Chapter Text
Frustration tainted the air of the bunker, radiating from the library walls. As the clock ticked past midnight, blue-white light mingled with the orange of the table lamps, bathing Sam's face in a steady glow as he hunched over his laptop, engrossed in a tireless search. Dean, meanwhile, paced the floor, book in hand. Each footstep reverberated inside his skull, adding to the collective headache. The brothers' current case—a woodland haunting across state—had led them down a dead-end, fueling their late-night study.
Sam furrowed his brow, silently mouthing as he read the contents of his latest webpage. "Dean…" he called, eyeing the screen in concentration. "Think I’ve found something… a Dr. Y/L/N at KU, Lawrence. Might be a long shot, but his research might tie in with our case."
Dean glanced up from his book with a raised eyebrow. "A doctor? How's he connected to our ghost problem?"
"Not a medical doctor, genius... A History PhD… His studies focus on historical folklore. There could be a link between the local legends and our haunting. It's worth a shot, right?"
"Okay, well..." Dean nodded, clapping his book shut. "It's the only lead we've got right now. Let's hit him up."
Sam danced his fingers across the keyboard, crafting a persuasive pitch in their email. "Alright, here goes nothing," he muttered, hitting 'send' with hopeful anticipation, his eyes strained, heavy.
"Hey, we're not just any journalists," Dean interjected, reading over Sam's shoulder. "We're the duo that digs deep into untold stories. Our quest? Unveiling the hidden truths woven into the fabric of this town..."
Sam smirked at Dean's embellishments. "Right, 'cause nothing grabs a scholar's attention like a good ol' fashioned mystery. Hopefully, this Dr. Y/L/N will bite."
Dean chuckled, slapping his brother on the back. "Lighten up, Sammy. Who could resist the allure of two charming reporters like us?"
Sam rolled his eyes, closing his laptop with a yawn. "Sure, whatever. Let's just hope for a response. I'm off to get some shut-eye."
The next day, after his morning run, Sam sat in the bunker's kitchen, opening his laptop to a reply in his inbox. Taking a sip of his coffee, he ran a hand through his hair, optimism growing with each word he read.
"Dean!" he yelled, a spark of excitement coloring his voice. "Dean... We got a reply!"
Dean emerged from the hallway with a yawn and creased pajamas. He had only just got up—having medicated last night's headache with trash TV and beer. "Sup?"
“We've got a meeting... this afternoon." Sam rose an eyebrow, eyeing the screen with intrigue. "Dude seems pretty interested..."
Dean stretched, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Great, well... better hit the road, I guess. But Sammy, we're grabbing grub on the way."
After a few hours' drive—including a pit stop for food—the Winchesters arrived in Lawrence. Clad in their finest 'reporter' outfits, they paced the university corridors where they eventually located the history department. There, amidst the academic bustle, they requested to meet Dr. Y/L/N.
"Y/N!" the receptionist called, turning her head to the staff room behind her. "Your 3 o'clock is here!"
"Thanks Janice, I'll be right there!"
You emerged from the staff room carrying a large pot of coffee, your presence immediately capturing the attention of the brothers.
"Hey! You must be Tom and Jack. Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N." You greeted them warmly, charm evident in your smile. "Come on in, take a seat… I hope you like coffee!"
Sam and Dean exchanged a surprised glance, momentarily taken aback as you beckoned them to follow you into a nearby office. You were not what they had expected, that's for sure.
"You're Dr. Y/L/N?" Sam asked, as you closed the door of the small room behind them.
"This is she," you said, sensing their unexpected reactions. "Is... there a problem?"
"No, no!" Sam reassured, trying to mask his surprise with a charming smile. "We just expected someone... older."
You smirked, taking a seat across from them behind the small desk. "And... with a penis?" you questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Sam coughed, smiling awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by his sexist assumption, whilst Dean scratched his head, trying to think of a witty response.
"I'm just messing with you...” you teased, chuckling at their reactions. “I get that a lot. Anyway, how can I help? Your story sounds interesting..."
Over cups of coffee, the brothers tactfully explained their ‘research’ and the answers they were seeking.
“Hm, from what you’ve told me, the haunting sounds connected to an old legend rooted in the area…” You pulled out a book from your bookshelf, tracing your fingers over the weathered text. “Ah, here!” You placed it on the desk in front of them, gesturing to the page as you spoke. “This passage here... it speaks of spirits being tied to the ‘earthly realm’...”
The brothers listened intently, their focus on the information you provided, but Sam couldn’t help but feel uncharacteristically distracted, stealing small glances at you as you spoke.
“According to the lore of the local tribe,” you continued, running a hand through your hair, “the spirit seeks ‘retribution for an ancient injustice.’”
Hm, interesting... Sam mused, darting another glance your way.
“Is there any way to stop it?” Dean leaned in slightly, urgency lacing his words.
You straightened in your seat, taken aback by this new line of questioning. “What paper did you say you worked for again?”
“The Eureka Herald”, “The Wichita Eagle,” they replied in unison, gritting their teeth for blowing their cover.
You paused for a moment, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You’re ghost chasers, aren’t you?” you asked, eyeing them with suspicion, leaning back in your chair.
