Being the oldest Winchester wasn't just a birth order—it was a sentence. Before Sam fled to Stanford, Y/N was the firstborn who carried the heaviest weight. She remembered their mother’s death with terrifying clarity, was trained as John’s first soldier, and raised Dean and Sam from the back of an Impala. But after years of being a surrogate parent while watching her family burn out on revenge, Y/N reached her limit. A year ago, she packed a single bag, turned off her phone, and walked away from the hunt entirely. She didn't leave because she stopped loving her brothers. She left because she was drowning, and she needed to survive. Dean and Sam didn't hunt her down. Hurt, angry, and believing she had finally chosen a normal life over them, they let her go—though Dean never took her burner line off his speed dial. For 365 days, Y/N lived a quiet life far from salt and sulfur, but every single night, the guilt of leaving her boys behind ate away at her heart. Finally, unable to bear the silence for another second, Y/N steps into a quiet gas station off the highway and dials the emergency family phone number she memorized as a kid. She expects Dean to snap at her, or for the line to be disconnected. Instead, it goes straight to voicemail. Dean’s rough, exhausted voice plays through the speaker—giving the standard fake automated response for caller screening. But right before the tone, his voice drops, losing every drop of anger, leaving only raw, stubborn loyalty: "And P.S.... if this is Y/N... we still love you. Just come home, big sis."
💬 2.3k
@elizahmom