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hank-mcdankblade · 4 years ago

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I Know A Bottom When I See One Princess (Part 4)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary

Chapter 1: You and Dean have been pals for as long as you can remember, practically raised together. Are things still the same as you remembered when you reconnect with him after a couple years apart? Well there is one thing you see differently and you’re about to call him out on it.

Chapter 2: After you flirt back with Dean you start to rethink all of your life choices. Why did you flirt back instead of making fun of him? God it would be so much easier if you were just a genderless blob. Hopefully the new supernatural case a friend of your mom’s gives you will distract you from all this romance mumbo jumbo.

Chapter 3: You and Dean both start to realize your feelings are not what you both originally anticipated them to be. If only you two could actually talk like adults instead of bantering like childish 8 year olds. The case picks up when you see a certain someone’s name over every case, a certain boomer’s name.

Chapter 4: You and Dean do some sleuthing into Chrissy’s apparent death. After learning the truth your trip to Wendy’s/Jack in the Box gets interrupted by Chief douchebag. Rick takes the three of you on a nice drive to the mountains to introduce you to his daughter.

Word Count: 11,629 (R.I.P. my dudes)

Warnings: Swearing, Gore, Violence, Angst.

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The sun rose softly with hues of orange gracing the sky. No one should be up this early, early enough for the Matrix to glitch out where a road should’ve been. Ok it was like 9am and you both were being grumby children. Regardless, both you and Dean were suited up for the job today as fake reporters to go talk to that Chrissy girl. With your expert sleuthing, or rather just looking through the phone book, you found her address quite easily. Dean always wore his tried and true black suit. Other than his car, it was the only thing he actually invested money in. Meanwhile you tried something different today with a dark burgundy one. The last time you two had down time you made a trip to a fancy mall and got it. Dean was very close to convincing you to buying a gamecube, it was either the gamecube or the suit. One of you wasn’t very happy with the outcome of that shopping day, so he pouted for the entirety of the trip dreaming of playing Super Monkey Ball 2. But according to Dean you looked like Lois Lane in that suit so it all works out.

Despite the grisly murders that happened here, the town had a nice spot. The temperature was warm but chill enough for a breeze, with snow capped mountains hanging in the background creating the perfect picturesque scene for a post card. The air was fresh and crisp and pinched your cheeks awake. After around fifteen minutes of driving, you pulled up onto a hectic scene. Some curious neighbors waited by their windows to catch a glimpse of the chaos.

“What the hell?” You muttered as you twisted yourself in your seat to get a better look. There were three cop cars, an ambulance, and a team of forensics surrounding Chrissy Hamilton’s house. The lawn was practically ruined with how many people had stomped all over it. Some employees were walking in and out of the house while others stayed still in one spot. Two beat cops were standing near their car talking amongst themselves. Dean parked the car and the two of you started towards Chrissy’s house. The chatter grew louder with each step.

“Hey what happened here?” Dean nodded towards the door, quickly flashing his identification along with you to the authorities. The two beat cops standing in front of the driver’s side of the cop car turned to look at you both. They stared intensely at your identification before answering. It was above their pay grade to care about the hierarchy of information in the police department to question if you two were real.

“There was an accident here, Ms. Hamilton fell down her stairs and seemed to have broken her neck from impact.” The taller one explained. He looked like he was fresh out of the academy, hands situated onto his belt. More employees were running around the scene when in the background a familiar face caught your attention. Walking out of Chrissy’s house was none other than Rick Sullivan, Chief of Douchebags. His eyes darted everywhere and sweat poured out of his forehead like a really gross faucet. There would be no saving of his uniform in the washer, with how much sweat he produced he’d need to have it dry cleaned….You nudged Dean with your elbow, but his attention to the beat cops wouldn’t let up. As Rick Sullivan started walking towards his car you fit yourself in front of the two cops using them as shade. You subtly pulled Dean with you, leaning against the cool metal of the car door. You tried your best to look casual as your cover was being threatened.

“So it was an accident?” Dean asked. The two beat cops nodded.

“She could have tripped on something most likely, but the coroner will have an autopsy for us by the end of the day.” A click of a door sounded and Chief Sullivan was in his car. The pavement crunched under his tires as he backed out. Your eyes flitted to his position and yours, if he drove down in this direction he would see both your faces clear as day.

Clearing your throat as a transition, you clicked your heels against the road and walked around pretending to look at the house before tugging on Dean’s sleeve to follow you. “So did she live with family or alone?” Dean could tell you were antsy about something but couldn’t tell what it was. He followed your movements and turned his back to the house and faced the two cops again.

“She lived alone, has for years so it’s no wonder the accident happened.” The shorter one chimed in. He spoke of her as if the town knew who she was, like a stray cat.

“Who discovered the body if she lived alone?” Dean scribbled down all the info into a little notebook he bought for the investigation. He would never admit it, but he thoroughly enjoyed getting into a full costume.

“Chief Sullivan did.” Oh the one name you were hoping you wouldn’t hear.

“What made him go into the house?” You pushed further.

“Not sure, just said he wanted to talk to her about the newspaper article in The Denver Times and he found her like that.” Something clicked in your mind and things were starting to make sense.

“Hmm, ok well thank you. If we have any more questions then we’ll come find you.” Your hollow intentions were spoken through a fake smile. Your hand grasped Dean’s jacket once more and spun him towards the impala. Your partner eyed you curiously.

“Hey what’s up? I had more questions for them…” Dean pouted sticking his journalist’s notepad into his pocket.

“Rick Sullivan came out of that house, and he looked very nervous. He’s definitely more involved in this than anyone is letting on.” You stated as the two of you settled into the car to discuss more theories.

For the next couple of hours you and Dean had to keep a low profile while things settled down. There was no use in trying to sneak into that house when Chief Sullivan could hear about it from one of his lackeys crawling all over the premises, so you’d have to try after hours.

Once the clock struck five you rolled up to the police department. It wasn’t the hive of action that you believed it would be, so there would less people to lie to and ask questions. Hopefully the Prince of A-Holes was at home chugging a beer and complaining about liberals. With the confident flash of a fake badge. and a smile you two were led to the coroner’s office with ease. If there was one thing you two learned about faking the identity of feds, it was act like you belong there and nobody will question you.

There was only one person on staff. He looked up from a desk pushing his black hair out of his face and put his glasses down. “Can I help you?” A soft British accent curved the syllables of his sentence.

“Yes, Ms. Hamilton’s family hired us as private investigators.” With a change of I.D. both you and Dean were sporting P.I. badges and showed the nice man who were pretending to be this week. “We’d like to see the autopsy report.”

