I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader] Book 2

Gray

Booth's world slanted, then came crashing down.

It was subtle at first—a sense of vertigo, nausea welling up in the back of his throat. At first, he attributed it to the blood on his face that clung to his beard and dripped down his neck. And then everything shattered.

Booth grunted and hunched over, feeling as if he'd been kicked in the gut. His vision twisted with vertigo- No, that was him collapsing. He hit the dirt firmly, his tired muscles aching from the impact. His breath caught in his throat, and his chest grew tight.

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

Across the settlement, Booth heard a familiar scream. Sasha. He struggled to his hands and knees as his vision swam with pain and unshed tears. His neck rippled with pain so sharp he could barely lift his head.

Fur ripped from his skin along his arms and back. His shirt tore at the seams as his body started to reshape unbidden. It was painful, like the first time he had shifted. His teeth grew to pointed fangs, and his nails sharpened as they dug into the dirt.

A timid voice cut through the rising tide of emotions. Booth felt like he was underwater, the voice speaking to him from above the surface. Was he drowning? It certainly felt like he was. Was that blood in his mouth?

He felt a hand on either of his shoulders that forced him to roll, then pushed him firmly to the ground. He bared his fangs and snarled, shaking violently. A hazy figure loomed over him and called his name.

"Booth!"

He snapped his fangs and blinked, willing his vision to clear. The voice was so sweet, their hands so warm. He shook his head, and his fur slowly receded as he regained himself. The pain remained.

His vision slowly cleared, and his glassy blue eyes settled on Gina above him. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her plush lips twisted up in a grimace. Her tanned skin was rosy, flush with fear and anguish. Around them, the settlement fell into ruins.

"Booth..." He snatched her quickly and pulled her against his chest. She fell atop him in the mud and buried her face in his chest with a sob. "She's gone."

For the first time in a long time, Booth cried.

—

A corpse.

Dean was staring at a corpse.

Lifeless eyes, the color he loved so much, stared at him unblinkingly. Her neck was broken, sitting at a crooked angle. Like all monsters that took different shapes, she had reverted in her death–naked, other than the scraps of fabric that lay around her from her violent shift. Her lips were parted in a startled gasp, frozen that way.

His head was swimming. The only thing he could focus on was her lifeless expression just inches from his face. He heard, as if from far away, the sound of a metal door slamming open. Shouts. The sounds of fighting. Uriel moved from the edge of Dean's blood-soaked vision.

Dean was left staring at her corpse.

God, his head hurt. He blinked slowly and willed the world to stop spinning. His hands trembled as he reached toward her. Her skin was still warm. He dragged her slowly across the cold concrete floor and brought her to his chest as he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, the same way he did every night they spent together. It was habitual the way his hands stroked up and down her back.

A blue glow filled the room, growing steadily brighter. He watched with one clear eye, the other blanketed in blood, as blue lit the metal beams high above him and filled the room with icy light.