#「dean winchester / answered ic 」 course there's nothing more dangerous than some asshole who thinks he's on a holy mission.

[aligantia]

character tags:「 dean winchester 」

[percywinchester27]

About a boy (Part-8)

Word count: 4.7K

Warning: Suspense, feels, physical abuse, child-trafficking and bullying

Characters: Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Benny, Michael, OCs and… Sam?

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?

A/N: I’m sorry this part is so delayed. Life got to me in a not so nice way. I will try my best to be better from now on <3

All my love to @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​​​​​ and @deanssweetheart23​​​​​ for beta reading this story <3

About a boy masterlist

“Sometimes I think that some of these kids dye their hair,” Will muttered, kicking a stone out of the way. “There can’t possibly be that many brown haired boys.”

“You have brown hair,” Cas pointed out mildly, feeling sympathetic towards the boy.

“But my name isn’t Sam!” Will exhaled, attacking another stone. 

The two of them were walking back from school. Dean had waited back for some extra class, and on the way out Cas had bumped into Will, who had been in a dark, brooding mood. Only now did he know that it was because of an abundance of dark haired boys.

“I feel like I’m disappointing Dean,” Will admitted. “But I swear there isn’t another Sam on the floor, unless some kid is hiding his real name for whatever reason. The only other thing Dean gave me to go by, was that Sam has brown hair. But that is most boys.” His voice was full of despair. 

“You’re being harsh on yourself, Will,” Cas soothed, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder. “There isn’t much to go on here and Dean knows that. He isn’t going to be disappointed.”

“I had to do this one thing, and I’m wretched at it,” Will moaned, seemingly not having accepted a word of what Cas had said. 

He is used to always having a solution, Cas thought. Will attempted math Olympiads for fun. He was smart enough to fuse out the fire alarm system. He was the sort of boy who was used to getting solutions for his problems, answers for mysteries, and now that he couldn’t figure this one out, it was bothering him. But there was also one other thing. Will was probably used to being self sufficient. He had always made his own bed and clapped his own back. Now, there was Dean.

Cas realised, Will looked upto Dean. The way he hung on to Dean’s every word like it was a gospel. How he glowed when Dean lightly made fun of him, teased him or even called him a dumb-ass. Behind Will’s disappointment was his inherent desire for praise, and not any praise, but Dean’s praise.

Cas felt a deep pang in his stomach, a swell of empathy. He had seen so many kids yearn for attention, for a drop of love in this place where everyone was lonely together. Will was no different. He’d never had anyone to appreciate his intellect. Lots of parents would have sold their souls for a prodigal child like Will. But here he was looking for acceptance from a boy who was looking for something else, someone else.

With a heavy heart, he said, “We’ll keep looking, Will. We’ll find Sam.”

The boy looked up, hazel eyes round, the question in them clear as the day. Who is Sam? But he didn’t ask. Maybe something about Cas’s expression made it clear that he wouldn’t answer. It wasn’t his secret to tell anyway. Besides, he had no business dragging a kid into this. Especially a kid residing on the 4th floor. Cas shuddered.

Will cast another look, but didn’t talk for the rest of the way back.

*****************************

“Damn it!” Dean cursed as he stumbled over a rough patch of land. It had been three days since the fire alarm incidence and he could only barely manage to walk by himself. Of course today had to be the day when the calculus teacher extended the class. Ordinarily, Dean would have ditched in favor of having a steady support in Cas to walk back, but he paid attention in calculus. After all, he had promised to help Will out with it. So much for that crazy kid’s expedition to champion math! Which was why Dean took meticulous notes and for that, he had to wait back.

Apart from having to stumble all the way back, Dean didn’t really mind walking alone. Cas had been hovering over protectively over Dean at all times, worrying that if he was left alone, Michael’s goons might ambush him and finish what they started that night. As it turned out, Cas needn’t have worried at all. All his fears had been put to rest when the Principal had called Dean and Cas and asked about their bruises. Apparently, the nurse had made a formal request to the principal to look into the matter. Dean hadn’t given names, but the word got out and the said gang of goons started skirting him. It had still taken a quarter hours reassurance to get Cas to leave without him. 

Now his legs ached, his lungs screamed in protest. I’m experiencing old age at fifteen, Dean thought wryly as he pushed the gate of bell stone open. He heard the voices before the scene around the corner met his eyes.

A woman’s voice was echoing in the yard, high and poignant and authoritative. The familiarity and hope of just seeing someone he knew had Dean running despite the pain shooting up his foot. He wasn’t wrong. 

There she was standing tall and thin, with short brown hair, and the sheriffs uniform crisply cutting a formidable figure before him. Even though her back was to him, Dean knew it was her.

Jody.

