#in case the memo was missed 10+ years back I am that freak about this boy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luci-in-trenchcoats · 7 years ago

Text

39 Hours

Summary: When the reader narrowly escapes a known serial killer, Detective Dean Winchester shows up to work the case before it goes cold. But can he catch the killer before he strikes again?...

Pairing: Detective!Dean x reader

Word Count: 12K

Warnings: language, kidnapping, violence, injury, mentions of murder

A/N: Gruff Detective Dean...oh how I’ve missed you...

“Miss,” said a gruff voice behind you. You didn’t pay much attention to it, instead focusing on looking out at the valley below, tugging the wool blanket around your shoulders tighter. “Miss Y/L/N?”

You ignored the man, hoping the paramedic or officer or whoever would leave you alone for one minute. You took a deep breath, the cold burning your nose, your mind wandering to the burning on the palms of your scraped up hands. He was grunting and you turned around sharply, glaring at him.

“Can I have one fucking second to myself for fucks sake?” you spat at him, no uniform in sight. He was in a navy suit, a scowl on his face, green eyes as hard set as his jaw was. His hair was short, whipped up and cute that didn’t match the grumpy features he wore. Maybe he was ex-military, certainly a cop but not one of the desk jobs you were used to around Valley Lodge.

“There, you had your fucking second. Now will you answer my questions so I can do my job and catch this guy?” he said. He squinted his eyes at you, looking you up and down. “You aren’t too injured from what I can tell so if you don’t mind, let’s skip the whiny victim bullshit and get down to it.”

“Chief!” you yelled, brushing past the asshole, walking across the cold asphalt on bare feet. “Chief Trent!”

“Y/N,” said an older man with a sigh, coming over to stop you in the middle of the road before you got to the taped off section. “What’s wrong? You’re safe now.”

“Who the fuck is that guy?” you said, pointing at the dirty blonde who was right on your tail, smacking your finger out of his face. “Ow!”

“Oh, it’s a pavement burn. Four year olds don’t complain as much as you,” he said, looking at the Chief. “Why don’t you explain to the victim why I’m here, Chief. Send her over to my car when you’re done.”

“I am not going anywhere near that guy,” you said. The Chief sighed and your shook your head.

“Y/N, he’s a detective. Dean Winchester. The guy that took you this morning...he’s taken others before. You got lucky getting away. The detective needs your help, Y/N. Besides, it’s Valley Lodge. You know we only have four officers and that we’re going to be swamped on patrols and working the scene. The detective is your protective custody until we can clear someone’s plate.”

“I just got away from a lunatic that wanted to do who knows what to me. Now you want me to go hang out with that rude-”

“Y/N. He’s not the most personable person in the world, I’ll give you that. He will protect you though and he needs your help. We all do,” said the Chief. “You’re not the only single young woman living by herself in Valley Lodge. He might go after someone else.”

“How long do I have to stay with him?” you asked, the Chief offering a sad smile. “Chief…”

“I’ve seen you survive worse, Y/N. Shit, this morning you escaped out the trunk of a moving car. A little grouchy big shot detective you can handle,” he said.

“What’s his name again?” you asked, the Chief fixing your blanket to tie it around your shoulders.

“Detective Dean Winchester. He’s an asshole but a good cop from what his supervisor says,” said the Chief with a smile. “He’ll take you home to get some things, probably stuff you in a motel room for a while after that.”

“Please find this guy,” you said, the Chief nodding, turning you around and pointing out the black muscle car. You sighed as you walked over, knocking on the window of the passenger door. Dean rolled his eyes and leaned over, pushing it open.

“Did you forget how to open doors?” he said as you climbed in. He was scanning over a file, flipping through the pages quickly before he grabbed his phone and started texting someone. “Jeez, close it so we can go already.”

“The Chief said I’m in protective custody with you,” you said. Dean grumbled and shoved his phone back in his jacket pocket, shutting the file and tossing it in the backseat.

“Yeah, not exactly what I should be doing so if you keep your mouth shut aside from when I’m asking you questions, we’ll get along just dandy,” he said, turning the key in the ignition, hitting the pedal and slamming your body forward against the dash.

“Ow! I kind of jumped out of moving vehicle earlier if you didn’t get the memo,” you said, rubbing along your sore arm, wincing as he slowed down around the corner.

“I got the memo,” he said, glaring at you, turning his attention back to the road down into the valley. “I also have 39 hours before this trail goes as dead as you should be so excuse me for not being concerned about your boo boos.”

“Maybe if you were a little nicer, I might be able to help you more,” you said, a sharp turn shoving your body against the door. “Anger issues much?”

“You are victim number seven. The other six are dead. You aren’t. I need to learn as much as I can as fast as I can before he either moves on to someone else or comes back for you,” said Dean. “So when I say I don’t have time for bullshit formalities, I don’t.”

“Alright,” you said, taking a deep breath. “What happens in 39 hours?”

“A case goes cold after the first 48 hours statistically. Out here in the small town environment, I put that at 45. You were taken from your home at approximately 2:30 this morning. You escaped the vehicle you were in approximately twenty minutes later, did a combination of hiding and running for the next several hours until you worked your way back to town where at such time authorities were called. You were taken back to the scene at which point it was determined that my guy is the one that took you. It took me another two hours to get here, twenty minutes of getting up to speed and it’s already 8:45 so I’ve really only got 38 hours and 45 minutes left,” said Dean, glancing over at you. “How much more of my time would you like to waste?”

“What’s shoved up your ass this morning?” you said, crossing your arms, wrapping yourself up in your blanket. He scoffed, swatting at your hand when you went to turn up the heater.

“Being stuck on babysitting duty for one,” he said, holding up a hand and counting off. “Second, a psycho is running around a town that’s biggest problem ever was who was smashing mailboxes and no one here has a clue how to even work a real crime scene. Three, a still half-drugged up victim that odds are, isn’t giving to give me jack shit in terms of useful info. Four-”

“Sorry I asked,” you said, running your hands over your face. “It’s wearing off finally...I think.”

“Well if flower child can remember, give me your address. You need out of those police sweats and I need to check the primary scene out,” he said, speeding up when you got on a straight stretch, completely ignorant to the fact you were shooting daggers at him.

“171 Willow Drive and it’s not like I enjoy feeling like a freaking emotional zombie right now,” you said, resting your head on the window, closing your eyes. “Wake me up when we get there.”

“You can sleep when I say so,” he said, shaking your shoulder. “We’re starting this debrief now.”

“You’re a ray of fucking sunshine, you know that?” you growled, lifting your head up. “Could you run through a Dunkin Donuts and get me some coffee at least? I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Fine,” he said, driving further down the winding road, starting to see a few buildings pop up. Your head swam some at how fast he was going, your hand going to your mouth just in case your stomach betrayed you and you found out how pissed off he could really get. “Let’s start with the basics. What happened last night?”

“I was in bed asleep and woke up to a guy with a hand over my mouth,” you said taking a deep breath, your head starting to pound. Dean’s lip twitched up in a snarl, a low growl in the back of his throat.

“Start from the beginning of the night,” he said, his knuckles white as he drove. You took another deep breath, trying to focus. “Well?”

