Chapter Text
When the smoke cleared, Y/N was lying on the floor against the far wall, her body slumped, limp and lifeless as if her strings had been snapped.
Dean coughed through the pain and crawled to her, his mind on Y/N, but his gun aimed at the witch. “What’d you do to her!” he screamed; the deep yell echoing through the rotting shack.
Moldy gray teeth smiled through thin, cracked lips. “Nothing much,” she replied, “just a little sleeping spell of my own devising. She’ll be out for a few hours…” The old hag stood up as straight as she could given her bent back and frail bones. “Or longer.”
“Longer?” Dean’s chest hurt suddenly as he reached Y/N, her eyes quickly moving beneath closed lids, her lips parted slightly as she breathed, deep and slow. He shook her shoulder, but she slept on, and the hurt turned to rage around his heart.
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“Can we not go?”
The brothers looked up from their screens at Y/N who pouted, arms crossed.
Dean’s brows skewed. “What?”
“I just… there’s more important shit going on right now,” she explained, sitting forward a bit. The head of the table was her favorite spot, right between the Winchesters, where she was able to see what each of them was up to at once. It made her feel like she had some say in matters, which she rarely did. When neither gave her the looks she wanted, she added sarcastically, “Hello, end of the- well- everything!”
Sam shook his head gently and a bit of hair fell down into his eyes. “People are dying,” he said. “Regardless of what we have going on, this is kinda what we do.”
“He’s right,” Dean added, tipping his head in her direction.
Y/N took pity on him and didn’t push any further, but she was unhappy. There was too much going on; they’d been non-stop for what seemed like decades. She just wanted a bath and a nap. “Fine.”
Sam offered a kind smile and then went back to scanning his news articles, pulling out relevant information to share.
“There’s my girl,” Dean whispered, setting down his phone to reach for her hand.
Y/N sighed and let him have it, lazily slumping forward over the table. “So, what are we looking at again?” she asked Sam as Dean absentmindedly ran his fingers over hers.
“Well,” Sam cleared his throat. “I’ve got a Google alert set for demonic activities-”
“Of course you do,” Dean chuckled under his breath.
Sam’s spine stiffened defensively and he scowled. “Not everyone sets one up for ‘Selma Hayek Nip Slip’.”
Dean pointed in warning, leaning forward. “Hey. That is not something I want to miss.”
Y/N agreed with a shrug. “He’s not wrong.”
Clearing his throat yet again, Sam continued. “Montrose, Colorado. Eight men went missing during the last full moon only to show up a week later missing several body parts.”
Dean hummed curiously. “Which?”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Sam concluded, sitting back a bit in his chair.
“No, which. Not witch, which. Which body parts?”
“Oh. Uh-”
Y/N laughed to herself as Sam scrolled back on his tablet.
“Five of the eight vics were found without their eyes, three tongues are missing, and all eight had their… manhood severed.”
Dean nodded absently and then jolted in understanding. “Their manhood?”
Sam sigh solemnly. “Yeah.”
Dean winced and covered his crotch with his hand. “Ouch.”
Y/N rolled her eyes and reached for the tablet, which Sam handed over. “Do we have anything else? Any connection between the victims?”
“No connections other than living in and around the town.”
Y/N saw a moment of hope shining through a dark cloud of dismembered bodies. “So... maybe it’s just a one-off. Maybe a weird cult or something. Could totally not be our kinda thing.”
He shook his head. “It could be, if not for the twelve other male victims dating back over the last six months.” Leaning over the table, he hit a spot on the screen and pulled up his notes for Y/N who read them quickly.
“Well, shit,” she groaned. “They’re escalating in attacks.”
Sam hummed an agreement.
Y/N’s eyes closed to near slits as she studied the information. “Wait. It’s not escalating.”
Sam grinned, already aware. He liked to watch the lights in her eyes spark when she hit upon clues. “Go on…”
Dean, clueless, sat back and watched as well, crossing his arms over his chest and curiously scanning her face.
She chewed her bottom lip hard and put the pieces together. “It’s… why do I know this?
“You do. Go on.”
A smile spread over her face and she looked up at Sam. “It’s the Fibbinnatchy thing!”
“Fibonacci,” he corrected kindly. “You got it.”
