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melancholicbutterflies · 1 year ago

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Hellmouth | Chapter 1

Summary: After nearly a millennium of being away, Angel lands on Earth, finding herself in 1960s Memphis, Tennessee.

Tags/Warnings: vampire!Elvis, angel!reader, dark!Elvis, controlling!Elvis, religious overtones, mystery/horror elements.

Author's Note: At long last! First chapter of approx. 4 chapters planned.

Word Count: 4,043

The angels were talking loudly today. Normally you’d let this pass, focusing on your tasks. You had quite a few humans under your wing, so-to-speak, and because of your stellar performance you’d only acquired more in recent decades. One such human was Daphne Willows, and she wasn’t audible in the same way she had been previously to you. Something must have happened, and so you did something out of the ordinary. Once securing approval through the proper channels, you traveled down to earth, taking on a human appearance.

It had been so long since you were in the human world that your sense of fashion and behaviors had required a good deal of tweaking. Spying on a few humans out and about, you watched them for some time to understand their mannerisms and clothing choices. Your eyebrows rose in mild surprise; certainly, the dress code had changed quite a bit. In place of the more lengthy skirts females wore, you now found knee-high, tight fits and blouses and dresses that dipped low. Even stockings, which as you understood it were for coverage, had become sheer and more for a statement than practicality. Makeup, used to make one’s face prettier (for the male gender, of all things), too, had advanced, becoming a spectacle on a woman’s face with highly pronounced eyes and eyebrow arches. The hairstyle of today was the oddest; many women had taken to wearing their hair straight, but with a beehive sort of look, piling hair at the crown of their head and descending in a curl toward the end. All this had taken milliseconds for you to fashion upon your being, yet you pitied the humans who were forced to contend with it daily.

Daphne lived in a town called Memphis, in the US state of Tennessee. Your knowledge of human affairs was limited, and over time had whittled down to near nothingness; there was nothing required in your job title to understand their customs beyond the need to do your job, and so it was easily forgotten in the millenia or so you’d left the earth yourself. This suited the higher powers, as they emphasized a need to maintain distance between humans and angels. You didn’t understand why, at first, but at one point in time you had a fellow angel you might have called something akin to a friend in the human world lose their angelic powers (including a stripping of their wings, which was not unlike losing one’s identity, and nevertheless extremely painful) due to an inappropriate dalliance with a non-angel being. They were, incidentally, human; you couldn’t imagine how much worse the consequences would have been if it had been an unholy being. At the very least, one would be cut off from heaven entirely.

Memphis was hot. It appeared to have bustling tourism, with people milling about on nearly every corner. You suspected this had something to do with the number of buildings with music notes on them; on one you read ‘Sun Studios’, with many tourists crowding around the perimeter taking pictures and loitering with their eyes peeled inside the dark interior, as if they might spot something of interest.

Humans were funny.

Suddenly your stomach gurgled, and you stopped in the street, much to a driver’s discontent. You watched him drive around you, yelling blasphemous words, before hitting the gas. Humans really could be so short-tempered. Then you remembered that, as a human, you were now susceptible to all the many states and ailments of their kind. One such one, you distantly recalled, was hunger. Grimacing, you continued to pace the downtown until you found an establishment that would serve the energy resource. Unfortunately, upon entering a diner, your simple-minded drive made it difficult to locate something with which to fill your stomach. The waitress, a haggard woman with stains on her pinstripe apron, arrived with a pot of black-looking sludge which she used to fill your cup, and pulled out a pad of paper and writing utensil.

“What can I get you?” She asked.

“What do you recommend on the menu?”

Her eyes never left her pad of paper. “Steak and fries. What will you have?”

You glanced back down, looking at the poorly made depiction. “Yes, I’ll have that.”

“Will that be all?”

“Yes,” you said again. You looked out the window, thinking again how peculiar it was that you couldn’t sense your charge’s exact location. Fortunately, you recalled where she lived, and would go at once. As soon as you received your order, you ate quickly, only narrowly avoiding spilling on your dress. As you rose you noticed an older man’s gaze on you, mid-bite on his hamburger, looking shocked. Perhaps you’d eaten too quickly, or inappropriately in some way. Nevermind, you had no time for the minutia of their manners. However, the woman came to you now looking angry.

