Supernatural Preferences

How you met (Winchesters: part 2)

Dean: "If you don't mind my asking," you said as both you and the agent stepped into the morgue, "Why are the feds investigating a wolf attack?"

The agent merely shrugged. "I'm not quite sure. When I get my orders I try not to question them."

"Fair enough." You agreed, walking towards the victim's body and uncovering it.

"And you said his heart was missing?'

"Ripped clean out of his chest." You agreed with a nod. "Well, not necessarily clean, but you get what I mean."

Despite how poorly you'd executed that terrible joke, the agent gave a small chuckle, making you smile slightly.

The two of you made small talk as he examined the body, and you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed and upset when he finished. You didn't want him to leave.

"I don't think I ever caught your name." The agent said.

"(Y/N)." You replied, smiling at him. "My name's (Y/N)." The agent smiled.

"That's a lovely name." He complimented, making you blush lightly. "So, (Y/N), do you have any plans for tonight?" He asked so casually, you almost didn't think you'd heard correctly.

"No, I don't believe so." You replied, and he smiled.

"That's fantastic."

"Oh?" You chuckled, smiling a bit wider now. "In case you were wondering, I get off at six." You blushed slightly at your own words, unsure of where the sudden burst of confidence had come from, but he didn't seem to notice.

"That's very good to know. Is there somewhere I could meet you?"

You pondered the question a moment or two for answering. "I'll meet you at the bar around the corner from here at seven fifteen. Does that work?"

The agent nodded eagerly, smiling brightly. "It most certainly does. I'll see you then, (Y/N)."

"See you then, agent Brawner."

Sam: You'd gotten into the habit of sneaking off to see Sam whenever you had the opportunity, which was relatively often.

Mostly, the two of you would sit side by side on his bed, sharing stories and stolen treats. Sometimes he'd ask what the voices told you, and you'd clam up and stop talking entirely for a little while, and he'd apologize and change the subject as not to upset you, but you knew you'd have to tell him eventually.

"Sam?" You whispered, leaning against him slightly, your head on his shoulder.

"Yes, (Y/N)?" Sam replied softly, gazing down at you as his fingers traced senseless patterns on your skin through your sleeve.

"Do you still want to know what the voices tell me...?"

Sam hesitated a moment before answering. "Only if you want to tell me."

You nodded slightly. "I do..." you promised softly, closing your eyes. "The voices usually tell me what a screwup and a failure I am, and that I'm a disappointment to everyone..."

"You don't believe them, do you...?" Sam whispered, his tone worried, his low, comforting voice filled with worry.

In reply, you rolled up your sleeves, exposing your plethora of scars to him. Hearing him take in a sharp breath, you felt tears sting your eyes, and bit your lip when he ran his fingers lightly over them. It was to your complete and utter surprise when you felt his lips begin to follow his fingers, pressing light, gentle kisses to the scars.

"Please stop believing them..." Sam whispered, sounding almost desperate. "Please... they're wrong about you... you're not a screwup, and you don't disappoint everyone. You're amazing and beautiful and worth so much... please tell me you'll stop listening to and believing them...?" He lifted his head and looked at you beggingly. You gazed at him for a long moment before nodding, albeit slowly.

"I promise." You whispered. Sam smiled slightly, then pressed his lips softly to yours.

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A.N.: Hey guys! I FINALLY updated! I'm so sorry it's been so long. Starting high school and taking all advanced classes (including a college history course) has got me pretty overwhelmed. I'm doing my best to updated whenever I can, though, I promise!

Love y'all.

~Amber