Falling for a Hunter (Female Reader x Dean Winchester)

This chapter follows Destiny's Child and Last Holiday. But there are a lot of added scenes, hence the length. Hope you enjoy!

--

February fades into a blur of exhaustion, nausea, and restless nights. Before you know it, March has arrived, and with it, a deeper fatigue settles into your bones. Some days, you feel like your body isn't your own anymore—heavy, aching, stretched to its limits. The baby will be here in three months, yet the way time has been slipping through your fingers, you know it'll feel like nothing more than a blink.

And on the God front? Nothing. No omens. No supernatural tremors. Not even a whisper of Chuck's presence. The absence is almost worse than his direct interference, leaving you all on edge. It's too quiet. Too still. It's like waiting for a bomb to go off, but you don't know when or where.

This morning, you drag yourself out of bed with some difficulty, rolling to your side and using the nightstand for leverage before finally getting to your feet. You waddle toward the kitchen, one hand on your lower back as you navigate through the bunker's halls.

The kitchen is empty—no Sam, no Dean. But there's fresh coffee in the pot and a plate of fruit set out on the table, waiting for you. A silent gesture, a small kindness. It makes you smile despite yourself.

Grabbing a plate and a cup, you make your way toward the library, where both brothers are deep in research. Sam's fingers tap methodically on his laptop, while Dean flips through an old lore book, one boot propped up on the table.

Dean senses your presence first, his head lifting as his eyes land on you. The corners of his lips tug into a smirk. "Hello, beautiful," he greets smoothly, winking as he kicks the chair beside him out for you.

You let out a breath as you lower yourself down, every joint and muscle voicing their protest. "Hey..." you sigh, already slightly out of breath.

Dean leans over, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "How you feelin'?"

You tilt your head, exhaling through your nose. "You know... when we got that luck, I thought this would be smooth sailing. But..." You gesture vaguely at your bump. "Guess not."

"Guess gods can't cure everything," Sam mutters, shutting his laptop with a soft thunk.

Dean scoffs. "Yeah, well, figures. Wouldn't wanna make life too easy for us, right?" He grabs a handful of grapes from your plate, popping one into his mouth. "Any sign of him?"

Sam shakes his head. "Nothing yet."

"Chuck's probably off trashing a few dozen universes outside of CNN's range," Dean grumbles.

Before anyone can respond, a sound cuts through the bunker—a warbling noise, low and eerie. It vibrates through the air, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Dean's head snaps up. Sam straightens, his brows knitting together.

"What the hell was that?" you ask, pushing your plate aside.

Dean helps you up as all three of you follow the sound deeper into the bunker. It's growing louder, the low whooshing undercut by a rhythmic rumbling that shakes the walls. You reach Room #28, where flickering light spills out from under the door. The energy in the air is thick, buzzing with something unnatural.

Sam and Dean exchange a wary glance.

Then, suddenly—

The music starts. Through the door, the unmistakable opening beats of Savage Garden's "I Want You" play, clear and crisp like a song on the radio. Sam and Dean exchange another look. Dean quirks an eyebrow, shifting his weight as he pulls you a step back. Then, he nods toward the door and cautiously pushes it open.