“I didn’t just catch you tryin’ to just dine and dash, now did I?”

Your head tilted in confusion. “Dine and… dash?”

“Yes, leave without paying the bill. Are you simple? Not from here?” Her outburst drew the attention of restaurant-goers. If you were human, or here on Earth for a longer duration of time to adapt, you might have felt something like shame or embarrassment. Instead, you very matter-of-factly replied: “how much does it cost?”

“It’s 4 bucks fifty, with tip. You got that on you?” She eyed you skeptically, seeing no pockets on your dress.

The amount materialized on the table, beside your cleaned plate.

“There you are.” You turned back toward the door.

The waitress’ eyes bulged. “But-but, that wasn’t there when-”

Hearing the bell on top of the door chime behind you, you took some steps away from the diner to an alleyway to transport yourself to the house from memory. In doing so, you’d missed the man on the floor sitting in his own filth, an unmarked jug pressed to his lip as he cried, “What the - damn, I gotta get me off the bottle-!”

430 Bismark Road was in a cul-de-sac set off from the main road with nice manicured lawns and friendly folks sitting on their porches. It was the sort of neighborhood you’d come to learn was ‘darling’ in human terms. A far cry from the downtrodden home Daphne had grown up in, she bought the house together with her husband, Daniel, who worked as an investment banker. You weren’t quite sure what that meant, but it allowed them to live the lifestyle they enjoyed, and to which Daphne seemed all too willing to adopt. And you could sense for the first time in her life she was happy, well on her way to having the two point five kids she always dreamed of, having already attained the rich husband, house in the suburbs, and white picket fence. It was a regular old apple pie life, so you’d heard, and you couldn’t imagine what could have taken her away from it.

Ringing the doorbell, you waited until Daniel answered the door. Although it was only early afternoon, his car was parked in the driveway. He wasn’t keeping normal working hours. Strange. You rang again, this time a few more times, finally hearing steps thudding down the stairs, dull and heavy. When he opened the front door, you understood why. Dark circles lined his eyes, his hair was unkempt, and his eyes bloodshot, squinting at the sunlight that filtered through the doorway.

“Who are you? Are you here about Daphne?” He barked.

“I am, as a matter of fact. May I come in?”

Blinking several times, he seemed to come into himself. “Sure, yes, of course! I’ve been waiting so long to hear any news – but you…” he took a second look at you, from head to toe. “You dont look like the police...”

“Police?”

“Yes,” he frowned at you now. “My wife’s been missing for a few days now. Isn’t that what you’re here about?”

“Well yes, but I want to hear from you.” You immediately were regretting your outfit; perhaps he would have taken you more seriously had you presented in uniform. Regardless, you will retrieve the information you need from him. Using your angelic powers on a human was illegal, but under such circumstances, the case could be made.

He looked unsettled, and you put him into a trance-like state that would force him to be more welcoming to your line of questioning.

“When was the last time you saw Daphne?” You inquired.

“Last Sunday. We had a roast and went to bed shortly after. I went to work Monday morning and came back to find the house empty.”

“Is there any possibility she could be staying with someone? A sister? A friend?”

“No. I called her sister Monday evening and she hadn’t heard from her. Her friends hadn’t heard anything, either.”

The possibility that one of them knew but hadn’t told him didn’t escape your notice, although you couldn’t think of a reason why. Either way, you’d be sure to check with them.

“Anything odd about the way she has behaved lately? Something that seemed amiss? Could be anything.” You implored him to consider the words.

Pausing, he answered, “yes, she had been acting differently the past few weeks. I never could pinpoint why, but I suppose I was too caught up in work to take time to figure it out.”

“Differently in what ways?”

“She wasn’t going to service anymore. She always used to be a devout christian, at least since I met her. We would attend church every Sunday, and if not, then Saturday evenings. It was how we met, at church. A friend of a friend introduced us.”

