Chapter Text
October 29th
At the worst possible time in the universe, my phone rings. The werewolf we were chasing turns towards the noise and runs off, completely ruining our stake out.
“Are you fucking kidding me??” Dean scolds.
“I’m sorry!! I thought it was silenced,” I say, pulling my phone from my pocket. “Hello??”
“Hey, Bee,” Welch’s voice drawls. “Just wanted to see what your plans were for Thanksgiving and if I need to make extra for you and the boys.”
My stomach drops. I can’t believe I forgot about Thanksgiving.
“Uh, lemme talk to them, and I’ll get back to you,” I say, cringing.
“Yeah, sure, just lemme know,” he says. “Love you, Bee.”
“Love you too, Welch. Talk to you later.”
I hang up and drop my head. How did I forget about Thanksgiving?? I’ve spent every Thanksgiving with Welch for years. You’d think it’d be engrained in my brain by now.
“What the hell was so important that you almost got us killed for??” Dean fumes.
I see Sam grab his arm and glare at him.
“It was Welch. He was wondering if we were coming for Thanksgiving.”
Dean throws his hands up in the air and walks away for a second. He can be so dramatic sometimes.
“That’s nice of him,” Sam says, smiling. “I personally would love to have a real Thanksgiving.”
Wait, what?? I turn to Sam; my brow wrinkled in confusion.
“What do you mean a ‘real’ Thanksgiving??”
Sam chuckles and shakes his head. “Dean and I usually just get a nice rotisserie chicken from a grocery store and some beer and eat it in whatever motel we’re holed up in.”
I gape at him.
“No way,” I mutter. “Well, that settles it then. We’re going to Welch’s for Thanksgiving, whether the drama queen over there wants to or not. It’s food, so I doubt he’d say no.”
Sam laughs. “Yeah, you’re not wrong.”
Dean eventually quits throwing a tantrum long enough for me to tell him I’m dragging his ass to Welch’s as soon as we’re done with this hunt. He grumpily agrees and we head back to the motel to brainstorm our new plan, since I ruined the old plan by forgetting to silence my phone.
“Dean, we know where their hide-out is, why don’t we just—oh, I don’t know—show up there and kick their asses??” I put another couple of French fries in my mouth. “It’s a small pack and they’ve all been turned recently so they haven’t had a chance to learn to fight or get crazy strong yet. Plus, they’re a lot easier to kill when it’s not a full moon.”
Dean hits me with a ‘you can’t be serious’ look as he chews on an oversized bite of his cheeseburger.
“That’s a terrible idea,” Sam says, stealing one of my fries, earning him a forceful slap on the hand. He lets out a string of expletives and shakes his hand out.
“Bryn, when werewolves aren’t turned, they’re just regular people. We’re hunters, not murderers,” Dean comments.
“We can’t wait until the full moon, Dean. It’s not for another month.” I shove more fries in my mouth. “So, unless you have a better plan, taking them out now is gonna be our best bet.”
Sam and Dean are both silent, exchanging one of their brotherly looks that holds an entire conversation. I roll my eyes and take a bite of my burger, resenting their silent communication. After a few moments, they break their staring contest, and both sets of eyes land on me, startling me a bit.
Dean sighs. “Fine, we’ll do it your way,” I start to celebrate, but Dean holds up a hand and continues, “but, if anything goes wrong, it’s on you.”
My stomach twists a little. I’m an adult and can take responsibility for my own actions but putting the blame solely on me if someone else makes a bad decision that gets them hurt doesn’t seem right.
“I can’t take responsibility for mistakes on you or Sam’s behalf. Would I feel guilty if something bad happened?? Absolutely, but you two are grown-ass men that make their own choices. I can’t control what you guys do, so I won’t take responsibility for something that was not my choice.”
Dean squints at me for a second.
“Y’know, she’s got a point,” Sam mutters.
“I know she’s got a point, shut up!!” Dean whisper yells at his brother. He looks at me with determination set in his eyes. “Ok, let me rephrase. If anything were to go wrong, this was all your idea, and we will hold it against you for eternity.”
I don a smug grin. “Of course you will. I’ll probably blame myself too, so…”
Sam snickers a little but brushes it off as a cough when I kick him lightly under the table.
“Alright, Fearless Leader, what next??” Sam teases, bending in half and contorting his body a bit to rub his shin.
An evil smirk forms on my lips. “Here’s what I was thinking…”
..
