Spnsecretsantaficexchange - Tumblr Posts

The Winchesters’ Zombie Apocalypse

With a scavenge gone wrong, Dean has to do something he never thought he’d have to do.

Pairings: Dean x F!Reader x Sam Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader (you), Bobby Winchester (child), Garth, Dixon (dog - German Shepherd), Ellen (mentioned), Jo (mentioned), Jack (mentioned) Genre (smut, fluff, angst): Fluff, angst AU: Zombie Apocalypse Words: 2,050

This awesome idea was made by @negans-lucille-tblr  This is my entry for @spnsecretsantaficexchange​ ​  For my Secret Santa person, I have gotten @snapplejaxs​​ I hope you like it

Storming into the cabin, you angrily peel off your bloodied flannel to throw it against the backrest of a seat at the dining table. “Fucking idiots! I told you not to follow me into the store! I fucking had it.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Dean. I’m gonna go take a shower, then I’m gonna go out for a walk.” 

Doing as you said, you walk past your husbands and into your shared bedroom to grab a pair of clean clothes and into the bathroom. Your German Shepherd, Dixon, had followed you into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

“I feel like one of us should go with her on her walk, just to keep an eye on her.”

“She has Dixon, Sam.”

Nothing is said, silence filling the air except for the faint noise of the shower.

Footsteps are then made on the porch. Small, fast ones coming towards the door before it swings open to show a little boy. “Hey, Bobby,” greeted Sam as he bent down and picked up the four year old. “Papa.”

“Where’s Daddy?” Bobby points at Dean next to them, making the eldest Winchester smile and bump his nose against their son’s. One of his small, chubby hands rests against Dean’s stubbly cheek.

With the three not noticing, you’re leaning against the door frame and smiling at the scenery, wishing that you could snap a picture of them. “Hey, Garth,” your voice had given the Winchester brothers a fright, their eyes on you before looking at your best friend.

“Hey, guys. Thought I’d drop off a little someone.” He points at your son, who’s reaching out to you. “Thank you, Garth.” You take Bobby into your arms from Sam’s.

“Better get back to Bess and the kids, see you later.”

Saying goodbye to him, you turn back ‘round to your husbands. “I’m gonna go take a walk, wanna come? Obviously we’ll leave Bobby here, see if Ellen and Jo can look after him.” You nuzzle your nose against your son’s cheek before blowing a raspberry against it, making him squeal and flail his arms around, his hands now cupping your face.

“Hi, baby.” He starts to rub his nose against yours before stuffing his face against your neck. 

Both my babies, Dean had thought to himself, smiling at his wife and son.

Walking through an abandoned town, Dixon by your side, the brothers are trailing behind you. Dean has been kicking a can since you have entered the town. Then Dixon gets into an attack position, having you three raise your guns.

“Split up.”

“What?” Sam and Dean ask in unison.

“Do it.”

Groans and moans fill the air, rotted bodies shuffled into view. “(Y/N)!” Dean tries to go after you, but Sam grabs his arm to pull him back. They watch you run in front of the herd. It got closer with gunshots going off, the idea of the herd getting you makes Sam scared.

“Come on.” Dean pulls at his arm to have them walk into a store to hide.

Feeling his chest tighten and his breathing quicken, Sam tries to calm himself down. Sometimes Dean was able to help him through his panic attacks, taking longer than you, but you were the one that was able to stop them and comfort and calm the youngest Winchester.

“D-Dean,” he managed to breathe out. Dean is immediately in front of him, reassuring him that you’re gonna be fine. “I-I can’t b-breathe.”

Dean instructs him to try and slow his breathing. “She’s out there on her own and for all we know she could be dead as it seems like she used all her bullets,” Sam started to ramble and continued to do it before he got cut off by his older brother’s arms wrapping around him and bringing him in for a hug.

“She’ll be okay.”

Hours have passed to have the sky darkened and the brothers had gone to the spot where you had fired your gun. Small dots of blood trailed off in front of them with a piece of your shirt ripped on the ground.

“We gotta go back home.”

Bobby is seated in Sam’s lap, head on his chest and Sam’s arms wrapped around the small body of his son. “Where’s Mama and Dixon?” He looks up at Sam, one eye green and the other hazel.

“Mama and Dixon are still out, they’ll be here soon.” Sam answers, hoping that it’s true and that soon enough, you’ll be home.

Barking towards the cabin, Bobby is the first to swing the door open and run across the porch, down the steps and towards where he heard the barks. His fathers are right behind him.

Bobby starts to pet Dixon, Sam standing with them. Dean had stopped in front of them, trying to find you.

Luckily, no one really had thought much of the barking as they were kinda used to it. But if it was constant and no one was able to stop them, then that’s a sign for something dangerous.

Dean had finally spotted you limping towards the four, himself running to you and bringing your blood-stained body against his, himself not caring about the crimson liquid staining his clothes.

“Mama!” Bobby runs towards you, Sam fast-walking to you to do the same thing Dean had done.

“We were so fucking worried, we were about to have a search party for you, sweetie,” Sam leans his forehead against yours.

“You had a panic attack,” is the first thing you said, despite what Sam just said. “Dean calmed me down.”

Once back inside the cabin, you’re in the bathroom. You’re now staring at your naked form in the mirror, your eyes looking back and forth at the bite on shoulder and one on your hip.