You recalled this, and the news left a feeling you could only describe as unsettling. “That is indeed concerning.” You murmured. “Was there something she was doing instead? Surely this you would have noticed?”

“So she said, she was volunteering at a soup kitchen. I don’t even know how she found it, but it was something she seemed terribly passionate about, and seeing as it was serving the greater good, as Christ would, I didn’t have a problem with it.”

“Hmm.” You highlighted the mental note you made to talk to others in her life, her friends in particular. “What do the police think happened to Daphne?”

“They visited the house and took some fingerprints and photos. Nothing out of the ordinary, they claimed. They also said since nothing was taken, it wasn't likely anything to do with a burglary. Their working theory is that she ran off and just didn’t have the heart to tell me.”

“Do you believe that’s true?”

“No!” His forced calm demeanor morphed into anger. “Of course not. I’m her husband. I did right by her. I don’t know why she’d ever get an idea like that–”

“Was there any reason she could have been unhappy?” You interrupted his tirade.

He faltered. “I… I don’t know.”

“Think carefully, Daniel.”

His head fell. “I gave her everything she ever wanted, with the exception of children, which we were well on our way to having. There was no reason Daphne would have left of her own free will, I can tell you that.”

He was convinced of his own words, and his mind felt rigid now to you. He wouldn’t be of any further help.

“Thank you, Daniel. Be well.” You waited until you were several steps from the house to relinquish your hold on him.

You were certain now more than ever that there was something very wrong with Daphne.

Night had come to Memphis, and you were feeling sluggish from your travels and interrogation. Using your powers was more draining in the human plane, and this had exponentially zapped you of your energy. Recalling humans laid their heads to sleep in hotels, you found one such one of low-profile. This took you back to the downtown area, which had emptied of the larger crowds of earlier. More of a motel, which as you understood was of less quality, you walked to the front desk, where a man stood behind looking skittish.

“Booking a room?” He said, taking his eyes off the small television in the corner.

His eyes had barely landed on you before you understood what he was.

“Angel?!” He hissed at you, eyes glowing dark as midnight as he immediately assumed an aggressive stance.

“Incubus,” you mirrored, narrowing your eyes in disgust. He was one of the unholy, and one of the most abominable creatures that there was. They existed off of the misery and taint leftovers that other unholies like vampire and werewolf kind alike had discarded. They were the bottom-feeders of their class.

“Well I’ll be. A goddamn angel in Memphis of all places. Guess you got bored and decided to slum it down here with us heathens,” he grinned meanly, showing his rotten incisors. To humans he would appear irresistibly handsome, but to your keen eye, and that of other supernaturals, this was a mere illusion for the dirt and rot that his true form possessed. His looks weren’t the worst part – to you he stunk of sin, and that was only displayed in the form he took. “I’ve got business, which incidentally, is none of yours. Now give me a key,” you reached over the counter.

He nearly seized your arm before remembering himself with a humorless laugh. The unholy burnt at the touch of an angelic, some even said to burst into flames; the reverse was not said to be true, although it would surely be unpleasant as well as lower your status in heaven.

“Ah, I suppose you can seize it as you wish.”

His eyes followed you up the stairs, licking his lips quick as a gecko as they narrowed into tiny flints. “I’d wish you sweet dreams, but I don’t think they will be.” He smirked.

He wasn’t wrong. Your night brought you a fitful sleep. Nearly drained of your powers for the day, you weren’t able to utilize as many protective measures as you might have otherwise, using what little you had left on the forcefields of your room that protected you from physical harm. The incubus’ face appeared in horrible visions, only disappearing at your wake. These were interspersed with dreams of your charge, Daphne, who flit from scene to scene like an actress appearing in film, never appearing clearly. In fact, even her surroundings were blurred, which was highly unusual. Your mind's eye had sought her presence in a dream-like state once before, and it was never like this. The only thing that became clear was the presence that surrounded her. It was dark, like ink flames that followed her wherever she went. Towards the end you might have caught something red pooling… blood? You couldn’t be sure. A terrifying smile that shook you to your core revealed itself to you, forcing you from your last attempt at rest. It was unfamiliar, yet so horrifying it could only belong to that of an unholy creature. Something told you that it was not that of the incubus’. Could it have been Daphne’s captor? This would mean you were most assuredly up against an unholy. Alas, you needed more information.