I lay down in bed, ready to sleep after the long day we’ve had. While I wait for Sam to come to bed, I figure now is a good time to shoot Welch a text.
Bryn
Hey, you can count us in for Thanksgiving
Anything you want me to bring??
I set my phone on my stomach and stare up at the ceiling for a little, allowing my mind to wander freely. Our plan for the werewolves plays through my head a million times, including every conceivable way it could go wrong. From something as small as one of us stepping on a rogue nail in the floorboards to us all dying a horrific, bloody death.
Ah, the joys of mental illness.
My phone buzzes, breaking me out of my catastrophe spiral. I pick it up and read Welch’s response.
Welch
You can bring something if you want, but I’ll be perfectly happy just to see you and the boys
But if you bring anything, Fawn requests your mom’s dressing :)
I laugh quietly to myself—of course she does. I type back a quick reply and plug my phone in, setting it on the side table for the night. I resume staring at the ceiling, this time imagining Sam and Dean at their first real Thanksgiving. The warmth of that thought fills my body, making me smile. A small sense of pride flickers in my chest as I realize they get to experience what having a semi-normal life is like—one they otherwise wouldn’t have ever experienced had Dean not called me that day.
The bed dips next to me, the old springs groaning under Sam’s weight. My eyes flick over to him, only to find him already staring at me.
“What??” I say, my smile spreading.
Sam’s face mirrors mine.
“I asked if you were ok, but you didn’t say anything.” He slips under the covers, laying on his side facing me, propping his head on his arm. His hand reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear. “What were you thinking about that made you smile like that??”
I smirk. “I was thinking about how you and Dean get to have a real Thanksgiving and how you get to experience some normal family things, all because Dean called me when Cas broke you.” I laugh to myself. “I was so mad at him that night, but if I hadn’t answered…”
Sam nods, his fingers trailing over the skin of my forearm.
We lie there in a comfortable silence, just kind of staring at each other. I watch as Sam’s eyes scan my face, as if he’s memorizing every feature. His gaze is soft, loving even, the dim lighting making his eyes a warm brown. When his eyes finally return to mine, I’m glad I’m laying down because, if I were standing, I would be a puddle on the floor. He looks at me as if I am the only person in the world, as if I was a precious gem or a beautiful painting in a museum. I roll onto my side and reach up to caress his cheek with my fingertips, his stubble prickling against my skin. I can’t help but drop my eyes to his lips, my thumb brushing gently across his plush lower lip. When I lift my eyes back to his, they’ve darkened slightly.
His hand moves to the small of my back and pulls me to him, the speed of which catches me off guard, and I let out a small yelp. Sam just smirks and ducks his head down, pressing his lips against mine. I melt into him, my hand now cupping his cheek. He moves, so he’s over the top of me, resting his weight on his forearms. His body rests just perfectly on top of mine, his hips settling between my legs. A warmth floods my body, and I sigh into his mouth. Sam takes advantage of the split second my lips are apart and slips his tongue into my mouth. My limbs tingle as he deepens the kiss, leaving me wondering if this is what heaven feels like.
Suddenly, I remember Dean is sleeping in the bed next to us and I panic. My hands find Sam’s shoulders and push against them, trying to separate us. He feels my hands and pushes up onto his hands, accidentally causing some… friction. I have to stifle the moan that threatens to leave my throat as every nerve in my body reacts, my hands fisting Sam’s shirt. Sam hangs his head and takes a deep breath, choking back his own voice with a soft grunt. We both struggle to compose ourselves until Sam moves his legs, so he’s on his knees. His eyes finally find mine, pupils blown with desire, something I’ve never seen before.
“Are you ok?? Was that too much??” He asks me between pants, panic in his features.
I swallow hard and shake my head.
“No, no, it was great.” I say, still breathless myself. “A little too great with your brother in the bed beside us.”
Sam’s eyes widen as he remembers his brother’s presence as well, and we both look over to find that Dean is still sound asleep. We look back at each other and immediately start laughing. Sam drops back down onto the mattress, laying on his back next to me.
Our laughter eventually fades and everything goes quiet, the only noises coming from our breathing and Dean’s snoring. My mind races a million miles a minute, still riled up from the make-out session. I stare at the ceiling, trying to calm my racing thoughts, but I’m startled a little as Sam takes my hand. His fingers slot between mine and a wave of calm washes over me.
How can the same person both wind me up and calm me down??
His thumb gently sweeps across the back of my hand, the skin slightly rough from his calluses. He takes a deep breath and adjusts himself under the covers.
