As soon as he had left the barn, he had downed the liquid you gave him. He discarded the empty vial into his pocket, and then begin walking towards the main house.
Only to stop, and hiss in slight pain, the mildest of headaches burning his nerves before it was gone – leaving behind a single, sweet message: Be careful, love.
Dean had half a mind to turn about and demand from you if you'd done it (he assumed it was you because of the nickname, he didn't actually hear a gender which was weird), but then he set his priorities right. He had to get his brother out; he had to bring his family out of this craphole as soon as possible.
Armed with his pocket-light, Dean took the back route to enter the house. His alert eyes darting around and about, jaw clenched in professionalism, and posture uptight with practice.
As he shuffled to what he assumed was a storeroom, he inspected the various glass jars that had small, seemingly personal, artefacts – with only slight nausea, Dean decided that it was reminders of these monsters' "victory". 'Yikes,' he said to himself, utterly disgusted.
A further sweep over the place brought him over to the section which seemed to be dominated by pictures. Gruesome ones the held several victims and two very identical men, always bloody and with some kind of weapon, posing for the camera in nauseating ecstacy.
A particular one attracted Dean and he picked it off the metal it had been resting against. The victim in this one had been hanging halfway down from a surface, allowing the viewers to see him upside down, Dean turned to photo to be able to look at the man correct and knew it must be recent for it was Jenkins.
Bile rose, and a common man would have thrown up by now. Dean exhaled sharply, expertly churning down his disgust and anger as he had done for years to focus on the case, only saying, 'Well, I'll say it again. Demons I get. People are crazy.'
Abandoning the pictures, he decided to hike up the stairs. Turning his stealth mode on, Dean's footsteps lightened, his flashlight pointing upwards, and his head snapping around with every creak.
Jovial music was playing upstairs, a beautiful piano piece that seemed misplaced in a ransacked (by choice) house like this. Occasional sounds of utensils clattering emitted from where the music seemed to be coming from. Dean carefully peeked the corner making sure it was a clear area before he stepped into it.
Placing one step in front of the other, his eyes were fixed on the only slightly ajar door where he soon saw a man working, his back to the door. Dean's head unexpectedly brushed into a wind-chime, in the middle of the corridor, and he silenced it before it drew too much unwanted attention.
His hands felt the coarseness of the object and he soon realized it was bones of some sort. 'What the . . . ' he gulped under his breath.
Remembering he didn't have time for this, he thanked that the music had overpowered the sound he made and walked faster towards the living room. From the side he picked up a misshapen wooden tool, of sorts, jutting out a pointy edge that'd gladly fulfil the purpose of killing, if it came down to it.
The living room was directly adjacent to the kitchen, both open enough to each other that anyone could see what was going on on the other side. Dean noticed randomly placed keys in a rusty iron box, and he decided to grant one look into the kitchen where he could now hear voices of sawing (probably some animal meat. Hopefully).
Luckily, the man was too busy in his task to disrupt Dean's. He walked to the keys about to select one when his eyes fell on . . . a jar of teeth? He picked it up to make sure his eyes weren't betraying him, and suddenly he tensed. He quietly, and fast placed the bottle back on the table, turning on his feet to attack the person who'd seen him, only to be shocked by a young girl who gasped in fear, her feet stumbling back at the sight of the large strange man.
'Shh,' he quickly shushed, stepping towards her, his kindness bleeding in. 'It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you,' he left his weapon standing against the table, raising his hands in surrender.
The girl threw him a sudden smile, conjuring a hidden knife, an inhuman look taking hold of her eyes. 'I know,' she rapidly stabbed Dean, letting the knife stick him into the wooden wall behind him. Had Dean not jumped on his reflexes, he would have been hurt, but the blade only cut through his cloth, and he cursed, 'Jesus!'
'Daddy!' the girl started screaming.
Dean looked around in panic; she didn't care, 'Daddy!' she kept calling, while Dean turned the knife and used his force to extract himself from against the wall, being successful just as the man who had been in the kitchen ran out, another one coming from another direction.
The second one grabbed Dean from the behind, holding the older brother from under his armpits, the one who had been cooking ran at the older Winchester, too. Dean used the support of the guy who was holding him, and kicked his legs into the air, kicking the first guy away from him who promptly fell to the ground.
