Deanna Winchester

Daddy's Little Soldier

Deanna is 27 and Sam is 23.

Set in Season 2 after John's death.

To view Deanna Winchester's Wardrobe go to Polyvore and then add this to the end of the URL /deanna_winchester/set?id=129966029

Sat at the bar, Deanna finished her pint before setting the glass down on the counter.

The guy who had been watching her since she walked in noticed this and sat down on the stool next to her.

"Can I buy you another?" He asked.

"I'm really not in the mood." Deanna stated before eventually turning to look at the trucker. "And I'm not that desperate." Taking a $5 bill out of her pocket, she placed it down on the counter before getting up from the stool.

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, Deanna immediately shrugged it off before finding herself being roughly turned so that she was facing a trucker in a baseball cap. He smiled as he took in Deanna's appearance.

"Leaving so soon?" He asked.

"Get off me..." Deanna warned.

"Playing hard to get...I like it." The trucker smiled drunkenly.

"I said, get...your hands...off me!" Her tone was stern.

Grabbing her wrist in a tight grip, the trucker began to drag Deanna off towards the bathroom.

"No!" She shouted, trying to free herself of his grip. When that didn't work, Deanna then tried to reach for her gun but sadly couldn't reach it. "Get off me!"

Pushing her into the bathroom, the trucker grinned before he began to unzip his jeans.

"Get away from me you sick bastard!" Deanna shouted.

"Such a pretty little thing." The trucker seemed oblivious to what she was saying as he walked closer to her.

"No!" Deanna began to swing punches and kicks, but the trucker grabbed hold of her wrist.

"I love a girl who fights back." He pushed Deanna against the sinks.

Deanna's strength faded away as she squirmed desperationally, embarrassed by how pathetic she knew she looked.

"You're gonna' wanna let go of my sister..." Came a familiar voice.

"Sammy?" Deanna practically whimpered with teary eyes as she immediately found her brother's gaze.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you, boy..." The trucker threatened before he grabbed a handful of Deanna's blonde haired and used it to yank her head back.

"Gah..." She moaned.

"I just want some fun." The trucker stated.

"You're sick!" Sam growled through gritted teeth.

"She wants it...don't you..." The trucker's breath tickled Deanna's neck causing her posture to stiffen even further as she screwed her eyes closed.

Seeing his sister's discomfort, Sam fired a calculated shot, making sure that he wouldn't hit Deanna, which struck the trucker in the shoulder.

"Gah!" He shouted in pain, before he growled in anger. Tightening his grip on Deanna's hair, he then slammed her head down hard against the stone bench of the sinks.

Deanna fell bonelessly to the floor, unconscious.

"Deanna!" Sam shouted in a panicked tone before he looked back at the trucker. Raising the gun, he pulled the trigger.

The bullet was perfectly aimed and struck the trucker in the forehead, through the brain. He fell to the floor, dead.

Sam didn't stop to comment as he was already rushing over to his older sister who was lying in a heap on the floor beneath the sinks. The bench in which the trucker had slammed her head against had blood stained on it from where Deanna's head had made contact with the white stone.

"Deanna!" Sam dropped to his knees beside his older sister, carefully gathering her up into his arms. Placing two fingers against her neck, Sam was relieved to find a pulse. "Come on Deanna...wake up..." He encouraged softly. "...please wake up..."

A soft groan could be heard before her eyelids flickered open to reveal two apple green eyes. Sam immediately checked her pupils for any sign of a concussion but found none. Sam did however know that the gash on her forehead would need stitching. "S'my?..." Deanna mumbled as she came to once again.

Sam smiled as he heard his nickname. "Yeah it's me."

"You kicked ass." A smile came to Deanna's face as she complimented him.

Sam didn't say anything, his eyes fixed on the now dead trucker lying on the floor with a puddle of blood pooling around his head. It was obvious what was upsetting him.

"Sammy...it's not your fault..." Deanna spoke up.

"What he was going to do to you...what if I hadn't have found you, I mean when I came in here he had his jeans down."

"Nothing happened, because you didn't let it happen." Deanna stated. "Don't beat yourself up over this."

"You're my sister...I'm supposed to be looking out for you."

"No I'm your older sister. It's always been my job to look after you. I can look after myself, he just got the drop on me. Trust me, I won't let it happen again." There was so much strength in her voice.

Sam knew that his sister was shaken up by the whole thing, but her pride was too big to admit it. It had always been the same growing up. Something bad would happen to him or Dad, and Deanna would immediately shut down her own emotions to focus on the task at hand. It was just one of the traits that their father had trained into her when she was little because 'Soldiers don't cry, Deanna. They can't afford to get caught up in what's happening. They need to stay focused on the job and follow it through, now matter how hard that is to do.' Which was stupid because this was Deanna. His own daughter. Doesn't she deserve the right to cry now and again? To admit that the fact that she was was nearly raped did scare her? But like he said, this was Deanna. Deanna who saw her sole purpose in life as being to look after her little brother. Because John had drilled that in too. 'Watch out for Sammy. Look after your little brother, girl.' But Dad was gone now, and for tonight, Sam was throwing those rules out the window.

"Where are your keys?" He asked.

Deanna furrowed an eyebrow. "What?"

"Your keys."

Realisation kicked in. "You're not driving." She stated.

"Deanna, you can't drive." Sam responded.

"Of course I can...I'm fine."

"No you're not, and you know you're not." Sam stated softly.

"I'm fine. Just cause' I'm not sharing and caring like you doesn't mean I'm not okay." Deanna retorted. "I can drive my own friggin' car."

"Deanna, please..." Sam sighed.

"What do you want me to say, Sam?" Deanna asked.

"I want you to be honest with yourself. I want you to be able to tell the truth about how you're feeling." He paused. "I know Dad taught you that showing emotions was bad..."

"Sammy..." Deanna cut him off in a warning, clearly not wanting to talk about their father.

"But keeping everything bottled up, it's killing you, Deanna!"

"Leave it, Sam." She stated sternly before she weakly began to push herself to her feet, using the sink bench to try and pull herself up.

Sam placed an arm around her waist and gently supported her. "Please, Deanna..."

She said nothing.

A sigh could be heard a few seconds later though before Sam heard the jangling sound of a set of keys.

Sam smiled and took the keys from her. The keys representing so much. A massive leap forward for Deanna.

"Don't give me that smug smile, Sammy. I may be bleeding but I can still kick your ass!" Came Deanna's warning tone.

Sam laughed.

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