He started rushing towards her, then abruptly stopped, the realisation hitting him like a block of ice. No one knew that he knew Jody. He couldn’t just barge in like that and blow his cover and their plan. The sight of her induced such homesickness, Dean staggered to the tree next to him, falling back against it for support. He felt like his legs might give out anytime. 

Even if he did meet her, what was he going to tell her? He’d made no progress when it came to the Stynes. Jody had put all her trust in him, risked arguments with authoritative people to get him in and he had nothing for her. He had no clue about where all the kids were disappearing off to. Shame and guilt flared up inside him and he lowered himself on the ground, disappearing completely from her line of vision.

He had disappointed her. 

“Officer,” someone cleared his throat. Dean recognised Andy. He sounded uncomfortable and scared. “It wasn’t really my fault, you see.”

“Not your fault?” Jody thundered. “Locking up kids like that on floors? And don’t you lie to me, I saw the grills myself.”

“They’re old, rusted and just there, doesn’t mean we use them,” Andy stuttered. He was much taller than Jody, but right now she seemed to tower over him.

“Do you take me for an idiot? I rolled one of those down, and for iron so rusted, it sure slid down smoothly.”

Despite the reeling shame, Dean wanted to whoop out loud. Jody was one of the smartest people he knew, and badass. Andy was in for it.

“We searched the whole place thoroughly, and those kids live in horrible conditions,” she said. “This place is a living hazard. You call it a boys home?” And what of the left wing?” she pressed, disgusted.

Dean dared to raise his head above the shrubbery just a little bit to peer into the opening. Jody was standing along with two other police officers, all of them in uniform. Andy was just a few feet away, visibly displaced, and Garth was hovering in the background, for apparently no other reason than to provide staff support to Andy. Garth seemed disinterested in the exchange and was fiddling with the dials on his walkman.

“The left wing is not in my jurisdiction. It’s always locked up. It doesn’t belong to the orphanage.” Andy’s voice was reedy.

Jody put her hands on her hips. “Really?” There was a dangerous edge to her tone. “And you don’t have the keys.”

“No,” Andy lied through his teeth. That asshole. 

If Dean had had any reservations about whether or not Andy knew what was up in this place, they were shattered right then and there. He was in this with the Stynes.

Jody turned to the police officer next to her. “Alright, Andrew, we’re breaking in.”

“Do you have a warrant to search the place?” Andy questioned. Dean swore under his breath. This man actually had the audacity to act superior. Dean tried to raise his head further to get a better view, to see the expression on Jody’s face. His foot slipped and fell back on the ground with a crash.

“Who’s there?” Andy said sharply.

“Shit!” 

“Get up,” Jody ordered, and Dean, after muttering a few more choice words, staggered to his feet and raised his hands. “It’s me.”

Andy’s face turned red, the suppressed anger making its appearance. “Winchester!” he bellowed, “What the f-... hell are you doing there?”

“I-I fell down,” he said hurriedly. “Was coming back from school.”

“From behind the bush?” It was Jody. “Higgs, what’s this boy doing here?”

Dean noted with detachment that he’d actually never known what Andy’s last name was. He avoided meeting Jody’s gaze.

“Look up!” Jody ordered, and Dean did so; slowly.

It was there for a split second, but Dean saw it in her brown eyes as they widened. A complex emotion; a mixture of relief, tenderness, pain… and then horror… anger.

“Higgs.” Jody’s voice was low, but it was so full of anger, loathing, that Dean backpedalled. “What the hell,” she said, seething, “happened to his face?”

Andy looked at Dean properly for the first time and paled. The angry red patches on his cheeks disappeared quickly. “I-I don’t know,” he said, running a hand across his face nervously. “You know how they get sometimes. Boys will be boys.”

But Jody was having none of Andy’s shit. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled his face to her level. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t drag your ass back to the station for allowing child abuse.” She looked dangerous, and Dean truly understood why everyone with ill-intent back home ran in the opposite direction when they saw her car. 

Dean knew she couldn’t actually haul Andy to the station. This wasn’t her area of jurisdiction. This was just part of her case. And even if she could get the local PD to do this, it threatened their whole operation. Sniffing police interference, the Stynes might completely move their base. Children would keep disappearing and Dean would lose his only chance of finding Sam.

Andy stammered a mumbled explanation as Jody pushed him roughly. Dean didn’t hear a word of what Andy was saying, for Jody had turned to look at him, and Dean braced himself for the disappointment in them. Not only had he failed her so far in the operation, he’d managed to get his ass kicked spectacularly, too. In fact, his bruises were better now, light purple to yellow in some parts and the swelling almost gone in others. 

When Dean looked up, Jody had squared her shoulders to face only him. Her eyes were blazing, though not with dismay or any hint of let down. There was only regret and pain there and so much worry that Dean felt he would drown in it. 

