You and Dean were never a clean kind of love, more like something that burned too hot too fast and left scorch marks neither of you fully recovered from.
Its Christmas break from Hogwarts. Y/N has went to the Burrow for the Holidays with the golden trio and the Weasley clan. While there, she find out her boyfriend, Ron, has been cheating. The twins find her upset and want to help her feel better, and maybe get a little revenge.
You moved in with Peter Parker three weeks into the semester at Empire State University, a random housing assignment that turned into an actual friendship faster than either of you expected. And you have no idea your roommate is Spider-Man. Or that he’s carrying the weight of the world on his own.
Posing as FBI agents, the Winchesters visit the small seaside town you grew up in. Unwittingly, you get tangled in the middle of a hunt and a life you don’t understand.
Turns out when a trickster gets a little too cozy with some Sirens, he thinks it’s the funniest ever thing to drop hunters into the middle of a pirate crew who thinks they’re Captain Winchester and his best mate Sammy. Plus the wench YN.
Turns out “foolproof” tattoos don’t account for old scar tissue, a demon with a flair for drama, and truly excellent comedic timing. Now she’s tied to a chair in her own living room, black-eyed and absolutely thriving, saying every unhinged thing she’s ever thought and several she definitely hasn’t. Sam and Dean, for their part, are still arguing about whether the tattoo counts as broken or just “on a technicality.” By the time the demon’s finally gone, the exorcism’s the easy part — explaining herself is going to take way longer.
Before you can stop yourself, your body isn’t your own, and you’re trying to kill your love and his brother. Your family. They don’t know it’s not you.
You don’t remember him. You don’t remember anything. The key from your pocket still works, which is the first thing that unsettles you, sliding into the motel door like your hand already knew the motion before your brain caught up. Inside there's a duffel bag with what you somehow know is your clothes in it, a photo tucked in the side pocket of you and some guy with kind eyes and broad shoulders, and you have absolutely no memory of any of it. Not the room. Not the bag. Not him. Not even your own name, not until you find it on a receipt in the trash and have to just take its word for it.
A witches curse keeps you glued to Dean Winchester. One bed, one bathroom, zero privacy. Everyone at the bunker is taking bets on how long you two last before tearing each other apart, or your clothes.
Sundresses with knife holsters strapped underneath. Pink nail polish that's chipped at the tips from cleaning guns. And Dean Winchester can’t help but be utterly enchanted by the last type of girl he’d ever expect.
You’re a nurse traveling with Sam and Dean. Patching them up through hunts and hating Dean a little more every day after he gave you the cold shoulder post one-night-stand. Now something out there has plans for you, and it’s already inside your head before Dean even realizes you’re gone.
You don't remember hitting the ground, just the after, flat on your back in a field, grass burned in the shape of wings that don't work anymore, blood on your back with a few feathers like they’d been carved off. And something slowly builds between an ex-angel relearning her own heartbeat and a hunter who's spent years aching for something soft to hold onto.
You told yourself you'd never fall for Dean Winchester's bullshit twice. His stupid pretty green eyes and killer freckles. But he leaves you a voicemail. A panicked one. You’re left with more questions than answers. Where the hell is Dean Winchester, and why the hell did he call you? The worst part? Sam doesn’t know either.