I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Blue House, Black Dog

The motel room was eerily quiet. There was no bickering, no laughter, no witty comments. Only light snores from one bed and the gentle clicking of laptop keys from another. The screen glared on a shadowy figure, reflecting on the wooden backboard of the bed and spreading softly around the room.

The figure would pause in his typing every few minutes to glance at the sleeping figure in the next bed. He would stop, his eyes would flash towards his brother, as if to check that the sleeping figure was still there, and then return on his mission.

The room was oddly barren and tidy for two young men to be staying in. The only loose item happened to be a lacy, fuchsia colored bra tucked neatly behind the TV stand, out of the sight of the younger brother.

The curtains were drawn to allow minimal light into the room, though the occasional moth eaten hole would ruin the effect. The sounds of cars could be heard on a distant highway, if one strained hard enough to listen for it.

The youngest brother rubbed his eyes in exhaustion and turned once again to glance at his comatose older brother. In just a few hours, he would be awake and they would be on the road again – whether the younger brother liked it or not. The younger brother laughed grimly and averted his gaze back to the computer.

A news headline for a rural Alabama city flashed at the top of his screen, showcasing a sizable town somewhere in the 'Black Belt', a rural farming district of the state. The district boasted smaller towns and massive, old plantation homes off the beaten path.

The headline spoke of a number of recent animal attacks, with the carcasses ranging from ravished to nearly intact. They all lacked one key component – hearts.

The younger brother chuckled again.

No less than three hours later, the two brothers were sitting in a shabby diner in Omaha, dim lighting reflecting off of their clean plates.

"You said it's a werewolf?" The oldest brother questioned, a fork hanging from his mouth, not bothering to keep his voice down.

"The website says it was animal attacks. Coroner says all of the hearts were missing," his younger brother replied.

"Great, a werewolf in the swamp. Go figure."

"You're thinking of Louisiana, Dean."

Dean dropped the fork from his mouth and leaned towards his brother, taking a swig of black coffee. "They're practically the same thing, Sammy. Both in the South, so both are swamps." He replied, his eyes still blurred with sleep.

Sam grinned and pulled his laptop towards him. "So far there have been nine victims. I've done some research, and I can't find anything they have in common. It looks like some wolf went on a feeding frenzy."

"Good. They're always the most fun to kill," Dean said enthusiastically, with a mouthful of food. Sam cringed. "I'll bring the car around, you've got the bill, Sammy."

Dean stood up from the booth as his brother started to protest and clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

"Towns only a few hours away, you can sleep on the way," said Dean.

"Great," Sam grumbled. "Then we can get a motel room tonight and talk to the witness in the morning."

"Witness?" Dean inquired, stopping in his tracks. "You never said anything about a witness."

"Just some guy named Raymond Chapez. The police interviewed him, but they couldn't get anything good out of him. Thought maybe we could take a crack at him."

"Poor guy probably saw the monster and didn't even realize what it was."

"Probably. That's why I thought we'd talk to him tomorrow."