I roll over, keeping our fingers interlocked, and hug Sam’s arm, my head coming to rest on his shoulder.
“G’night, Bee.” Sam whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
“Night, Sam.”
—
October 30th
“Are you sure about this, Bryn??” Dean asks me as we approach the werewolf hideout.
“Yeah,” I look around, “unless you wanna come back in 2 weeks for that full moon.”
Dean grumbles something under his breath, and we creep up to the side of the old barn. It looks like a stiff wind would blow it down, but the wolves still settled down here.
A warm glow shines out between the slats of wood, casting rays of light into the dark forest. I lean against the wall and peek in through the gaps.
I can see 4 people sitting around an old, dilapidated card table, playing what appears to be poker. A couple of them sit on a couch, just watching the game. My eyes scan the room, and I don’t see any other wolves, just the 6 near the card table.
“There’s 6. 4 are playing poker, 2 are on the couch watching. You guys can each take 2, right??” I ask, turning my head back to look at them.
“Yeah, should be a piece of cake,” Dean says, slipping his gun from his waistband.
Sam and I follow suit, and we make our way to the front door. After a silent count of three, Sam kicks in the door and all hell breaks fucking loose.
All six of the werewolves are instantly on their feet, moving faster than any of us expected.
I shoot one in the chest, dead center, garnering the attention from another. Full of rage, the wolf begins throwing punches and beating the living shit out of me, moving much faster than I can even form thoughts. When they knock my gun away, I pull out my knife and slice a long, red line across their face. With a deep growl, they slash across my chest with their claws, tearing my shirt to ribbons and easily slicing through my skin, but thankfully they’re shallow since I took a step back before the wolf could swing at me. They then lunge forward and rake their claws across my stomach, eliciting a gut-wrenching scream from my throat. Blood seeps out and spreads through the fabric of my shirt as I stagger backwards. Adrenaline rushes through my veins, and I throw my knife, which lands with a satisfying thunk into the wolf’s heart.
I stand there for a moment, my chest heaving as I catch my breath. Sam and Dean are finishing off their wolves and I make my way over to the card table where the wolves poker game lays abandoned. The world spins, and I stumble a bit, having to lean on the table to steady myself. I reach up to my chest, and my fingers meet warm, sticky blood. I look down and the severity of my injuries registers in my brain.
Oh shit.
I hear Sam call my name and I turn, taking a step towards him, pain peeking through the adrenaline-fueled haze.
Sam’s eyes widen as he sees the blood on my shirt. I stumble forward and Sam rushes over.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what happened??" Sam catches me and gets me to the floor as my legs give out.
My head spins from shock.
"I, uh, I think I’m bleeding," I mutter.
"You think??” He sasses. “C’mon, you need to put pressure on that."
He folds my arms over my stomach and presses against them. My adrenaline fades, and the pain sneaks up on me.
Sam yells for Dean, who is by my side in an instant.
“Oh, God, what happened??”
“One of the wolves got her. We gotta get her to a hospital.”
Dean nods and runs out of the barn.
“You’re gonna be ok,” he whispers as he removes my jacket.
My eyes close for a moment as his hand brushes loose hair back from my face, unsticking it from the layer of sweat on my skin.
His voice whispers comforting things to me, a chorus of ‘I got you’ and ‘You’re gonna be ok’ with a random ‘Just keep taking deep breaths, you’re doing great’ now and then. I lay my head back against the ground; the pain becoming stronger with every minute that my adrenaline decreases.
Dean runs back in, and I hear the rumble of an engine nearby. He and Sam carry me to the car, trying their best to keep from jostling me. I whimper and moan as Sam lays me down in the back seat before climbing in after me, kneeling on the floorboard. I can see the panic in his eyes as he tells Dean to drive as fast as he can, his hands pressing firmly into my stomach.
A gnawing ache consumes my abdomen, and every little bump causes the muscles in my stomach to spasm. Eventually, I get to where I can’t help the groans and cries that fall from my mouth.
"C’mon man, drive faster," Sam says to Dean. He then looks down at me with tears in his eyes. “You’re ok, Bee. I’ve gotcha.”
“I’m going as fast as I can, Sam.” He pauses. “Hang in there, sweetheart.”
Sam puts more pressure on my wound and kisses my head as I cry out in pain. “I know, honey, I’m so sorry.”