The second guy slammed Dean into the wall in front of them in anger, the men in the room grunting with efforts. The same guy dragging Dean and pushed him against the cabinet just across the hall which broke on impact, on the process, costing Dean the knife he'd been holding.
Now, Dean was by no means a small man. But who he was up against were huge!
The second man grabbed Dean by collar, and not one to go down easily, Dean turned around and landed a punch! Then, another.
Beyond pissed, the same man charged towards the shorter Winchester. Dean used his momentum against him, grabbing his collar, and lifting the man momentarily in the air, to only let go of him so that he could crash against another wall.
Unfortunately, the first man was back on his feet, and second followed suit, both of them cornering Dean.
The green-eyed man kicked an item on the floor towards the second guy, fighting the first one first who threw a punch at him. Dean ducked it, head-butting the said man who fumbled back – in time for the second guy to push Dean back till his body hit mercilessly against glass and he fell to the floor, panting and more damaged than either of the two.
A trail of blood whisked down his face and he jumped to his feet as fast as he could. Looking at the first man, 'I'm gonna kick your ass first,' he warned, turning his pointer finger towards the other man, 'Then yours.'
Before he could follow through on his word, a loud clang echoed through the room, and Dean was out cold, an older man standing behind him with a metal object in his hands and an outraged expression.
When he finally came to not long after, Dean was breathing heavily, his wrists tied behind his back, a ringing in his ears.
The older man was sitting in front of him, his children standing behind. One of the brothers leaned down, 'Come on. Let us hunt him.'
The second brother agreed, 'Yeah, this one's a fighter. Sure would be fun to hunt.'
The Old Man laughed wheezily, few of his teeth missing, his look disgraceful, and no sign of personal hygiene could be seen from miles away.
'Oh, you gotta be kidding me,' Dean looked upon them absolute hate and disgust. 'That's what this is about,' he had finally realized, 'You . . . you yahoos hunt people?'
'You ever killed before?' the father smirked, leaning forward as if getting ready for an interesting conversation.
'What?' Dean chuckled humourlessly, 'Well, it depends on what you mean.'
'I've hunted all my life,' the man begin, as if retelling a proud tale. 'Just like my father, his before him. I've hunter deer, and bear, I even got a coo-coo once. Oh, boy.' A pause for effect. 'But the best hunt is human. Oh, there's nothing like it,' the horrifying glee on his face made Dean recline back in his chair, wanting to get as far away as possible from him, 'Holding their life in your hands. Seeing the fear in their eyes just before they go dark. Makes you feel powerful alive.'
'You're a sick puppy,' Dean stated.
'We give them a weapon,' he announced, standing up. 'Give 'em a fighting chance. It's kind of like,' he walked closer to Dean, 'our tradition passed down. Father to son, cost only one or two a year, never enough to bring the lot down, we never been that sloppy.'
Dean let out a frustrated sigh, 'Yeah, well, don't sell yourself short. You're plenty sloppy.'
The father came eye-level with Dean, too close for his comfort. 'So what? You with that pretty cop . . . Are you a cop?'
Dean snorted. 'If I tell you, you promise not to make me into a ash tray.'
That earned him a punch straight to his face. Dean grunted, his face going back with force, blood coming out from his wound now. Dean shook his head, as if that would shake off the pain.
'Only reason I don't let my boys to take you right here and now is that there's something I need to know.'
'Yeah,' Dean let his mouth go off, 'how about it's not nice to marry your sister?'
'Tell me,' he pulled a poker from the fire that had been going behind Dean, 'any of the cops go come looking for you?'
'Oh, eat me,' Dean snapped, his eyes widening then, 'No, no, no, wait, wait. You actually might.'
One of the brothers grabbed Dean's face as the father came forth, now, with a red hot poker. 'You think this is funny?' the older guy waved the weapon in front of Dean's face. 'You've brought this down on my family. All right? You want to play games? We'll play some games.' He straightened to talk to his boys, 'Looks like we're gonna have a hunt tonight after all, boys,' he locked eyes with Dean, 'And you get to pick the animal. The boy or the cop?'