Sam and Dean shared a look, a mixture of surprise and caution in their eyes.
“What makes you think that?” Dean asked, his posture more guarded, his tone casual, yet wary.
You took a sip from your mug. “It’s not hard to put two and two together,” you said, trying to hide your smirk as the brothers faltered over their cover story. “Plus, you’re not the first ghost chasers I’ve encountered…”
Sam and Dean exchanged another glance, a silent agreement passing between them. They were used to keeping their true identity under wraps, and were surprised by your directness—your ability to see through their façade. But there was something about your demeanor that made them feel a level of trust…
“Okay, you got us,” Sam admitted, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But we’re not exactly ‘ghost chasers’… we’re hunters.”
“Hunters?” You raised an eyebrow.
Dean nodded, his expression more serious. “We’re not the kind of hunters most people imagine... We’re here to make things right, to put spirits to rest, to protect people from the crap they don’t even know exist.”
You listened intently, shifting slightly as you processed their words. “So... you hunt the things that go bump in the night? And in this case, you’re here to put an ancient spirit to rest?”
“That’s the plan,” Dean confirmed. “So... think you can help us, or what?”
You hesitated, chewing on your lip as you considered their request. You’d known ghosts were real, yes, but, hunting them...? This was all new, and... exciting.
“Alright,” you relented, undeniably curious. “I’ll try my best to help, but promise you’ll respect the history, the people involved?”
Sam leaned in, interjecting your thoughts, gently. “We promise,” he affirmed, his tone earnest, as he looked into your eyes. “We’re not just seeking closure for the spirit, we’re aiming for closure for the tribe, too.”
You paused for a moment, your gaze softening as you regarded the younger brother with a newfound respect.
“Yeah, exactly,” Dean added, nodding towards his brother. “What he said...”
You took a deep breath, giving in to the excitement you couldn’t deny. “Okay then... let’s uncover the truth behind this thing.”
“Great!” Dean exclaimed, visibly relieved as he slapped his hands on the sides of his chair.
Sam smiled, silently mouthing a gentle “thank you” in your direction.
You smiled back, but quickly averted your gaze, feeling a sudden blush rush into your cheeks. “Well,” you rose from your seat, trying your best to ignore whatever that was. “I’m afraid my office hours are over… I have to head back to work, but, I’ll be in touch.”
Sam stood, unconsciously mirroring your stance. “Yeah, yeah—of course.” He cleared his throat, reaching for the book on the table, directing you a gentle glance. “Would it be okay to take this?”
“Yeah, sure... anything that will help. In fact... here... have these...”
“Thanks,” Sam smiled, as you passed him a few more books from your bookshelf.
“We’re staying at a motel just out of town for a few days,” Dean explained, handing you a scrap of paper with their contact details on it. “Let us know if you find anything.”
“Of course,” you said, glancing at the note in your hands. “Sam and Dean Winchester?” You swear their names sounded familiar...
“You can never be too careful in our line of work, lady,” Dean joked, as they finally introduced themselves properly.
As you walked them out of the department, Sam turned to you, shifting the pile of books under his arm. “See you soon, Dr Y/L/N, thanks again.”
“You’re welcome, Sam, but please, call me Y/N. I’ll never get used to being called Dr... it sounds waay too formal.”
Sam smiled, but quickly looked away as you returned his gaze, suddenly feeling rather warm.
“Right, let’s make a move.” Dean slapped Sam on the shoulder, snapping him out of his haze. “See ya later doc,” he saluted, turning to walk away, Sam by his side.
You chuckled as they left, your eyes lingering on the taller brother as they faded from your view, disappearing round the corner.
Back in the Impala, Dean turned towards his brother with a sly grin. "So, Sammy... You seem to have taken quite a liking to Dr. Y/L/N back there... not just interested in her research, huh?"
Sam's eyes widened, trying to mask his embarrassment. "What? No, Dean—it's not like that."
Dean chuckled, giving Sam a playful nudge. "Come on, man! I saw the way you were blushing back there. I've never seen you stumble over your words like that. Plus, you've been staring more than the ghost we're hunting."
"I... I wasn't stumbling, or staring!" Sam contested, despite knowing full well that his attempts to deny it only made it more obvious.
"Sure Sammy, whatever you say," Dean teased, enjoying every moment of his brother's discomfort.
Sam rolled his eyes, trying to play it off. "I was just being polite! She's knowledgeable and helpful, that's all."
"Uh-huh, sure… whatever helps you sleep at night… Bet you'll be dreaming of that helpfulness tonight, huh?" Dean smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I mean, she's hot... I'll give you that."
Sam groaned, realizing there was no getting out of this conversation. "Can we just focus on the case, please? We have a haunting to solve."
Dean laughed, giving his brother a playful punch on the arm. "Alright, alright, Mr. 'I-Don't-Have-A-Crush’. Let's get back to business..."
Despite his attempts to steer the conversation away, Sam couldn't shake off the heat rising to his cheeks, knowing full well Dean would continue to tease him for the rest of the day. But as they drove off to pursue the leads you had provided, he couldn't help but feel optimistic, wondering what might come of this partnership.