Chapter 02: The Fugative And Her Keeper

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(This chapter was revised, 11th March, 2025)

December 2013

Shit, shit, shit. The words repeated over and over in your mind. A worried expression now crossed your face and Agent Smith, scrap that, Dean fucking Winchester, was darting his eyes back and forth between you and the road as he continued driving further away from the police station.

You were essentially trapped in the moving vehicle, with no hope of escaping. The car was moving way too fast for you to even attempt to open the door and roll safely away, and even though you hated to admit it, you realised you had been safer with Officer Tubby at the police station all along.

"Sorry for lying to you back there," Dean spoke with a half grin. He sure didn't look sorry. "But it was the only way for me to get in there to talk to you."

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Saying anything seemed way too risky, given the situation. You had no idea what this guy was capable of. He'd already lied to the local law enforcement and was now driving what felt really fast down the suburban street.

You looked over at the odometer on the car's dash, but the numbers were lower than you expected.

'Right, America uses miles.' So you tried to calculate in your head how fast you might be going. 'There's about two kilometres in a mile—'

"Look. I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm the best chance you've got of making your way back home." He raised his hand and pointed his thumb like he was hitching a ride. "The officers back there, they can't do jack. Same with the other guys that were coming for you. They have no clue what they're dealing with."

"And you do?" you asked, the sarcasm clear in your voice.

"Yup," he said. His eyes moving back onto the road once again.

"Okay," you started, trying to choose your next words, very delicately, "look...I really appreciate you getting me out of there and all, but I'm good now. You can just drop me off somewhere and I'll figure it out by myself and—"

"Yeah, I can't do that." The grin that had lined his face vanished and his green eyes narrowed. "Someone's gone through a lot of trouble to bring you here, and it's my job to find out why."

"Your job?... You're clearly not any kind of law, officer, person, so what exactly is your job?"

A slight chuckle escaped his lips as he heard you stutter through your American legal terminology. You barely had any knowledge of the cops back home, having never done anything remotely criminal. Well, maybe a speeding ticket or two, but you'd never set foot in a police station and definitely never been contained as you had been back there.

As for things in the United States, that was a whole other ball game. You knew nothing except what you'd seen in movies and TV, but that was all fiction. This definitely wasn't, and Law and Order SVU wasn't going to help you here.

The stint back at the police station and this 'little joy ride' you were now experiencing in Dean's car (assuming it was his and not stolen), was the most adventure you'd probably had in your life to date and you weren't even the one driving. You were wearing the handcuffs though and in that moment you were reminded of the metal rings giving you more cuts. Your attempt to readjust them up your arms and away from the raw skin didn't go unnoticed by Dean.

"I'm a hunter," he said while you played with the cuffs. You just needed to get out of them, then you could consider your other options. "When we're a safe distance away, I'll help you get them off."

Wait. A hunter?

It took a while, but when the word finally registered in your brain, it brought on questions.

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