'Okay, wait, wait, wait. Look, nobody's coming for me, alright?' Dean lied. 'It's just us.'
'You don't choose, I will.' He emphasised his point by pressing the hot metal into Dean's shoulder who screamed as best to his ability with his face being strapped within the confines of one of the brothers' filthy hands.
'Oh, oh,' he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut in pain. 'Oh, you son of a bitch!'
In warning, he put the poker next to his left eyes, still sizzling and shining bright. 'Next time, I'll take an eye.'
'All right, all right!' he conceded. 'The guy! The guy! Take the guy!' he shouted, knowing Sam would have a better chance of winning. Not to mention you'd be willing to go extra length with his brother.
He was glad he hadn't given away the secrecy of your presence yet, maybe now you could help his brother fight. Maybe Sam would need you more than he did.
The brother finally released the blond-haired man. The father pulled a key from around his neck. 'Lee,' he handed the key to the man hadn't been holding Dean, 'Go do it. Don't let him out though,' the father ordered, seemingly having figured out Dean's ploy, 'Shoot him in the cage.'
'What?' Dean asked, shocked, fear increasing in him a hundredfold. 'I thought you said you were gonna hunt him! You're gonna give him a chance!'
'Lee!' the father called back. 'When you're done with the boy, shoot the bitch, too.' He looked at the Older Winchester who had a fear-stricken face he was trying so hard to hide. 'We're cleaning this mess up before anymore cops come running out here.'
His breathing turned uneven. What have I done? the thought ran over and over in his head. But he couldn't do anything, just sit and hope you'd be able to take them all down.
#*~*#
You had been seated next to Sam in silence, just basking in relief. Your hand had found his from between the bars and whenever you felt even slight panic rise in you, you gripped his hand tight, letting yourself feel that your brother was with you before you released it again.
No one said anything again for some time.
Katherine was busy mourning a reopened scar, and you couldn't do much for her. All you could think, over and over, was how grateful you were to anyone out there that he was okay.
It may not seem like much – what you had with Sam. On the surface, it was all fun and games, the playfulness bubbling into your behaviours when around each other. There was hardly ever any seriousness shown in regard for each other ever since Sam had been all grown up and you had to leave.
But it didn't mean that you didn't care for each other's feelings and stuff. It was just that most times, Dean handled you both personally. It was when it came to Dean's well-being that you and Sam often found common ground. Yet, your relationship went deeper than Dean's existence and importance in your individual lives.
You both just didn't get to show it much.
You grasped Sam's hand again, gulping down the tormenting emotions that had been threatening to swallow you ever since Sam went missing.
Sam finally took pity. 'You know I'm okay, right?'
'Mm-hmm,' you sighed, your back to his cage, for the sole purpose that you had not wanted to him to see how worried sick you had been.
'Y/N, look at me?' he requested.
Begrudgingly, you turned slightly, letting your side lean tiredly against the cage. You gave him a small smile. He returned it, 'I'm okay. I swear. You know I'd tell you if I were hurt.'
'I know.'
A pause.
Suddenly, 'You don't feel guilty, do you?'
Your eyes snapped to his hazel green eyes, seeking for forgiveness for a crime Sam never once believed had been committed.
'It was not your fault,' he softly told you.
'I had been there with you—'
'Stop this, alright?' he cut you off. 'One of these days, you have to stop blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong.'
'I'm working on it,' you groaned. 'Your brother's pretty stubborn.'
'Rightly so,' he scoffed.
You narrowed your eyes. 'Whatever. It's just easier to blame myself, okay?'
'Or,' Sam suggested, 'You could blame the monsters who did this to us.'
Your shoulders slumped. 'It's harder to direct your anger onto someone you don't know,' you admitted.
Sam didn't know what to say.
It was true.
If you blamed the monsters who destroyed you, and they'd be gone one day – you'd still be angry. You'd still be empty. You knew that whatever monsters were out there aren't here right now, and you may never get to them – so where can you place your anger at?
It's hard to be angry at something you don't even know if it exists still.
And without your anger, you will have nothing. Without the guilt, you will have nothing. Without someone to blame, who will you punish?
It was messed up, you knew that.