He was reeling. Suddenly he was standing in the front space of Bobby’s house, Jody looking down at him not with anger but worry when he’d first rigged a car. The day when he’d caught Bobby and her sitting on the porch steps and how hastily she had withdrawn her hand from Bobby’s when she’d seen Dean walk towards. He remembered the sun light squinting off the wooden table and how she had been nervously running her fingers along the edge of the table when Bobby told him they were seeing each other. Jody who was never nervous, only scary, had cared about what Dean, who wasn’t even Bobby’s son, had to say about their relationship. 

Dean remembered all the times she had driven by early so she could drop Dean off at school when Bobby was out of town. he had hated being driven around in the sheriff’s car. It was like announcing ‘don’t be friends with me, I know the sheriff.’ He’d barely ever spoken a word to her then. Suddenly there had been casseroles on holidays and real food on the table on Sunday mornings, instead of whatever mix Bobby put on the table in his hungover state.

All the sneaking around, whispers that were quieted too quickly so it wouldn’t make Dean awkward. The hope in her eyes when he sipped the coffee that she had made on mornings that she’d stayed over. She would almost always get it wrong by adding sugar, when Dean liked his black. Only now, after he had lived in this hell hole, did he realise the sort of luxury he’d had. He was no different from all the boys living in the orphanage. His parents were as dead and cold in their graves as the others’. But unlike them, he’d always had a room of his own, no worry where his next meal came from. He’d had gruff ‘good mornings’ from Bobby and shenanigans in his garage. And unexpectedly, softness from a woman who made her living by being firm.

Tears burned at the back of Dean’s throat and he blinked rapidly, still unable to take his eyes off of hers. Of course there would be no disappointment in those eyes… only care and… love. Jody’s eyes shone with unshed tears of her own, and he could see her desperately trying to get a grip. 

“I got punched at school,” Dean said through a thick throat. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault.” He fervently hoped that behind his words, she heard what he truly wanted to say. It wasn’t your fault, Jody. None of this is. Please don’t pull me out of here. For the both of us.

She had wanted this one win in that male dominated department where she was better by ten times than any idiot. And he wanted… no, he needed to find Sam. He stared intently back at her, willing her to understand. At long last, she nodded. A quick jerk of her chin.

“Alright,” she said hoarsely. Dean hoped that the others interpreted it as anger. “Get going then. Next time I hear of you breaking into fights, I’ll admit you to a juvie myself. You get that?”

Dean nodded.

“Off you go,” she ordered in what was supposed to be a stern voice. Then, she very deliberately raised her hand, as if to shoo him off, and pointed it to the side of the orphanage. Even though the main door was right in front. Something glinted off her finger as it caught the Sun, and Dean caught his breath. It was a thin gold band, plain but solid, resting on the second finger.

He had to bite his lips so as to not betray a reaction.

She widened her eyes. GO.

Dean turned on his heel and headed towards the side she had pointed towards, completely bypassing the main door. In the distance he could hear Jody ordering Andy and the others off towards the left wing, even if just for the heck of it. Leading them away, he realised, away from him.

He increased his pace and turned around the corner. Dean rarely visited this part of the ground. Mostly because there was an old barnhouse there that totally creeped him out. Once upon a time, when the orphanage hadn’t actually been an orphanage but a handsome, inhabited manor, the barhouse used to house actual animals- poultry, horses and pigs. Now it was just as dilapidated as the manor house if not more. The timber girders were sagging under the dead load of the disrupted roof. The planks that made up the walls had been eaten into by termites, and cobwebs adorned the facade extensively. Of course it gave Dean the creepers. Of course he’d never even been slightly tempted to go in. But as he inspected the barren building, he noticed, to his surprise, that the door was ajar.

Dean knew the barn-house was used as a storage for things so old that even the Orphanage didn’t want it inside, which was saying something. Dean and Cas often joked that the only use it would be would be if they used it as kindling and set it on fire. At least one night wouldn’t be so cold anymore. The trepidation he felt as he stepped inside the threshold now, was very real. 

Inside, everything was at least five times dustier than what he thought it would be. And so much darker. Silhouetted against the broken furniture and wardrobes was a man. He was wearing plaid underneath a thick flannel jacket and a baseball cap. Scruffy beard covered his face. A face with all too many frown lines, but laugh lines around his eyes. A face that was more familiar to Dean than any other.

Before he knew it, Dean was bounding forwards till his face was pressed against the soft cotton of the man’s shirt.

“Bobby!” Dean let out a strangled dry sob. 