Being in the human realm in long periods made your angelic powers less accessible to you. It was dangerous, but you felt you had no choice but to move onward. The sooner you found Daphne, assured her health and safety, the sooner you could return home to heaven. This was what you told yourself as you sought a different source of sustenance in the early morning hours. Now remembering to pay, your breakfast went seamlessly, and you felt recharged enough to tackle the day. Daphne had three close friends varying in intimacy, and one sibling, her sister Sarah, who she’d reacquainted with later in her married life. Her friends were located only twenty minutes or so from her neighborhood, while Sarah was located approximately three-hours northeast in Nashville. You vowed to preserve your powers today, and would forego teleportation in favor of driving. If you made good time, you could return to Memphis by sundown and resume your search.

You quickly learned that Daphne’s friends were in the dark about her extracurriculars, all except for one that was.

Mary Jane. She was a forthright woman, which you could respect. She brewed you some coffee and revealed Daphne had talked about meeting someone at the soup kitchen.

“What kind of someone?” You’d asked.

“A man. I don’t know his name,” she shrugged, “she’d never said, but he was a real charmer apparently.”

Your eyebrows rose. “You don’t think Daphne had an affair, do you?”

Mary Jane looked thoughtful. “I don’t think so. If she did, I don’t think she could have fibbed so easily. She’s a terrible liar,” she gave a sardonic laugh, “but she was definitely taken with the man. I think it made her feel awful about it. She didn't talk about him after that, so I assumed it fizzled out. But then she got really distant, not wanting to get together as much. She said it was something at home, not related. Now that she’s missing. . .”

“What?”

“Well, I wonder if it’s about this mystery fella after all,” she looked perturbed. “Sorry, I can’t help more than that.” Probing her mind, you could tell Mary Jane was telling the truth.

Sarah wasn’t much more helpful. Her sister had only recently reconnected, and much of her time was spent wrangling four young children; there wasn’t a lot of common ground. Still, Sarah was appropriately concerned about her sister’s wearabouts. When asked about any new person in Daphne’s life, Sarah seemed completely in the dark. “I can’t say. I wish I could be more helpful.”

Night had descended by the time you returned to Memphis. The ‘Night Crawler’ was a night club just on the outskirts of the city limits, with the backdrop of corn fields all around; in darkness it was nearly pitch-black, save for the odd flickering lamp light that was only ever enough to illuminate a single parking place. An imposing figure stood guard outside the door of the nondescript building, arms crossed. He appeared to be checking for identification, which you would be lacking. Fortunately you had a trick up your sleeve.

“ID?” He asked boredly, eying you up and down. When you attempted to use a simple spell you felt a brick wall not unlike the building’s surface.

Cursing at you, he warned, “Whatever you’re trying to do, Angel, it won’t work.”

It became immediately clear you had run into another supernatural. But of what kind, was the question. You felt aggravation prick at you: what were the chances you’d run into so many non-humans in one place? Either there was more going on than met the eye in this city, or you were naive to the number of supernaturals that had immigrated to the human realm. The incubus hadn’t been entirely wrong in that angels were unaware of the goings on outside of heavenly affairs. Perhaps to your detriment, you were soon learning.

“What are you?” You demanded, feeling a sense of foreboding. “I can’t read you.”

The guard laughed, large chest bouncing with the effort. “It is amusing to see you out of your depth, Angel. I’m one of you. Well,” he considered, “technically, half of you.”

“A nephilim?” You gasped. “But I had heard you were extinct? Run out after the third war, the rest captured and killed.”

“Indeed,” he growled, “I don't need a history lesson on your kin’s ways. Abomination, right? Anything that’s not pure angel is.” He laughed humorlessly.

You remained silent.