My hearing muffles and my ears ring as another wave of pain hits me like a truck. I can see the hurt in his face as Sam fights back tears. I try to hold back my own tears, failing as the pain continues to grow.
“—just a few minutes away, Bryn." Sam says, and his eyes widen with fear as he stares at his hands that are stained with my blood.
"Sammy," I say quietly. He looks at me. "It hurts so bad."
“I know, baby, we’re almost there; you’re gonna be just fine,” Sam says, voice shaking, tears glistening on his cheeks. “Just stay with me, okay?? Deep breaths.”
We hit another bump, and I cry out again, my muscles spasming. Sweat rolls off my forehead, mixing with the tears flowing down my cheeks. My hand trembles as I grab hold of Sam’s shirt, gripping it as tightly as I can. My body shakes uncontrollably from the adrenaline crash.
Slowly, my hearing grows muffled, and black dots fill my vision. Pressure grows in my head, and my heart sinks; I’m close to passing out. I close my eyes for a moment, not even two seconds, before Sam shakes me.
"Don't you dare," he growls at me. "I can't lose you. Not again."
Dean says something, and Sam relaxes but still holds firm pressure on my stomach.
My eyes close uncontrollably, and Sam continues to keep me awake as I swing wildly in and out of consciousness.
"Bryn, stay with me." Chills run over my arms, hearing the tone of his voice. “We’re at the hospital. Just hang in there, sweetheart.”
I open my eyes and blink at him a couple of times, my vision swimming slightly. I reach up and brush my fingers against his face, attempting to wipe away his tears. I drag my fingers through his hair, pulling it back from his face. His eyes meet mine with a look full of terror, a kind I’ve never seen from him before. Just as the emergency room staff throws open the door above my head, my heavy eyelids close, and I lose consciousness from the sheer amount of pain.
—
~Dean~
The waiting room is eerily silent, nothing but the ticking clock making any noise.
I pace back and forth across the room, trying to keep my mind off how bad Bryn looked as they whisked her into the ER. Sam is sitting in one chair, his elbows on his knees and his head hanging, almost as if he’s praying. When I turn and walk back towards him, he’s looking down at his hands and forearms, which are still stained with Bryn’s blood. I notice a small tremor in his hands as he messes with his scar, and my stomach tightens. Sam’s scared.
I walk over and sit down in the chair next to him. He looks up at me for a second before looking back at his blood-stained hands.
"Listen to me, Bryn is super strong, okay?? She'll get through this.” I say, hoping he can’t hear the fear in my voice.
"Thank you, Dean." He wipes some tears from his face.
"You really care about her, don't you??" I ask.
"I love her with every fiber of my being," he confesses. Tears well up in his eyes as he looks up at me. "She makes me so happy. I can't lose her, Dean. I just can't. Not again."
"You won't, Sammy. Trust me."
The door to the waiting opens and a doctor in blue scrubs walks out. I elbow Sam and we both get to our feet. She approaches us and shakes both of our hands.
"She did great. Incredibly lucky too, no major organs were hit, just the muscles in her abdomen. The cuts on her chest were superficial and only needed a good cleaning.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. The doctor continues. “We stitched her up, and she’s getting some IV fluids and antibiotics, and she’s on some strong pain medications. Overall, she'll be just fine. Just make sure she gets lots of rest and doesn't partake in any strenuous activity for the next few weeks. The stitches will need to be taken out in a couple of weeks, but any freestanding clinic can do that." She smiles at us and shakes our hands again.
"Thank you so much," Sam breathes out.
“The nurse will come grab you when they take her up to her room. I'll come up in a few hours to check on her as well," the doctor says.
We both nod and thank her again. I drop back down into the chair and let out a huge sigh of relief.
It seems like forever before the nurse comes out and grabs us, handing Sam the bag of Bryn’s belongings. We walk behind her as a transporter pushes Bryn’s bed. We ride the elevator up to the 4th floor and weave through the halls for a bit before we finally get to her room.
“I’m going to go talk with her nurse. I hope she gets better soon,” the OR nurse says, giving us a small smile.
I thank her and we walk into Bryn’s room, where her bed sits on the wall opposite the door.
Sam leaves my side and pulls a chair over by Bryn.
I pull a chair up to the foot of her bed and smile at my brother. He's holding her hand up to his face and murmuring to her as she sleeps. I catch a few words here and there, but what gets to me is the amount of love in his eyes. I can feel the love radiating off him as he looks at her. They are perfect for each other, and I couldn't imagine my baby brother with anyone else.
