Freedom of Fate ~ Castielxreader

8 - The Hunt

You leaned against the reception desk impatiently ringing the service bell, itching to check in. The brothers were just as irritable after the drive, especially Dean, who took the longest shift behind the wheel and constantly badgered you about how hungry he was. They were leaning against the hood of the car and though you couldn't hear their conversation, judging by their body language you knew they were bickering, so you started ringing the bell more desperately.

'Alright alright!' the desk clerk huffed, emerging through the back door and confiscating the bell from you. The stench of weed draped around him like fog.

'I need two rooms, a double and a single,' you stated, pushing your credit card over the tarnished counter.

'We got one double bro, that's it' the man replied rudely.

You scoffed. 'How is this hick motel booked up?'

'Waves of crazies coming in over the last week. Bigfoot hunters. The town's never seen this much business,' he shrugged his shoulders 'you want the room or not?' he said in a mellow tone.

You grabbed the keys from him with exasperation then went to explain the situation to the Winchesters, who while exchanging moans and curses between themselves followed you to the room.

The room itself was the same uninspired blueprint of every cheap American motel you've visited. The carpet was matted and suspiciously stained, covering the whole room except the open kitchen segregated by chipped stone tiles. The lights buzzed on, flickering repeatedly before settling into a dim, artificial-yellow glow. You threw your dufflebag onto the bed furthest from the door then turned to the brothers.

You clasped your hands together decisively, 'I'll get food, you guys get changed. We'll eat on the way to the Sheriff's station'. You tossed the room keys to Sam, warned them to behave and dashed to the burger place you spotted down the road. When you returned, having successfully bought enough fastfood to satiate the boys, they were dressed handsomely in their suits waving their fists at each other in a game of rock paper scissors.

'What are you doing?' you threw the fastfood bags onto the rickety table by the door.

'Sam and I obviously aren't bunking together, so we're deciding who' s unlucky enough to share with you,' Dean teased, helping himself to a burger.

'That's funny, because I was just going to push the beds together for myself and make you two sleep in the car,' you joked back, grabbing the FBI outfit laid out for you on the bed and rushing to change in the bathroom. The boys had eaten almost everything you bought in the few minutes you were getting ready, their lack of self control leaving you just a portion of fries. You cursed at them and chased them out of the room, grabbing Dean's second half-eaten burger out of his hand to claim it as yours.

Dean drove you to the Sheriff's station where a crowd of a dozen or so people convened. They were dressed like it was open season; head to toe in camo, flashlights strapped to their heads, hunting rifles and crossbows on their backs, and matching trucker hats. You got out of the Impala and walked towards them, until you were close enough for the text on their caps to be legible: Big Hunt for BigFoot Group. Dean could see their hats too and almost keeled over.

'This can't be happening' he groaned, massaging the bridge of his nose, 'there's no way I'm talking to those neck-beard virgins'. He waved you and Sam off to talk to them, then jogged up the steps to the building trying to get away as fast as possible.

You exchanged aggrevated looks with Sam, who was just as annoyed as you, but approached the group anyway. They were gathered over a map unfolded across the hood of a truck, arguing amongst themselves. Sam announced his alias first, then introduced yours. A stout man with a patchy beard spoke up and welcomed you as 'fellow pursuers of cryptid discoveries' so you assumed him to be in charge and directed your questioning at him. He explained they were about to set off into the woods to hunt down the elusive sasquatch before he killed any more campers. Though a noble cause, you knew they were just going to get themselves killed by whatever was out there.