“Of course,” The tall British man stood up and walked to the table Ms. Hamilton’s body was lying. He picked up a clipboard attached to the table and handed it to you. Dean came around and looked over your shoulder.

Accidental Death Chrissy Hamilton contracted an infection in a cut from the bear attack in Grand Mesa National Forest. The infection caused her to experience dizzy spells and fatigue resulting in her falling down the stairs and breaking her neck.

Something in your gut constricted at this conclusion. The air in the room shifted as your disappointment grew stronger. “You’re sure that this is right?” You looked up from the report to see the young British man fidgeting in his spot.

“I wasn’t the one who did the report, I’m….still an intern.” The intern wrung his hands behind his back and adjusted his glasses again. Dean’s eyes were watching him intently, this boy was lying. He knew the look of a guilty man from anywhere.

“But, did you take a peak for yourself?” Dean said taking a step closer to the intern.

“Well….yes, but only because I thought I was supposed to! Chief Sullivan had one of his guys do the report, but I don’t think it’s right.” The intern went back over to his desk and sifted through some papers to find one hidden deep in a folder, red pen marks all over it.

“Don’t worry, we’re not gonna report you. We’re just looking for the truth like you.” Dean spoke softly as he took the new report from the intern.

Blunt Force Trauma

There is an unexplained gash in the back of the woman’s head and bruises on her neck that mimic the marks of strangulation.

The mark on her head would be from a hard object.

The neck breaking was done post mortem suggesting murder.

“I fucking knew it.” You muttered under your breath looking over the new report, rereading it to make sure your eyes weren’t lying to you. You shook your head and paced trying to put everything together. Dean knew you wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, so he quickly took a picture of the report with his phone and gave it back to the intern.

“Thank you for your help, we’ll be on our way now.” Dean flashed a smile and got your attention to leave. Your mind was fuzzy as you blindly followed your partner to the car. With all this evidence piling up against Chief Sullivan there was no possible way he wasn’t involved you just had to figure out why.

The next stop you two had on your errand list was to stop by Chrissy’s house to check the scene out for yourself. If Chief Sullivan had one of ‘his guys’ do the autopsy report, he most likely had one of ‘his guys’ inspect the house too. Neither of you trusted that man, so here you were parked three blocks away from the victim’s house dressed in dark clothes to match the night setting.

Dean made quick work of the lock. He got pretty good after years of experience and many close calls of getting caught my the neighbors. “You impressed yet?” Dean smirked at you and opened the door.

“Are you gonna say this every time we break in somewhere?”

“Until it works, yes.” You walked through the threshold into the empty dust cave that was Chrissy’s house.

“Jesus Christ, I feel like I could get lung cancer in this house…” You swatted some dust particles away floating in the air. The inner decor suggested that four clumsy grandmas lived here. These rugs probably belonged to Jesus’s disciples, and light fixtures from the Vanderbilt age.

“Where should we start first?” Dean asked setting the bag of goodies on the floor. He opened it up and handed you a flashlight and a spray bottle filled with luminol.

“I’ll take the kitchen fixtures and you start on the stairs?” You suggested. Dean nodded and headed towards the closest railing. The only light illuminating this dark museum of antiquities was your phone flashlights put on a low setting. Dean started from the bottom of the stairs and worked his way up. There were a few spots that glowed from the chemical reacting with the cleaned up blood. Unfortunately Dean didn’t find a mosaic of glowing lights, but rather a scarce Jackson Pollock painting.

In the kitchen you were fairing much better. You started with the appliances like the fridge and dish washer but came up with nothing. Lights started to shine when you hit the kitchen table. “Dean, I got something!” Dean followed your voice and saw a bright blue glow on the table, and what do you know it fit the same shape as the gash on the victim’s head.

“So what’s the plan now? Go to the chief’s house and bust him?” Dean leaned against the kitchen table and crossed his arms. You gathered your supplies and pulled out a fresh wash cloth.

“No, we don’t have enough evidence. The most we can do is go after the monster itself and deal with him afterwards. Hopefully get him to confess.” As much as it angered you that this guy was probably going to get away, you needed to be sure that he was the one who hurt Chrissy. After all, he might just be some crotchety baby boomer which wouldn’t be news to you. You handed Dean a wash cloth and got to cleaning up after yourself until the house was left exactly as you entered it.

The walk back to the car was quiet. You both had a lot on your mind and a lot of puzzle pieces to fit together. The only thing left you both needed to do was get the biggest order of fries and absolutely destroy them before passing out. With a gentle crank, the impala was alive.

“So, what’re you thinking? Jack in a Box or Wendy’s?” Dean asked pulling onto one of the main roads. The only light came from the posts on either side of the street, and a couple of porch lights from the quiet little neighborhood. The stars shined brightly away from the big city.

“I’m always a slut for Wendy’s.” Your words were cut short by the flashing of red and blue lights coming from every direction. Dean quickly pulled over confused as to what could possibly have warranted this action from the police. He was barely speeding and all of his head lights were still working. Nonetheless he stopped the car.

“Step out of the car with your hands in the air!” A deep masculine voice shouted. Fear crept up your throat as you complied. It wasn’t like you couldn’t take these cops, a measly bullet wouldn’t put you down forever. But you couldn’t risk Dean’s life. Unlike you, he was human and he could get killed a lot easier than you. For now you would play nice, but the second Dean was safe they would be turned into a bloody mess. The bright flashlights distorted your vision. Your eyes could only see the miniature suns they created. The faces behind them were a mystery but the voices were familiar.

“Officers what seems to be the problem?” They didn’t answer Dean’s question and opted to continue with the arrest.

“Hey! Watch it.” Hands grabbed at you and put your arms behind your back. A harsh push had you pinned up against the car while sir grabs a lot bound you with cuffs. You look across to see Dean serving the same fate. Two other cops opened the impala’s doors and started rummaging through it.

“You can’t do that without a warrant!” A hot anger was starting to burn a hole in Dean’s chest to see them handling his baby like this.

“All we need is probable cause.” That voice….was more familiar than the others. Out came Chief Sullivan, who seemed very pleased with himself. He looked to Dean, whose face was turning a new shade of red.

“And what probable cause is that? Were my hub caps too shiny? Maybe I was playing my devil’s rock music too loud for ya??”

“No maybe he’s just mad because he saw our liberal bumper stickers, and wanted to show us what his America is all about right? Show us some good old fashioned hospitality from the 1800s when you were just a young lad?”

“(Y/N), that’s very uneducated of you to say. The colonizers came over to America in the 1400s.”