It was a belief held by the most conservative of your kind that angel hybrids were to be rooted out with the same level of vengeance as an unholy, because they committed the most heinous of betrayals by diluting the heavenly essence. Both the parties that were found guilty of committing the act, and their offspring as a consequence. You yourself were neutral, but that didn’t seem like the right approach in this circumstance. “It’s unnecessary, and I don’t condone it.”

“But you wouldn’t stop it if you saw it happening either, would you?” He sneered.

Two men, or what appeared to be at first glance, broke into fight in the parking lot, their faces transforming into something monstrous. “Hey, break it up you dogs!” The guard bellowed, eventually pushing himself off the wall to intervene physically. Even half-angel, his strength was a force to be reckoned with, and was more than enough to subdue two fully-grown werewolves without further bloodshed. He looked back at you, gesturing toward the door. “Go on ahead, I won’t stop you. But if you cause any problems, you’ll regret it.”

With a solemn nod of understanding, you went inside, swallowed by the darkness within.

Third Person Point of View

Elvis sensed you the moment you entered the building. Powerful that he was, it was not out of the ordinary that he was acutely aware of others, particularly females, who were his preference of the human sexes. What was highly unusual was the preternatural need he had for you without ever having laid eyes on you. When he found your figure, standing out-of-place in the crowded dance floor while humans and supernaturals alike writhed up against one another and occasionally against your body, clueless thing that you were, he was mesmerized. He’d have thought it an act of God if he weren’t so far removed from heaven. Indeed, his dead heart raced in his chest, long deceased veins thrumming with pleasure as he drank in your view from afar. If you’d only look up, you might have seen him staring greedily, but alas, a woman on a mission, your focus appeared to be elsewhere.

No trouble at all, Elvis thought to himself, reclining back on the long couch surrounded by his scantily clad thralls. He was patient when he had to be. And for you, he had nothing but time.

To be continued . . .

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watermelongirl01 · 1 month ago

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Sweet Rescue - 01

Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: None, I think.

A/N: I hope you like it, please let me know if you do!

Your parents always warned you about the dangers of driving late at night, but did you listen?

It all happened too fast. As you were waiting for the red light to change, out of nowhere you felt a violent impact on the left side of your car, launching you across the empty street. Shattered glasses splattered down your face and you instinctively squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the worst, only opening them again until your car finally came to a stop.

The front of your car was completely destroyed, which is likely the reason why your legs felt trapped. You tried to move them to get out of the car, but it didn’t work. Your eyesight started to get blurry. You reached up to touch the side of your head and immediately felt a wave of nausea wash over you when you looked at the blood on your fingers.

There was no room to move, your throat felt dry and tight, refusing to let you scream for help. Your phone was nowhere to be found, and with each passing moment, your eyelids grew heavier, as if sleep was pulling you under.

You weren’t sure what the handsome firefighter was trying to tell you, you weren’t even sure when they arrived at the scene, let alone who called for them.

The only thing you were sure of, was that the man in front of you had the prettiest green eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire existence.

Suddenly, the shock wave left your body, and all the noise came back. The blaring sirens and flashing lights complicate your vision, their brightness finally blinding you. For the first time in what felt like forever, you blinked again. The dryness in your eyes stung a bit, giving you a hint of how long you had been frozen at that moment.

“Sweetheart?” A deep and raspy voice caught your attention.

“You have pretty eyes.” He flashed a smile at you.

You saw how he gestured for the other firefighters to help him get you out of the wrecked automobile.

“Don’t move your head, sweetheart, my friends here are going to take good care of you.” He pointed at two women who seemed to be the paramedics.

——

“Oh God, I came as soon as I heard.” A worried redhead barged into your hospital room. “Are you okay boss?”

Charlie has been there since you opened the bakery. Doesn’t do a lot of baking but she’s really good at managing business.

“I’m okay, they just wanted me to stay the night to monitor my contusion.” You reassured. “I will be discharged in a couple of hours. Just remind me to never drive at night again.”

The redhead sat on the end of the bed. “What happened?”

“A drunk driver, luckily the street was empty, it was just me, so it wasn’t a big accident.” You quickly explained.

