Rewrite Of Supernatural Series: Season 1

Dead in the Water - Part 1.

You are lounging in the Lynnwood Inn, sitting beside Dean who is scribbling on newspaper articles and circling the things he liked. You are on phone with some Sheriff of some local town out there. You work for Bobby when you can, so, when he is out and working on some cases, you take a few calls here and there.

'I did say that, yes,' you sighed, listening to the sheriff blabbing. '. . . Look, sir, yes . . . I apologize for the tardiness . . . Mr. Willis can't get to the phone . . . I told you that I am his assistant and Agent Trucker is one of our best. So, I suggest that you let him do his goddamn job and get off the phone so that we can both get along our freaking lives! . . . Yes, good . . . Thank you. And next time, if you waste my time so - Agent Trucker would be the least of your worries.'

You click off just as the waitress who had been hitting on Dean by showing her excessive cleavage for some time now came to check on your table. You had a hard time understanding why things bothered you so much when you were with the brothers. Should free time really be this annoying? Because if so, you needed to find things to keep yourself more busy.

'Can I get you anything else?' she asked, leaning down so that she could put herself on display to Dean. Dean grinned at her, a pen in his mouth, he was so handsome.

'Just the check, please.' you gave the girl a sweet fake smile, she shot you a nasty look. 'Okay,' she said before leaving. Dean glowered at you, 'You know, Y/N, we're allowed to have fun once in a while.'

'Sure,' you agreed dryly.

'That's fun,' Dean pointed at the girl, her hips swaying as she disappeared into the kitchen.

You stared at Dean blankly, annoyed with what he told you. You knew he didn't like you that way, and yet, it got to you every time.

You got off your stool, your right hand went to rest on Dean's knee. You moved closer to him till your face was mere inch or two away from his, your hand sliding up his leg until it was just a few centimeters away from the jackpot. You kept your eyes locked on his, 'No, love,' you whispered, you licked your lips.

Dean glanced down at them, nervousness radiating off him. You inched closer, your lips skimming his wound on his neck from the last hunt, as you went to whisper in his ear. He shivered slightly which made goosebumps rise all over your body, 'Making you squirm is so fun, Dean.' Your voice was low and husky, so only Dean could hear you.

No one in the diner could see where your hand was, tracing patterns on his thigh. Your body between Dean's legs, your free hand resting on his neck, keeping Dean from pulling away. His breath fanned on your neck, warm and yet it sent shudders down your spine as if you had been doused in ice-cold water. You smirked, when you felt him gulp, his adam's apple bobbing up and down.

Sam walked out of the bathroom and you withdrew from Dean, who let out a strangled groan, shuddering. You snickered, not letting it show just how much this little interaction affected you.

'What's going on?' Sam asked, looking between the two of you. You didn't blame him, the sexual tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife.

'I think Dean got one,' chuckling at your own joke. Dean adjusted his jeans, glaring at you before turning away to face his brother. Sam rolled his eyes, not having patience for the two of you. He took his seat on the stool on Dean's other side.

'Case,' Dean cleared his throat, pushing the newspaper towards his brother. 'She meant case. Here take a look at this. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week, Sophie Carlton, eighteen . . . walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water. Nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. Had the funeral two days ago.'