Whines and scratches fill the air. You open the door a bit to let the dog in and shut the door behind him before you settle yourself on the toilet lid. “How am I going to tell them, boy?” You chuckle out sadly, trying to lighten up the moment. Dixon rests his chin on your leg, his brown eyes giving you a soft look. “You look after that little boy, you hear me?” You rub one of his ears between your fingers.

“Time for bed, Mama,” Bobby knocks at the door. “Let’s go, Mama.” Dean’s voice repeats.

Getting changed after covering the wounds, you run your hand through your semi-dried hair and out of the bathroom you are.

Standing in the doorway of the lounge and hallway, your heart is beating faster a bit more and your hands are softly shaking.

“Are you okay, honey?” asks Dean, seeing that you’re nervous about something. “I got bit,” you blurted out. “Let me put Monkey to bed.” Sam picked Bobby up and down the hallway to his room.

“Please say something, baby,” you walk towards Dean. Tears started to prick his eyes, some slipping and dropping onto the floor.

“You’re looking so pale,” he chuckles out with a sob. Smiling and sighing out, your arms slither around his waist, his arms wrapped over your shoulders. Your head rests against his chest, hearing his heartbeat. “I want you to do it. I can’t do it myself, I’ll hesitate. Sam will have a panic attack if he does it, so please,” you look at him with tears brimmed in your eyes, “kill me.”

He presses his lips against your forehead, his eyes closed and tears gently flowing down his cheeks. “Go say goodbye to our baby,” he mumbled against your skin.

Doing so, you gently knock against Bobby’s door before opening it, seeing your other husband and your son sitting on his bed. You kneel in front of him, hands on each side of his legs. Sam intertwines his with your closest hand. 

“Mama is really sick. Daddy is going to take care of me.”

“Are you going to get better?”

Sniffing and wiping your nose with your free hand, you answer, “He’s going to have to kill me, baby. If he doesn’t, then I’m gonna get turned into one of those monsters.”

Bobby jumps into your arms, your body thumping against your butt. “Mama loves you, always.” You lean your cheek against the top of his head, tears flowing down your cheeks.

Small knocks grab your attention, making the three of you look at Dean. You stand up with Bobby clinging to your body.

“I’ve told Ellen, Jo and Jack. They’re gonna tell the people.”

Going out to the lounge, Bobby is still clinging to your body. Sam is trailing behind, tears welled up in his eyes.

Setting Bobby on the ground, his hands are gripped into your shirt. “Bobby,” your voice cracks. His hands loosened and letting go of the fabric, his arms now wrapped around your legs.

“You’re gonna be okay.” You cupped Sam’s face, his tears wetting your hands. He brings your body against his, his head resting against your non-injured shoulder. “Sam.” Feeling something wet against his skin and shirt, he looks to see blood dribbling down the side of your mouth and down your chin.

Pulling his sleeve down, he wipes it away, not caring about the crimson liquid staining it. He then tugs your shirt collar back to see the covered bite mark. Your veins have darkened within under the bandage, the ends of the darkened veins stopping underneath your jawline.

“I’m gonna do this now,” you say softly, Sam pressing a kiss to your forehead. You bend down to peel your son away from your leg to hand him over to Sam, but he quickly wrapped his arms around your neck. “Bobby,” your cracked voice comes out as a soft stern. Sam’s hands grab a hold of Bobby’s waist to have you unclasped his hands.

“Mama!” His small hands reach out to you. His head gets tucked away into Sam’s neck, his big hand covering the child’s head. With a last kiss on the lips of your tall husband and a kiss to your son’s head, you shuffle towards Dean.

“I hope you’re ready, pretty girl, ‘cause I’m not,” Dean chuckles out dryly. Cupping his stubbly cheeks, you give him a kiss on his lips. One of your hands then go down to his gun holster to pull the weapon out and make his fingers curl around the handle.

All four of you have tears flowing down your cheeks. Dixon whines and rubs his head against your leg.

Dean wraps his weapon-free arm around your middle, your head now resting against his shoulder. “I have letters for each of you in my backpack. Read them when I’m buried,” you mumble.

“O-Okay.” Dean manages to get out with a shaky voice. You bring his hand up to your head, the barrel of his gun pressed against your temple. “I’m ready now.”

With his hand now shaking and his finger on the trigger, he presses it harder to release a bullet into your head and body going limp against his body. Blood has scattered across the floor and some on his shoulder.

He falls to the ground to wrap both arms around your body to sob against your shoulder.

Bobby had been struggling against Sam’s hold and been scream-crying since the gunshot went off. “Bobby.” Sam shifts the small boy in his arms to hold him as if he’s holding a rugby ball, tucked in his arm. “No! I want Mama!” Bobby screams into Sam’s chest whilst pushing against it.

Sam sits at the bottom of your grave, playing with some of the dirt as Dean, Bobby and Dixon are running around, Dean chasing his baby boy. 

“Dean and I read your letters a few days after you died. We’re gonna have Bobby read his when he’s a little bit older. Can’t believe it’s already been two months without you.”

“Papa! Come play with us.” Bobby yells at him whilst running and bumping against Sam’s back. He starts to climb Sam like a jungle gym. “I gotta go. Say goodbye to Mama.” Sam stands up, taking one of Bobby’s small hands into his.

“Bye, Mama. I love you.” Bobby waves at your grave before him and Sam walk towards Dean, who has a gentle smile on his face.

“I love you, too, (Y/N).” He mumbles to himself.