you wouldn't like me when i'm hungry.
hey, you don't know that! for all we know, fangs might turn me on.
in which a dhampir by the name of frances cohen saves dean winchester from a vampire, and soon finds herself being a part of the family busine...
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𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎 𝖈𝖆𝖓'𝖙 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊
"The best rock band of all time was Led Zeppelin, and nothing is going to change my mind," Dean challenged.
"Are you serious?" I asked, my sea-green eyes wide and mouth agape. When Dean doesn't answer, I roll my eyes. "Come on! You can't be. Have you not heard of Fleetwood Mac?"
Dean smirked. "Yeah, and they're a little overrated."
We had been talking about our favorite musicians for the entire drive. He had learned a lot about me—I loved every type of music, although rock and pop-punk music was my favorite genre, and my favorite singer of all time was David Bowie, which he approved of.
I don't hesitate to open the glove compartment and dig through his large stack of cassette tapes.
"Hey!" Dean cries, reaching out for the small cardboard box. "My stuff is off-limits."
I hold it just out of his reach, and he drops his arm, defeated. How I knew where his box of cassette tapes was, I didn't know—maybe a lucky guess. I thumbed through the box eagerly, checking the label of every tape.
When I spot what I'm looking for, I immediately brighten. "Aha!" I hold up a black cassette tape and Dean sighs. "You have Rumors on cassette, so don't even try to deny that you like them."
"Okay, I'll admit it," he muttered. "I like Fleetwood Mac. Only because of Stevie Nicks."
I smiled. "She is hot."
"I'm getting kind of hungry," Sam cuts in. I shove the box of cassette tapes back into the glove compartment and leaned back in my seat. So am I, I thought, but I'm not complaining.
Dean glances at his little brother in the rearview mirror. "Yeah, like you'd eat," he grumbled under his breath. Sam didn't seem to hear him over the loud music—I had switched out the cassette tape to Creedence Clearwater Revival in the middle of our drive. Although I liked Dean's music taste, it became apparent that he only wanted to play the same tapes over and over.
We were driving through a suburban town, and I couldn't help but admire the small businesses that line the narrow streets. It was a lot different than the bustling city I had gotten used to roaming for most of my half-immortal life, but I admittedly enjoyed the change in scenery.
Sam spots a hot dog vendor nestled in front of a barbershop. "There," was all he said. I hide my smile when Dean scowls at him, parking closest to the vendor. The youngest Winchester heads over to the vendor without another word.