But it was still easier than facing your reality. It was easier than facing that you'd been orphaned, that you'd lost kids. At least if you place the anger on you and blame yourself, you'd always be there to punish yourself when required.
As twisted as that was, it provided you with a sense of justice when you believed that your family's culprit was being served rightly with torture. It gave you relief that you were at least able to do something. It took away your helplessness.
Maybe that was why you forgave everyone else so easily. Because there was only one criminal in your mind – you.
In fact, had it not been for Dean's constant support in the fact that Bobby's misleading clues hadn't been your fault, your wrong state of mind would have forgiven him by now, and somehow found a way to blame yourself.
That's why Bobby was the first person you had been mad at, in ages.
Well, besides John. But that was a complete different story. He made you leave your family. And that's the one thing you know you couldn't have done – you knew you were loyal. You would never abandon your family, so no matter how many times you tried to forgive John, you just couldn't.
Even now, if you truly had been disloyal, you would have found a way to leave. But no matter what you did, deep down, you knew you'd keep coming back.
It was confusing as fuck. But this was what it was. And you were trying your best to figure out those emotions which you'd avoided for years.
And dammit, you were gonna figure it the fuck out!
Rapid, heavy footsteps brought you out of your reverie. You got to your feet, commanding over your shoulder as you went to hide, 'Act scared, if it's not the dork you call your brother.'
He didn't have time to reply as you dashed behind some equipment in the corner just as the door opened.
He moved fast, using the key in his hands to unlock the cage door. Sam's door.
You saw red.
Moving like a cat out from your hiding spot, making sure to remain quiet, you retraced your steps to the man - you were gonna murder him.
'What are you doing?' Sam called fearfully, as told by you, moving backwards till his back hit the cage wall.
The man who had been carrying the shotgun pointed it at the younger Winchester. Just as he pulled the trigger, you pounced on him averting the gun from blowing Sam's brains out. It fired into the air, hitting the metal of the cage on the top.
'You chose the wrong family to mess with,' you snarled into the man's ear before the fight broke out.
#*~*#
As soon as the shots fired, Dean's fear became overwhelming. His heart seemed to skip multiple beats as one after the other, shots were fired, echoing through the clearing.
'You hurt my brother, or my girlfriend, I'll kill you,' he let slip your relation to him, but it didn't matter for they'd only believe the cop to be his girlfriend. 'I swear,' Dean promised, his emotions raw in his sentences. Desperately tugging at his restraints, every muscle in his body screaming at him to go after Sam and to you, to be there to protect the two of you as he was supposed to.
The firing stopped after about three times. The father got up from the sofa, going only till the doorway of the room as Dean's rageful voice followed the man, repeating each time with accelerating determination and heartbeats, 'I'll kill you all! I WILL KILL YOU ALL!'
'Lee!' the man called out.
#*~*#
You had clung to the dirty man, delivering punch after punch with one hand, your other going around in a chokehold. Sam had opted to snatch the gun away while you grappled with the much, much larger man for an upper hand.
His feet went off balance and he crashed to the ground on top you, leaving you to groan. He turned between your legs, punching you so hard that your face blew back from effect and your head hit the ground with sickening thunk.
Sam, in meanwhile, had realised that the gun in his hand had jammed, cursing under his breath as he threw the gun away. He clawed the man off you, blowing punch after punch till Sam came out on the top, and the guy was left unconscious on the ground.
Sam scrambled to your aid, 'You okay?'
'Mm,' you took his hand to help yourself stand. You reached back to feel warmth trickle down your neck – great. Another head wound. Just what I needed. You hid that from Sam, meeting his gaze, 'Fine.'
A growl left your lips next. 'Dean's in danger.'
'More must be coming,' Sam pointed out. 'I'm sure he's fine.'
You walked till your legs were standing on either side of the knocked out man's face. You grabbed it in your hands, snapping his neck before Sam could react.
'He better be,' you quietly mumbled, consoling yourself that he would have called otherwise.
#*~*#
'Lee!' the troubled father had called out again. 'Jack,' he said to his other son, 'you come with me.' He looked to his daughter, 'Missy. You watch him now.' She obeyed, taking her knife out and closing it on Dean, stopping right before his eyes.
