there is sickening laughter of a woman, and frantic pleas of another. Something gets busted in; the front door from what it sounds like. Multiple sets of heavy footsteps run up the stairs, drowning out the commotion below. The thuds stop right outside your door. Silence. Your desk is then blown across the room by an unseen force with a deafening bang, and the door goes up in splinters. A scream gets caught in your throat as two people enter your room, stepping over the debris. Mom? No… it can’t be. And right behind her, your father. They are both different. Horrifyingly different. Pale with glowing eyes, drenched in blood…and…their teeth. A mouth full of fangs, and they’re smiling, they’re smelling the air, they’re… they’re looking for—

“Oh, (y/n)… we know you’re here! Did you miss us, honey? We can smell you…”And in an instant, both of their heads are rolling on the floor, their bodies collapsing, and the room is filled with two new strangers holding bloodied knives. You are completely paralyzed in fear, unable to move, unable to think. You can’t breathe. All you can do is stare at the two men, at the two bodies crumpled on the floor. The two bodies… your parents. Dead. But they already are dead. They died six years ago. The blood, the teeth, and— 

“Is that the last of them in here?”

“Yeah, I think so. I still can’t figure out why they chose this house to attack, though. And why they tried turning those two people instead of just killing them. None of it adds up.”

“Who cares? They’re dead, and I’m hungry.”

“Dude. You’re covered in vamp blood and you’re hungry? What the hell is wrong with you?” Reality comes crashing down and snaps you out of your shock. You watch the two intruders in horror, the stench of death filling your lungs. Your breath hitches, and they tense. Immediately you are frozen again and a new wave of fear washes over you.

“Hey, Dean,” one of them begins cautiously, “was it just me, or were those two vamps looking for somebody when they came in this room?” The one called Dean’s face hardens, and he tightens his grip on his blade.

“I think you’re right, Sammy.” The two quickly dart their eyes across the room. The tall one’s gaze settles on the closet, your closet, and you stare back in horror. He motions to his partner, and they slowly approach the door, weapons raised. You ball up your fists and say a quick prayer, bracing for death.  The door swings open and you yell, throwing your hands up to protect yourself.

“Damnit, Sam, it’s just a kid.” Your eyes are clenched shut, your body tense and ready for the pain sure to follow. But nothing happens. Slowly, you open your eyes to find two pairs staring back at you. Their blades are lowered, though not fully sheathed, and they seem to be analyzing you.

“P-please don’t hurt me,” you whisper pitifully. Their gazes immediately soften as they give each other a knowing glance. The taller one takes a step towards you and you shrink further back into the closet, stumbling on a pair of boots. He puts his hands out reassuringly, his eyes widening.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. We aren’t going to hurt you, I promise. My name is Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean.” He gestures towards the other man, who doesn’t seem nearly as inviting. The blood splatter on his face and clothes doesn’t help at all. You stare blankly at them, your bottom lip trembling.

“What the hell is going on?” Your cracking voice and tear-filled eyes betray your attempt at a firm and brave remark. The brothers seem to relax more completely, and they make room for you to get out of the closet. Keeping your eyes warily on them, you start climbing out when you step in something warm and wet. Blood. You look down once again at the sight of your parents’ heads staring blankly back, showing off a mouth of inhuman fangs. You’re so drained and in shock that you can’t properly react to the sight.

“Those… those are my parents,” you say numbly, staring down at them. You look up at the two men. “They died in a car accident when I was nine years old.” They share a look and Dean shakes his head, sighing.

“Looks like there’s more to this case than we thought.” Sam, however, still has his focus entirely on you. He glares up at Dean, who finally seems to get the hint, and they start backing their way out of the bedroom.

“Look, kid. I’m sorry, this must be hard.” You barely even hear Dean’s pitiful attempt at consoling you. You’re still staring at your mom, or what’s left of her. She used to be so beautiful. You don’t understand why she’s so terrifying. Sam scrunches his brows and turns to you.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here. We’re going to explain everything to you. We’re going to get you somewhere safe.” Safe. The word rings in your ears. The idea feels foreign to you.

“We better leave now, just in case any more blood suckers decide to join the party,” Dean grimly chimes in. You’re incapable of emotion. You feel your legs start to go down the steps of the familiar house, but you’re barely even aware. The boys lead you outside, away from the house, away from the smell of fear and death, away from your crumbling world and everything you thought you knew. Despite everything, the numbness and shock takes over you, and you fall asleep as soon as you fall into the strangers’ backseat.


You slowly awake to the soft rumble and movement of a car. A song plays quietly, and you smile to yourself, eyes still closed. It has a nice beat. Catchy. But it’s not something Aunt Alison would ever play; it’s too harsh, too rough. The feeling of the car doesn’t seem right either. The cushions are too firm and the arch is too straight and… suddenly a flood of memories comes rushing back to you. Your Aunt instructing to you hide. Your parents, there and alive, but with fangs and evil… their heads on the floor, and the blood, so much blood. You going downstairs to find your Aunt and Uncle, your only family left, dead on the floor, heads gone. More bodies. More heads. More blood. And going outside with two… you gasp, jumping up in your seat and wildly looking around. This isn’t the old green Volkswagen. And that isn’t your Aunt in the front seat.