“Were you drugged in the middle of the night? Dragged out your bed? No? Give me a second to think, Dean,” you said, rubbing your temples, the motion helping some.

“It’s Detective Winchester,” he said, turning his head towards you, squinting at you. “Don’t forget it.”

“Well, Detective Winchester, I got home from work at 5:30 and-”

“Do you always get home at that time?” he asked. You cocked your head, Dean slowing down as you started to hit the edge of town, cars out and about as Dean mumbled to himself. “I need to establish your normal behavioral pattern so I can figure out if you unknowingly attracted this guy’s attention last night.”

“I got home from work at 5:30, like I normally do. I changed out of work clothes and put on something comfortable, like I normally do. I did laundry and ordered a pizza around seven. The pizza got there at 7:30 with extra cheese because life’s too short, ya know? I cracked open a bottle of cheap red wine, binged some Netflix for a few hours, took a shower around 10, read for a little while and went to bed around 11:30. That was my thrilling Friday night until a guy woke me up three hours later in my house,” you said, giving him a big smile. “Happy now?”

“Did you see anyone? Do you normally get delivery? Was it the normal delivery guy? Do you know the guy? Do you…” asked Dean as he went off into a tailspin, asking about every minute boring detail of your night down to what show you’d been binging.

“Ozark. Why, your Netflix queue getting down there,” you said, rubbing your eyes, rolling the window down. The cool air on your face made you sigh, Dean huffing for you to close it up in the cool morning air.

“I don’t know. Maybe the whack job likes vics who watch Parks & Rec. I don’t got much at this point so yeah, every little detail is important,” said Dean. “Even the boring ass ones.”

“I didn’t see anyone at all. I had two glasses of wine with a big dinner and I was perfectly sober by the time I went to bed. I don’t know who broke in my home or why. I just know I never want it to happen ever again,” you said. You cursed under your breath, brain rattled and exhausted, Detective dickhead not making it any easier.

“Hey,” he said, shoving on your shoulder, your eyes flashing open when you realized you’d fallen asleep for a few minutes. “What do you want?”

You popped your head up and saw you were in line behind a car at the coffee shop, Dean cocking his head at you.

“Um, coffee...with a lot of sugar,” you said, nodding to yourself.

“Of course,” he said, pulling up when the car ahead moved.

Ten minutes later Dean was driving through your neighborhood while you worked on a bacon and egg sandwich, taking sips of your latte every so often. Dean had said nothing on the way apart from shoving the bag of food in your lap and ordering you to eat, the hot food doing wonders for your body.

“It’s the last house on the block,” he said, putting the car in park in your driveway. “Woods behind you. Mail is piled up next door so I’m assuming your neighbors are on vacation...you fit the vic profile...you were a prime target.”

“Thanks,” you said, chugging the last of your coffee when he opened his door. You followed him out and up your front path, grabbing your paper along the way. “I don’t exactly have a key.”

Dean gave you a bitch face, pushing open your front door, ducking under the yellow tape.

“Come on, we don’t have all day,” he called from inside. You trudged up the step, ducking under, Dean walking over to your back door that was taped off. You tossed your paper on your front table, the house looking relatively untouched apart from the dirt that’d been tracked around by the officers.

“I just cleaned that,” you muttered, leaning against the side of your couch, staring at your filthy and wrapped up feet. “John McClane didn’t deal with this…”

“John McClane knew what he was doing,” said Dean, your head whipping up as he came back with crossed arms.

“Is that how he got in?” you asked, nodding to the back. Dean ran his hands over his face, releasing a loud groan. “Cut me some slack.”

“Yes, he got in through the backdoor, hence the broken pane of glass all over the floor,” he said with an eye roll. “When this is all said and done, replace the door with crack resistant glass. They won’t shatter and you have better odds of hearing it.”

“Alright,” you said, heading down the hall for your bedroom, Dean on you like that, grabbing your arm. “For the third time today...Ow!”

“Active crime scene, sweetheart,” he said, walking first. You rolled your eyes and followed him into your room, your eyes darting around at the mess in there. “Huh, you didn’t go down without a fight, did you?”

“I don’t remember,” you said, spotting the broken lamp on the ground, your phone smashed against a wall, a splotch of blood on your bedspread.

“You got a backpack or duffel bag?” he asked, your head nodding over at your closet. “Pack a week’s worth of clothes. Get whatever generic girl crap or medicine or whatever else you want and toss it in. You got ten minutes.”

“But you said earlier you only have 39 hours to catch the guy before the trail goes cold,” you said, Dean raising an eyebrow at you, smirking to himself or because of you, you weren’t sure.

“Yes, I said that. It doesn’t mean that at 39 hours he suddenly stops coming after you. As far as you’re concerned, I got 39 hours to catch him or you’re looking at witness protection,” he said. You laughed and he shook his head. “What’s funny?”

“I’m not going into witness protection,” you said, holding up your hands. “That’s insane, I’m nobody. I’m not doing it.”

“Despite your boring ass Friday nights and based on the, I’m single and have no idea what the fuck I’m doing with my life vibe this place is giving off, a serial killer has taken a liking to you. That unfortunately makes you somebody,” he said, going to your closet door and flinging it open. He grabbed a duffel from the bottom, shook it out and tossed it over to you.

“Nine minutes,” he said. “Move. Now.”

You scurried around your house, having no idea what to grab, what to leave, Dean practically barking at you when you went for things like your birth certificate. Even when you thought you were good to go, changed out of the sweats they gave you earlier and in fresh clothes, Dean tore your bag apart.

“No computer. No tablet. No pictures. Clothes and basic crap you can buy anywhere,” he said, zipping your bag back up and throwing it over his shoulder. “There’s nothing else here. We should go.”

“Wait, what am I supposed to do now?” you asked, Dean already out your front door. “Dean.”

“Like I said, shut your mouth until I have more questions for you.”

You were on your fifth episode of House Hunters a few hours later when Dean came back to the motel room he was stashing you in, dumping a bag of burgers on the table.

“Lunch,” he said, sitting down in front of his computer, typing away while you got up and pulled one out for yourself. You sat down at the table, Dean glancing over his screen, shoving aside a file so you had a little space. You undid the paper wrapping, lifting off the bun and removing the tomato while he scowled. “Picky much.”

“Considering I asked for something not covered in grease, no, I’m not being picky at all,” you said, putting the bun back on, taking a large bite, squinting at him.

“I need a fucking vacation,” he said, rubbing his temples, dropping the pen in his hands as he stood up.

“So it’s been a couple hours,” you said, reaching in the bag and pulling out a fry. He sighed, reaching his own hand in and grabbing a burger, undoing it one handed and chowing down while he grabbed an engery drink from the fridge and chugged it. He ate it down in a few bites, his gaze quickly back on the screen as he took a seat. “Okay then…”

“You’re head’s clearer now, right?” he asked. You nodded, taking another bite of food. He typed something, tapping his finger as it loaded, quickly spinning the computer around in front of you. “Let’s try identifying the vehicle you were in again. Tell me about it.”

“It was pitch black and I didn’t exactly-”

“Y/N,” groaned Dean, running his hands over his face. “The faster you help me catch him, the quicker you go back to your normal life, understand?”