Y/N sat back victoriously and slid the tablet towards Sam. “Nailed it.”
Dean, still not following, reached for the screen. “What’s the Pinnochio what now?”
Sam sighed. “Fibonacci Sequence. It’s a mathematical rule that starting from zero and one, each number is the sum of the two preceding numbers.”
Y/N broke in. “And the victims are being taken in what seems to be that sequence. Look-” She left her chair and curled herself over Dean’s right shoulder, pointing at the screen. “One victim in January, then another in February, two in March, then three, five, and now eight. If this keeps going, next month there could be thirteen victims.”
“That’s insane.” Dean set the tablet down and reached for Y/N instead. “And you’re smart.” He grinned, flashing a row of pearly white, and Y/N’s cheeks burned.
“I- well- Sam found it first…”
Dean licked his lips and scooted the chair back, swiftly dragging her down into his lap. “Yeah, well, Sam’s not as sexy as you.” His hand pressed firmly into the small of her back, fingers pulsing with sensual intent.
“That’s debatable,” she whispered, already caught in the tractor beam of his emerald eyes. She sank down onto his lap and tipped her head to the side; her eyes closing gently as her lips parted.
From across the way, Sam groaned with disgust. “Please don’t bring me into whatever you’re about to do.”
Dean smirked and curled a hand around the back of Y/N’s head, drawing her closer. “I think you know what we’re about to do, brother.”
His kiss was deep and hot, his tongue slid through her lips like a knife through soft butter. She moaned and leaned into it, wanting to feel his hard chest beneath her, to taste him, to breathe him all in.
Y/N tugged on his flannel, fingers wrapping tight around the open collar. She licked at his lips when he broke the kiss, nibbled on the juicy bottom as he shifted in the chair, spreading his legs a little wider.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he sighed, cheeks ruddy and eyes dark.
“You should taste the rest,” she teased, dragging a hand slowly down the middle of him and hooking it behind his belt buckle.
Dean grunted like an animal and lurched forward, driving his tongue hard between her lips. She gasped and gave in, melting in his arms.
He sucked the air from her lungs and forced her heart to beat harder. She could feel it thrumming in her veins; the heavy pulse drifting down to settle between her legs.
Dean’s warm hand slipped up into her shirt and he pawed at her bra, peeling the cup slowly down until he could reach her nipple. He pinched hard and she gasped hard, sucking in a deep breath as pain spread across her chest and belly. A rippling jolt of icy white pain jabbed her from behind and Y/N pulled away from Dean’s lips, her jaw dropping as the pain grew worse.
“Dean?” Her head began to spin and the edges of her vision brightened. “Dean, what?”
Green eyes left hers to look up. Sam stood behind her, eyes flooded with black tar, a devilish smirk upon his pink lips. He pulled the knife from Y/N’s back and she fell backwards with the force, flopping onto the table for support.
“Sam! What the fuck!” Dean sprang to his feet but he wasn’t fast enough.
Y/N slumped down onto the floor, clutching the gaping wound in her gut where the blade had gone straight through. Blood gushed out over her hands and her body grew weak. She tried to scream but nothing came out. Tried to move but she lay frozen under the table, watching in horror as Sam overtook his brother, beating Dean down and stabbing him again and again. Dean tried to defend himself but the blade sliced clean through his forearms, cracked his chest walls, dug straight into each lung. He turned his head and tried to call to her, but Y/N’s name fell weak on his bloodied lips. He coughed and a spray of blood painted the tile floor. She reached for him, but his hand fell just shy of hers.
She screamed as the lights in his eyes went out.
Sam wiped the blood from his hands, dragging them down over his jeans. He kicked Dean’s leg to make sure he was gone and then crouched down beside him, turning his attention to Y/N.
“Why are you doing this!” Her body was shaking as the blood drained from her middle. “Please, Sam. Don’t.”
He growled, baring his teeth like a wolf, and dove under the table. Hard fingers grabbed at her arm and Sam yanked Y/N forward. She slid across the floor, the tiles slick with her blood.
“Please, Sam. D-don’t.”
The blade came down, swiftly flying across her throat, and the world blinked out of sight.
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Dean seethed. He pivoted on the spot and grabbed his gun from the chapel floor, taking aim at the witch. “Fix her. Now.”