Fight For Me

Request for Koda

A/N: This will be the start of my Supernatural x Reader series. Yes, I am taking requests.

You stood from where you were leaning over the hood of your car, wiping the sweat from your brow. You'd spent the better part of three hours under the hood, trying to figure out why the car wouldn't run. You only knew enough about cars to fix one if it broke down on the side of the road, but you were determined to fix your baby.

Your boyfriend Dean knew plenty about cars, and he liked to show it off. He'd fixed yours and his more times than you cared to keep track of. But you really wanted to fix it on your own this time.

You were currently staying at Bobby's since you, Sam, and Dean had just finished a big hunt. You'd taken down a vampire nest and thought you deserved a few days of rest and relaxation. For you, that meant losing yourself in your own mind as your hands worked of their own accord, twisting and pulling things inside the hood of your 1969 Pontiac Firebird. (1)

"Babe?" a familiar voice called, pulling you from your thoughts. You heard the familiar footfalls of Dean's leather boots approaching you, but you remained under the hood. "Babe, come on. Take a break. Lunch is ready."

"In a minute," you replied, standing back up with your hands now covered in grease. It would take several showers to get all of it off.

"Making any progress?" he asked, leaning against the side of the car.

You blew out a breath, crossing your arms with a pout. "No…"

You didn't like admitting defeat, especially not to him. He would chuckle at your failures like a teasing boyfriend and then take over and do it for you.

Which is exactly what he was doing now. A taunting smirk crossed his lips as he looked at you. "Want some help?"

You tilted your head and narrowed your eyes. "Nope."

He frowned. "What? Since when? You always accept my help."

"Well not this time," you replied. It was a good ninety degrees outside, and the blazing sun beating down on your (s/k) skin was making you cranky. Plus, you'd spent most of the day under or inside your car, which was even hotter than the dry air outside.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

You sighed and wiped your brow again. "Nothing."

"It's something," he pressed, stepping closer. He rested his hands on your hips, which you pulled away from. Your normally loved his arms around you, but his body heat was overwhelming and you were irritated. His frown deepened when you twisted out of his hold.

"Babe?" he asked.

"I'm just tired of you constantly thinking that I'm a little girl who needs help," you snapped. "You're always trying to keep me from hunts or fix my car or tell me what to do. I'm not a child; I'm your girlfriend!"

"Well excuse me for wanting to help," he countered, his brows furrowing in irritation. "Excuse me for not wanting you to hunt because I don't want to watch you die."

"Don't pretend that's the only reason," you replied, running a hand through your hair. "And what makes you think I'll die? Do you really have so little faith in my skills as a hunter that I'll just walk in and get myself killed?"

"No," he sighed. "That's not what I meant-"

"Save it," you returned. "Save your crap. I'm going for a walk."

You turned on your heel and headed off the property and down the sidewalk.

You let out a frustrated growl, throwing your weight against a brick wall. You closed your eyes and ran your hands down your face, sighing dramatically.

"(y/n)? Are you okay?"

You cracked open one eye and turned your head to see Sam cautiously approaching. You nodded, dropping your hands to your sides. "I'm fine, Sam."

"What's wrong? Dean said you had a fight."

You nodded. "I'm tired of him treating me like a child. I'm not allowed to hunt, I'm not allowed to fix my own car… He calls me his girlfriend but he never acts like it."

"He's just protective," Sam reasoned, standing in front of you. "He doesn't want you to get hurt."

"He doesn't give me the chance to get hurt! I don't get to hunt because he doesn't want to let me die. What if it turns out I'm really good? Who says that I'll die the second I start a hunt?"

"Dean logic," he shrugged. "He didn't want me to hunt at first either."

"He doesn't get to make that decision," you groaned, collapsing against the moose's chest. He let out a chuckle, wrapping you in a hug. You'd grown close to the younger Winchester during your relationship with Dean.

All of the anger and frustration you felt mixed with the heat and exhaustion of the day as you looked up at Sam. Acting on impulse, you tangled a hand in his shaggy brown hair and pulled his lips down to yours. He gasped in surprise, too in shock to push you away.

Just as you were about to pull back, a familiar voice yelled your name. You jumped back in surprise, pushing Sam away. You turned to see Dean angrily walking towards you.

"What the Hell, (y/n)?" he growled.

"Dean, I-"

"We have a fight so you go off and make out with my own brother?!"

"Dean, listen-"

He cut Sam off too. "No, Sam. This isn't okay. If you two want to be together you be together, but you can't do it behind my back."

"Dean, it's not like that," you tried.

"Says the one who kissed him!" Dean yelled.

"Maybe if you treated her better, she wouldn't have left," Sam reminded.