“Could you stop being so pissed off at me? Sorry I wasn’t taking in what shade of carpet he had in his trunk while I was drugged and terrified. In the middle of the night while we’re at it,” you said. You grabbed your burger and sat on the bed, staring angrily at the TV and wishing you could have one of the local officers watching your back. Dean sighed from the corner of the room and you had to force yourself not to look at him in your periphery when he sat down next to you.

“Where’s this one,” he said after a minute, nodding at the TV, chewing on a french fry.

“Atlanta,” you said sharply. Dean nodded, whistling when he heard their budget.

“Geez, these people made of money? I would not spend that much on a dump like that,” said Dean, nudging you with his elbow.

“Who would,” you said, eating the last of your food and flexing out your wrist. It was simply red and bruised at this point but that didn’t stop the ache in it. Dean stood up and crossed in front of you over to the bathroom, probably annoyed that you’d winced when you moved it too far.

“Here,” he said, holding out a free hand when he came back, the other carrying a few folded up pieces of wet paper towel. You scrunched up your face and he nodded down. You offered your arm, Dean wrapping the wet towel around one wrist more gently than you could have anticipated and then the other. You sighed a little smile, a cool relief in them for a brief moment. “No one ever tells you how much your skin burns afterwards.”

“You’ve been…” you said, Dean opening his mouth before snapping it shut. “I thought detectives were supposed to be better liars than that.”

“I just know it hurts from training,” he said, looking you up and down. “At least you didn’t get tased.”

“Yes, I’m so lucky,” you said, Dean standing with his hands on his hips, glancing back at his computer. “Don’t snap at me so much and maybe it’ll come back easier, okay?”

“Alright,” he said with a sigh, waving you back over. You weren’t expecting an apology but at least he seemed to be warming up to you a little. “Take those off before they start to stick.”

You removed your wet towels, waving your arms out in the air, earning an eye roll from Dean. He leaned over and dug into the duffel he had with him, tossing you a red kit.

“Fresh antiseptic and bandages. Not that the paramedics in this hick town know to do that,” he grumbled. You fumbled with the bag, pulling out a roll of bandages and tube of cream to apply, not sure where to begin. “I have to do everything, don’t I.”

“I just…” you said, Dean sliding his seat over, pulling out a cotton ball and squeezing the cream on it.

“What do you remember about the car?” he asked, both your wrists up as he cleaned them again, pointing for you to check out the slideshow of vehicles that was going on his computer. He ran the cream over a scratch you’d forgotten about on your forearm, your body jerking away at the contact, your feet getting you up and away before you’d realized it. Dean held up his hands, waving you back over. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I don’t…” you said, giving him a nod as you sat down again, Dean waiting to continue his clean up until you gave him your arms. “I um…”

“How’d you get this scratch?” he asked, gently running the medicine over it.

“I sliced it when I was trying to get free,” you said, remembering the unexpected sharp twinge of pain in the darkness.

“That’s good,” said Dean with an almost smile. “That’s real good.”

“How is that good?” you asked.

“Well I’ve never kidnapped someone but I think the rule of thumb is you don’t give sharp things to your victims to cut themselves free. It tells me he used an unfamiliar vehicle, possibly stolen,” said Dean. “He’s too smart to have taken it from someone local, too small here, but it’s something.”

“Really?” you asked, Dean nodding back at you. He picked up a bandage, your attention on the screen for a few minutes, nothing coming to mind unfortunately while his calloused hands carefully wrapped over your wrists. You smiled at him when he finished, getting a neutral expression in return but from him it was something.

“The sharp thing, what was it? Behind you? In front of you?” asked Dean, flipping his computer back around, typing away again.

“It was behind me. I was facing the way the trunk opens since I saw the tail lights and everything,” you said. His face lit up and he held up a finger.

“So when the tail lights were on, you got a little light, right?” he asked. You nodded, Dean sporting something almost akin to a smile. “Now you’ve probably never spent much time on the inside of a trunk unless you’ve got a shitty younger brother that got pissed at you for taking his ice cream sandwich…”

“Why does that not surprise me,” you said, Dean cocking his head, turning his computer around again.

“...Now I need you to really concentrate Y/N. Was this a-”

“Wait,” you said, hopping out of your seat, going to the door and ripping it open to the parking lot. You were glancing around, something nagging at the back of your brain that it should be so obvious to you where you were last night.

“Do not do that!” growled Dean, catching your arm when you started to step outside. “Dammit Y/N!”

“I don’t think it was a car,” you said, his arm falling away but his hand on his holster all the same. You started to walk around, looking at the different cars, Dean sticking close by, watching for things you didn’t want to know about. “Black. I remember black. Or gray.”

“Most trunks are lined with those two colors,” said Dean, moving his hand to hang by his side. “It’s not all that surprising.”

“No. I was cold, really cold,” you said, stopping behind a pickup truck. “Like...metal cold.”

“You think a pickup truck?” asked Dean, crossing his arms, tilting his head, eyes lighting up at the thought. “I think you’re onto something. There was a pickup theory with the second vic. It could have been a tool you cut free on too.”

“I kicked the trunk open,” you said, Dean waving you to look at the bed of the truck. “I can’t see over.”

“Here,” he said, bending down, grabbing your legs and hoisting you up. “Does that seem like the size? Obviously the one you were in had a top on it.”

“I think so,” you said, pointing out where the tailgate met the bed. “I think I heard a click and it popped open when I hit that part.”

“Okay, pickup truck, that’s really…” said Dean, dropping you down and drawing his gun all in one motion.

“What?” you asked, Dean holding a finger to his lips. You shook your head, Dean pointing at the ground, mouthing for you to stay. He went tense, approaching the row of motel doors while you stayed between the truck and car it was parked next to. You stood up on your tip toes, grabbing the side of the truck bed and pulled yourself up, looking inside.

It was like every other truck in town to you. A toolbox at one end, random crap thrown about in the back, a tarp tied off in the corners when they couldn’t afford the fancy top.

“Oh, that’s what’s got you so worked up,” you said, staring at the small dollops of blood near a pair of shears. You cocked your head, spotting the gap between the tail gate where it wouldn’t quite close all the way. Dean was barking at someone in the distance, your head turning to find it was you.

“Did you want to go for another ride dumbass?” he said, pulling you back down, a hand between your shoulder blades quickly walking you over to his car. “Stay here or so help me.”

Twenty minutes later Dean was opening up the passenger door an officer had been guarding, the cheater from two towns over more than confused why he was being dragged away from his weekly hookup. Dean waved him off, rubbing his temples.

“You know it’s not him, don’t you,” you said. Dean squatted down and pointed a finger at you, opening his mouth a few times before settling on not giving a shit.

“I don’t know if this is coincidence, the odds are that there’s only one motel in this town and he just grabbed one randomly but you and me have to have a change of scenery, understand?” he said. “And sweetheart, when I say to do something, you do it unless you want-”

“I’m not a child,” you said, Dean standing up, slamming your door shut. “Well, thanks Y/N for helping us find the vehicle. Oh, you’re so welcome Dean. How nice of you not to be a jackass about it.”

“What was that?” said Dean, ripping the door back open. You scowled down at your lap and he waved over an officer. “Watch her.”