“Oh you’re right how stupid of me to say, hey what was Christopher Columbus like? A prick? I bet y’all got along. Probably had a lot of time to bond while killing indigenous people and taking their land.” Rick Sullivan swore the lord was testing him today. He unfolded two pieces of paper and on them were photos of you and Dean from the last time you got arrested.

“Looked up your license plates and found some very interesting information on you two.”

“Was it that I was the only male cheerleader in my high-school? It’s actually very good for your health.”

“No it might be my arrest record from when I killed the president.”

“Oh shit I forgot about that!”

“Enough!” Dean and you looked at each other trying desperately not to bust out laughing. “Found that you two have a long record of credit card scams, identity theft, and impersonating the authorities. Bet we’ll find something real interesting in your car.” One of the cops popped out and was holding two black wallets.

“Chief I’ve got something.” You felt a sinking sensation in your chest start to form, this was going to be your whole night then.… Sullivan opened up the wallets and smirked to himself.

“Well would you look at that, Private Investigator badges. Funny, I didn’t find your registration in the system. Put them in the back of my car.” The Chief looked on you both with a smug smile. Normally this situation would have had worried you to the point of your hair graying. But at this point you and Dean had been arrested a couple times before and knew that lying low and sneaking out of the holding cell was a better bet than assaulting as many cops as you could, as much as you and Dean loved to do so. The two deputies walked you both to Chief Sullivan’s car and threw you in the backseat. The plastic vinyl of the interior was cramped, forcing you to fold in on yourself just a tad to fit. The yellow police headlights illuminated Rick as he talked to the two deputies.

“Do you think the dinky place they’re sending us to is gonna have a bathroom this time?” Dean quipped. You scoffed, shaking your head thinking of the last place in Louisiana that got the drop on you. Each time you had to use the restroom, one of the deputies had to go through the long process of making sure Dean was up against the wall to prevent escape, then unlock the door whose key was on a literal ring with at least 13 other keys that they had to go through one by one each time, then finally escort you to the restroom.

“For our sakes I hope so cause I think I downed at least 5 red bulls, I’m sure this place will be just as small town classic as the last one. Break out at night?” Dean nodded to you. This was just one of your many go to plans that you kept in your back pocket. Luckily with your strength, tearing apart metal bars wasn’t hard and made escaping quite simple since these places usually didn’t even invest in a security system claiming that they could do it themselves. The soft slam of the driver’s car door brought your attention forward.

“Hey can we stop at Wendy’s? We haven’t had dinner yet.” Rick glared at you and chose to bring the car to leave with a hum instead of dignifying your question with an answer. The car pulled onto the road smoothly.

“No, I’ve got a real special place for you two.” The edge of his tone held something beneath the surface of the water that pricked your stomach. Your eyes scanned over Rick, looking for any tell that would hint at what his intentions were. Whatever this old man had up his sleeve you were sure you could take it. If you survived eating gas station sushi, nothing could kill you now.

“Oh? Could it possibly be that fancy meat place Samba downtown? Heard they got Brazilian meats and I’m all about that.” Dean’s comment did nothing to change Rick’s expression. It pricked at your stomach harder. You shared another look with Dean and sat back into your seat expecting a long ride. Your gut told you to stay put. Your vocal chords itched to speak to Dean, just to whisper to him about what his thoughts on the situation were. But your brain was in control and knew better than to open your mouth when your warden was less than a foot away from you, so you stayed quiet waiting for the answers to your questions.

The two of you hadn’t spent too much time in Colorado, but you knew the layout enough to see that the Chief was heading out of town. The bright lights of the city were replaced with the lights of the stars and the moon. Headlights were few and far between and you were greeted by more elk than people. Mountains rose from the ground and blocked the outside world, almost creating a dome over the land. The scenery could no longer hold your attention and the itch in your vocal chords finally became too irritating to ignore any longer.

“So what’s with your obsession about bear attacks?” From the rearview mirror you could see a flash of anger in Rick’s face as his mouth twitched downwards. If it was going to be a long drive, you may as well get what you could out of it. At least this way you could possibly get some answers and annoy him along the way.

“No obsession, just doing my civic duties as a police officer.” Rick’s voice was low and and quiet. He was restraining himself greatly, veins starting to pop in his neck and face changing to a new shade of red. His eyes continued to stare at the road.

“Do you really believe that these are bear attacks?” Dean piped up leaning to the side to catch a better glimpse at the Chief’s face.

“There’s no evidence to prove otherwise.” Rick quipped, short and to the point. It sounded almost comfortably rehearsed. The man most likely testified in court more times than you could count.

“Now I think we both know that that’s not true.”

“And what are you proposing?”

Without missing a beat you stepped back in. “Maybe that you’re a little more involved with these disappearances than you’d like to admit.” You leaned forward, the temple of your head touching the back of the passenger seat. Rick smirked to himself, as if he’d told a joke in his head. Suddenly that all knowing attitude came back to him, like flipping a switch.

“If only you knew what really lived in these woods, you wouldn’t be putting your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Rick’s tension seemed to lift from his shoulders with every word he spoke. Dean let out a breathy laugh and rolled his eyes. If you had a dollar for every time you heard that sentence, the two of you could buy an entire Dance Dance Revolution Machine that you had wanted when you were kids.

“Oh really? Enlighten me then.” Dean requested with a sarcastically inquisitive expression. His shoulders were tense and hunched slightly as he leaned in more. The atmosphere of the tiny cop car was suffocating. It felt like every body in the car was taking up more space than necessary. Rick let his eyes be taken from the road just for a second to look back at Dean with a twinkle in his eye.

“You kids ever hear of The Grand Mesa Curse?”

You sighed. “Yes, extensively actually.” You blinked blankly at him.

“There’s evil that lurks in these woods, six feet tall and claws. A wendigo. Know what that is?” Rick paused for a moment at his own rhetorical question. “It’s a creature that used to be human, but changed once they resorted to cannibalism. It was thought that the man who consumed human flesh would absorb its power. Used to think all of this talk was nonsense…until I saw her.” You scrunched your brows together and sat back into your seat, piecing things together.

His daughter was on a camping trip and died.

He always had a hand in all the bear attack cases that happened at a specific time of year.

He was the one who found Chrissy’s body.

“Your daughter…” You muttered. Rick shook his head slightly banishing the awful memories from behind his eyes. The image of his now six foot three daughter, her skin stretched beyond repair over protruding bones with eyes that held no recognition for her father. He remembered in great detail the first night he saw her, barely got out alive. Rick would never get the scent of human flesh out of his nose, the sight of those kids’ blood over her hands and face. Yet somehow even after seeing all those horrible displays of violence he still loved her and protected her. If he kept covering her tracks, at some point things would go back to normal.