The men walked out, armed with two more shotguns.
Soon enough, they joined the party in the barn.
'Lee?' the older man had called. 'Where are you? Lee?' He halted when he spotted his son in Sam's old cage. 'Damn it! Jack, hit the lights!'
He did as told, but nothing changed. 'They must have pulled the fuses!'
Seeing no way to get out his son (who they didn't know was dead, yet), both the men moved to one of the back rooms. Stacks upon stacks of hay stood proud, serving as excellent hiding spaces.
You had split with Sam and Katherine, waiting for a good opening to strike. You moved further to the right, finding a nice cabinet, and deciding it would be a good place for someone to hide.
Making sure it creaked enough to call attention, you did what you intended do.
Sure enough, one of the men came forward and eyed the hiding place, deciding it was a good idea to shoot.
And he fired three bullets in quick succession!
Gently pulling the door to the cupboard after, confused to find it . . . empty.
Katherine took that as her cue to jump from the ceiling!
You helped her by coming from the side, the hoax you two had silently planned working charms in surprising the tall guy.
You both landed punches, and kicks on the man while a shot was fired from behind.
You prayed that Sam was holding his own, just as you prayed for Dean's well-being.
However, just that one second of delay, one second of worry – it cost you.
The man slammed himself back, in the process hitting Katherine on one of the beams, effectively throwing her off his back. He kicked you in the stomach next, smashing the butt of his gun into your jaw before his gun was pointed towards Katherine, till you gained your bearings again.
As ever the hero, Sam's voice called from behind all of you. The man made a one-eighty and shot without looking.
With your heart in your mouth, you watched as Sam dodged the bullet in time, and it hit the older man on his shoulder, rendering him useless for the rest of the fight.
You used this distraction, kicking between the man's legs from behind and he yelled out in agony. You caught the gun from his hands, turning the barrel to his head.
'We can just leave him in the cage,' he gave you the option.
You exhaled through your nose, trying to search for even a shred of humanity in him.
But all you saw was a monster.
And you killed monsters.
You fired the gun without a reply to Sam. You shrugged at the younger boy who looked at you with a little shock.
But you were beyond pissed.
You saw Katherine was already standing over the last man, gun pointed to his chest as well. 'You know, I can finish him,' you offered.
'No,' she declined. 'I'll watch this one. You go ahead.'
Sam warily looked at her. But you were done with this. You needed to check on Dean, now. You marched out of there, quickly navigating your way into the house, leaving Sam to hesitate there a bit longer.
'Go ahead,' the cop insisted.
Sam heeded, finally leaving her alone with the last of those assholes.
But the words that left next his mouth were sure to justify your actions towards the two men before him. 'You hurt my family,' the man wheezed, 'I'm gonna bleed you all, bitch.'
'You killed my brother,' she almost laughed at the irony of his words.
'Your brother?' he laughed, amused. 'Now I see.'
'Just tell me why,' she asked, tears drawing to her eyes.
'Because it's fun,' he fell into full-blown laughter.
Surely. All of them should die.
So, you weren't too surprised when you heard a gunshot from inside the house, all the way from the barn.
And even though you would have loved to smile happily at the end of another monster, your sole concentration remained on seeking Dean.
You had reached the living room and creeped up on the only two people in there, about to shoot the girl when Dean informed, 'Don't!'
You trusted him without explaination – and just assumed that she must have not been as bad as the three other men.
You turned the gun around last second just as she whipped too strike you - you knocked her out with the back of your gun and she fell to your feet. You looked up at Dean, your heart clenching at the sight.
You swallowed, stepping over her unconscious form, 'You okay?' You raised your hand to face, hovering a inch above, afraid to hurt him. But you forced your hand, resting your palm against his cheek and he leaned into your touch, sighing.
'Yeah, you?'
'I'm super,' you gave him a small smile, moving around him to untie his bonds. Your eyes darted to a particular wound on his upper shoulder, his skin frayed and angry looking. Your throat closed up, 'Did they burn—?'
'Hot poker,' he shrugged his unhurt shoulder. 'Nothing I can't handle.'