Dean went into your motel room and was back a few minutes later, his suit gone and replaced with jeans and flannel, a sturdy jacket and boots on that seemed more natural on him. He spoke to the officer, fist clenching for a moment before he moved to his trunk, tossing in your bags and forcing it closed.

“What’s going on?” you asked, Dean sliding in behind the wheel. “Dean, what-”

“It’s going to be a dead end,” said Dean, pulling out on the street, his head on his hand as he drove, slamming it against the wheel. “Son of a bitch!”

You kept your mouth quiet, the fumes radiating off Dean more than enough to keep anyone with any sanity from poking that bear. Eventually he slowed and pulled over, staring at the road in front of him, letting out a deep sigh.

“I have 34 hours left,” he said quietly. He turned in his seat, your head immediately going to the window. “I need your help, Y/N, but when I say to do something, like to not go poking at a crime scene or to be quiet, I need to know you’ll do it without question. It’s not me treating you like a child. Trust me, most people in the state you were can barely stay conscious, not escape a moving vehicle and hide from a killer in rough terrain. You’ve got fight. Just stop fighting with me please.”

“Why are you so belligerent then?” you asked, spinning to face him, his face softer than you were used to seeing. “I’m trying, really, I am. I’m not a cop. I don’t know how to compartmentalize all of this stuff like you do.”

“You do my job long enough and you sort of have to forget about the person part of it. It’ll eat you up if you don’t,” he said, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “I’ll try to be more sympathetic or some crap, okay?”

“What’s next?” you asked, Dean’s lips pursed. “You’re running out of time and need my help. I’m certainly not getting another restful night of sleep until this is over with so let’s work together.”

“You’re local? You grew up here?” he asked. You nodded, Dean pulling back on the road, going only another block or so before he got to the library. “Give me some inside scoop on the best hiding spots.”

“I can do that,” you said, stepping out of the car, Dean staring over the roof at you. “You get out of the car first?”

“Now you’re getting it,” he said, walking around to your side and up the front steps. He raised an eyebrow at you when you got inside and grabbed his jacket, tugging him away from the town records and up the stairs.

“A map would be useful,” he said, letting you drag him after you. “Like in the records section…”

“You got a flashlight?” you asked, Dean dipping a hand in his jacket, pulling out a small one. At the top of the stairs he followed you down the hall roped off private, chuckling to himself. “What?”

“Is this legal?” he asked. “I’m kind of conducting an investigation.”

“The privacy sign doesn’t exactly mean what you think,” you said, stopping at a door and knocking. “Matthew! Pull your pants back up and get the hell out of there before I call your mother!”

You backed away, hearing a scurry in the room while Dean squinted at you. You held up a finger and watched the door open a moment later, the two teenagers that were supposed to be working fixing their clothes.

“Matthew. Elizabeth,” you said, crossing your arms. “We need the room.”

“Shit, you got your own place, Y/N. Can’t you go make out in your car? Or house?” asked Matthew. You scoffed, Dean biting back a laugh behind you.

“Trust me, if I wanted pretty boy over here, I would take him somewhere classier than this,” you said, waving them out. “Now shoo.”

“You’re not going to tell our parents, are you?” asked Elizabeth. You cocked your head, shaking it. “Still the best babysitter on the planet.”

“Back to work guys,” you said, the pair scooting down the stairs, Dean crossing his arms with a smirk. “What? Every teenager in this town has made out in this room. Hence the private sign.”

“Didn’t need to know that,” he said, stepping inside, glancing around. “Why’d you drag me in...oh.”

“Yup,” you said, Dean catching sight of the map on the wall, adorned with every outbuilding in the county. “Anything that’s been built since the town’s been around is on that map. Only that map.”

“You were found here,” he said, moving around the room quickly to find a tack and stick it in. He pushed another in where your house was, where you escaped and at the motel. “Damn it, nothing is near each other at all.”

“Forget that. He was driving north west with me, right,” you said, pointing along the road out of town. “The lake was that way.”

“Small town fits his MO but he doesn’t necessarily need a building to do his thing,” said Dean, taking a seat in a nearby chair. “You have no description of the guy either which doesn’t help.”

“He was tall I think. Around your size or a little bigger even,” you said, a black blur in your memory. “I don’t remember much else.”

“I know, you’re trying,” said Dean, resting his chin in his hand. He hummed, tapping his fingers. “Why you...why did he want you…”

“My charming personality,” you joked, Dean cracking a smile. “Oh, so there is a person in there after all.”

“Something like that,” he said, face neutral once more as he stared at the board. “Is there anything you can remember you haven’t told me? Did you smell anything or hear him say anything...something?”

“You never told me what he does with his victims,” you said. Dean cocked his head at you and shook his head. “Dean…”

“Use your imagination,” he said. “What-”

“It might help me which helps you...” you said, Dean shaking his head again. “Give me something to work with.”

“He hurts people and then kills them like a serial killer does,” said Dean, leaning back in his seat. “I will spare you the gory details.”

“Is it messy?” you asked.

“Obviously. I used the word gory after all,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“Maybe he went to the butcher then, the old place,” you said, Dean’s head popping up. “That would clean up easy, right? No one goes there except kids daring each other and even then it’s rare.”

“That...might actually be something,” said Dean. “Give me the address and then I’d like it if you stayed here until I came and got you. When I say like-”

“Alright,” you said, Dean making a confused face. “I’m to do as told, aren’t I? I’d hate to know what it’s like to get on your bad side.”

“Good girl,” he said, patting you on the back as he went by. “I think we’re starting to get somewhere.”

Your stomach was growling by the time Dean returned that evening, the library close to closing time. The sun was already set and he was most certainly back to his old grumpy self.

“For a guy so bent over how little time we have, you sure took yours,” you said. Dean rested his hands on his hips, face red for a moment before he managed to cool off.

“Do you want dinner or not?” he asked, already walking out without you, his protective nature be screwed. You grabbed the few pieces of paper you’d jotted random notes on and hurried after him, Dean rolling his eyes when he ripped them out of your palm, shoving them in his pocket. “You’re not a detective, Y/N.”

“What’s shoved up your ass? Again,” you asked, crossing your arms.

“The old butcher shop is certainly where he would have taken you,” said Dean, crossing his own back. “But there is nothing there and I’m running out of what few leads I have so excuse me for not being a bubbly ray of unicorns and lollipops.”

“Your friends ever tell you what a joy you are,” you said, bumping into him, sliding into his car without being told.

“Oh, all the time,” he said when he climbed in, tossing another bag of take out in your lap. “Eat up.”

He tore out of there and was quickly heading out of town, his phone going off, ripping a groan he didn’t even try to hide.

“What is it?” he snapped. He scrunched up his face, eye twitching as he listened to the other end. “That’s not...but he’s...yes I understand sir...a couple hours...yes I understand...I said I got it.”

“Trouble at work?” you asked, Dean laughing when he hung up.

“My boss is an asshole on a nice day. He’s not happy with my progress,” said Dean, resting his head in his hand. “We’ll hide away in one of those out buildings you showed me earlier. You can get some shut eye and I can try to work something in the meantime.”

“I thought maybe since you were wondering why he went after me...I made up a list of ideas,” you said, nodding at Dean’s pocket where he shoved your notes.

