Dean Winchester Novels & Stories

They boarded one of Damien sport car as Aaron drive them to Dr Dean private hospital. Dr dean has been the family doctor of the Wilson and willington for years. He was known for his good works, he took after his father who has been working for the both families for decades. Aaron and his boss arrived at the hospital, as Damien didnt wait for him to open his door before flying out going straight to the VIP elevator. Damien reach Arrya room in a minutes due to how fast he was...

I am the Boss of the Southside, and I cannot lie in a bed while a cartel threatens the people I swore to protect. Dean hurries into the bunker right behind Seth. Dean carries a large red emergency medical kit in one hand and a portable vitals monitor in the other. He sets the heavy equipment down on the living room floor. "We will handle Vincent Rossi later," Dean announces in a steady voice. "Right now, we have a severe medical crisis to manage down here." I push the thick down comforter off my chest. I ignore the heavy ache in my bones, and I swing my bare feet over the edge of the mattress.

I order, my voice dropping into a flat register. "It's already plugged in and hot, Boss," he replies, stepping back to give me space. I nod slowly, reaching over the set tray. My fingers wrap around the heavy, cold grip of my custom gun. I draw it smoothly, pulling back the slide with a sharp, familiar clack that echoes off the stone walls. Over in the center of the room, Dean thrashes weakly against his restraints. His white vest is ruined, soaked in sweat, blood, and ice water, but the moment he hears the metallic chambering of a round, his head snaps up. "What are you doing?!" he rasps, his bloodshot eyes widening in frantic horror.

------------------ Merliah’s Point of view. ------------------------- “Than-” Dean tried to speak but suddenly fainted. “Deannnnnnnnnn !!!!!” I shouted. I immediately asked for help to lift him into my unit because I knew nothing about the password of his unit. The stupid dean fainted before opening his unit. I called my personal doctor to check on the dean's condition. "Looks like he fainted due to exhaustion, dehydration, and low blood pressure." Doc just gave me medicine and reminders before he left.

The pain of heartache echoed through his words. "I didn't find someone else. I got this job with the Saunders and had to move to New York City, but I didn't have any way to tell you since my letters never made it. I checked with my landlord every week though, hoping something would come, and it never did." I didn't want to cry, but I could feel the tears threatening to escape from behind my eyes. I had cried so much over Dean that I thought I didn't have any more tears left, but apparently I did. "Sergeant Dean Sherman of the 101 Airborne Division. I still remember the address." "That's correct. It probably was just some stupid government secrecy bullshit," Dean said. He closed his eyes for

,I hiss wanting to go to the door and fuck them up. "Dean please don't leave me, Alexis sobs, I need you all yo just stay with me",her tears kill us and we sit watching till cops show up and the ambulance. Thomas Dancer is a lethal looking man shotgun in hand as he storms in and his Leslie's dad before handing his gun off, yanking the man up off the ground and his feet dangle.

Carefully finding my way amidst all the junk . Finally, I found my way to them. Dean and his men. Hefty fearless men all with guns Dean was seated in a wooden chair. It's been so many years. 15 years since I last set my eyes on him. He looked old now . The hair was white, his herds were white and black. Perfectly out of shape with his slightly bulged out tummy and flabby face skin. He still had one habit. An habit anyone could easily recognize him with, the tobacco by the side of his mouth.

Then a handful of men, Dean's men, stepped inside. "Take him away, and give him the whipping of his life," he commanded. The men were busy whispering in a low tone, and then one of his men came closer with shaky hands. Although Wiley was a cruel man, Dean was know as the butcher, and sometimes the right hand of Wiley. He is the one the executes Wiley's evil deads. Dean stretched his hands out with his eyes shut. They cuffed him, and he followed them. He was almost out of the room when he paused and turned to Wiley.

Then, turning to the man, he smiled and added, "Uncle Ben, this is Dean." Hearing the name "Uncle Ben," Dean’s heart skipped a beat, his expression betraying a flicker of unease and alertness that he couldn't hide. The mention of the man's name hit him like a bolt of lightning, slicing through his thoughts and piercing the deepest corners of Dean Harrison’s memory. Benjamin Winston. The name echoed in his mind, instantly triggering a discomfort that made him feel like he was drowning in an unfamiliar yet deeply unsettling past.

SAM BLACKWOLF’S POV “Someone wanted her at the right place and at the right time.” The words couldn't leave his head. Dean's study had never felt so quiet. Shelves of old ledgers lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Every volume carried decades of Blackwolf history; births, deaths, military campaigns, trade agreements, prison transfers, council votes. Nothing entered these books without leaving a trail. Normally. Tonight, several of those trails had ended in empty spaces. Dean sat behind the broad oak desk with an open ledger before him. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms. One document after another lay spread across the polished wood, each marked with small notes in his precise handw