“I heard the firefighters got you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “Pretty? Hot? Spill it.”

You chuckled while shaking your head. “Pretty hot, I would say.”

“We’ll have to thank them to save the best boss ever.”

“Oww, I knew you cared, Charlie.” You said placing a hand on your heart.

“Well of course, if you die I become jobless.”

“Touching words Charlie, they are really heartwarming.”

“No, really boss, I’m glad you’re fine.” She smiled softly, grabbing your hand between hers. “I should come back to the bakery, and make sure Donna hasn’t burned anything, but I will come back in a few hours to get you home, got it?”

“Got it.”

You waved goodbye to her and smiled to yourself. There was nothing much to do but stare at the white, sterile walls around you. No phone to distract you, it was probably destroyed in the accident. You’d been planning to replace it anyway, though not before buying the new refrigerator for the bakery, paying the bills, and—oh right—baking the wedding cake for your aunt, along with cupcakes for that birthday party. Damn it, you were way too busy to be hospitalized.

Before you could spiral further into your thoughts, a throat clearing from across the room caught your attention. You looked up to find a tall, green-eyed man staring at you.

Those eyes

“Hey, I'm Captain Winchester, I don’t know if you remember me, but I —.” You interrupted him.

“The firefighter who pulled me out of the car, I remember.”

He smiled widely. “You do?” He chuckled a little. “I came to drop some patients and found out you stayed overnight, so I came to check on you.”

“Yeah, apparently they wanted to monitor my head injury and the concussion, but they will discharge me in a minute.”

“It was a pretty nasty cut, huh?” He pointed at the baby pink Hello Kitty band-aid covering your tiny wound.

You laughed a little embarrassed. “Hey, it could’ve been dangerous, I almost died out there.”

“Not on my watch, sweetheart.” He leaned on the end of the bed, getting closer to you. You struggled to breathe.

Your hand traveled at the tiny band-aid in your head, suddenly remembering your choice of style.

“You know, they didn’t have normal ones, so they gave me no choice.”

“The hospital didn’t have regular band-aids and forced you to use a Hello Kitty one?”

“Yup, those bastards.” You frowned, not able to hide your smile.

He narrowed his eyes at you, calling your bullshit.

“Fine, I chose it, but it was because it’s the only band-aid that fits my personality.”

He chuckled. “That I can see.”

Captain Winchester stayed for about half an hour, chatting with you. He would have stayed longer, but one of the paramedics—Jo, as you had learned—came looking for him.

“Dean?” You looked up in surprise at the blonde girl standing in your doorway. Captain Winchester seemed equally caught off guard. “The guys are waiting for you. They want to rest.”

“Oh, sorry,” Dean muttered, glancing at his watch in confusion. “I kind of lost track of time.” He turned back to Jo. “This is the lady from the accident. Jo is, well, you know her.” He gestured to you. “Jo’s the paramedic who helped you.”

“I remember. Thank you so much, Jo,” you said, offering a genuine smile.

Jo nodded, her expression briefly softening. “That’s my job, but glad to see you’re okay.” Her focus quickly shifted back to him, barely acknowledging you.

Dean gave you a small smile, his fingers tapping on the bed rails. “I should get going, but I’m glad you’re alright.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Need a ride? There’s room on the truck.”

Jo raised an eyebrow at his words, clearly confused by his offer.

“Oh, my friend should be on her way. But I appreciate it, really.” You smiled at him.

He returned the smile, more warmly this time. “Alright. see you around, then.”

“Bye, Captain,” you said, your voice soft as you watched him leave.

——

“See you around? Are you stupid, Dean?”

“Jeez Sammy, I’m sorry, my mind blocked for a moment, okay?.” Dean looked up at his brother, feeling slightly offended.

“Clearly, how are you gonna see her around if you didn’t even ask for her number.”

“I’ll ask Cas, he’s a doctor there, maybe he can get me her phone number?.”

“No, he can’t, it’s against the hospital policies.”

“What if I invite him a beer in exchange?” Sam shook his head in disbelief.

“A bribe? That's illegal.”

