I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

What Was and Will Be

"There's a cop car outside." Sam's serious voice cut through the rush of music that filled the Impala. Dean stopped his rhythmic tapping on the wheel at once, the firm hits a distraction from his racing thoughts. He should be focusing on the case; that's what she had told him to do.

"You think it's for us?" he asked tentatively, gauging his brother's reaction over the phone speaker.

"I don't know."

"I don't see how. I mean, we ditched the plates, the credit cards."

A relieved exhale left Sam's lips, followed by the sound of rustling fabric. "They're gone. False alarm."

Dean's heart thundered, an even beat but one much rougher than normal. "See? Nothing to worry about." His thinly veiled worry betrayed him, the tight press of his lips and furrow of his brows showing his concern. They were having too many close calls, and having the FBI after them certainly didn't help.

"Yeah, being fugitives? Fuckin' dance party." Dean chuckled at that, resuming his tapping. His mind wandered once more back to the phone call only a few days beforehand. 'Don't come after me. It's not safe.'

"So you got anything?" Sam interrupted his thoughts once again. Dean jolted, taking several seconds to process his brother's words.

"Are you kidding me? How could I? You got me sifting through like 50 square miles of real estate here," Dean grumbled, running low on fumes. It had been a long night, and even longer since he'd had a break. When was the last time he ate?

"Well, that's where all the victims disappeared."

"Yeah, and I got diddly-squat. What about you?"

"Just one thing. I'm pretty sure we're hunting a Djinn."

Dean exhaled sharply, his grip on the wheel tightening. "A frickin' genie? You don't think those things can actually grant wishes, do you?"

"I don't know. I guess they're powerful enough. But not exactly like Barbara Eden in harem pants. I mean, Djinn have been feeding off people for centuries. They're all over the Koran." Sam paused, the sound of flipping pages echoing through the seeker. "They usually lair up in ruins. The bigger the better - the more places to hide."

Dean's eyes lit up like a tree on Christmas, realization hitting him. "I think I saw a place a few miles back. 'M sure it's nothing, but it's worth checking out." The wheel twisted under his palms as he yanked the car into a sharp u-turn, the tires squealing in protest.

"Wait, wait, Dean come pick me up first-" The panic in Sam's voice ended as soon as Dean ended the call. His brother's voice was replaced instead with the dull tone of the old radio, clicking metallicly every few seconds.

Maybe it was his anxiety that sent him headfirst into a potentially dangerous situation. His rampant thoughts drove him straight into his work, his only escape from his worries. He worried about her, if she was safe, where she was. She had sounded... exhausted over the phone. Exhausted and scared.

A chill ran up his spine. He had rarely ever seen her like that; she was often so collected, or at least she appeared to be. A constant worrier, yes, but one that acted on her worries rather than complaining about them. He just hoped she was acting carefully now.

It took everything in him to not trace the payphone she had called from and track her down. But that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted him to stay away. To him, it seemed as if that's all she wanted lately. It hurt every time she flinched away from his touch or ignored his witty banter.

A decrepit building alone on the side of the road rose into view. It appeared to be an old warehouse, not far from the nearby city, and nestled into the surrounding scenery away from prying eyes. In his eagerness, Dean nearly forgot to pull the key from the ignition.