It was too much. The weeks and weeks of living in this hell house, the constant fear for Sam, of not finding Sam, all came crashing down. Then there was that other feeling, one that almost made him feel ashamed. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d say it was a feeling of… belonging. But how could he belong to this place? He hated every brick of the orphanage. A place that caged children. His Sam... Cas and Will. Maybe the belonging wasn’t with the place… but with the people.

“Hush,” Bobby said gruffly, patting Dean’s shoulder. Dean noticed that his voice was thicker than usual. Bobby cleared his throat. “It’s alright, my boy.”

Dean didn’t want to let go of Bobby. Not just because he had missed Bobby terribly, but because he’d never actually ever hugged Bobby like this. He didn’t know what to expect when he pulled back. 

When he did, there was only fierceness in Bobby’s eyes. Fierceness and fear. Not unlike Dean’s own fear for his brother and friends. A disjointed part of his mind wondered if love and fear were always this connected. And how it had taken him a trip to this goddamn place to feel both of those emotions so viscerally.

Bobby was still looking down at him, his lashes were wet. Dean had to look away.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked.

Bobby shrugged. “I heard about the fire from Jody. I-I was worried.” he hesitated, then added. “I needed to know that you were fine. I know you’re… well, you’re scared of fire.”

Dean had never said it, but Bobby was there in the early days when Dean even flinched from the stove fire. 

That still didn’t answer the question.

“I mean, what’re you doing here?” Dean gestured to the out house.

Bobby cleared his throat once more. “Sneaked in. Had to see you. I had to beg with Jody so I could tag along. Her only condition- no one could see me.”

“Jody!” Dean suddenly remembered, then threw a finger towards Bobby. “You’re getting married?”

Bobby shuffled from one foot to another, almost looking nervous. “Yeah. I had that ring made for a while now, since before you left. And I meant to ask you before asking her… but she found it in the back pocket of my pants and well, the damn cat was out of the bag.”

Dean stared. 

Romantic proposal was one thing. He hadn’t really expected Bobby to put on fairy lights around the house and fill the front yard with rose petals, but the proposal could have been more than her accidentally stumbling upon the ring. Dean wanted to shake his head indulgently at Bobby’s complete and utter lack of romantic timing. Maybe Jody liked that sort of spontaneous thing. Who knew? 

There was something in Bobby’s words that stopped Dean from acting upon his amusement.

“You said you wanted to ask me?” Dean asked flatly.

Bobby looked even more nervous if that was possible. “It is your home, Dean. I wanted to ask you if it was alright with you.” He looked at Dean with a worried expression.

This time Dean really did shake his head. “Bobby, you crazy old man,” Dean laughed. “Of course I’m happy for you. Jody is a badass.”

Bobby’s eyes softened, and his shoulders relaxed. “She wanted you to know, too. Said it didn’t count as engagement if you weren’t in on it.”

The tears had just subsided, but Dean’s throat burned with them again. 

“Bobby,” he said, his voice rough. “You getting married to Jody would be the best damn thing to happen to our home.”

Bobby beamed. His whole face lit up, and for a second Dean could almost feel the homely warmth of Bobby’s kitchen in the cold, dusty barnhouse. Then Bobby’s smile slid.

“What’re you doing here, kid?” Bobby asked, his face screwing up in his classic frown. He always tried to look annoyed when he was feeling something, Dean remembered fondly. “Come home. The place feels just like an empty car dump without you annoying my gourd,” he said pointing to his head.

Dean wanted to smile at Bobby’s attempt to lighten the tone, though it didn’t take a keen eye to see the wetness of his lashes, hear the gruffness of his voice.

“Sam…” Dean started.

“Sam’s… Sam’s a ghost story, Dean!” Bobby almost gasped, as if he’d tried too hard to not say those words, but they had escaped him anyway. Dean’s heart seemed to crack just a bit. He could see that Bobby loved him. Like his own son. But for Bobby, Sam was still his friend’s son, who was lost. He had no connection to Sam whatsoever. 

All these years, through hot grizzly afternoons and through cold shivery winter nights, that blood bond was what had kept Dean awake, picturing horrors that might have been happening to his brother who was still out there somewhere. Who knew? Maybe waiting for his older brother. Dean had held on to it, steadfast, never giving up. But somewhere through the years, Bobby had.

Dean didn’t begrudge Bobby the non-attachment, but if only he understood that finding Sam was the purpose of life for Dean, especially now that there was a ray of hope, now that he was so close to discovering the truth.

Perhaps Bobby understood too well, because he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t have said that,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. I just worry about you.” His eyes roved over Dean’s face. “Look at all of his,” he gestured vaguely at the bruises. 

“It’s nothing, Bobby,”

“Exactly!” Bobby pointed out. “It could get so much worse.” But something about Dean’s look made Bobby’s shoulders slump. It was clear that Dean wasn’t going to give up on this.