“Where am I? Where am I?” you yell, thrashing against the seatbelt and desperately trying to gain your bearings. Immediately the car slows down and the man in the passenger seat whirls around.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, we’re not going to hurt you, remember? We’re here to help you! We’re just going to find a little restaurant or something to talk, that’s all. You had fallen asleep right when we got in the car. We didn’t want to wake you,” he says. You nod breathlessly, full of doubt and mistrust. Slowly but surely you even your breaths and ease back down in the seat. You want—no, you need— to ask these strangers a million questions, but your mind won’t slow down enough to say a word. Dean meets your eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“It’s okay kid, we’re almost there. Can you tell us your name?” You contemplate the question and deem it safe to answer.

“It’s… it’s (y/n). (Y/n) (y/l/n),” you reply carefully. The two nod and give you sympathetic smiles as they pull into the parking lot of a small café you recognize. It was about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes away from your house. They climb out of the car and Sam opens your door for you, giving a reassuring smile. It’s when you get out and stand up that you realize how intimidatingly tall he is; he towers a full twelve inches over you. It doesn’t do much to calm your nerves about the strangers. Nevertheless, you follow them into the café and allow them to order you a hot chocolate. You take a seat in one of the corner booths with them across from you, and you feel a wave of shyness and anxiety come over you. They both hold a cup of coffee, and you can’t help but wonder how many lives those in big, calloused hands have taken. You take a gulp of your drink and look up at them sheepishly. The tall one—right, Sam is his name—nods towards you encouragingly and you take a deep breath.

“So, it’s (y/n), right? “Dean asks. You nod. “We understand that what you have just gone through is extremely difficult, and—“ 

“I’m not sure what it even is that I just went through,” you say with a shaky laugh. Dean signals Sam who immediately gazes intently at you.

“(Y/n)…those people in your house this afternoon… they weren’t really people. They were…”

“Vampires,” Dean finishes. You open your mouth to object, to clarify that monsters aren’t real, but then it comes back to you. The hollowed, dead look of your mother and father when they entered your room flashes in your mind. You recall their glowing eyes and the fangs that protruded from their mouths. You have to be insane… don’t you? You peer at the two men cautiously.

“Vampires are real...” You mutter just above a whisper, unable to accept it.

“And werewolves. There are also witches, and wendigos, and Djinn. What else? Ghouls, skinwalkers, ghosts, poltergeists. Oh, shapeshifters, too. Heh, we’ve had quite the experiences with those sons of b****es.” Dean shakes his head and snickers into his drink. Sam, however, glares viciously at his brother.

“So much for breaking it to her nicely,” Sam snarls. Dean shrugs apologetically and the two continue to bicker while you try to process everything in your mind. These men are crazy. They’re psychopaths, they have to be. But you know what you saw... You clear your throat and the two fall silent, mumbling apologies.

“So,” you begin carefully, “Monsters are real. And ghosts from horror movies. It’s all real.” Saying this absurd idea out loud sounds wrong coming from your lips. “And you two, you’re some kind of ghost busters?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Sam chuckles lightly. You flip every idea in your mind, trying to make sense of it all.

“Why did they come after me, and how are my parents…” You trail off, unsure. Sam and Dean exchange a look, something they seem to do quite often. It’s as if they have some sort of secret language, a connection only they can understand. Sam leans forward.

“That’s actually what we’re trying to figure out. It’s why we’re here. We’ve been trying to work a case here for quite some time, but we’ve been having trouble making sense of it. Vampires, they tend to group in nests. They only turn victims when they want to expand their colony, but usually the choosing process is at random; it’s anybody they can lure off the street. Vampires in this area have been documented dating back to hundreds of years ago, but there is something rather strange about all the missing person cases that have taken place over this time period: they all branch from the same family tree. Vampires can’t have children, and we’ve never seen them try to keep within a family. None of it adds up. We were hoping if you know anything about this. If there’s anything you can tell us, anything at all.”

You stare dumbly back at him, completely overwhelmed by this flood of information. Words are slow to form on your lips.

“I, uh, well…I’ve been raised by my Aunt and Uncle ever since my parents died of a car accident… at least that’s what I was told. I was four or five when it happened. I’ve been with them ever since.” The brothers nod, masking the dissatisfaction at your evident ignorance on the situation. When Dean asks if there is any other family you have to go to, you freeze up. You have no one besides your Aunt and Uncle. They never mentioned other family; no grandparents, cousins, no one. They were your only family. And now they’re gone.