'Those bastards,' you grumbled – you were sure if they weren't already dead, they would have been now. 'Why didn't you call?'
'I'm okay,' he told you. 'I was fine, really. How's Sam?' Dean moved past the topic.
'He's good,' you responded, freeing him.
He rubbed his bruised wrists, sighing in relief. 'Let's get the hell out of here.'
'Yep,' you popped the "p".
You went to stand in front of him, just for the sake of giving him a once-over for major wounds as he stood up.
'I'm fine,' Dean persisted, putting a hand on your cheek, and leaning down to peck your lips once. 'By the way,' he pulled away, 'did you use your magic?'
Your brows furrowed. 'No. I didn't. I mean, I could have, but I was tapped out from yesterday, and I couldn't get proper sleep – I just knew if I drew from my powers anymore, I'd end pretty drained. I didn't wanna risk that, so I went old-school. Why?'
Dean shook his head, 'I could've sworn . . . I heard a voice in my head.'
You frowned. 'Oh, yeah? Maybe it's the concussion? What did the voice say?' you waved at his bleeding forehead.
Dean scowled, 'Nah. You know what? Let's just go.'
'Alright,' you unsurely said. 'You are okay, though?'
He laced his fingers with yours, giving you a cheesy grin. 'Now that you're here? Abso-freakin'-lutely.'
You rolled our eyes, despite the smile that you couldn't stop from stitching on your face. 'Yeah, you definitely got a concussion.'
You walked out with your boyfriend after disposing of the girl, to a worried looking Sam who had been waiting out to give you both privacy. Relief relived his features upon the relatively unharmed sight of his older brother.
Before words could be exchanged, the beaten up cop walked out, walking hurriedly towards you. You three met her in the middle.
'Where's the girl?' the Officer asked.
'Locked her in the closet,' Dean answered. 'What about the Dad?'
You exchanged a look with Sam. You'd told Dean what you did to the monster brothers, and explained in short about the rest of the fight on the way out. He, just as in short, filled you in about his quota of adventures. Both muttered in quiet whispers, as you two had walked hand-in-hand outside.
She let out a shaky breath. 'Shot. Trying to escape,' she nodded, then meeting your eyes, 'Like the brothers.'
And understanding look passed between all three of you, and none of you asked any questions further.
Dean started leading the three of you away from the soon-to-be crime scene, but only after the boys had found the jackets, and Sam his weapons that had been taken away by the mentally deformed humans.
You three exchanged everything that happened in the past two days with each other in the meantime.
'I think the car's at the police station,' Dean huffed under his breath, holding his hurt shoulder so as to not move it around a lot. You three were outside the house again, ready to leave this shudderingly disgusting place into some neglected corners of your brains.
Katherine had also donned back her outfit, walking closer to the three of you once she placed a call to dispatch back-up. 'So . . . State Police and the F.B.I. are gonna be here within the hour. They're gonna wanna talk to you. I suggest that you all are long gone by then.'
'Thanks,' Dean sincerely meant.
'Means a lot,' you added, giving her a big smile.
'Listen, I don't mean to press our luck,' Dean started, 'but we're kind in the middle of nowhere. You think we could catch a ride?'
'Start walking,' she said, 'Duck if you see a S.W.A.T. car.'
'Sounds great to me. Thanks,' Sam complied.
You glanced at Dean, and identical look on his face. 'Listen, uh,' you begin. 'We're sorry about your brother.'
'Thank you,' she gave you a short, but genuine smile. 'It was really hard not knowing what happened to him. I thought—'
'It'd be easier once you knew the truth?' you asked, understandingly. That was seven years of your life she described. 'It isn't, really, is it?'
She shook her head, looking anywhere but at the three of you to avoid letting you see the tears growing volume behind her eyelids.
You hugged her in the spur of the moment. She sighed, accepting the small piece of solace. You stayed with her for a minute or two before you pulled away. You locked eyes with hers – you couldn't bring her brother back, you couldn't take the pain away, but you sure as hell could provide some damned empathy. 'I know,' those two words holding so much gravity and meaning as they left your lips.
She gave you a watery smile, stepping back. 'Anyway, you should go.'
