Supernatural One-Shots

Dean x Daughter!Reader | Waking Up Shotgun

—inspired by the newest SPN episode—
Hey Jude by The Beatles on the side.
•••

"This should be easy, then," you had said, loading silver bullets into your handgun.

Dean gave you a small grin. "Yeah, it should. But I still wouldn't underestimate werewolves, [Y/N]."

You rolled your eyes playfully at your father, handing Uncle Sammy his own gun. "Well, duh."

Dean had ruffled your hair, slamming the trunk to the Impala closed.

There had always been a chance of a hunt going wrong, but you three had never imagined it going that wrong.

Sam and Dean found you, quivering from pain in a pool of your own blood; long, deep lacerations from the werewolf's claws trailing up and down your torso were bleeding heavily. You were pale, your lips turning blue.

"[Y/N]!" They had both screamed, running to your side. They cradled your fragile body between them, each of them holding one of your hands.

"Daddy?" You croaked, squeezing both his and Uncle Sammy's hands.

"Yeah, Sweetheart?" He choked out.

"Sing, please?" You asked, your eyes shining with unshed tears. Dean nodded, sniffling.

"Yeah...yeah, of course sweetheart."

His voice cracked, and he stumbled over words, but still, he sang. He sang for you.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to take her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better."

He was cut off by you coughing, your body convulsing painfully. A whimper escaped Dean's mouth as he watched you in pain.

Blood trickled out of the corner of your mouth, and you managed to give your father and uncle one small last smile, before your eyes dimmed and you went lip in their arms. Your head slumped against Dean's chest as Sam's hung low, sobs escaping his quivering lips as he gently rested his forehead against your cold shoulder.

Dean had stared into your empty dead eyes, horrified. He felt himself quaking; stifled sobs rattling against his ribs, clawing at his throat, begging to get out. Your body in his arms felt like a million pounds weighing down on him. He could barely breathe. How could he have let this happen? You were only seventeen. How could he let his own daughter get killed so brutally at such a young age?

Dean finally let the sobs slip out, the small, pained cries echoing off the walls of the warehouse. Sam shakily climbed to his feet, rubbing at his eyes as he continued to cry. He backed away, heading out to the impala to let his brother mourn his daughter alone for a few moments.

Dean pulled you closer to his chest, cradling you as he had done when you were only a baby. He cupped the back of your head with his large hand while the other wrapped around your back, rocking back and forth as he cried. "I'm so sorry, Sweetheart. So...so sorry."

He had stood beside Sam and Bobby, watching the fire dance over your body. All three men had tears running down their faces, lips quivering as they watched the smoke swirl up towards the sky, the white fabric wrapped around your body turning black from ash.