“I…I… there’s no one else,” your voice shakes despite your attempt to stay steady. “I think… I need to go to the ladies’ room.” And with that you swiftly leave before you completely shatter. After finally mustering the strength to face the brothers without breaking, you head back to the booth, all the while your brain is screaming. You have no one, you have nothing. Where will you go? What if these hunters want to kill you? What if you’re a monster? Upon approaching the table you notice the boys arguing in low but firm voices. You hang back and listen in to their hushed words.

“Sam, what the hell are we supposed to do? How is it possible that she has no family?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I guess if she’s unknowingly part of some freaking vampire mafia family, it’s possible she doesn’t have anyone.”

“The kid’s got nowhere to go! What are we gonna do, put her up for adoption?”

“Dean, calm down. We’ll figure something out. But we also need to continue working on this case. If we’re right about this, more people are going to be turned. (y/n) could be on the hit list too. We need to protect her until we sort this out.” Dean clenches his fist, although it’s obvious he knows his brother is right. “We have to go back to the bunker anyways to get supplies and try to find lore on this crap. For the time being… I guess we can take her with us?” This definitely catches your attention. In truth, you don’t feel like going anywhere with these men, but what other choice do you have?

“And what if she’s evil, Sam? What if she’s one of—“You choose this moment to emerge from your hiding spot and give a meek smile as you slide into the booth, cutting Dean off. Sam is caught by surprise but quickly slips into an easy-going demeanor. You wonder just how experienced of liars these two are. They tell you the plan of how they’re going to help you and keep you safe until everything is sorted out, and you quietly nod. You decide that, despite their harsh outward appearances, they truly do want to help. They want to protect you. Even so, you still imagine yourself stunt rolling out of the stylish Impala hence anything go awry.

By this time everyone is finished with their meals and drinks, and you follow them out to the car, which you truly do admire. Dean flashes a proud smile at your mention of it and mutters something about his “beautiful baby.” He gets in the driver’s seat and you slide in the back, and soon you’re on your way. Sam answers your questions politely on the way there, and you learn a lot. You learn that their father raised them to be hunters. You learn that hunters are scattered all throughout the world, killing monsters and saving people. You learn that your mother and father must have been turned all those years ago, and your Aunt and Uncle must’ve taken you in, shielding you from the truth.

With every question you ask, Sam fires back another. Your age, your grade, where you go to school, what type of books you read. He gets you talking about yourself, and they end up learning about you just as much as you learn about them. You realize that you like the Winchester boys. Between Sam’s sweet gestures and protective aura over you and Dean’s humorous but strong character, you begin to feel comfortable and put your trust in their ability to keep you safe. They definitely didn’t seem pleased to learn you are fourteen, even though you added that your birthday was soon. No doubt they had hoped you were a little older, a little closer to being able to go out into the real world by yourself as an adult. You are in the car for hours; you were informed their “secret hideout” was in Kansas, a whole state over. Eventually the conversation trails off and you once again drift to sleep in the back of the Winchesters’ Impala. 

You wake to the sound of car doors opening and closing with the realization that you are no longer moving. Before you can even sit up, your door is flung open and a blindfold is being tied around your face. You yelp and begin viciously clawing at the offender when two strong hands grab your arms.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just us, don’t worry. We’re at the bunker; we just have to do this for your own safety,” a familiar voice quickly explains. You huff but calm down and let the hands guide you out of the car. You hear another voice chuckle about my feistiness and how it could be useful. One of them puts a hand on your waist and his other on your arm to keep you steady as you walk. A pang of excitement erupts in you, despite everything that has happened over the past day. It has to be around midnight for how long you have traveled and when the attack took place. After walking for several yards, you hear a key turning in a lock and a heavy door opening. The blindfold is gently taken off of you and you can’t help but gasp.

You appear to be on top of a balcony overlooking the expanse of a giant room, a long table placed in the middle and the walls covered floor to ceiling with rows and rows of books. The boys seem pleased with your reaction, and Sam gives you a short tour of the main floor as Dean darts right for the kitchen to grab a case of beer. You’ll definitely have to explore this place more later on. Sam leads you down a hallway with several doors, and pushes one open. Its decent sized, a bed in the middle pushed against the back wall with a simple navy blue comforter. To its side is a nightstand with a lamp, and a small desk and dresser occupy the opposing side walls.

“I guess this’ll be your home for the time being,” Sam says, looking down at you sympathetically. You walk inside and gingerly sit on the foot of the bed. A single tear unexpectedly rolls down your cheek. This is all I have. There’s no one, nothing left. Sam doesn’t seem surprised at your response. You have barely said anything to him that would give away your emotions, but he has no trouble figuring you out. He sits himself beside you on the bed and twiddles with his hands.  “We’ll have food ready for you in a few minutes. I know you must be hungry.” He smiles and starts to get up, but you reach out and grab his arm. You surprise both him and yourself.