With a resigned gesture of his arms, Bobby turned around and produced a wooden box from behind. The box wasn’t ornate but, the rosewood exterior had a pristine quality to it, as if the box had been in existence since a long, long time.

“Here.” Bobby’s voice was heavy, and his eyes had that look… the one that made him look older than he was. “Take it.”

“What is it?” Dean asked, running his fingers over the rough exterior of the dark wood. 

Bobby didn’t answer, and Dean clicked the lock on it. The lid opened easily enough. Inside was a collection of mismatched things. There was a small knife, a little charm bracelet, a figurine of a peaceful looking baby angel and among other things a bundle of photos. Images after images of his family… of faces that he was afraid he was beginning to forget. Photographs from his parents' wedding, in front of their lawn, from his childhood, dad hugging mom in front of a sleek black car.

“Your dad loved that thing,” Bobby murmured, but Dean barely paid attention. He was hungrily flipping through the bundle, his hands shaking. At the very end, there were pictures of a small baby, clicked in a series. Small chubby hands held out, rosy cheeks, light brown hair and a laugh that seemed to reach out of the picture itself. 

Dean didn’t know whether to simply keep looking at the picture- because at this point his eyes were simply devouring it- or shut the box, just so he could control his feelings, get a grip on his wildly failing heart.

“Where?” he stammered, shutting the box as the later instinct won. “Where did you find these?” Even to his own ears, Dean’s voice sounded strangled.

“I’ve always had them,” Bobby said, then gauging Dean’s outrage quickly added, “I wanted you to move on, Dean. When you first came to live with me, you didn’t talk for half a year. It was like living with a shadow. I didn’t want you to get lost in the past and never resurface from whatever goddamned dark depth you had fallen into. And then when you started talking, and it looked like you were finally going to get a childhood, I didn’t want you to lose yourself in a false hope.”

“So you never gave these to me?” Dean glared. He could feel the blood rising to his face, his fingers balling into fists.

Bobby squared his shoulders. “Damn right I never gave you those. And I won’t feel sorry for hoping that you’d give up on the crazy mission to find Sam. You were just a kid, Dean. You still are, and from what I knew, I truly believed Sam was lost.” His voice cracked.

Just like that Dean felt all the anger leave him, his body deflating. Suddenly he felt tired, bone weary. His legs gave out from under him and he collapsed onto a dusty trunk. What was the point of being mad? It was not like Bobby had kept his childhood from him. Dean still had his mother’s picture by the side of his bed. His dad’s first sawed off and baseball glove on the wall. He’d always had mementos to remember his parents by. The only things new were Sam’s pictures. And what was even the point in blaming Bobby. All he wanted was to help Dean. Besides, Bobby had left no stone unturned in his time to find Sam.

“Why are you giving this to me now?” Dean asked, head bent low, all energy simply draining out of him.

Bobby lowered himself to Dean’s level, hand back on his shoulders, “Because now it might actually help you.”

Dean couldn’t help himself. He flung his arms around Bobby once more. This was more hugging than maybe all of their time together, but Dean simply didn’t care. “I can’t wait to be back,” he admitted, his voice muffled against Bobby’s shoulder.

Bobby chuckled dryly. “Can’t wait to have you back either, kid.”

After a moment he let go, patting Dean’s back in quick succession. “You still remember about the pager, right?”

Dean nodded, now slightly awkward. “I’ll send out a flare if there is ever an emergency.” Secretly Dean knew he wasn’t going to do it until he found Sam because that would mean an immediate rescue and permanent goodbye to this place.

Bobby gave him one more hard look, then nodded and walked out of the barnhouse. Goodbyes weren’t really his thing.

Dean knew that they couldn’t have left together, too much risk, so he waited for a few minutes, then slipped out, too, the box clutched tightly in his hands. He felt both lighthearted and also awfully homesick at the same time. So lost was he in his own feelings that he never noticed the shadow move from the side of the barnhouse where it had been lodged for a while now, and come face to face with him.

Dean ran headfirst into the wall of black, then staggered backwards.

“Benny!” he said, surprised as he looked into the shadowed face.

Benny’s face looked impassive, his eyes however were narrowed. “That police woman looked like she wanted to smother you in hugs.Your old man looks pretty solid and caring and alive. Care to tell me who is this Sam you’re looking for, Winchester?”

******************************

A/N 2: Please do tell me what you thought of the chapter? I live for comments!