“She’ll get better, if I keep feeding her then eventually she’ll be fine.” From the sound of it, even Rick didn’t believe what he was saying. But he wanted to. Desperately so.

“You know she won’t-”

“SHE WILL!” Rick hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand as he barked. He had already come so far, he wasn’t about to let two little children take away what little family he had left. There was still a little bit of hope left if he kept lying to himself and everyone else. “And neither you two or that Chrissy girl will ruin this for me.”

A sour feeling was starting to settle in your stomach. It was almost sweet how much work he was putting into keeping his daughter safe. Normally you would feel for a parent losing their child, but unfortunately in his situation, Rick already lost his daughter. Seeing a monster wear his daughter’s face destroyed any chance for him to accept that there was no trace of her left in that gaunt body. He failed her in this life that winter years ago, he refused to fail her ever again.

As you traveled further into the mountains, snow started to accumulate on the windshield. The mountains had their own world. The night was pitch black and snow more piercing compared to the environment in the suburbs. Even the trees seemed to curl out like a hand waiting to grab unsuspecting travelers.

Something started to feel off. You fidgeted in your seat trying to find a comfortable spot to no avail. It felt like a lightbulb softly pushing at the back of your head, warming the crown of your hair and shooting down your spine and all throughout your bones. This feeling grew stronger as the Chief continued to drive. You grimaced as the lightbulb dug further into your brain aiming for the center of it. You knew this feeling all too well, your biological radar spotted a monster nearby and they were getting close. This one felt strong. The car stopped making your back softly hit the back of the seat.

Outside the safe haven of the car you couldn’t see five feet away from you without the blank canvas of snow distorting your vision. The wind pushed the car back and forth every couple of seconds ever so slightly, as if you were still on the road. Rick pulled the collar of his jacket up and braced himself. He opened his door and stepped outside.

“What the fuck do we do?” You sputtered out to Dean, eyes wider than usual.

“Well I assume we’re about to meet his daughter, so my only suggestion is to not get eaten.” Dean said testing the strength of the handcuffs around his wrists.

“Thank you for that Captain Obvious.”

“You’re Welcome Lieutenant Sarcasm.”

Before you had a chance to respond, the chief opened up the door with a gun pointed at Dean’s face. “Let’s make this easy why don’t we? Get out of the car. We’re gonna do this one at a time.” Dean took in a shaky breath and slowly stepped out of the car, leaving you alone in the back seat. He shut the door with his foot and got his balance back in the snow. Rick nodded his head to the side signaling Dean to keep walking. The snow crunched under his boots and gathered in between the grooves of his shoes. His neck was exposed to the cutting temperature, the wind only served to slice his skin deeper. Regardless, he marched onwards until an opening in the mountain showed itself. There were signs warning against entering the tunnel, explaining that the cave could collapse or that it’d been dangerous for decades to go inside. The wooden blockade had been damaged and eaten away by weather and insects over the years. It looked barely strong enough to be holding itself up.

The threshold was uninviting, light not escaping the cavernous mouth creating a shield of darkness. Dean blindly walked forwards, carefully stepping over the bumps and grooves of the floor. An orange glow started to illuminate the walls, exposing the roots and rock in the walls. “What do you think your daughter would think of you sacrificing people to her?” Dean spoke up. This was a last ditch effort. If he wasn’t able to talk Rick out of this he wasn’t sure what other option he had. Last time he went up against a wendigo he barely got out alive, and that was with equipment. He had nothing this time around, and to make matters worse his hands were bound.

In Dean’s head about 18 tabs were open and at least one of them was playing music but he couldn’t tell which it was. He was flipping through all his plans A through Z but most of them depended on either you coming in at the last second, or for Rick to be a complete bumbling idiot and easy to fight even while handcuffed. Dean’s stomach tightened at his next thought.

The thought that he might not actually make it out of this one. Of course his brained tricked him into believing that this would play out like a B-list action movie where everything would turn out perfect and everyone would be saved. His body felt manic, electric. This feeling was sadly familiar to him.

Rick stayed silent for a moment and slowed his pace to use more energy to think. “Lydia would find a way to understand.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah cause the ends justifies the means doesn’t it Machiavelli?” Rick pressed the gun into Dean’s back.

“Just keep walking.”

~~~~~~

You watched as Rick lead Dean away. Your body slowly shifted into the seat your partner had recently occupied, his heat still captured in the fake leather. The angle of the window did you no favors to see them, the snow not helping either. The cold glass chilled the first layer of the skin on your cheek. Once they disappeared from sight you leaned back into your seat and stared at the metal around your wrists. You took a big breath into your lungs and pulled back and away with your elbows. The sheer force of your strength ripped the chain like day old bread, the ends of the chain that broke sharpened to a point.

You put the pad of your thumb on the hinge of the handcuff and pushed until it popped under the pressure and slit in half, releasing your hand then doing the same to the other. The metal didn’t do much to the skin of your wrists save for mild redness. You made some circles with your hands before moving to the next task at hand, the locked car door. The posture of your body and processes of your mind gave into the demon within. The look in your eyes and crack of your knuckles was that of a skilled hunter, a predator coming to defend their territory. In moments like these it was easier to let the Slayer side of you take over, hand her the reigns and guide you through this.

In order to get the job done you had to put everything aside. Nothing mattered except getting the mission completed. Thoughts of your mother, your childhood, Sam, or even Dean, could trip you up and possibly effect your reflexes or technique.

Your emotional shield hardened, ridding your thoughts of the possibility of Dean getting eaten or hurt.

You positioned yourself to face the passenger door in the backseat, arms stabilizing you behind and knees bent. Your feet were pressed against the handle of the door. With a grunt you mustered up all the pent up anger that boiled within and kicked it. The door flung open, the frigid temperature rushed into the back seat. You sped walked to the trunk of the car and popped it, pulling your hair out of your face as the wind whipped it around. The contents within were a first aid kit, jumper cables, a bullet proof vest, a shotgun, a couple of road flares, spare handcuff keys, and a pair of bolt cutters. You fastened the bullet proof vest onto your chest, stuck the road flares and extra set of keys into your pocket and picked up the shotgun. It wasn’t much, but it would do. Your eyes landed on the opening that Dean disappeared into and walked towards it.

It was business time, and there was one motherfucker you still had to take care of.

