100 More One Shots ✔️

Luck of the Draw >> Sam Winchester X Reader

Title: Luck of the Draw

Paring: Sam Winchester X Reader

Warnings: slight graphic images. nothing much

Spoilers: none.

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The first sign of your very not normal, supernaturally-inclined life began one night, where instead of dreaming, you saw something else behind your eyes. It was...surreal. Like something someone straight out of a LSD trip would be hit with, rather than you, a retail worker from Indiana. But it happened, and, it happened again and again, and...again. More often while you were awake, and once while driving to work. You thought nothing of it. You just saw things that came true; like a small-town minimum wage freak show.

You thought nothing of it for three months until one of your visions of your fiance came true. You thought nothing of it; it had been just a daydream compared to the other flashes you'd had, much alike migraines. But as you pulled up in the driveway of your little house in the suburbs, it felt off.

That was because, laying in the backyard, the hose still watering the rose garden, was your fiance, body in shreds and heart missing from his chest. You had run away after that: everyone had spread rumours around the small town that you had done it to him, or that the house had been cursed. But whatever it was, you were gone.

Goodbye, day job.

Fourteen Months Later

The day had began with a text from Ash, sending you 50 miles out of your way cross-country to a small lakeside town for a problematic skin changer clan. You didn't mind; you'd already had the vision of the call, and were nearly in the area before Ash had even called. Your friends at the Roadhouse called you a freak of nature, sure, but there was no greater hunter than you. Not everyone could see the future in snippets, sometimes all at once or in stages, through smells or sounds, phrases or pictures. Whatever it was, you saw what could happen.

Before you made it to the bar, though, you couldn't help but sigh at the sound of sirens.

"If only my psychic abilities excluded me from speeding tickets," you mutter under your breath. But, because you were such a model citizen, you pulled your pickup truck over.

"Ma'am, thank you for pulling over, we'd like to ask you a few questions," a grizzled older man approached the driver's side of the car. He had a kind face, and a beard growing in like a redneck. But he was nice. "Is that okay with you?"

You take a deep breath. "Is it about my speeding? Because my odometer is slightly off, and I will defiantly get it fixed tonight." you reply, and squinting, you hit the steering wheel. "Bobby Singer? How long has it been?"

Bobby wipes a hand over his face. "Too long, ________. I didn't recognise you in this truck."

You laugh. "Bought her myself. So, what can I help you with, Officer Singer? You here for the same thing I am?"

He nods. "Yeah, along with the Winchester boys, but they're way ahead of me. Already at the bar, lucky bastards." he motions back to the police car, "I'll get Rufus to drive that to the motel. Care to give an old man a lift to drink top shelf?"

You reach over and open the passenger door. "I'd be delighted to be a model citizen."

Walking into the bar, Bobby motions to you the two suited men sitting at a table. There's one digging into a burger like it's the first thing he's eaten in his 30 years of life, and the other is calmly reading something from a laptop.