“Thank you,” you say firmly, looking him directly in the eye so he knows you mean it. He softens and gives you a tender-hearted squeeze on the shoulder, then leaves you to be alone with your thoughts. You feel extremely grateful to the brothers. They didn’t have to take you in. They don’t have to do any of the things they do. They save people. They’re heroes. A wave of exhaustion rolls over you and you lie on the bed, slowly sorting through everything you know. Even through the confusion and fear and fresh grief at the loss of your Aunt, Uncle, and second loss of your…monster… parents, you accept all this new information about the world more easily than you would ever imagine. Maybe it’s the crazy talking. Maybe it’s the inability to deny any of what you have experienced. You fall asleep to the sound of dishes clanking and laughter coming from the main room. You subconsciously feel someone lifting you and tucking you under blankets. Safe.

You wake with the disturbing feeling of being watched, still incredibly high-strung from the past day’s events. You don’t have a weapon anywhere near you, and you aren’t exactly big and strong, so you decide that the element of surprise is your best bet. You count to three and spring out of bed towards the intruder. Dean flinches in surprise and you groan.

“You scared me,” you accuse. Dean just smirks.

“If you thought I was a monster, what were you planning on doing next?”

“Whatever it would take,” you shrug. He shakes his head and laughs to himself. In his hand he twiddles a knife, flipping it around his palms as if it was made out of air. You c*** your head at him in question.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just… you remind me of someone.”


“Me.” With that he spins the knife once more and points it towards you, handle first. “Here, keep this under your pillow if it’ll make you feel better. Just don’t go attacking anyone in your sleep, alright?” You grin and turn the blade over in your hands, then tuck it under your pillow and quickly make your bed. You realize you’re still wearing your school clothes from yesterday, and it dawns on you that everything you own is still back at the house in Nebraska. You force yourself not to recall the memory of what else is still inside your room. Dean catches on to your thoughts.

“If you want, one of us can make a stop by the house and pack your things. Or we can try to, uh, shop for you.” The thought of shopping for a teenage girl visibly makes him uncomfortable, which makes you laugh lightly.

“It’s alright. Something tells me you aren’t necessarily paid too well in your line of work, anyways,” you say, your lips curving up. He rolls his eyes.

“That’s for damn sure. C’mon. Sam’s probably making breakfast right now. Bathroom’s the third door on the left; I’ll get you some clothes to wear in the meantime.” You nod and follow him out of your new room, memorizing your steps in the hallway to not get lost. He hands you a pair of sweatpants and a flannel shirt that smells like gunpowder and wood. After gently closing the door and turning the lock, you look at yourself in the mirror. You appear the same as you always have, but something is different. You are different. The water runs steaming hot, and as you scrub, you scrub away the dead layers. You peel off the old layers of you. Your past life and everything you thought you knew runs down the drain. You recall the last normal conversation you had, the one with Laura. You were stressed over a silly boy. He seems so small and insignificant now. 

You step out of the shower and dry off. You feel fresh in more ways than one. You pull on the old gray sweatpants, having to triple roll the waist just for it to barely hang on to your form. The sleeves on the flannel have no hope as you roll and roll them some more, being forced to bunch up the bottom and tie it in a knot so it didn’t act as a dress. You tie your long hair into a ponytail, take one last look at the new you, and leave the bathroom. Immediately the   smell of bacon reaches your nose and leads you to the kitchen where Sam and Dean sit, drinking coffee and talking quietly. Upon your arrival Sam jumps up and smiles.

“Hey, (y/n). Did you sleep alright? Here, let me get those for you. Breakfast is on the table.” He takes your bundle of dirty clothes from your hands, eyeing your new apparel in amusement, and disappears down a hallway. You walk into the kitchen and sit down by Dean, who nods to you and takes a sip of coffee, typing away on his laptop.

“Did you find anything on the vampires yet?” You ask. He seems mildly surprised at your question, but shakes his head. 

“No, not yet, but we’re starting to get an idea. We believe the alpha—all vampires have an alpha vamp that is their ruler— has a peculiar order to how he runs things. All the vamps in the area that we’ve seen so far combined with all the missing cases over the past hundred years all have one thing in common: they have some connection to the ancient Baakshir family, whether it’s by blood or by marriage.” You nod, processing the information.

“Does that… does that mean I have a connection with this vampire family?” You take a strip of bacon, surprised by how ravenous you suddenly became. You recognize you never ate dinner last night.

“We think there’s a possibility, but we’re not sure. It still doesn’t make sense on how they’re having offspring, considering the deadead can’t really reproduce. But don’t worry. We’re going to get this sorted out, just like we always do. And we’re going to take care of you,” he promises. “Nice outfit, by the way.” He smirks. “A little big, but flannel suits you.” You grin, surprised by how comfortable you are around this man. He is a trained killer after all. But something in your gut tells you that it’s okay. It tells you that there’s nowhere safer than in the arms of a Winchester. Sam walks back in the kitchen to grab his coffee and moves into the main room, followed by you and Dean.

“So what’s the plan?” you ask cheerily. They both look at you.

“Research,” Sam replies. Not exactly what you were expecting, but you can get on board with that. You start to move to one of the many expanses of bookshelves, determined to help.