Dean slung his uninjured arm around you, staring to walk away with the two of you. Once out of the stranger's earshot, he reprimanded Sam: 'Don't ever do that again!'
'What he said,' you instantly backed up, looking to glare at the younger brother who simply looked confused.
'Do what?'
'Go missing like that,' you scoffed, as if it all were his doing.
He scoffed, now amused. 'I get Y/N, she's always worried. But Dean, you were worried about me.' It was a statement, not a question.
You tightened your arm around Dean's waist who went straight to denial as if Sam were accusing him of some mastermind evil rather than the plain truth. 'Nope. All I'm saying, you vanish like that again, I'm not looking for you.'
You smiled, patting Sam with your free hand. 'Don't worry. I'll make sure he does.'
'Sure he will,' Sam smirked confidently.
'I'm not,' Dean refused.
Sam changed tactics to tease his brother. 'So, you got side-lined by a thirteen-year-old girl, huh?'
'Oh, shut up!'
'Just sayin',' Sam grinned, throwing Dean's previous words back to him, 'getting rusty there, kiddo.'
'Oh, shut up!' Dean was chuckling now.
And the group dissolved into laughter.
One happy family.
#*~*#
A beautiful silence enchanted the Impala. The black muscle beauty had been stationed off the road, parked in a tight space to the side, surrounded by trees, and very near a gorgeous lake.
You were seated atop the roof of the car, a blanket shrouding you from the cold. You knew Dean would have loved that job of cuddling, and even more so on such a wonderful night under the twinkling stars – but he was snoring away in the front seat.
After driving for a couple of hours away from the town, a safe distance from what could have been a relentless prosecution at the hands of the police, Dean had let Sam and you sleep. Because even injured, Dean Winchester was a man who'd worry more about his car than some "silly boo-boos" (his words, not yours).
So, as he had it, after being patched up at your hands, and after making sure you and Sam had had your wounds checked out (yours had mostly healed by the time you got to checking on them), he insisted that you both get a few hours of rest as he drove you out of town.
And you took the front seat, getting about four – maybe five – hours before a nightmare about the time your father passed away, gracelessly woke you. Since you weren't going back to sleep, so you gave Dean an ultimatum – either he let you drive, or pull off of the road.
By now, anyone could have guessed which one your dear, dear boyfriend was going to choose.
So, here you were, after putting Dean to sleep, stargazing on the roof of his car, just letting the serenity of the moment wash over you.
Alas, it never lasted.
A shrill trilling of a phone ringing rained on your parade. You would have probably ignored it as you'd just wanted one night to celebrate the safety of your family before you went back to the worries of the world – but it was B/F calling.
After she had left you on seen, she kept in contact with Bobby on her whereabouts who assured you that she was safe, so you didn't pester her. It was an indirect message to you to let her to do her thing, and if there was something she'd come forward herself.
But if she was calling . . .
'What happened? Are you okay?' your worry unhidden from your best friend.
And, apparently, you worried for not nothing.
A shaky breath reached you, your heart leaped in fear. 'He's gone,' she whispered after a beat, 'I-I killed him.'
'Killed who?' you slid off the roof, firing another question before she even had a second to reply. 'What's going on, B/F? Please tell me they didn't find you!'
'No,' she quickly said. 'It was only Fernman. I'll be fine, the bullet hit nothing major. But I-I killed him . . . .'
You paused, confusion raiding you. You blinked, feeling bad for your once acquaintance. 'Why?' you questioned, knowing that she would always have a good reason. Even if that reason made her kill a good (you assumed he was still good) man.
'Y/N,' she breathed out. 'You need to be here. Fernman . . . he knew, an-and I had to—' she cut herself off, unable to string together a coherent sentence. Her distress overpowering her ability to convey the message she had called you for.
'What?' you softly enquired. 'Hey, it's okay. You can tell me.'
'Y/N . . . ' she audibly inhaled, 'He cracked the prophecy.'
#*~*#
Author's Note,
Dun, dun, dun!
So, what do you guys think? Anyone glad to have back B/F?
I liked how it turned out. And I can only promise that it's going to get more exciting from here on forth! 🙃
Anyways, vote, comment, and share! And don't forget to have an awesome day.
Love,
Your Author.