—
October 31st
~Bryn~
My eyes feel heavy as I open them. In the dimly lit room, I see Dean at the end of my bed, arms crossed and chin on his chest, fast asleep. Sam is filed in half, his head on my thigh and his hand clutching mine for dear life. The faint beeping of the monitor is the only noise in the room, save for Dean’s light snores.
I very gently run my hand across my gown-clad torso, my fingertips tracing the outline of the dressings. I sigh, frustration boiling in my chest. So much for this being a fucking piece of cake.
Dean snorts and lifts his head up, groaning and rubbing his stiff neck. He stretches and yawns, then his eyes lock on mine. I smirk a little and wave. His eyes grow wide, and he hits Sam’s arm.
Sam pops up and glares at him before running a hand over his face and through his hair, still holding my hand with the other. I gently squeeze his hand, and his head whips around to look at me. He rises to his feet and presses his forehead to mine.
"Hi, baby." His tone is soft and sweet. It makes me melt.
He gently cups the side of my face and rubs his thumb across my freckled cheek.
"What happened??" I ask, soaking up the color of his eyes.
"One of the wolves got you. We told them it was a mountain lion attack." He suddenly gets really serious. “You lost a lot of blood, but the doctor said they missed all your major organs; it just hit the muscle.”
I close my eyes and sigh. “I’m so sorry, Sammy.”
“It’s ok. You’re here and that’s all that matters.” He presses his lips to my forehead before sitting down on the bed next to my legs. He rests a hand on my thigh, thumb rubbing my leg through the blankets.
“If I could move,” I pause and chuckle. “I would scoot over so you could lie with me.”
Sam laughs. I see Dean smirking out of the corner of my eye. I take Sam’s hand in mine and relax, closing my eyes. I'm probably going to be down for a while, but I'm okay with that.
..
A couple of hours later, the sun has come up, and the boys have already had breakfast. They’ve had me on clear liquids since my surgery, just to be safe, so the guys ate downstairs in the cafeteria.
While we hang out in my room, the TV playing some random show, the boys and I all scrolling on our phones, an idea comes to mind. Using the side rail on my bed, I sit up and look at Sam. I let out a hiss as my stitches sting with the activation of my abs, drawing both his and Dean’s attention.
“Do you know how to braid??” I ask him.
Sam wrinkles his eyebrows. “No, I don’t. Why??”
I grin super wide.
“Well, I’m about to teach you ‘cause I can’t braid my hair while my stitches hurt this much.”
Sam laughs. “Ok.”
I try to scoot forward, creating a gap behind me. I then lower the head of my bed to make it flat. Sam watches with amusement as I get situated so my stomach doesn’t hurt. I pat the bed behind me, and he drops the rail so he can sit.
“Ready??” I ask.
“I guess.”
I hear Dean laugh.
“Dean, shut up,” I chastise, throwing my straw wrapper at him. He laughs some more.
“Ok, so, take your finger and part my hair down the middle.” I squirm as he does, especially at the nape of my neck. “Now, tie this one side off with my scrunchie.”
I hand him my scrunchie and pick up the left side. He wraps it around a few times.
“Good, now comes the fun part.” I lean my head back a smidge. “Take a smallish section towards the front of my head.”
I feel his fingers slide across my scalp as he separates the hair.
“Now take that and divide it into 3 somewhat equal pieces. Twist the hair under so that the piece on the far right becomes the one in the middle.”
“Bryn, there’s no way I’m gonna be good at this,” Sam says. I shush him.
“Shhh. It takes practice, grasshopper, which you’ll get plenty of while I’m mildly incapacitated. Do the same thing with the far-left piece.” I wait. "Ok, this is where things get weird. Before you twist the far-right side to the middle, grab a small chunk of my hair.” I feel as he sections my hair with his fingers, then holds it tight, so it won’t come out. “Awesome. Now do the same thing on the other side.”
I keep talking Sam through the basic Dutch braid, and I can feel him adjust his hands as he gets more comfortable with what he’s doing. By the end of the first side, I’m left with a surprisingly clean and neat braid, which is unheard of for someone’s first time Dutch braiding. I guide him through the other side, and he does an amazing job on that side too. By the end, it looks like I did it myself.
“Shit, Sam, I think you braid better than I do,” I tease, looking at the picture I had him take so I could see. I lean back a little, resting my back against his chest, and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for doing that for me.”
He presses his lips to my head.
“Any time.”