If you wanna be tagged, please send me an ask

About a Boy taglist:

@sdavid09​​​​ @deanssweetheart23​​​​ @blacktithe7​​​​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​​​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​​​ @chalicia​​​​  @anathewierdo​​​​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​​​​ @protectteamfreewill​​​​ @firefly124-writing​​​​ @spnbaby-67​​​​ @hoboal87​​​​ @rizlow1​​​​ @donnaintx​​​​ @starmission​​​​ @gh0stgurl​​​​ @tftumblin​​​​ @emily-a-c11​​​​ @ericaprice2008​​​​ @jotink78​​​​ @charliebradbury1104​​​​ @ohgodwhybloggg​​​​ @i-dont-get-cold​​​​  @bobbie3939​​​​  @samsexualdeancurious​​​​ @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba​​​​  @cookiechipdough​​​​ @wildfirewinchester​

[roxy-davenport]

Turning My Tear Drops Into Death Threats

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,993

My beta: @raspberrymama 

A/N: This was written for @mrs-squirrel-chester’s Album Challenge. I picked the album, “Ash & Ice.” This was written for the song, “Let It Drop” which is sixth on the album. The lyrics are in bold and the flashbacks are in italics. Angsty and sassy.

You woke up with such a start; you almost fell off the bed. Why was your alarm so damn loud? And why did you think waking up at 8 am when you had no work, was such a bright idea? Groaning, you went back to sleep and what happened? Your handler called you. It was one of those days. What was the saying, “No rest for the wicked?” Groaning you pulled your phone out and clicked “answer,” barely conscious. Your hair fell in front of your face muffling your voice. Your cheek was squished into the pillow as you mumbled, “Hello.”

 “Well don’t we sound chipper this morning?”

 “Mmm… is it a job?”

 “In fact, it is.”

 Slowly you sat up with a smirk on your face. Your voice still a little gravely from tiredness.

 “Who's the target?”

 “I’m not sure you’ll want to do it.”

 “Do I have to guess?”

 “Dean Winchester.”

 That had you out of bed in seconds, fury in your eyes.

 You give me the shakes

You give me the cold sweats

You're giving me reasons to turn my tear drops

Into death threats

 You're going straight to machine

So I kiss my brothers

I never took off my chains

They never took my colors

  “Wow that was-.”

“Great sex, yeah it was. Becoming a demon was one of the best things to happen to me. It’s been fun but-.”

 “You’re pushing me out?”

 “Demons don’t snuggle sweet cheeks.”

 “All you do is sing karaoke horribly and have sex. What are you kicking me out for? What is so damn important?”

 “Dean I-.” Crowley stated.

 “Oh, even better. The King of Hell gets to see me naked and he’s still looking?”

 Crowley clears his throat trying to look anywhere but your body. You grab your clothes hugging them around yourself.

 “Anything?” You were hoping that Dean would continue talking to you. Maybe even tell Crowley to leave and I don’t know? Care a little? But Demon Dean only cared about himself, clearly.  He was all hearts and roses to get you in bed and once he came, your usefulness was exceeded.

 “We’re finished here, Darlin’.”

 You grabbed your clothes and ran out of there like you’ve been shot. You missed your caring and sensitive Dean. The one who made love to you and didn’t just threw you down on a bed and have his way with you. Sometimes after a tough job you needed a little rough handling. Marks and bruises reminded you that he was yours and that you were alive but today you didn’t want marks. You wanted love. He was always so cold. You wanted your old Dean back but it looked like he was never coming back.

 “Where and when?” You asked your handler.

 You had shed enough tears for Dean.

 “That was fast. I thought you were-.”

 “What exactly is the job?

 “The offer is from someone named Crowley for three million.

 “Crowley?”

 “Yes, he said you’d know him and that his men were unreliable and inept at carrying out his orders.”

 “I see.”

 “Yes, well he wants us to kidnap Dean and bring him back to his brother. How messed up is that? All that money to kidnap someone.”

“If you knew how dangerous Dean was you’d understand. Consider it done by the end of the day.”

 You hung up before you handler could ask you any more questions. You didn’t want to think about anything else but the task at hand. Now Dean was a task. It helped to think of him like that. You never told him what you did so you had the advantage. He would underestimate you. He thought you were a hunter but you weren’t. No, you were the person they sent in when hunters and demons lost hope. You killed people, saved people, kidnapped others, stole things, got dirt on people, helped lawyers win cases, etc. You tried to stay out of the moral questions and do you job.

 Take 'em on in the morning love

I'm digging deep for my midas touch

We could be chasing the waves

I know it isn't much

Let it drop

Let it drop

Let it drop

People don't make it easy

Let it drop

Let it drop

People don't make it easy

Let it drop

 You walked in happy that he had texted you after all this time only to find him kissing the bartender. Not only was Demon Dean an ass but apparently he was also a cheater. Fan-fucking-tastic. You threw a glass at his head. Sure it wouldn’t kill him but it would sure as hell get his attention.

 “Well hello there, lover. And who do we have here?