“I’ll look at them,” said Dean. He turned on the radio to a quiet rock station, letting you eat your dinner in silence. His body was tense, his breathing sharp too and you figured you were in for a long night with him. “My partner is going to come up and help. He was on vacation this week but I need him...apparently.“

“Oh,” you said, tossing the other half of your food in the bag. “Is he pissed?”

“I think my sister in law is the one I need to be afraid of,” he said with a smirk. “They were at Disney World with their seven and five year old sons. I’m in for a Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Your partner is your brother?” you asked, Dean humming. “Is he grumpy like you?”

“No,” he said with a laugh. “No, he’s a bit of a rookie. He made junior detective earlier this year. He’s good, just fresh to the bigger cases. It’ll be good for him...not sure if he’ll stick with it or go back to something smaller...it’ll give me another person to bounce things off of at the very least.”

“Dean,” you said, rubbing the side of your head, burping when you hit the bump on the road out of town. “Can you pull over? This taco is not agreeing with me at all.”

“Do not puke in my car,” he said, swerving over fast, your door flying open just in time for you to spit up your dinner. You heard him get out of his side, at least glad you were throwing up on the side of the bare road and not in someone’s front yard. “You alright?”

“Fantastic,” you said when you sat up, Dean handing you a napkin to clean up. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he said, helping you back to your feet, a sway in them. “Sorry.”

“Hey, you haven’t eaten at Valley Lodge’s only mexican place if you haven’t gotten food poisoning at least once,” you said, Dean pouting. “Bad joke?”

“It wasn’t the food,” he said, your head cocking. “Your drink. I put it in there.”

“What?” you said, Dean glancing around and shutting your door, pulling your down the small embankment and into the woods. “Dean what are you-”

“I’m sorry,” said Dean, your body feeling more and more lax as he tugged you along towards an old maintenance shed. He slipped a pair of cuffs on you easily, too tight for you to try and get out of if you even had the energy.

“Dean, what the hell are you doing!” you shouted, his hand clamping over your mouth.

“I’ll come back for you. I promise. If I can’t, my partner, he will,” said Dean. “I just...I got to do this.”

“Dean don’t…” you grumbled, his hand fishing his tie from earlier out of his jacket pocket, tying it over your mouth.

“I swear on my life, I’m going to come back,” he said, opening the shed door up and sitting you down in the small space. Dean looked back over his shoulder, not a soul around to help. You kicked at his leg, Dean wincing but giving you a warning smile. “Don’t stop fighting either.”

He slammed the door shut on you, your muscles heavy and rigid, the thought of moving again taking up too much will power in itself. It didn’t take long for you to stop squirming, your body not getting the message to keep struggling, the sound of Dean’s car pulling off in the distance making your stomach drop. You weren’t there for more than twenty minutes before the door flung open.

“Now this time, don’t run away,” said an angry voice, grabbing your arm, tugging you up to your feet. You weren’t much for walking but he had an off road truck behind the shed, tossing you in the bed of it. You were on the move, not quietly but no one took notice of ATV’s in woods around those parts. It didn’t take long to figure out he wasn’t local, going straight for one of the larger hills.

You stretched your arms, forcing your body to bend painfully, getting some feeling back in them. The cuffs might have been tight but there was enough room for you to twist your legs and get your arms in front of you. Whatever Dean had drugged you with wasn’t lasting long and you were getting your senses back, just in time for the guy driving to miss the gear change on the hill and start to stall.

You took the chance to jump out into the small gully, sliding down as you heard him shout behind you. You ripped your gag down, trying to kick your way out of the ditch before it got too steep. The guy had the engine going again but he wouldn’t risk driving down with any kind of speed unless he had a death wish. Your injuries from earlier in the day were tearing back open but tumbling head over heels in the dirt and leaves was like winning the lottery compared to what you just came from.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you said when you went airborne for a few seconds, your body smacking hard against the ground, rolling out onto the road and coming to a stop. You groaned, the engine roaring along the hill as you struggled to get on your feet.

You saw headlights flash up behind you and heard tires come to a screech as you crumpled into a ball to make yourself as small as possible. Five seconds later a pair of hands were on you, pulling you up and over to a black car, tossing you in the backseat and peeling away.

“Get the fuck off!” you shouted, sitting upright and kicking at the door, a little girl staring back over the front bench making you freeze. You blinked a few times, recognizing the beige interior and the dirty blonde hair in the driver seat. “What the fuck is going on Dean?”

“Daddy,” said the girl, moving to hide her head under Dean’s arm, staring back at you.

“Sh, it’s okay, sweetie,” said Dean, wrapping an arm around her, glancing back at you. “Y/N, you okay back there?”

“What...what the fuck is going on!” you shouted at him.

“Swear jar,” said the little girl, Dean letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Y/N’s having a really bad day, sweetie. Let’s cut her a break,” said Dean, patting the girl on the head. He drove back into town quickly, stopping in the parking lot of a pharmacy as you tried to blink away the pain of everything that just happened. “Lily stay right here for me.”

Dean hopped out of the front and opened up your back door, undoing your cuffs just in time to get a punch in the face from you.

“A little warning would have been nice!” you said, shaking out your hand, Dean rubbing his cheek. “Asshole!”

“I don’t know how good an actress you can be so I had to. He had my fucking four year old daughter, Y/N. I put a tracker on you. I told you I was coming back for you,” he said. You groaned and laid back against the bench, Dean poking you all over. “It looks like bumps and bruises thankfully. When I said fight back, I didn’t think you’d do it five seconds later.”

“You are so lucky you have a semi-valid excuse and got me back quick or I’d report your ass to your boss,” you said, shoving him away. He held up his hands, squatting down by the car, staring at the pavement. “Just...I need some tylenol. And bandaids.”

“Here,” said Dean, pulling his gun out and handing it to you. “Point and shoot if anyone comes near the car.”

“Trust me, I have no problem with that,” you said. Dean nodded and opened up the front door, scooping up his daughter, resting her on his hip as he went in the store. They were back five minutes later, Lily chewing on a candy bar while Dean sat her in the front again. He patched you up and drove down a few blocks, telling you to keep the gun for now. You shoved it in the back of your jeans, Dean grabbing Lily again when he parked in a fast food lot and returning a few minutes later with food for her.

“It’s not drugged this time,” said Dean, handing you a bag. You rolled your eyes, thirsty more than anything else as your gaze wandered to the four year old that was staring at you, eating a chicken nugget slowly. “Lily, this is Y/N. She’s helping Daddy with work.”

“Are you a policewoman?” she asked. Dean chuckled, running his hand over her head, his face in a forced smile.

“No. The bad man that took you took her too,” said Dean, glancing back at you. “If you want to report me I understand, Y/N. Just please wait until her uncle gets here.”

“I really should,” you said, looking at the little blonde with nervous big green eyes. “If you do it again, or anything like that, I actually will, Dean. Got it?”

“Thank you,” he said, nodding his head, Lily still staring at you. “Lily, that’s not polite.”

“Are you okay?” she asked, such an out of the blue question you laughed.