~~~~~~

The air of the cave was thick with moisture and made Dean’s clothes stick to his skin. Little drips of water and pebbles moving in the background made his ears perk up. Every little sound made him pull his arms closer to himself and tense up. Those tiny sounds could go unheard and would be the difference between life and death if they were Lydia. He hadn’t seen any signs of her existence yet, but he was sure that was about to change soon. The longer he could prolong that moment the better.

Rick silently lead him deeper through the mountain’s tunnels, taking lefts and rights at random intervals it felt. Dean tried his best to create the maze in his head, he wouldn’t be able to use landmarks since every part of the cave was identical. Every couple of feet another low powered light bulb was strung from the sides of the cave wall. There was a sliver of darkness between each set of lightbulbs. As they continued walking, Rick’s footsteps slowed even more until he stopped altogether. Dean turned around waiting to see his next move. They were in a more hollow part of the mountain now, somewhere near the edge of it Dean guessed from the moonlight that peaked out from the cracks in the ceiling. The light shined down and poured into the cavernous drop to his left. Rocks created the path in front of them, the wall of the cave gave little space to walk as close as it was to the drop off.

“Ok so what now?” Dean looked around.

“Nothing, for you at least.” Rick spoke putting his gun back in its holster. He stepped forwards and grabbed Dean by the sleeves of his shirt. In the flurry of motion Dean lost his balance, moving at the whim of Rick’s motion. His feet flew over the ledge of the drop as Rick flung him down into the cavern. With a grunt Dean landed on his back on the hard ground. It felt like all the air was sucked out of his lungs. Three different vertebrae throbbed in sync with his heartbeat. From the scrape of the ground the hunter already knew that he was bleeding in several locations. He took a second to lay there in agony glaring up at Rick as he walked away.

“Have fun chatting with Lydia, I’m sure you two will have a lot to talk about.” His voice echoed with a smile.

“Bastard…” Dean’s attention was taken away from the pain in his upper back, but rather spread to all the muscles connected to his spine as he attempted to get up. Every tiny movement from his arms sent shocks of pain through his muscle fibers straight to his spine. He grit his teeth as he rolled over to his side, hand coming over to brace himself. The tiny rocks on the cave floor embedding themselves into his hand meant nothing to him. The room spun around and shook Dean’s head around. “Fuck…”

~~~~~~

Your eyes scanned every new inch of cave you took in at a rapid pace with laser precision. Anger and rage heated up your skin. You walked with heavier determined footsteps, strutting your way into a new disaster. The change in your demeanor surged your forward. Upon hearing movement up ahead you dipped into a crevice in the cave wall, squishing your body between rocks awkwardly that dug into your skin and poked at your bones. A memory surfaced like a vision from your childhood of playing hide and seek with Sam and Dean.

Footsteps, those of boots, drew nearer. Your eyes stuck to one part of the wall until a pair of khaki pants walked right past you. They followed Rick as he walked blissfully unaware of his surroundings towards the opening of the mountain. A list of techniques you could use to snap his neck came to mind, your fingers itched to wrap around his throat. Your mother would be so proud to know that you actually paid attention to her lessons if she felt human emotion.

Once the footsteps faded into the distance you dislodged yourself from the rocks in the wall and brushed off any residue. The cold air snuck between the layers of your clothing sparking a shiver down your back. You crept on further, silencing your feet and breathing deep into your chest. A shuffle below you caught your attention. You crouched closer to the ground and kept your body close to the wall to get a better look at the culprit. The minute you saw a flash of green flannel you stood up.

“Dean!” Your knees hit the edge of the drop off hard making small abrasions in your jeans and skin, but you didn’t care. “Are you ok?” The slayer mask was forcibly ripped off of your face. The heated rage in your skin was replaced with an icy shake. You kneeled to the ground and peered over steep drop. The little drop off looked like a ravine with Dean at the bottom just waiting for a rock slide to bury him.

“Yeah…Chief of Douchebags pushed me over. Think his daughter is down here.” Dean limped over to the drop, grimacing as he felt his muscles move. You dug your knees into the rock as much as you could, the fabric of your pants tore open by a sliver. The palm’s of your hands slid down the drop, stretching down as far as you could to grab onto Dean. Dirt caked your skin and was ground into the grooves of your hands. God you were almost there, you elongated your back to try and give yourself some more length. Quick short breaths made your chest rise and fall with each burst. Your lips were parted, the walls protecting your true feelings were open and released a high pitched quiet whimper. Dean reached as well, his boots pushed back gravel and dirt. His shirt caught on some of the rocks poking out as he tried to get closer, but your fingertips had about twelve inches between them.

“Shit…I don’t think I can get you out. Can you climb out?” You sighed frustratedly retracting your hand. Dean shook his head taking a step back. He stared up at you into your eyes that sparkled with sadness. You were deep in the sky with the distance between you two. It was like he was reaching to touch a star, an untouchable ethereal being who no one deserved to be in the presence of.

“No, I can’t get a good grip on any of the rocks…” Your heart and brain were battling over what to do. Your heart wrenched at the thought of being separated from Dean in such a situation. How could he possibly fight against an entire wendigo, opposed to half of one…, with no equipment or help? The thought of leaving these caves alone made tears prick at your eyes. Dean wasn’t faring any better. Looking up at you made him feel helpless. A part of him was more disappointed in himself than upset about the situation itself. More times than he’d like, he felt like the Daphne.

“Maybe there’s another opening we can meet up at.” You spoke, undoing the velcro of the bullet proof vest and tossing it down to Dean, along with the road flare, shotgun, and extra set of keys. As bleak as everything seemed, he was grateful to as least have some protection against the situation you two got yourselves in. He started with the handcuffs and made quick work of them. Dean settled the vest over his body and road flare in his pocket, settling to hold the shotgun himself. A sick feeling bubbled in the hunter’s stomach. What if there was no opening and he’d just have to make peace with his new rent free cave apartment?

“Uh…yeah. We can do that.” Dean looked to the ground intensely looking at nothing in particular. There really weren’t any other options he could take at this point. If you two used the shotgun to pull him out, there was no telling if the gun would accidentally go off hitting one of you. It wasn’t going to be a fun or quick time, but Dean would just have to find another way out. He turned his attention back to you, still kneeling above him. The two of you had a moment of silence looking at each other. This moment shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, but there was no use in moping around when there was something that you could do.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be ok? I could join you down there.” You offered with a sad smile. Dean shook his head mirroring your face.

“No, I’ll be ok. I’m a strong boy, I’ll find a way.” He did his best to show you a genuine smile.

“Ok…then I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” With a sad wave of your hand, you pressed onwards.

Dean saw your shadow disappear into the cave. He looked to his left and started walking. His back felt a little more supported with the vest so at least that didn’t add to his problems. The cave seemed to swallow Dean whole as he stumbled through the darkness. Lights were strung up in this part of the cave as well, but many of the lightbulbs were broken or smashed. The more he followed this path the more broken and messy it became. Shreds of shirts and various articles of clothing littered the floor. A crunch underneath his boot made Dean stop. He slowly picked up his boot and saw a pair of glasses missing one of the lenses.

The path lead into an opening. The floor was a dark shade of red mixed in with the dirt. Bone fragments stuck out from the ground. Some of them were distinguishable bones, while others were merely shards of a previous body, a previous human, a past president of the being alive club. Leaned up against the wall were three decomposing skeletons. Their skin was a wrinkly grey, eyes sunken in and stomach cavity empty. Bigger bones were piled up around them where Lydia must have fed. Dean couldn’t pick out if these bones were all from the same bodies or if they were mixtures of bodies over the decades. Instead of mulling over that question in his brain he decided to keep walking.