“Wait. No, you aren’t doing anything,” Dean reaches you in two strides and snatches the book out of your hands.

“What? Why not? I can help! I’m a straight A student, I’m pretty tech savvy if I do say so myself, and—“

“I said you are not doing anything! You will stay away from these books, you will not get into learning about monsters, and you are not doing anything hunter-related, do you hear me?” You wither under Dean’s angry gaze, scared of him for the first time since you met. Your eyes burn, but you will yourself not cry. You aren’t just some weak kid, and you aren’t about to let him think that of you. You see Sam starting towards the two of you, but you continue staring Dean in the face. He’s full of so much anger, so much pain, and so much hate. Hate for you or himself, you aren’t sure. He finally sees the fear in your eyes and backs down, looking away. You curse your bottom lip for trembling as you slowly straighten up and begin to walk back to your bedroom. Sam intercepts you. 

“Look, (y/n), it’s not what you think. He’s not mad at you, he’s just frustrated. He—”

“Damn right I’m frustrated! If you think for a second I’m going to let her...” Dean’s livid voice trails from the main room. “Who does she remind you of, huh Sammy? Young, hard-headed, family affected by the supernatural at a young age? That’s right, Claire friggin Novak. And I’ll be damned if I let another child become a hunter because of us.” By this point Dean is standing in the hallway with us, fuming. Sam has a protective hand on your shoulder.

“Look, I don’t want to be a hunter, alright?” You fire back. “All I know is that my entire world has been flipped apart, and I have nobody left except you two. You guys are trying to solve this case, and apparently I might be a part of it. So if I can help, whether it be with research or whatever, I’m. Helping.” Both of them seem taken aback by your boldness, and so are you. You have never been particularly extroverted, and you’ve never dared talk to someone with such vigor. “You said I reminded you of yourself, Dean. I don’t… I don’t know what the future holds, but all I know is I need to give it everything I have, even if I am just a ‘kid.’ If this does have something to do with me, I need answers. And not just so I can cut some heads off.” Dean opens his mouth to shoot back, but closes it and shakes his head.

“Fine,” he says, “but I’m not going to be responsible if you find something you don’t like. And you are not putting yourself in unnecessary danger. Not on my watch.”

“Deal,” you reply.  Dean hesitates, nods, and retreats back to the main room. You feel Sam give you a reassuring squeeze where his hand still rests on your shoulder.

“Wow, congrats. It’s not every day someone wins an argument with Dean Winchester,” he jokes. You cough out a laugh.

“Yeah, I can tell. Now, let’s go do some research on the Baashkir family.”

Hours go by as you and the guys go back and forth between books in the bunker and the internet. You prove yourself quite useful on the computer, able to dig up information fast on the early Baashkir families. You found a family tree in which many missing person cases over the years match up to. By noon, you all uncovered more than you could’ve hoped for. Sam is still working on the exact location, but the Alpha Vampire seemed to be residing somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, though obviously the family itself is quite spread out. Based on facts about the missing persons and the families connected, the three of you formed a theory. For some reason, the Baashkirs seem obsessed with keeping the bloodline. For this particular nest, no one unrelated to them was ever turned. Dating back hundreds of years, it appears that a Baashkir would grow up human, then marry and have a child of their own. After reproducing, the parents before them would turn them into vamps. The new vampires would raise the human children in the life, preparing them to become a vampire too, one day. Then the children would grow up, marry and have kids of their own, and the cycle would continue.

“According to this, the family has been thinning. Perhaps it’s because of hunters? Either way, any females directly related would have changed surnames when married. They’d still be part of the nest, but they’d be harder to find. Most of the blood-related men with the actual last name of Baashkir are either dead or unrecorded, except this one.” You gesture to the screen of Dean’s laptop, which you’ve been furiously typing away at for the past hour. They both huddle behind your chair, staring at the face on the screen. “But it’s only ‘Baashkir’, no first name. That must mean this is the alpha. His death was never recorded despite being born over seven hundred years ago.” You look up proudly at the two brothers’ shocked faces. Sam laughs.

“Wow, you are really good at this,” he remarks, which earns a deadly glance from Dean, who obviously isn’t too happy about any relation you have to hunting. “What’s your last name again?” Sam asks.

“(Y/l/n),” you reply. Sam nods slowly.

“So if we are right about this whole vampire bloodline thing and if we’re right about (y/n) being a part of that, then that means she does have a family. They’re just, well vampires.” Suddenly his brows knit together, and you can see the gears grinding in his brain. “Why hasn’t (y/n) been raised in this way if we’re right? Who’s kept her from all of this?” Something clicks in your mind. 