“Um, I’ll be okay sweetie. Just a little beat up,” you said, her head nodding. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. He didn’t...he didn’t touch her,” said Dean, pulling her into his lap. “I got a call this morning, sometime after you escaped. He knew I was the detective on the case and he...he knew where I lived and just...took her right under my nose. I had to-”

“Dean, stop apologizing,” you said, his gaze shy. “You saved her and she’s okay so that’s all that matters. A few scrapes I can handle. He’s still out there though and if he did all that just to get me…”

“He obviously doesn’t like it when someone gets away,” said Dean, Lily crawling out of Dean’s lap, leaning over the backseat to hold out the rest of her candy bar. “I think she likes you. Even I don’t get her leftover chocolate.”

“Daddy be nice,” said Lily, Dean holding up his hands. “Daddy’ll take care of you. He found me.”

“Yeah, your Daddy is a really good police officer,” you said, giving her a smile. “We’ll be okay if we stick with him.”

“Can we go home now?” she asked, Dean shaking his head.

“We’re going to go somewhere safe and let you girls get some rest,” said Dean, getting a thumbs up from you.

“Dean,” you said, leaning forward. “The station is probably a safe bet. Just tell ‘em...tell ‘em I got sick from my food and fell when I was on the side of the road.”

“You know how bullshit that sounds?” he said.

“I don’t care. That’s our story.”

“Y/N,” said the Chief about an hour later at the station, Lily fast asleep with her head on your lap. “Do you want to tell me what really happened?”

“I already did,” you said with a smile. He cocked his head, your shoulders shrugging. “Is the other Detective Winchester here yet?”

“He just got in,” said the Chief, nodding towards the front. “Someday you’re going to tell me what the hell happened tonight.”

“Uh huh,” you said, knowing that could never happen. Dean and an even taller man came in the breakroom you were resting in, Dean only letting Lily out of his sight briefly when he knew she was with you. You saw him force himself to not go over and scoop the sleeping girl up in his arms, instead waiting until the Chief left and the door was shut to let a big smile cross his face.

“Fuck Dean, why didn’t you call me?” asked the other man as he walked over, bending down and pulling the blanket up around his niece. “I told you to let us take her to Florida while you were off working too much. Again.”

“Sam, not the time for that conversation,” said Dean, rubbing his temples. “Besides, we both know what the guy is capable of. I couldn’t risk anything. Even if it meant screwing over, Y/N here.”

“Vic seven?” asked Sam, giving you a softer smile. “I’m Sam. The all around better Winchester.”

“He believed in the easter bunny until he was twelve,” said Dean, pointing at Sam. Sam glared over at him, Dean looking up at the ceiling with a smirk. “I wouldn’t call this one a vic either, Sammy. She’s gotten away twice now. Unfortunately that means we know odds are he isn’t going to leave Y/N alone,” said Dean, taking a seat at the table.

“Well Jess and the boys are safe in the Magic Kingdom,” said Sam, fixing your blanket that had slipped off your shoulders. He gave you a friendly smile and stood up, taking a seat nearby. “How many left?”

“At this point...27 hours from the initial crime give or take. I tried to find him before he forced the trade but I couldn’t do it, Sam. There’s something missing I’m just not getting,” said Dean. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Lily with a sad look. “I don’t want him to go near her ever again.”

“You never looked at my notes,” you said quietly, Sam looking to Dean, squinting his eyes at his brother.

“You know how many times a civvy tries to be helpful and it bites us in the ass?” asked Dean, reaching into his pocket, smoothing out the sheets of paper.

“This civvy should have your ass arrested and in one of those jail cells right now,” said Sam, waving for one. “Maybe a bit of leeway is in order. She seems smarter than you anyways.”

“I doubt anything in here will be good,” said Dean, sighing as he handed over a list, scanning over one himself, flipping to the next page. You rested your head on your shoulder as they read them over, neither one giving much away as to what they thought. Until you saw the exact moment Dean’s eyes went wide and then slammed shut, his head ducking down. When he raised it again you saw the red in his face, his eyes furious when they opened. He hated himself, plain and simple. He thrust the paper over to Sam and stood up, taking a pillow off the couch behind you and shouted into it.

“Oh,” said Sam, handing it over to you, his eyes on his brother as he nearly tore the fabric in half. “Dean…”

“I could have...I could have avoided handing over Y/N if I’d just looked at that stupid fucking paper...if I’d come back to that library just ten minutes earlier I could have avoided...” said Dean, moving to break something in the room, his eyes on a sleeping Lily forcing him to take a breath and relax.

“The fact I like to bake is earth shattering why?” you asked, Sam turning to Dean.

“It’s your case dude,” said Sam. Dean plated his hands on the back of a chair, gripping it tight, lifting his head up slowly.

“The first one...the first victim...was a baker. Things like groceries or receipts or whatever that just seemed like normal crap people have in their house...it makes sense. They all liked to do it...just like you. The third vic had fucking cookies baking in the oven for...argh! Where’s the Chief? I need the names of every bakery and grocery store in town. Now.”

“The bakery is where he had Lily. The guy who runs it is lucky he’s a guy,” said Dean an hour later, carrying a bear after he and Sam went out to investigate. “Her stuffie was there.”

“Okay, well that’s something. You’ve got a pattern now, right?” you said, Dean sighing as he tucked the bear up against his daughter, biting his bottom lip.

“I don’t deserve this but can you watch her a little while longer? I need to not worry about her if I’m out there. I know she’s okay if she’s with you,” said Dean, laughing a little to himself. “You and this blanket, I swear.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you said, his hands tying the ends together, pausing a moment to cup one of your cheeks.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. You gave him a smile, picking at the bandage on your wrist from lunch. Dean tsked you, shaking his head. “I should take these off at some point, right? Put on new ones?”

“Where do you think your tracker is?” he asked, your eyes wide. “I figured that was the safest place. I wasn’t leaving you out to dry, even if I couldn’t get back to you by the time I got Lily safe. Shit, you really should report me for using you like that.”

“Oh, you I would but...she probably could use with her dad not getting in trouble,” you said, giving her a smile. “Plus she gave me chocolate.”

“I guess I owe her then,” said Dean, squatting down in front of you, giving her a kiss. “Leave those bandages on for now. I’ll make sure you get new ones soon. I’ll have to swap out the tracker anyways.”

“Okay. Oh and...not that it’s my business but have you called her mom? Let her know she’s okay? You’re not married obviously but she’s probably worried to death,” you said. Dean chuckled and stood up, giving you a smirk.

“No, nope, uh, her mother really isn’t, trust me,” said Dean. “Her mom...not exactly in the picture. Lily just has me. Dad’s going to have a full on freak out later but right now I need to do my job and make sure you guys are alright.”

“Is that why you were so agitated all day?” you asked. “So...grr.”

“I’m normally not that much of an ass. It was either take it out on you or risk a breakdown which would have been bad. Everybody’s had a long day around here,” he said, rubbing his head. “Sorry.”

“I’m ready for a nap,” you said, Dean nodding at the couch you were on. “Later, I’m on babysitting duty. In case you didn’t hear from those teens earlier, I’m pretty awesome at it.”

“Thank you,” said Dean, putting a hand on your head. “The Chief is here. Everyone else is out looking for this guy. Hopefully we’re back soon.”

