Maybe It's Not So Bad - Plus Sized Reader

The door flew open with a crack, the wood splintering as Dean shouldered it open with more force than was really required when it wasn't locked in the first place, making the latch catch its framing in the doorframe as it came open.

Sam was hot on Dean's heels as he charged in, both looking ready and eager to taken down the brazen witch.

The smug expression hadn't left her face, her eyes had remained trained on the entrance since the rumble of the Impala's engine gave away their arrival.

"About time you two showed up," she said, her lips pulling to a one-sided smirk.

"We would have taken even longer if you didn't have our friend," Dean replied, his eyes narrowing further.

"That's a little rude, I just wanted to talk."

"There's easier ways to get us to talk, ones that don't involve curses," Sam said, his face barely masking the anger.

"But the hair suits you so much," she laughed, flicking her own to accentuate the point.

"I'm not talking about mine, that's nothing."

"You're right, it was more of a warning than anything."

"Not a very good one."

"Careful now, Sammy," she hummed, reaching over to grab drum her fingers beneath my chin, her nails scratching the side of my jaw. "I still have your friend here."

Sam's eyes flickered to mine and his top lip twitched in irritation, likely at the defeating knowledge of her being right and knowing that any false move would result in some form of harm coming to me.

"That's what I thought," she said, sounding as smug as she looked. "So, here's the deal, you two relax, we negotiate, I get what I want and then we'll go our own ways."

"Negotiate what?" Sam asked venomously.

"Uh-uh, relax a little first and then we can talk when you're both feeling a little calmer."

"Easier said than done," Dean snapped, glancing at me. "All three of us over here, you over there, that's our negotiation."

He raised the gun he had poised in his hands, a trademark mix of cockiness and assurance of seeing his actions through crossing his face.

"Or I fill you with lead."

"I knew you would be the trouble one," she sighed, sounding like a disappointed parent.

Dean had barley flinched before she flung her right hand out and sent him flying into the opposite wall, his back colliding with a disgusting framed picture of some unidentifiable object that the motel owners likely thought added 'character' to the room.

He fell to the floor in a rain of shattered glass and splintered wood, she put her hands on her hips and cracked her neck to one side while turning her attention to Sam.

"Now, Sam," she said, "can we have a civil discussion?"

"I think we're past that point already."

"Why? Because of a few light curses?"

"I was thinking more about the whole killing thing, even your own coven members."

"They were weak," she shrugged, "useless to me."

"Then let them leave, don't just kill them."

"So they can spread my teachings? I don't think so."

We all froze for a moment, even Dean who had been pushing himself up from the floor paused in his movement to shoot her a bemused look.

"Isn't that the point?" Sam asked, his eyebrows furrowing. "You learn from each other."

"We're not here to discuss semantics, Sam," she replied.

"I'm not here to discuss anything."

"But you should be, it could be a matter of life or death for these two."

With a clench of her fists, all air seemed to completely freeze in my lungs, making the organs feel unmovable as I desperately tried to drag in air.

From across the room, Dean made a noise near to a choke and one of his hands grasped at his throat, as though he could squeeze out whatever had dried in his oesophagus.

It was typically Sam on the receiving end of a good monster choke, the poor man never seemed to be able to avoid being choked out by something and now, having the first-hand experience, I could understand why he pulled faces when we would joke about it.

"Now," she said in a too sweet tone, "you can put your weapon down and come with me peacefully so we can have our little talk, or you can continue dragging this out and watch them die, your choice."

Sam hesitated, lowering his weapon just a little as his eye shifted between Dean and me, his face softening just a little as his thoughts likely raced.

Like the typical cliché moment in a movie, I caught his eye and shook my head, telling him not to agree despite the fact that I would absolutely love to breathe.

There's a tense moment that feels like it lingers for far too long until his face drops entirely, his gun falling to his side as he let out a loaded sigh.

"Okay," he said with a nod, leaning over to place his gun down. "I'll go with you, but only if you let them go."

That snide smirk came back to her face and she lifted her hands, the restraint instantly released from the pressure in our lungs and letting us take deep, gasping breaths of air that lead to simultaneous bouts of coughing.

"Great," she chuckled, moving across the room and patting Sam's shoulder as she passed. "Come along."

Sam looked to us as she opened the door and stepped out, his expression apologetic but promising before he also turned and left behind her, pulling the door closed.

(Sorry for the longer than usual wait, unfortunately there's been a large bereavement in the family and the past month has been really tough.
Things still aren't 100% but I'm hoping to continue writing as a form of distraction, I'm hoping the content at least won't dip in standard but...here we are.
Thank you for the patience.)