“Alison and Rob,” you whisper. You look up at them. “They’re on my dad’s side, my Aunt and Uncle. Maybe…maybe my mom was the one who grew up in the nest. And then she married my dad and had me. Turned my dad. Maybe I was going to be raised that way, but I was just too young to remember. Maybe Aunt Alison and Uncle Rob rescued me, made up the story about the crash, and took me to Nebraska, of all places, to keep me away from it all.” You shudder at the thought of being part of such an evil family, and you don’t want to accept the idea of your parents willingly becoming vampires, but you can’t deny it makes sense. Everything just clicks together.  It would explain Alison and Rob’s overprotective demeanor, wanting to know where you were at all times, constantly checking up on you, and their carefulness about not bringing up family. You feel a swell of gratitude and sadness for your Aunt and Uncle. If you are right, they died trying to save you. Dean is nodding, impressed.

“Well, it may not be perfect, but it’s what we got. And it’s sure as hell a good place to start.” He takes a swig of beer and Sam smiles approvingly.

“Great job, (y/n). I think you just got us a really good lead.” You beam up at him proudly, honored by their approval and your success in helping out. Dean jumps off the table where he was sitting.

“Right, so now we need to get a better idea of where the nest is located and then we can get down to business. But first, who wants lunch?” Dean makes his way to the kitchen, followed by Sam who’s yelling something about Dean’s poor choices of food being unsuitable for a growing kid.

You giggle and turn back to your computer, unsure of what to do next. You decide to take a look at the books once more, mildly confident Dean won’t rip one from your hands again. The day the three of you spent together proved to be quite beneficial, and not just because of the leads you all gained in the case. Dean has seemed to ease up on you, though he still holds firm on keeping you from any temptation of being a hunter. His harshness about that topic no longer offends you, though; you realize he does it because, in spite of it all, he cares for you and your safety. Nevertheless, he did seem quite impressed with your work on research with the case, and you feel you’ve gained a new level of respect from him. Your comfortableness with the both of them showed as well, as you have been able to be sassy and talkative right along with them, something you have only ever done with close friends. They seem pleased at your growth, too. You aren’t positive, but you feel that the Winchesters are growing rather attached to you. The thought makes you smile.

You rise from your seat and go to the nearest bookshelf, tracing your fingers along the spines of the books, skimming over the titles. Suddenly a whooshing sound, like a rapid flutter of wings, comes from behind you. You spin around on high alert, immediately wishing the knife hiding under your pillow was being held in your hand. A strange man stands only a few feet away from you, seemingly coming out of thin air. And he’s staring directly at you. You hold a book out, your only line of defense.

“Stay away from me,” you warn. The man merely tilts his head in confusion, still holding your gaze. At first your brain screams monster, but nothing seems evil about him. He is taller with neatly kept brown hair, slightly darker than your own, with the wisp of a beard on his face. And piercing blue eyes that seem to be staring directly into your soul.

“W-who are you? What do you want?” The stranger remains immobilized. You prepare to yell for Dean, but he’s already entering the room, Sam on his heels.

“Cas? Where the hell have you been? We’ve been calling you all week!” Dean pulls this ‘Cas’ into a quick hug and Sam does the same.

“Hello Dean. Sam. I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve heard your prayers. Things have been hectic up in heaven and I haven’t really had a chance to escape,” the stranger tells the boys in a deep, even tone.

“H-heaven?” Your voice is barely audible yet it does the trick to remind everyone of your presence. Immediately all attention is on you and your huddled figure in the corner. You awkwardly lower the book you were using as a weapon. Dean sighs and motions you over, which you reluctantly obey. Cas’ stare bores holes into you, and you suddenly feel silly in Dean’s giant clothes. Sam looks back and forth between you two and chuckles.
“Cas, I think you might have scared our new friend. Why don’t you introduce yourself? This is (y/n) and… she’s helping us on a case.” The new man turns back to you.

“My name is Castiel, and I am an angel of the Lord.” Your mouth drops open.  

“Heaven and angels? They’re real? They’re all real? I… I always hoped, but…” you stare at Castiel in awe. He definitely wasn’t what you expected, but… an angel. “Does that mean…God…?” Castiel nodded.

“Yeah, God is real all right,” Dean chimes in. “He prefers to go by Chuck and he can be a bit of a douche, but it’s all good.” You are still staring at Castiel, processing. You have accepted the existence of monsters, but it was still insane to have your struggling faith be confirmed right in front of your eyes. You certainly didn’t expect Dean’s description of the confirmed all-powerful creator. Suddenly, a dark thought passes over you.

“So if Heaven is real, then that must mean…Hell? Demons? The Devil?” The brothers both tense up, most notably Sam. You find yourself wondering in amazement just how much these two have been through. And their best friend is an angel. An angel! “Wow…” you mutter, dazed. 

“(Y/n), how about you go in the kitchen and eat the sandwich I fixed up for you,” Dean says. You don’t want to leave, but the tone in his voice alerts you that it isn’t a request. You slowly face away from the angel and hobble towards the kitchen, your mind yet again swimming with thousands of questions. The quietness of the bunker makes it all too easy to eavesdrop, and you give into temptation, watching them from behind the wall.