“Go get ‘em, Detective Winchester.”

It was nearly three in the morning when you were up walking Lily back from the bathroom, the Chief passed out behind his desk. You shook your head at him, figuring to let him get in a few before the Winchesters got back. You hadn’t been to the station all that often apart from school field trips and to argue a parking ticket once but a door creaking in the distance sounded completely out of place.

The lights flickered overhead, your hands already getting out the extra gun Dean gave you before they went out. You pulled Lily close and whipped around, pointing at nothing.

“Y/N…” she said, grabbing onto your leg before you were shushing her.

“Y/N,” said a voice in the dark. You aimed your gun around, the voice snickering a little. “There’s a child here. You should be careful with that thing.”

“You should back off before I turn you into swiss cheese,” you said, spotting nothing in the dark. “Chief!”

“I think I made a mistake picking you,” said the voice, moving around now. “You’re hard and gritty. I don’t mind that on occasion...like when the steak you were excited for has a bit more gristle than you were expecting...but where’s the softness in you? You’re all...angry. Oh and Chief’s out for the count at the moment so…”

“Well maybe if you stopped kidnapping me, or her, I’d be a little friendlier. Surrender and I’ll make you a cake while I’m at it,” you said, hearing him grunt. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You were in the baking aisle,” he said, something clicking to your right. “Suppose I should have done my research better, not picked such a mean girl. So if you’d like to hand over the kid, I’ll let you slide and be on my way.”

“You’ll leave me alone? For good?” you said, the man grunting.

“You haven’t seen my face. We can make it work,” he said. “What do you say?”

“You know what...I totally would and everything but you’re actually kind of wrong. I have seen your face,” you said.

“What? When?” he barked, a taser clicking off to the side, a flash of light in the quiet space. You heard a loud and low grunt, then a thud on the ground.

“How the fuck did you know I was there?” said Dean, holding up a flashlight for a moment, pointing it down at the unconscious man. You shrugged as the power came back up, Sam coming in with an officer a second later. “Y/N?”

“You clicked, like a switch or something,” you said. “On the taser I think.”

“You’re kind of loud Daddy,” said Lily, Dean’s jaw hanging open. “You are.”

“Well I’m glad to know you’re tough as nails when it comes to this,” said Dean, rolling his eyes. “Come here kid.”

Dean picked her up with a big hug, holding onto her tight. An officer took your gun away as Dean got you clear of the guy, the Chief waking up in his office by the time the guy was in a cell.

“Daddy can we go home now?” asked Lily, Dean shushing her.

“Daddy has to finish up a little bit of work and then we’re going to go home. In fact, you are going to go home with your Uncle Sammy real soon and he’s going to take you to Disney with your cousins. I’ll be right after. How’s that sound?” asked Dean, Lily forgetting all about the day she’d had like that.

Unfortunately you knew you weren’t going to forget that fast.

“If you’re not the pizza guy, odds are I kick your ass, just saying!” you shouted through your front door late that night. Your day of questioning and more questioning and trip to the hospital the next town over and then fixing your freaking back door and the guy getting carted off to a maximum security facility and your dvr decided to fritz on top of it had you in dire need of food and sleep.

“I’m not the pizza guy but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t. Not sure I’d survive it,” said a voice on the other side. You undid the lock and saw Dean standing there, holding your duffel bag. “I thought you’d want this back.”

“Thanks,” you said, waving him in. You dumped it on the floor, plopping down on your couch.

“So...I normally don’t get to see my vics go home,” said Dean with a smile. “First time for everything.”

“How’s Lily?” you asked, Dean taking a seat next to you. “Enjoying Mickey Mouse?”

“Yeah. I sent her off with Sam this afternoon. I’m heading down in the morning to meet up with them,” said Dean. “I wanted to check up on you first.”

“Vic number seven is awesome,” you said, giving him a thumbs up.

“Huh, I made a good call after all. You are a shitty liar,” he said with a smirk. The doorbell rang before you could respond with a comeback, Dean paying for your pizza and setting the box down on your coffee table as you scowled. “I’m totally stealing a piece of this by the way.”

“Naturally,” you said, waving for him to do so. He grabbed a slice and stood up, taking a big bite as he walked around your couch. You figured he was already halfway out the door when he tossed a notebook over the couch at you.

“Journaling helps,” he said. “For when you start processing everything.”

“Thanks,” you said, glancing back at him. “Have fun at Disney.”

“I’ll see you at the trial,” he said, giving you a salute. “Don’t forget to lock up.”

“I won’t,” you said, Dean nodding as he pulled the door shut.

Two Months Later

“I can’t believe he pled guilty,” you muttered, knowing the guy was still away forever but wanting a chance to shove it to him up on the stand.

“Well you know crazies, not exactly predictable,” said a voice right behind you. You spun around and saw Dean with a smile, Lily’s hand in his. “Long time no see.”

“Hey,” you said to him, giving him a hug, bending down to return the one she was already giving you. “I like your dress Lily.”

“Daddy said I had to,” she groaned, looking up at him. “Can I wear my other clothes now?”

“Here,” he said, giving her a small backpack he had on his shoulder. “Can you go to the bathroom on your own?”

“I can take her if you want,” you said, Dean smiling. “Come on, Lily. I don’t like dresses all that much either.”

You nearly laughed when she came out in a pair of bright blue striped pants and cut off Aerosmith shirt that was still too big on her.

“You like Aerosmith, Lily?” you asked, picking her up, holding her over the sink to wash up.

“I like their earlier stuff,” she said.

“Geez, tough critic,” you said, setting her down once she’d finished. “Let’s go find your daddy.”

“Y/N, when are you going to come over? Daddy talks to you every day, like all the time,” she said when you handed her a paper towel.

“I don’t know, sweetie. We don’t live near each other so it’s a little hard to hang out,” you said.

“Oh. He didn’t tell you,” she said, skipping towards the door. “He got a new job.”

“Hey Dean,” you said, poking your head out of the bathroom after her. He gave you a smile and took Lily’s backpack off you. “Two things. Aerosmith had some good stuff in their later years. Second, you got a new job?”

“Hey, don’t get that kid started on her classic rock,” said Dean with a smirk. “And I was going to tell you...eventually.”

“Now would be a great time,” you said, crossing your arms.

“Maybe...I had a talk with the local Chief. He was at retirement age...Lily’s starting school next year and I don’t really want to send her to a city school all by herself where her friends will change every two minutes...my really good friend lives here…” he said, giving you a smile.

“You’re the new hot shot guy they called in for Chief,” you said, Dean shrugging. “I can’t believe you.”

“I can’t believe you actually called the number in that notebook,” he said.

“It said if I ever needed to talk I could call you!” you said.

“Yes! I’m glad you did because you know how much of a chicken shit I can be at you know...human crap,” said Dean.

“Swear jar,” said Lily, shaking her head.

“You little…” he said. “Besides, talking is good for both of us. Now do you have an actual problem with me taking the Chief job or just with me not telling you?”

“Neither. It just...implies something...something I thought you weren’t ready for,” you said. Dean gave you a smirk you’d grown to recognize over your skype calls. “Take it from the kidnapped girl, you got relationship issues Winchester.”