 You could smell her from here. He was cheating on you with his own kind, a demon. Their black eyes bore into yours. You just raised your eyebrows. Was that supposed to be intimidating? Please. Amateurs. They should have seen how angry you were. How your tears drops had turned to death threats. Nothing could assuage you. They shouldn’t have tested you.

 “Y/N.” Dean said mildly assumed, the corners of his lips turned up in a smirk.

 “It remembers my name.”

 “Why are you here? I thought I made things pretty clear.”

 “Are Demons usually stupid?

 The female growled. She growled at you. Oh, she had to go. Dean wasn’t hers. Truthfully Dean wasn’t anyone’s.

 “You texted me, Dean.”

 “I did no such thing precious.”

“Well I got a text from you so if you didn’t do it. Then…. did you do it Crowley?

 It was so silent in the bar that you could hear a pin drop.

 “I wanted you to see what Dean is now and -.”

 “I saw what he was before. But now I can add cheat to the list of his wonderful attributes. Hey Bitch,” you yelled, turning to the demon woman.

 You raised your gun and shot her dead with the only demon-killing bullet you had. You had to trade a ridiculous amount of stolen occult items for that. You postured like you were tough but really you had no more ammo and a hell of an angry Dean staring back at you. You smirked at Crowley and Dean and walked right out of the door speeding off to your hotel. Dean looked for you of course, but you’ve been doing jobs since you were 17. Being invisible was your specialty - otherwise you’d have gotten caught a long time ago.

 You knew you would eventually have to face him again and today looked like the day.

 Isn't it strange

The way you move me so

You love me with hot hammers

And then your blood runs cold

For my next trick

Gonna be like: where she go?

Make an exit

like adios amigo

It got too complicated

Cool it down and refrigerate it

We could be lassoing the stars

But people don't make it easy

 You went to the magical black-market. A witch owed you, which gave you access to the special key you needed to get in. You wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible. Word on the street was there a powerful witch by the name Rowena around here and you really didn’t want to get in the middle of whatever she was doing. Plus, you kind of hated witches - you never meet one that wasn’t evil or a megalomaniac.

 You drove all day not stopping for anything other than to eat and relieve yourself. You drank coffee and Red Bull to stay awake. You got here on four hours of sleep; at 11 PM outside the very fucking bar where you shot his female demonic “associate.” Some men never learn.

 Let it drop

Let it drop

Let it drop

Let it drop

People don't make it easy

Let it drop

Let it drop

Let it drop

People don't make it easy

Let it drop

Let it drop

Let it drop

Let it drop

People don't make it easy

 You walked in like a sheriff in the Wild West, your boots echoing on the polished floor. Of course, Sam was there telling his brother some touchy feely I-can-save-you, I-love-you shit. You glared at Dean and both men felt the tension in the room rise. Then all hell broke loose. Some idiot human burst in throwing knockout gas into the room complicating everything.

You acted fast ignoring Dean and making sure that Sam got out. You ran to him and nearly dragged the behemoth outside. You quickly checked to see if Sam was okay and then walked around to the dumpsters. Great, the stupid human thought he was a match for Demon Dean. All you saw was a lot of posturing, threats and a hell of a lot of punches from Dean. Was Dean really worth saving? Was there anything to save? You reached behind your leather jacket and shot the human in the neck was a tranq dart.

 Before Dean could react you grabbed your gun and shot a devil’s trap bullet into his shoulder. He stared at you in shock as he slowly slumped down. You looked over and saw that Sam was a little groggy from the smoke. You couldn’t leave Dean so you’d have to stay here and make small talk until Sam was good to go.

 “You shot me.”

 “You’re getting slow in your old age Dean.”

 “You’re not a hunter, are you?”

 “You never loved me, did you?”

 “When did you become so feisty?”

 “Right around the time you became a dick.”

 “I do have an amazing dick.”

 “I’ve had better.”

 You got a lot of satisfaction from Dean’s angry look and his growl.

 “If you can’t love-.”

 “Demon’s don’t love.”

 “I didn’t finish did I? Anyway, if you can’t love then why are Sam and I still alive?”

 “You make life interesting.”

 “I know old Dean loved me and I loved him very much.”

 Dean raises his eyebrow but says nothing.

 “Does the new and improved model feel anything for me?”

 You looked at Dean carefully trying to look for any crack in his perfect facade but you didn’t see any. The Mark was more powerful than you thought. Well, that was a bummer. The world didn’t need anymore assholes.

 “And we’re back to this again. Look, you got an incredible body and you feel amazing but-.”

 “You’re an ass. Good to know. Everyone’s stuck with the newest crappy model. I have no idea why Sam has any illusions. Is the old Dean even in there? He should just kill you and save the world more heartache

 “Oh come now. We had our moments.”

 “One of my top moments with you was killing your girlfriend. I’m so very sorry you had to use your hand for how many nights? How long did it take to replace her?”