~~~~~~

The cave’s cold air rushed into your lungs with a labored breath. Your eyes, cheeks, and mouth twitched and flickered in a sporadic pattern. Inside your mind a horrific theatre played out all the terrible scenarios of Dean meeting his demise. The wendigo could rip his heart out, eat him alive, or maybe that bastard of a cop would march Dean right up to his daughter as a delivery. At this point the only positive thing you could do was find Lydia yourself before she found your partner. You dug your hands into your pockets, feeling a candy wrapper and a paper clip you had yet to throw away still housed within them. The temperature was dropping steadily leading you to believe that an opening was nearby.

Wind grew stronger the more you continued on your path. You picked up your walking speed to a jog. Gusts of air whipped your hair around. The snow was thick and plummeted to the ground silently and was illuminated by the moon. You prayed that Dean found a way outside. The only sound to be heard was the blizzard whistling through the tree leaves, but other than that it was like a sound proof box trapped you in silence. The white trees looked like they went on for miles.

“(Y/N)!” A muffled voice screamed your name out in the inky blackness of the night. Your ears perked up and eyes narrowed. “(Y/N) where are you? I think it’s close!” It was Dean’s voice in both tone and color. You stalked closer to the source of the sound, walking so slowly that you felt your joints getting caught against their sockets. The thick snow packed underneath your boots with a crunch creating a map to your location. The lightbulb feeling reemerged and twisted inside your brain. Your shoulders lurched forwards as an unnerving feelings gripped onto your bones. Your face twisted.

Whatever was hidden in the forest was not your Dean. The voice was getting louder and started to yell. You dug into your back pocket and took out the road flare. Every shadow created looked like it took shape to move forward to you. You pushed forwards ignoring the feeling of the lightbulb digging deeper and your heart pumping in your chest. Your index finger hovered over the trigger, itching to pull it but you only had one shot. The source of your discomfort was moving. You moved your head in an attempt to keep track of it, but it was too fast to keep track of. One second it was on your right, but the next it was on your left. Had you been a normal human this monster would have you right where they wanted you.

Before you had time to fully process it, the wendigo ran at you and dug its claws into your shoulder. You flew back into a tree hitting your ribs and knocking the air out of your lungs. The road flare flew from your grasp and buried itself into the snow. In front of you was a seven foot five being. It had gaunt features and skin that stretched over the bones leaving her hip bones completely revealed and stomach cavity empty. This must have been Lydia.

You imagined her hair would’ve been a blunt short cut with bangs had it not been patchy and balding. She had a puffy vest on that had dark stains on it and stitches missing from its seams. White fluffy stuffing poked out of the holes in the seams. The pants she were wearing hung off of her hips and boney legs. They looked more like capris with how they road up on her long legs.

The wendigo rose its right hand and swiped down at you. Its claws scratched at the bark as you rolled to your right and shot up barely noticing the cold ground that stuck under your finger nails as you got up. Without sparing a thought you started to run. Lydia followed close behind, her claws almost touching your back. She put in more effort to keep up with you, not used to humans running this fast rivaling the speed of a car. The hunger surged her forwards. It was her guiding star and the only thing that mattered. Always craving something and someone with no end in sight. There were no thoughts in her head except for her next meal and you were standing right in front of her.

A small thought wondered if you were going to be able find your way back if you managed to survive this. All the trees looked the same like a wallpaper covering a room. The pattern was the same. All these possibilities clogged your brain. Is Dean ok? Would you get out of this? If you died what would happen to Dean? In general you couldn’t bare to think about what Dean would do if you died anyway. If you were being honest you knew that he’d go off the deep end with no one to catch him and pull him back. John was nowhere to be found. Lord knows your mom would never come help unless there was something in it for herself, and Sam was off at Stanford wanting nothing to do with any of you and wanting to leave his hunting past behind. He’d be completely alone. Left to his own devices with only the instinct to kill to take care of his pent up aggression.

The temperature was freezing the snow underneath the top layer. It caught onto the soles of your shoes mid thought. Time froze as you watched your body surge forward, hands out to brace your fall. Lydia had no problem with traction. She reached out in your absence of distance. Her claws tore through the fabric of your clothes and ripped the top layer of skin in a slash. A sharp pain pinched at your nerves and flared up all over your back, scratching out the prophecy burned into your back. Chunks of skin and muscle splashed onto the white snow coloring it red. The sensation in your upper back shoved the memory of the day you were called upon as a Slayer back into your mind. The burning. The disapproving looks from your mother and pity from John. The way Sam and Dean looked so confused and scared as to why you were screaming. The way your body never felt the same after that day. The disintegrating relationship between you and your mother. That was when it all started.

Your heart beat along with the bpm that of a dance song, in time and growing in speed. Before your hands felt the soft bed of the snow and before Lydia’s claws could latch onto your spinal columns, a metal snare snapped down on the wendigo’s ankle yanking her back and easily grabbing onto her gray skin to reveal off white bones. A high pitched screech echoed out of her throat. You joined her with a whimper, hitting the ground and rolling back onto your feet with the agility of a gymnast. Everything was moving past you in a blur and you had to act quickly. That snare could only hold her for so long.

Your feet carried you past Lydia searching for your road flare. You searched for any familiarity in the forest to no avail. The mountain was your only guide back. Nothing in the snow gave way for your road flare, the snow was getting heavier. No doubt that it was already covered. Fuck this you had to get to Dean. The pounding in your chest grew stronger, the opening of the cave you had previously come out of was in front of you. Your footsteps changed to a soft crunch to the clack and click of the rock cave. The string lights showed a shadow that climbed up the walls.