“No, it’s not.” His fingers grabbed the bacon on his breakfast plate.

“Of course it is Dean.”

“It’s not illegal if you don’t get caught.”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it.” Sam massaged his temples with his fingers.

“Fine! I’ll ask Jo if she can do a follow-up and help me get her number.” The older brother took a bite out of his bacon, shrinking his shoulders.

“No, bad idea, don’t ask Jo.”

“Why not?” Dean looked at this brother in utter confusion.

“Just don’t, trust me.”

Dean's mouth opened to argue back, but before he could say something a soft voice interrupted him.

“Excuse me? I'm looking for Captain Winchester.”

And there you were, looking beautiful, a different band-aid adorned your forehead, this time it didn’t have a Hello Kitty on it, it was simple in a pretty cherry red color. You were juggling with a bunch of pink pastry boxes, Dean recognized the logo, it was from his favorite bakery.

“You’ve found him.” You smiled when your eyes found his green ones.

He immediately stepped forward to help you with the boxes, noticing there were at least six of them, each in a different size.

"This is for you," you said, offering him a warm smile. "Well, for all of you," you added, glancing at the curious firefighters who were watching. "It’s just a small way to say thank you for saving my life."

"Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t have to do this," he replied, smiling at you.

“It’s really no trouble,” you said with a shrug, your voice softening. "I didn’t know what to bring, so I grabbed a little bit of everything, pie, cupcakes, cinnamon rolls, cookies, I hope you like it." You clasped your hands together. "It was baked with a lot of love and a big thank you."

"How do you know it was baked with a lot of love?" came from Jo’s voice, echoing from the doorway as she leaned against the frame, arms crossed.

Dean winced, but you didn’t seem bothered by her tone.

"Uh, I baked them." you said, smiling softly.

"Do you work there, sweetheart?" Dean asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Well, kinda," you chuckled lightly. "I actually own the place."

"You own the bakery with the best pies in town?" Dean asked, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.

"I don’t know about the best pies in town," you said with a small laugh, "but yeah, I own it."

"Awesome." He said.

"Excuse my brother." A deep voice said from behind him. A tall man with long hair stepped forward and offered his hand with a smile. "He really does love your bakery. I’m Lieutenant Sam Winchester."

You shook his hand, handing him a piece of paper as you did. He glanced at it, looking slightly confused.

"I wasn’t sure what would be enough," you explained, suddenly feeling a little shy. "But being there during the accident, seeing all of your faces, it just made me feel like I had another chance. So, I wanted to give you something to show how much I appreciate what you did for me."

You took a deep breath, watching his expression carefully. "For the next year, you can go to my bakery and get anything you want. My treat."

Sam blinked, surprised. "What? That’s too much, Are you sure?"

You nodded with a smile. "Yes, absolutely. I’ve already talked to all my employees. If I’m not there, they’ve been instructed to let you take whatever you want every morning. No charge."

"That’s really kind of you," a voice said from behind you. "We really appreciate it."

"Sweetheart, this is Chief Singer, Bobby Singer." Dean said, introducing you.

"A pleasure, Chief. You have the finest firefighters in town." you said with a smile.

Bobby grinned. "That I know." he replied, clearly proud.

You glanced at Dean, suddenly reminded of your to-do list. "I really should get going. I need to take care of some things for the insurance company."

"Let me walk you out, sweetheart," Dean offered.

You nodded, gathering your things as you made your way toward the door, stopping to say goodbye to everyone in the room.

"Thanks for the pie, beautiful," Dean said teasingly.

You felt your cheeks flush. "Thanks to you, for rescuing me and for checking on me."

"Always," he said, his smile softening. "I’ll be there tomorrow, first thing in the morning."

"I’ll make sure to be there."

"You better." he said with a playful grin.

And he stood there watching her leave the fire station, her red high heels clicking against the gray concrete floor and hips moving side to side as she walked out.

“Oh my god, you really like her.” A voice coming from behind him said.

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s been a year already.” The younger sibling looked at him, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s okay to move on.”

Dean simply nodded.