"So it's my fault?"

You let out a yell and pushed past the both of them, walking down the street and away from the boys.

When you were out of eyesight, a gloved hand wrapped around your face, stifling your surprised screams. An arm wrapped around your torso, pulling you into the bushes.

"I've finally caught you," a male voice whispered. "The Winchesters' pet. My boss will be so happy to have you as a prisoner."

Something blunt struck your head and the world went dark.

When you awoke, you were tired to a chair with a gag in your mouth. You coughed at the taste of dirt and who-knows-what else. You struggled to move, discovering your bindings. Your eyes fluttered open and closed as you tried to stay awake.

"So she wakes," the voice from before taunted. "The Winchesters' pet. We've been looking for you."

"What do you want?" you asked, though it was muffled by the gag.

He chuckled darkly, reaching a hand out to pull the disgusting cloth from your mouth. "Isn't obvious? I want information."

"What information?"

"About the Winchesters, of course." He circled you slowly, his dagger gleaming in the singular light of the room. "I know they've been tracking me and a few others, and I want to know why."

"I don't know anything about them tracking," you lied. You'd been helping them track down Crowley, taking out his goons first.

The back of his hand collided with your cheek, turning your head. The left side of your face stung and you knew there'd be a red mark.

"Don't like to me," he growled. "I know they've been tracking us. Tell me why."

"I don't know!" you insisted.

He pressed the tip of the dagger to your shoulder, enough to hurt but not enough to bleed. "That's not the answer I'm looking for."

"I don't know anything."
He sighed dramatically and dug the knife deeper. He created a gash along you shoulder which quickly began oozing blood. You ground your teeth together to keep from crying out.

"Are you sure you don't know?" he asked, though you could tell he didn't believe you.

You nodded. You had a while to go before you couldn't take anymore. That would buy the boys some time.

A punch to the nose knocked you back out.

You awoke some hours later to the sounds of fighting. Fists making contact with face echoed loudly in the otherwise empty warehouse you were still trapped in. You lifted your head to find that you were still tied to a chair, but Sam and Dean had come to your rescue. There were far more demons than there were brothers, but Sam and Dean were handling it.

Sam glanced at you and saw you were awake. He finished off the demon he was fighting, using the demon blade to kill him instantly. He then rushed behind you, untying your ropes. He held your face in his hands, taking in your half-asleep expression and the bruises littering your features.

"You're gonna be okay, (y/n)," he whispered. "Dean will get you out."

You tried to smile at his words. You knew he said "Dean" instead of "Dean and I" because he wanted things to be right between the two of you. He always thought you belonged together.

Dean finished off the rest of the attack demons, rushing over to you. "Baby, I'm so sorry."

You shook your head, trying to tell him that it was okay and not his fault. You melted against him as he took you in his arms, lifting you carefully. His heart broke at your injuries, his eyes drawn to the gash on your shoulder. He all but ran out of the warehouse, lying you down in the backseat of Baby. He tossed Sam the keys before climbing in with you, letting you use his lap as a pillow.

Once back at Bobby's, Dean laid you on the couch and ran to get the medical kit. Bobby and Sam stayed by your side, checking your pulse and your breathing. Dean poured whiskey over your shoulder to clean the wound, causing you to hiss in pain. He whispered repeated apologies as he set up the needle and dental floss, counting down from three before piercing your skin. You let out several grunts of pain, unable to stop yourself. You knew admitting injury made Dean feel worse, but you were too tired to have any control.

You let out a sigh when he was done and opened your eyes. Sam and Bobby left the room to give you some privacy.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, reaching up with your uninjured arm to touch his face.

He leaned into your touch, shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he corrected. "If I hadn't yelled at you…"

"I yelled too," you reminded. "We were both angry."

"This is why I don't want you to hunt…"

"I wasn't hunting," you pointed out. "I could have handled it if I was hunting."

"But do you understand now?" he asked, his eyes darting to your stitches. "You got hurt and could have gotten killed because of me. If you hunt and I'm not there, or I'm not paying attention… I can't lose you, (y/n)."

"You won't," you promised. You pulled him closer with your hand on his face. When he was an inch away, you tilted your head up, trying to claim his lips. He took the hint and leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You smiled softly into the kiss. You'd missed his touch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No more fights?" you asked with a small smile.

"No more fights," he promised. You scooted over on the couch, making room for him. He lay down beside you, holding you close by your waist. Your uninjured arm was pressed into his side and your other hand rested on his chest. You tucked your head into his neck, closing your eyes.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," you smiled.

(1) I was going to do (f/car) but I know half of my readers will choose Dean's car…