 “Four days.”

 “Wow. Four whole days. You are losing your touch. My Dean could have gotten a girl the next day.”

 You heard Sam’s footsteps approaching the both of you.

 “There’s nothing left to save Sammy,” you call out behind you as you grab Dean’s wrists and put them in devil’s trap handcuffs.

 “Where did you get those?”

 “I’m a resourceful girl.”

 You nodded to Sam quickly putting on your sunglasses to hide the tears at losing Dean all over again. You wished you could remember the happy times but the cold cruelty of Demon Dean wiped out all the good memories leaving the painful ones in their wake. You should have killed Dean, but through all the rage and anger that you hid with sarcasm, Sam deserved a family. After everything that he had been through, he deserved a happy ending. You had to let go of Dean but the anger, the death threats swirling in your head, well they would do nicely for your new assignment two days away. You had to kill a faction of demons next.

 “Chicago here I come.”

Tagging

Forevers: @purgatoan, @killerofthesouth, @charliebradbury1104, @chaos-and-the-calm67, @chelsea072498, @everday-supernatural-af, @kalliravenne, @toogardenenthusiast, @winchesterprincessbride, @one-shots-supernatural, @take-me-tonirvana, @hellsmother, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @faegal04, @deals-with-demons, @mamaredd123, @atc74, @hamartiamacguffin

Dean Folks from my list: @buckymetallicstump, @faith-in-dean, @bennyyh, @ruprecht0420, @supernatural-jackles, @jesspfly, @webcricket

@aprofoundbondwithdean, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @dr-dean, @nichelle-my-belle, @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid, @thegreatficmaster, @salvachester, @blushingsamgirl, @bkwrm523, @whispersandwhiskerburn, @lipstickandwhiskey, @impala-dreamer, @samsgoddess, @frenchybell, @scorpiongirl1, @for-the-love-of-dean, @jelly-beans-and-gstrings, @fiveleaf, @deansleather, @curliesallovertheplace, @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname, @waywardjoy, @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious, @kayteonline, @supernatural-jackles, @idreamofhazel, @wevegotworktodo, @ilovedean-spn2 , @quiddy-writes, @wi-deangirl77, @deantbh, @mysaintsasinner, @chelsea-winchester, @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki, @fandommaniacx, @teamfreewillimagines, @deanwinchesterforpromqueen, @castieltrash1, @supernaturallyobsessed, @memariana91, @writingbeautifulmen, @captain-princess-rose, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @idreamofhazel, @revwinchester, @supermoonpanda, @ageekchiclife, @i-dont-know-how-to-write, @vintagevalentinexx, @ohwritever, @ruinedbydestiel, @winchester-writes, @mysupernaturalfics, @thinkwritexpress, @sammit-janet @bowtiesandapplepie, @itsemmyb, @ezauraemmaline, @matteson-crazed, @castielspahdehrah, @charliesbackbitches, @crzcorgi, @gryffindorable713, @deerlululucy, @walkingencyclopediaoffandom, @MrsJohnSmith, @manawhaat, @growleytria, @thegleegeneration, @samtomydeanwinchester, @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki, @i-never-said-a-pilot, @thewinchestielboys, @supermoonpanda, @sis-tafics, @amaranthinecastiel, @kittenofdoomage, @samanddeanwinchester67, @prettyxwickedxthings, @ferferelli @lilyoflothlorien, @myfand0msandm0re, @olitzisbae, @iridianuniverse, @the-morning-star-falls,  @shortandlongstories, @strange-inhumanity, @ackleslaugh @noisilyyoungpuppy, @fangirling-instead-of-working, @eyes-of-a-disney-princess, @chrisatplay, @kayteonline, @spnsimpleman, @faith-in-dean, @gimmethepieandnoonegetshurt, @for-the-love-of-dean, @mamaimpala, @winchesterfiesta, @zanthiasplace, @sleep-silent-angel, @pada-ackles-reads, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @gadreelsforbiddenfruit, @trenchcoats-and-bees, @curliesallovertheplace, @jencharlan, @not-so-natural-spn, @skybinx-blog, @thebunkerismyhome, @feelmyroarrrr, @beachy2014, @fandom-book-nerd, @tia58, @sams-little-toy, @sunriserose1023, @saving-things-hunting-family, @winchesterswoonathon, @jotink78, @lucifer-in-leather,  @babypieandwhiskey, @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave, @supernatural-jackles, @avasmommy224, @angelwingsandsupernaturalthings, @mysaintsasinner, @chelsea-winchester, @spn-fan-girl-173, @besslincoln-bruh, @wheresthekillswitch, @shelovesallthethings @maraisabellegrey, @notnaturalanahi