“Dean!” You ran into your partner. Dean was wearing the bullet proof vest holding the shotgun. You felt instant relief knowing that he made his way out. Dean felt quite the opposite. His throat tightened seeing your bleeding wounds. He should’ve been there. “Are you ok?” Dean’s eyebrows scrunched together, eyes looking directly into yours.

“Am I ok? What happened to you?” Dean’s voice was low and dangerous. You took a moment to catch your breath and pull him into shelter.

“Well I met Rick’s daughter, she kinda sucks.” You offered a small smile. Dean shook his head and softly rolled his eyes. Your antics weren’t going to distract him today. His hands gently held onto your arm to inspect the gashes. His thumb brushed over the rip in the fabric to the skin underneath the break. A sinking pit formed where his heart was. Mother fucker every time you got hurt he was somewhere being helpless. Somewhere he shouldn’t have been. You had never been able to count on anyone in your life not even your own flesh and blood, Dean wanted to be the one person you could always go to for help. But he was never in the right place, always dicking off somewhere you weren’t.

“Yeah she seems like a real peach. Lemme see your back.” Dean put pressure on your shoulder to turn around. Your nerves shot up, making you snatch his wrist with a tight grip. Dean looked up confused, unfamiliar with this touch from you. He was about to respond when you interrupted him.

“No! It’s fine- I’m good. Nothing’s gonna help me at the moment til we get back to the hotel. We should just find Lydia, kill her, and go home.” Dean paused for a moment, lips forming a small pout. Something seemed off about you, but now wasn’t the time to press. Once you two got back to the hotel then he could talk to you. After the call of The Slayer you had changed. You were more reserved and weighed down by self doubt. Even when it was just the kids you could never truly relax because at any second you could be pulled away from them to be in training with your mom at whatever local gym was in your area.

Your mother spent the bulk of your childhood beating off The Council of The Slayer. The only way she could truly prepare you for the world you were supposed to fight was to train you herself to the discipline of that of a drill sergeant. If you were born to kill evil you were going to do it her way. Your mother didn’t trust many, if any at all, but she would never trust The Council. It was the one thing she did right as a parent. The Council would never get their hands on you and she was determined to keep it that way. She was hard on you for a reason, among many bad ones, but the most prominent reason being that she would rather train you herself then let somebody else do it. You had to be strong enough to fight against the forces of evil and The Council.

What a grand fuck you to your mother it was when you joined them after high school.

The Council was an organization centered in England made up of Watchers. Generally The Watchers were tasked with finding and training The Slayer. Dean had only seen a Watcher once. It was in high school when you were waiting for him to pick you up. Sam was about twelve padding behind you when an unknown man in a suit came up to you. He spoke to you about the supernatural and how you were the chosen one to fight it. Dean swooped in to scare the guy off before he was able to finish his sales pitch. He never really knew much about Watchers or The Council as they were a very secretive group, but he did as much research as he could. Dean didn’t want you to have to face this alone. He never found out why your mom hated them so much, save for her abrasiveness to new people. Dean only got his answer when you found him in the middle of Montana. You came straight to him seeking a familiar face, your only source of comfort.

You looked tired, exhausted, like your body hadn’t gotten the chance to sit down for a century. Yet you still greeted him with a smile when you found him at a local bar. The first five minutes felt surreal, like a figment of Dean’s imagination to have you sitting here next to him after years of silence. It broke his heart the day you left, one by one everyone left his life to go find something better. Sam left for college, you left to escape your mother and join The Council, and John…. Well John was nowhere to be found and at this point Dean couldn’t force himself to care.

Dean thought of those years with John/by himself as the dark years. You two tried to stay in contact but it wasn’t the same. You explained at the bar everything that had happened when you left. Even hearing Dean’s voice reminded you of your less than perfect childhood. You still had moments of guilt for cutting him out. You wanted a fresh start where nobody knew who you were or what you were, but little did you know that it would catch up with you anyway. Originally you wanted to go to college, figure out what you wanted to do with your life and see what happened. You had even made a couple of friends, had a relationship. It didn’t last too long because the supernatural found you.

Once your new normal friends found out the truth, they couldn’t see past what you were at face value. Just a branch of demon. They cursed your name for the knowledge your life forcibly thrusted upon them. They didn’t want to know the secrets of the world, content staying in the Matrix. After that you gave up on living a normal life. You dropped out of college and disappeared into The Council. It was sort of like a job. You had a room in their compound, a place to train, and odd jobs around the world to take care of. It was nice for a little while to not be shunned for what you were. If anything they were ecstatic. The first few years were good, but over time they treated you less like a person and more like a tool.

They had complete control over your life, what you ate, how you spent your time, who you saw. This found family was turning into a cult. You had already left one overbearing mother, you weren’t about to let yourself get into a toxic relationship like that ever again. In the middle of the night you packed the bare essentials and set out to find Dean, following other hunter’s knowledge of his whereabouts like a signal. He could’t be more grateful that you found him, nursing a drink pondering his existence and why he was put on this Earth.

“Not to break up a beautiful moment, but shouldn’t you be at the bottom of a ravine?” The two of you turned to see Rick with a gun pointed at you. You pushed Dean behind you and stood your ground, eyes narrowed and unmoving. “I don't know what you are missy but it was a neat little trick you did to get out of my car, but none of that matters now.” Rick stood tall with a cocky smirk. He just had to finish the last step and he’d never have to see you two ever again.

“Better put that gun down before somebody gets hurt.” You spoke. You could feel Dean shuffling wanting to get in front of you.

“Oh I don’t think I’m too worried about that.” The clanking of chains got louder from behind you, dragging on the rock floor. Dean looked behind him. Lydia’s form came into view, limping on her right side where the snare was still wrapped around her ankle like a bracelet.

“Shit….” Dean muttered tightening his grip on the shotgun. The road flare was in his back pocket, but if Rick saw him reach for it there’s no telling what he would do. You were caught in the middle of an insane cop and his monster daughter. If Dean shot at her, Rick would shoot at you…

“Same time?” You asked Dean. He nodded. In a flash you hooked your right hand into Rick’s gun knocking it out of his hand and clanking to the ground. Dean pulled the trigger aiming at Lydia’s head. The slug hit her in an instant making her screech so loud the walls shook. You took a hold of Rick by his shirt and threw him into Lydia.

