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imagining-supernatural · 7 years ago

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12x17: The British Invasion

Aubrey’s Challenge: Write a fic about each episode in season 12.

Word Count: 1958

Version en Español -- PREVIOUS EPISODE

Waking up in the backseat of the Impala was almost as normal to you as waking up in a hotel bed in Nowhere, Nebraska. But waking up to the voice of one of your newest friends wasn’t usual. All of your post-nap grumpiness vanished and you popped up, looking over the set at the screen where Eileen was talking to the boys on Skype.

“Eileen!” You immediately started signing to her to keep the boys out of the conversation. ‘I’ve missed you! These guys get annoying real quick.’

She laughed, making Dean give you a dirty look. He hated being left out of the conversation, but you loved annoying him. It wasn’t exactly ideal. Whatever.

‘It must be so annoying to have Dean hanging off your every word like a love sick puppy.’ She added a wink and you grinned even as a blush covered your cheeks.

‘It’s just the worst’ you signed, making sure to infuse as much sarcasm into the movements as possible. Sam could pick up a few signs here and there, and he shot you a confused look. You wondered what he thought he read, but quickly dismissed the thought and leaned forward to press a kiss to Dean’s cheek. ‘But somehow I manage. But I was mostly talking about how annoying it is to hear Sam talk about you all day long. Eileen this and Eileen that. You really just should come on the road with us. Save me the trouble of assuring him that you’re fine.’

This time it was Eileen who was blushing. You saw her eyes dart over to where you assumed Sam was on her screen and your grin grew bigger.

“What are you two talking about?” Sam asked with narrow eyes. He’d probably managed to pick up that the conversation had moved over to him.

“Nothing,” both of you said at the same time, trying to play innocent. Both Winchesters looked between Eileen on the screen and you in the backseat, but neither of you broke. Girl code and all that.

“Anyway, continue your conversation from before I cut in. Sam and Dean can fill me in later.”

You sat back in your seat and tried to piece together what you missed from the rest of the conversation. Apparently Kelly was with Daegon. Lovely. It was on your bucket list to kill a Prince of Hell.

“Bye Sam,” Eileen waved with a smile and you had to bite your lip to stop your teasing comment. Then Sam bid her farewell, looking a tiny bit flustered and you knew that you couldn’t hold it in much longer.

Luckily Dean beat you to the punch and opened that door wide open for you. “Well, that’s cute.”

“C’mon,” Sam muttered, pointedly looking out the window.

You slid forward on the seat and over until you were behind Dean. With your hands on his shoulders, you leaned forward and rested your head next to his. “Baby, aren’t they just so cute together? I think we should all go on a double date sometime.”

“Y/N, seriously?” Sam glanced over at you and, much to your enjoyment, you saw a stain of blush on his cheeks.

“Fine. I’ll stop for now.” Sliding across the old leather, you positioned yourself behind the youngest Winchester. “I’m only pushing because I love you and I love her and you two are just so adorable.”

“I don’t need a matchmaker,” Sam grumbled, sliding down in his seat and looking out the window again.

“What you need is a haircut,” Dean interjected, making Sam groan and look even more pointedly out the window, like a rebellious teenager.

“Eileen likes his hair,” you sang, enjoying the blush that you saw creeping from his cheeks to his neck. “Anyway. Fill me in. What did she have to say about Kelly?”

*****

You woke up before Dean, which wasn’t surprising given how much he drank last night. But you’d also woken up before Sam, which was surprising. Usually he was up before everyone, eating his rabbit food, as Dean liked to call it, and going for a run or exercising somehow.

With the whole bunker to yourself, you found yourself at the shooting range. Sure, you had a horrible hangover, and sure the noise was sure to make it worse, but you were a hunter and you needed to be sharp no matter how you were feeling.

After fifteen minutes, you were so in the zone that you’d completely forgotten about your hangover. Man, guns were sure one hell of a hangover cure. You’d have to remember that for next time.

“I wondered who was making so much noise down here,” a British voice sounded from behind you and you whirled around, aiming the loaded gun at the noise. Mick put his hands up and raised his eyebrows.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, lowering the barrel. “I forgot you were here.”

“Mind if I…” he motioned towards your cache of weapons and you waved him forwards. Watching him with a calculating eye, you analyzed his every movement. What was it about these Brits that made them so confident that they were better than you Americans? He loosed five bullet in quick succession. All five were clustered right near the heart of the dummy.

That’s when you understood. “You’re so textbook.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your posture, your grouping, your gun choice. It’s all textbook. But, honey, books don’t help you when you’re in the field.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What if you needed that vic alive?”

“Alive? We kill monsters, Y/N.”

“Textbook.” The difference between your two cultures was staggering. “We don’t just kill monsters. We save people. And what if that monster that you just killed was the only thing that knew where it was hiding the human victims that you were looking for? I mean, you do want to save them, don’t you?”