“Want to work through ‘em?” he asked, Lily groaning.

“Just kiss her already,” she said, pushing on Dean’s leg. “You’re being a stupid boy again.”

“You can save yourself next time you get kidnapped,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Y/N’ll just save everyone,” she said, Dean biting his bottom lip.

“Oh I freaking love her,” you said, smirking at Dean.

“Eh, I guess I could give her one at some point,” said Dean, giving you another smile. “We’re doing some moving in this afternoon but if you’d like to come over for dinner at seven, I might find one of those kisses laying around.”

“Please tell me you were trying to make up the worst pickup line in the world,” you said, Dean wincing. “I know your shitty humor by now, Dean...and you can get a kiss if you’re brave enough to go for it.”

“I’ve dealt with hardened criminals,” he said, puffing up his chest.

“Still shy. I’ll see you guys at seven.”

“Dean,” you said at nine that night, pulling back for air, panting hard against the couch. He sighed, taking a deep breath, turning his head to look at you.

“Am I bad?” he asked. “I haven’t made out in...I don’t even want to finish that sentence.”

“No, you’re good,” you said, patting his chest. “It’s just getting late. I should head home.”

“Still scared of the dark?” he asked. You tensed, not necessarily afraid for him to see it. He knew all of the stuff that set you on edge, you knew the things that bothered him too. You glanced out the dark window, giving a slight nod.

“I don’t sleep with every light on in the house anymore. I call that an improvement,” you said.

“As your friend,” he said, patting the couch. “Crash here for the night. Get a good night’s sleep. I know the case has been getting to you. I’ll stop anything that wants to bother you.”

“Should I really considering we just made out for the past hour?” you asked, Dean shrugging.

“I just know you’re sometimes too tough for your own good,” he said. “I make a mean chocolate chip pancake too for breakfast if you needed more convincing.”

“I still remember when you were an asshole to me,” you said.

“Eh, it was a long day,” he said. “I didn’t even need my 39 hours, did I?”

“You’re just that good,” you teased, giving him a nod. “I think I might stay...as a friend tonight.”

“Okay,” he said, giving you a light kiss on the cheek. “If you need anything, just come get me.”

“Will do.”

“Good morning,” said Lily, smiling in your face as you blinked your eyes open. “Daddy made breakfast if you want some.”

“Thanks sweetie,” you said, sitting upright and stretching out, Dean’s tee hanging off you. You yawned as you stood, Dean putting a few pancakes on plates in the kitchen. “Morning, messy hair.”

“Morning, bed head queen. How’d you sleep?” he asked with a grin. You pursed your lips, catching the time on the wall, smiling at it. “Get a full night?” he asked, something knowing in that smile.

“It was nice to have one again,” you said, walking over, sliding into the seat next to Lily. “Thank you.”

“It takes time to feel normal again. Ain’t that right, Lily?” asked Dean, sitting across from her, pouring a glass of orange juice.

“Sure. Y/N, can I have the syrup?” she asked, your gaze falling to your left where she was staring. You handed it over, laughing to yourself.

“Like I said, she’s tough,” said Dean, stealing her syrup when she was finished. “And she hogs all the bacon. Watch this one.”

“You watch this one,” she said with a shrug.

“Oh, nice comeback. You learn that from your Uncle?” he said, pursing his lips.

“Leaned it from you,” she shot back.

“When you’re eighteen, I will cherish moments like this,” said Dean, handing the syrup to you. “But for now...I will be grateful that you are here with me and not somewhere else...kicking my shin over and over again even though I tell you to not flail those little legs at the table...because I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she said. “Can I eat and watch Paw Patrol?”

“Yes, I’ll just have my father-daughter moment by myself then!” he said, rolling his eyes when she took her plate and headed for the couch. “Kids, sheesh.”

“I’m really glad you have her, Dean. I’d hate to think what you might be like without her,” you said.

“An asshole?” he asked, glancing down. “I’m not that bad on my own, am I?”

“Well, considering you let me come to you on my own, that you make sure we talk everyday, even if it’s just a two word text to check in...you didn’t have to care you know,” you said.

“I know it’s hard after something like that. I know I wanted to talk to you again. I know I wanted to make my life safer for the rugrat in there,” he said. “The rest of it I’m pretty much making up as I’m going along. How am I doing so far?”

“You guys want to come over for dinner?” you asked.

“Sure,” he said. “Must not be doing too bad then.”

“Oh, I’ve just got this tall thing I can’t reach and…” you said, Dean sporting a bitch face. “You got worried for a second there, didn’t you.”

“Shut up, loser,” he said, bumping your foot under the table, a smile wearing itself back on his face. “I knew you were fibbing.”

“You’re really kind of cute when you’re nervous,” you said.

“Oh, well I thought I was pretty boy back at that library and I was pretty grumpy that day,” said Dean, your face falling. “You didn’t think the detective caught that comment, did you, pretty girl?”

“Shut up, dork,” you said, poking at your breakfast.

“Now who’s blushing,” he said, standing up to grab more food. He leant over and kissed your cheek, hitting your lips the next time. “Want more?”

“Yes please,” you said, reaching a hand up to his hair, Dean bursting out laughing. “You meant pancakes didn’t you.”

“Yes but I’ll take more kisses anytime,” he said, kissing you quickly. “Pancakes?”

“Sure. Then later, maybe we can have more of that other thing too,” you said.

“I’ll hold you to it,” he said. “But first...pancakes and Saturday morning cartoons.”

“Sounds like a pretty perfect Saturday to me.”

@anokhi07 @xxwinchester-22xx @charliebradbury1104 @everyday-supernatural-af @squirels-angels-and-moose @youwerelikeadream @drugpug @darkx143 @kristaparadowski @tom-is-in-my-tardis @tanithlowisabamf @smoothdogsgirl @dancingalone21 @ktrivia @demonic-meatball @feelmyroarrrr @cojootromuelle @gallifreyansass @casgetoutofmydiddlydarnass @mogaruke @ria132love @heycassbutt-67 @aingealcethlenn @docharleythegeekqueen @missmotherhen @smacklesandstretch67 @ceeceewinchester @samisimportant

@tumblinwith-me @xfanqirlinq @heaven-is-aplaceonearthwithyou @hey-um-misha @bennyh @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @lovelife-tothefullest @under-general-asthetics @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @missdestiel67 @evyiione @jensenackesl @xxxdevine-demonsxxx @ayeeitsemry @mac5323 @atc74 @captainemwinchester @nanie5 @idalinette @quiddy-writes @pureawesomeness001 @poukothenerd @af112992 @mickey-m399 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @upon-a-girl @amazinntay @akshi8278 @baconlover001 @flufy07 @jayankles @alilianamendez @batmanprincesskitten @uniquewerewolfsuit @whit85-blog @spn-ficfanatic

@zeusmyster @maddieburcham1 @moonstar86 @kathaswings @my-blogging-skills-are-rusty @arryn-nyxx @kickasscas67 @mrsbatesmotel53 @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @i-ship-crazy-crap @untitled39887 @extreme-supernatural-lover @emilymorgan1994 @boxywrites @blushingdean @its-not-a-tulpa @pillow223 @jaelami @roxyspearing @fandom--shipper

2K notes · View notes