“Lydia it’s me! It’s Dad!” Rick screamed as Lydia’s claws came closer to his throat. She tore into his body and splattered red painting the rocks. Lydia held no remorse for her actions digging deeper into her father’s body. Dean threw you the shotgun and took hold of his road flare. Without sparing a thought you held up the weapon and unloaded on Lydia. Flashes of bullets sparked in the cave. Lydia tossed aside Rick and turned her attention to you.

“Dean shoot it!” The hunter raised the road flare and pointed it at Lydia’s stomach. The flare launched out of the orange gun in a burst of red light hitting Lydia right in the gut. Her hands dug at the fusee in her stomach wailing in pain. The flare started to consume her clothing and burned orange. You continued to use every slug in the gun before you were empty. Lydia jerked around and fell to the floor as the fire grew larger using her body as a vessel. After a couple of moments of silence, Lydia stopped trying to move.

“Think she’s dead?” Dean asked.

“Yeah….I think.” You said not wanting to get any closer to the wendigo.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

~~~~~~

You and Dean let the body continue to burn, it eventually caught onto Rick as well. The two of you slowly made your way back to the car Rick brought you in. No doubt that his police goons would recognize the car. Dean took driving responsibility and got you guys back to town in one piece. He dropped the car off at an abandoned Blockbuster store parking lot a little out of town. The rest of the way you two walked, knowing if you got an Uber that there would be a lot of questions. Thankfully baby was still there parked in front of Chrissy’s house. The leather seats were a warm welcome after all that crazy shit.

The minute you were in the hotel you all but ran to the bathroom to look at the damage you sustained with a spare shirt in hand. The LED bathroom lights hurt your eyes as you flipped the switch. You shuffled in front of the mirror and shucked off your coat. The ruined item plopped onto the floor, blood dripping off of the rips and onto the white tiled floor. Your shirt joined it soon after. The only thing left was the thick white bandage you wrapped around your torso like a binder to conceal the brand on your back. Slowly you reached around and pulled your hair to the side.

You strained your neck to inspect the slash, it pinched in pain as you turned your body. It was already healing up thanks to your Slayer abilities but it was definitely going to need some stitching if you were going to be on your feet soon. Unfortunately you would need help if you were going to get stitches.

…..ya know on second thought maybe bleeding for a couple of weeks wasn’t so bad

“Hey you ok?” Dean’s muffled voice came through the door. You look at wound again and put a fresh shirt on.

“Uh, yeah I’m fine…” You opened the door slowly. Dean rose an eyebrow not believing a damn word you were saying.

“Let me see your back, it looked pretty bad in there.” You ignored Dean’s request and slipped past him to go to your bed.

“It’s fine, I’m ok.”

“(Y/N), there’s blood coming through your shirt just let me help.” Dean tried to hold onto your arm. Your heart started to beat faster as he pushed further.

nonononononono

“Dean I’m fine.” Your face twisted in discomfort.

“No you’re not, why are you being so weird about this?”

“I’m not being weird!” You raised your voice stepping back again.

“Then show me your back!” Dean’s volume matched yours.

“No because you’ll see it!” Your chest was heavy as you looked at Dean. He tilted his head not quite understanding what you meant. You eyes were watering, tears threatening to spill over. You couldn’t look at Dean now. Your eyes looked at every inch of the room where he wasn’t. You were mentally preparing yourself for the talk you were going to have and the inevitable disappointment and resentment he would hold.

“See what?” He softened his voice again. The air in the room stopped moving, it felt like it was filled with styrofoam. A small choked whimper escaped the prison of your throat, two tears trickled down your cheek. You couldn’t do this again. If anybody else looked at you like your mom did the first time she saw it you didn’t think it would matter, but Dean? He was the last shred of family you had left. If he saw the prophecy burned into your back he would dump you like last weeks trash on the side of the curb without a second glance.

Usually Dean was a very open minded guy, always willing to hear somebody’s opinions and thoughts on a matter. But with demons and monsters his first instinct was to kill. It was never to ask them why they did the things they did or to try and help them. It was kill first ask questions later.

“The scar….I’m sure you’ve read about it, but when a Slayer gets called they get branded.” The sentence tumbled out of your mouth before you could process it. The truth needed to come out now. Rip the bandaid off. “You’ll know what I am and hate me just like my mom did.” Dean felt a pain in his chest.

“Sweetheart, I already know what you are. And I still love you, just let me help you.” Dean took a small step towards you, gauging your reaction to his distance.

“But you don’t, I’m a demon.” Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes harder than he ever did in life.

“That is the biggest load of horse shit I have ever heard.” Dean crossed his arms and stood still.

“Dean a Slayer is infused with the heart, soul, and essence of a demon. Doesn’t that make me a branch of demon?” You questioned. He furrowed his brows, lips pulled down as he took in what you said.

“No? No.” Dean shook his head refusing to believe what you said. He waved his hands in the air to clear the slate. “It doesn’t matter what you are!”

You raised your eyebrows, holding back a sarcastic laugh. “Oh so there are exceptions? There are good monsters?” Dean flared his nostrils and glared at you.

“No, the only good demon is a dead one. No demon would ever or has ever done anything good.”

“Well then why am I a good demon? Why are you so quick to change your views? You’re contradicting yourself. You can’t just pick and chose which principles apply to demons.” For a moment you forgot about the scar and took a step towards Dean. He ran his rough palms over his face and pushed his hair back.

“Because I don’t care what you are! I don’t care about what the council of dick bags says you are, I don’t care what your mom thinks you are or what anybody thinks you are. Demon or not I still fucking love you, you moron. I. Don’t. Care.” Dean closed the gap between you two, toes touching on the cheap carpet. You looked away, another tear slipping out.

“If you see it….you’ll look at me the same way my mom did.” You swallowed thickly, releasing a shaky breath. Dean put his hand under chin and tilted your head up. He wiped away the tear with the pad of his thumb across your cheek.

“Impossible.” He said tucking your hair behind your ear. “Now let me stitch you up before the news paper has to write the dumbest obituary ever.” You chuckled with him not yet moving from your place. You wanted to savor this moment, save the memory of how it felt to be this close to him so you could replay it when the inner voices of self doubt snuck into your brain at night.

“Oh yeah? What would it say?” Dean didn’t move either, still looking down at you.

“Stubborn Bitch Bleeds out to Death in a Skeezy Motel that has Definitely Given People STD’s before Because She was an Idiot and Didn’t Let a Handsome Mystery Man Help Her.”

“That’s far too long to be a headline.”

“Shutup and get on the damn bed.”

“You’ll never make it as a reporter.”

_____________________________________________________________________

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