Sam observed you leave, but now he averts his attention back to Dean and Cas, who is still obviously confused about your presence. Dean fills him in about everything with the Baashkir family, their apparent family heritage, and how they saved you after catching wind of a vampire attack. Cas takes in the information, his brow furrowing.

“I’ve never heard anything like this before,” he says. “I didn’t know vampires would ever even care about that. And what about the child? Where will she go if she has no family?” He looks up at Sam and Dean.

“We don’t know,” Dean sighs. “Yet.”

“But we’re going to keep her here until we sort this out. We definitely aren’t leaving her until we find out what’s going on. Her life could be in danger.” Sam adds. Cas just nods solemnly, and with that you retreat to you room before you get caught. You gently close your door and sit cross-legged on the bed, lost in thought. What if Sam and Dean don’t want you here? What if you’re just a chore, an obstacle to get over in one of their cases? Homesickness suddenly overtakes you, and you pull your knees to your chest, hiding your head within them. You are unsure of how much time passes when you hear a gentle knock.

“Come in,” you call out softly, expecting a Winchester to walk in. You don’t hide your surprise when Castiel opens the door, a kind smile gracing his lips. He holds up a baby blue backpack and drops it next to you on the bed. You are immediately sitting up and trying to make yourself somewhat presentable to the mysterious angel of the Lord. He seems to find it slightly amusing. You gingerly touch the bag, recognizing it as your own. You look up at him quizzically as you unzip it to find several of your outfits (including undergarments, which make you blush madly), a pair of boots and sneakers, a notebook, and your dead cell phone.

“Sam and Dean told me everything that happened, and I thought you might enjoy some items from home. I hope I have retrieved everything you need.” You nod, nearly tearing up at the kind gesture. You become aware of the baggy clothes hanging on your frame and are even more immensely grateful.

“Thank you, Castiel. It’s perfect.” He continues to study you with those unnerving eyes, and you begin to feel awkward under his gaze.

“I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable,” he says, tilting his head. “You’re just, well, special. The boys have never brought anyone to the bunker like this before. And they seem to be quite attached to you in a way I can’t describe. I… I’m sorry about what happened with your family. I apologize you had to find out this way. I know that… that Sam and Dean will do whatever they can to ensure your safety, and... How are you holding up? Are you alright?” The angel seems to be struggling with forming the right words to say. You guess sympathy with humans isn’t one of his talents. His effort makes you deeply appreciative all the same. You find the celestial being’s awkward demeanor rather endearing.

“I…you know what? I am. I’m more than alright,” you say slowly, turning your body to face his. Castiel raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know how to explain it. I… maybe I’m just insane. But with everything that’s happened, I mean… my entire conception of reality is a lie, everyone I love is dead or isn’t who I thought they were. When I first learned the truth, I was certain that I wasn’t really responding because of the shock. I was sure that when it wore off, I would shatter. It would all be too much, and I wouldn’t be able to handle it. But something’s changed inside me. I’m…different. Stronger. My entire life…I was never sure of who I was or who I was destined to be. But somehow, amidst all of this chaos and pain and grief, I’ve… I’ve found myself.” You continue, astonished by the newfound strength you feel building inside of you. Everything is taking a new perspective within you, locking into place with every word you speak. 

“I’ve always struggled with the idea of my family and home, but… those things aren’t based on blood or where you rest your head at night. I’m learning that it’s so much more; it’s where you choose to be and who you choose to be with. Everything about my future is so uncertain, but for the first time, I’m ready. I don’t know if destiny is real. I don’t know if it’s laid out in stone, or if it’s your job to choose your own fate. What I do know is that I finally have a purpose. As of right now, Sam and Dean are my family. As of right now, this is my home.  And I know one thing for sure: I never stop fighting for who I love. Even if I am just a little kid.”

Castiel takes in your words, watching you intently. When you finish, a weight feels lifted from your chest. You smile timidly at the angel, embarrassed about sharing so much so easily, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“You know, (y/n), I was made during the creation of creation itself. And in all of my centuries of existence,” he reaches over and squeezes your knee encouragingly, “I have never encountered someone so young with so much fire and passion for good. Destiny or not, you are bound to do amazing things. Even if you are just a ‘little kid’.” The praise of this deep-voiced angel sends shivers down your spine. He pauses. “I’ve also never met someone who changes emotions so drastically and frequently. Perhaps it’s due to your adolescent hormones.”

“Perhaps,” you laugh. The euphoria of opening up to Cas is short-lived, for seconds later your door is kicked open. You and the angel simultaneously jump to your feet at the sight of Sam splattered with blood. A pang of fear grips you like a vise, all bubbly feelings prior vanished.

“Sam,” Castiel unsheathes a long silver blade from seemingly nowhere. “What happened?”

“Weren’t you guys in the bunker this whole time?” you ask breathlessly, thinking about that knife under your pillow.

