Supernatural Season Three: A Dean Winchester Love Story

Bedtime Stories (3)

Bedtime Stories (3)

Kylie's POV

Letting out a yawn, I glanced down at my watch waiting for Dean to come out of the Cumberland County Central Library. Despite his many protests and annoying whining I convinced him to look up as much information as he could on violent childhood deaths around the county. I told him that I would help him, but when we came up on an hour with no hits, I decided that both of us didn't need to be stuck here. I used an excuse to get coffee, of course Dean gave me a look and questioned if I was coming back. I told him multiple times that I was, but my feet never found themselves back in the stuffy library. Instead, I stayed outside enjoying the sunshine and light fall breeze.

Another hour passed before a disgruntled Dean Winchester came out. His hair was a mess, the ends sticking up in different directions as if his hands had pulled at it in frustration. "You're a liar." He pointed as soon as he saw me. "You don't even drink coffee!" He exclaimed as if he was just realizing it.

"No," I smiled and held out my hand that was grasping a now cooling cup of coffee, "but I got you a cup." I tried to look sweet, but he wasn't buying my kindness.

He narrowed his eyes in my direction before taking the Styrofoam cup. "Yeah you owe me more than a cup of coffee."

I raised a brow. "Oh is that so?"

His eyes widened for a brief moment has if he had just realized what he said, he quickly brought the cup to his lip to muffle his words. He quickly pulled the cup back, his brows pulled together as his smacked his lips together. "It's not even hot. How long were you out here?"

I hummed and gave a shrug of a shoulder. "Enough time for you to do research. So what did you find?"

He let out a breath, trying to calm his frustrations. "Checked every record they had. Found the usual amount of violent childhood deaths for a town this size."

We began a slow walk, only speeding up enough to cross the road without getting hit by a car. We made it to the local park, the kids around us squealing as they played happily. I found myself watching them for a moment before I found myself back into focus.

"Wanna know how many were little girls with black hair and pale skin?" Dean asked.

It didn't take much for me to guess correctly. "Zero?" I asked challenging him.

"Zero!" He let out as if he was announcing a prize. "You wanna know how many little girls with black hair and pale skin that have gone missing?" He asked.

My mouth opened to guess again, but Dean was on a roll.

"Right again. Zip, zilch, nada." He clicked his tongue.

"Wow, you sound frustrated." I teased, nudging him.

He stopped in the middle of the park path to give me a look of annoyance, his eyes went down to his cold coffee before they went back up to me. 

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry." I apologized, my cheeks tinting with heat as I felt the slight guilt rain over me.

"Hey!" 

Dean and I turned our attention to the tall young hunter as he made down the path to meet up with us.

"Sam." The elder sighed as he looked at Sam. "Please, tell me you got something because I've totally wasted the last six hours."

Sam chuffed and shook his head. "Well, you ever hear of Lillian Bailey?" He asked us. "She was a British medium from the 1930's."

Dean furrowed his brow. "She got a thing for fairy tales?" He questioned as we continued on with our walk.