Mick looked affronted. “Of course I do!”

“But it’s not your first thought. Like with that werewolf girl. You saw the werewolf. We saw the girl.”

“I saw the people that the werewolf would have killed before we got to her! I saved those people!”

“And I saw a teenage girl that I could have saved if you gave me the chance. I saw a scared little girl who had the free will choose a better life. A girl who could learn to live with her new condition. A girl who could choose. But you took that away from her. You took a child away from her mother. You didn’t just kill a werewolf that day, Mick. You killed a girl with a future and you killed her mother. She might still be breathing, but she’s not living anymore. Not without her kids.”

You tossed your gun on the counter and strode out of the room, hoping that one of the boys would be awake. After your heavy conversation with Mick, you needed something lighter.

And, luckily for you, both of them were in the kitchen.

“—but he’s got, like, the Can-Drink gold medal,” Dean’s voice was lower than usual, making you smile. He was so hungover.

“Morning, you two,” you sang-song softly when you walked in and took a seat next to Dean. You rubbed your hands along his stubble as you pulled him in for a good morning kiss. He leaned into the kiss and a low, slightly possessive growl rumbled from his throat. As your lips curved into a smile against his, the familiar reservoir of pastel emotions bubbled over in your heart. God, how you loved this man.

“Best hangover cure ever,” Dean stated.

You slid your eyes towards Sam. “You know, if you helped me convince Eileen to stick around, you could have one of these hangover cure kisses too.”

“Drop it,” Sam mumbled. “Anyway. Dean, have you talked to mom lately?”

“Ah, you shouldn’t worry about your mum,” Mick announced his presence by interrupting the conversation. How very British Men Of Letters of him. “Her and Ketch make quite the team.”

Since you weren’t quite ready to face Ketch yet, you grabbed Dean’s cup and took a drink of his coffee. Mick told the three of you some of his tragic backstory, but you weren’t moved. A crappy life in no way made up for the way he was living his life now.

*****

The blond Brit fell to the ground and you didn’t dare breathe.

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to,” Eileen said, a tremor in her voice. “I was shooting at the demon.”

Sam grabbed at Eileen’s shoulder to reassure her. “It was an accident.”

Then Mick stood up and reluctantly pulled out his gun, aiming at your friend.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Dean moved in front of Eileen, blocking Mick’s shot. “What are you doing?”

“She killed a Man of Letters. S-Sh-She has to die!”

“It was an accident!” Sam argued.

“It doesn’t matter! The Code—“

“No, hey, screw the code.” Dean didn’t take his eyes off of Mick. None of you could.

Mick looked from Eileen to Dean. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“Mick, you don’t have to do this.” A new resolution found its way to Dean’s voice as he aimed his gun at Mick. He would shoot. You knew it.

“Textbook, Mick,” you whispered, scared out of your mind for Eileen. “Just because it’s your first thought, doesn’t mean you have to act on it.” His eyes slid to you and you took a hesitant step forward. You were getting to him, but he wasn’t quite there yet. So you had to keep pushing. “It’s still your choice. Are you going to shoot to kill, shoot to wound, or… or not shoot at all?”

No one moved. No one dared to breathe. Mick’s options hung in the air between all of you, and now you waited.

As soon as his hand faltered and he started lowering his gun, you let out a long sigh of relief.

“Just go.”

And no one bothered to argue. Cautiously, the four of you got in the Impala and drove off. For the first few miles, it was silence in the car. Then Dean looked at you in the rearview mirror.

“What was that about back there? With Mick?”

“That morning with the hangovers, Mick found me in the shooting range. I kinda laid into him about the werewolf girl.” Since it was dark, you found yourself signing Pidgin ASL so that Eileen wouldn’t miss out on anything in the dark. “At least I know he was listening.”

*****

“Hey,” Sam said softly, touching Eileen on the shoulder so she would turn to him. “It was a mistake.”

You and Dean watched as Eileen stepped into his arms and hugged him tightly. It had been an emotional day, and you weren’t even tempted to use that hug as future ammo in your fight to get Sam and Eileen together. Some things should be left alone.

Dean tapped on your arm and jerked his head toward the bedrooms. You nodded, but not before signing good night to Eileen. She just smiled and nodded at you. Then you followed Dean out, burrowing under his arm for the physical contact that you craved after a night like tonight.

“Those British Men of Letters are sure messed up,” Dean muttered into the silent bunker. “And that’s coming from me.”

“We’re all screwed up in our own ways,” you agreed, closing the bedroom door behind you. Then you stepped in front of Dean and wound your arms around his neck. “But I’m glad we’re messed up like we are. Because even as messed up as you are, I love you and I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Back at ya, sweetheart.”

NEXT EPISODE

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