“Yeah, we were. But somebody followed you home from (y/n)’s house, Cas. I guess the two of you were too busy to hear the commotion. We got an alert that someone was at the door. A vampire,” Sam reports.  He takes note of the horrified expression on your face. “Don’t worry. The blood’s not mine.” Sam darts back out of the room and Castiel swiftly follows with you close behind. Sam spins around on his heels, stopping you in your tracks.  “Oh no, not you, (y/n). You stay in your room. And do not leave.” Sam forces you to back up, his massive frame taking up the space in the hallway and preventing escape. He guides you back to your room despite your pleading. He finally ushers you in and shuts the door. You kick at it in frustration.

You’re left alone once again, the angel and the hunter disappearing to who knows where. You don’t even have a clue if anything’s happened to Dean. You like to think Sam would’ve told you if anyone was hurt, but their obsession of shielding you from every hard truth possible deems it unlikely. You fall back on the bed, defeated. Reminding yourself that two trained killers and a soldier of Heaven probably had a better chance of fighting anything without you in being in the way, you give up, although the feeling of being useless refuses to leave.

The second the alarm sounded, Sam and Dean were up on their feet, guns raised. Dean silently instructed his brother to take the back door and circle back around using hand signals. He himself quickly and quietly climbed the steps to the main door, and counted to 40. Then he yanked it open, and before the visitor even had time to react, she collapsed into Dean’s arms thanks to Sam knocking her out with the butt of his gun. The two carried the unconscious body inside and down to the dungeon. The whole ordeal was taken care of in less than three minutes. It was then Sam came back to check on (y/n) and Cas, locking the child in her bedroom and leading the angel to where the intruder was being held. A vampire. In a dark room hidden behind file cabinets on the lowest floor of the bunker sat the Baashkir descendant in the middle of the room, chained up and soaked in her own blood, a nasty contusion bulging on her temple from Sam’s blow and fangs protruding from her jaw. After heavy interrogation of the prisoner, the hunters discovered that the monster was checking out the (y/l/n) residence after the vampires they sent to retrieve (y/n) never returned. She then saw Castiel and followed his scent to the bunker. After a bit rougher questioning, the vampire finally gave up the location of the nest: the Olympic National Park in Washington State. Once the brothers were satisfied with their new information, they decided to keep the captive alive a little longer in case they needed more information. She was clearly low-ranking since she was sent to find the potentially dangerous remains of a failed mission, but she could still prove to be more useful. So they locked her up, shutting off the lights and leaving her behind until they would need him again. It was time. It was time to end the reign of the Baakshir family once and for all by cutting the head off the snake: killing the alpha.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel take forever to come retrieve you from your room. The whole time you have been pacing back and forth, imagining different scenarios of their gruesome deaths. The door finally opens and the brothers pop their heads in.

“Oh, thank God. I was so worried that something... Is everything okay? What happened?” You ask, following them out into the main room like a puppy.

“That doesn’t matter,” Dean replies as he catches a bottle of beer tossed by his brother.

“What does matter is we know where the nest is. Good ol’ rainy Washington. We’re heading out bright and early tomorrow morning, and we’re gonna ice these sons of b****es once and for all.” Your original concern of how they attained this information is forgotten with the surge of hope that runs through your veins. 

“That’ll take about three days in the car, right? Does that mean we’ll be sleeping in the Impala? Not that I mind, but—“

“Slow your roll kid,” Dean cuts you off. “There is no ‘we.’ ‘We’ is me and Sammy. You’re delusional if you think we’re letting you anywhere near those vampire bastards. No, you’re gonna stay here where it’s safe.”

“I’m afraid I’m gonna have to go with Dean on this one, (y/n). It’s way too dangerous, especially for you,” Sam adds. All your protests and complaints get lodged in your throat. You know they’re right, but you’re still not happy about it. All you can get out is a pathetic whimper.

“Am I going to stay here alone while you’re gone?” The three exchange looks; they’ve never had to deal with babysitting before.

“Uh, I’ll see if Charlie is nearby. If not…I’m not sure,” Sam sighs and whips out his phone to send a message to whoever Charlie is. You look down and play with my thumbs, nervous. Dean comes over and puts his hand on your shoulder giving you a firm, comforting look.

“It’ll be alright, kid. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Good news, Charlie’s only a few states over. She says she can be here Wednesday night,” Sam calls out in relief. “You can last two days by yourself, right (y/n)?” Dean shakes you playfully with his hand still on your shoulder.

“See? Everything will work out just fine. Charlie’s a great person, you’ll love her.” You nod meekly, though in truth you’re absolutely terrified of being left by the Winchesters. You have been with at least one of them constantly since they took you in, and you aren’t ready to be separated from them. It makes you realize just how much you’ve come to depend on these people in the past few days. Castiel says his goodbyes and vanishes for the night, promising he will see you again soon. The three of you eat dinner and you reluctantly depart to your bedroom when the evening is over, burdened by the fact that Sam and Dean aren’t going to be there the next morning. You drift off into a restless, dreamless sleep.

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