Night Changes

I Won't Act My Age

Dean POV

I've killed lots of things in my day. Demons, ghosts, leviathans, angels. I've been to hell, purgatory, heaven, and lived through the apocalypse. My brother and I are probably the most well known hunters in the world. Yet, never have I had to kill an international pop sensation. Until now.

"You ready?" Sam calls from the parking lot.

"Yeah." I answer, reluctantly zipping my dufflebag and glaring at the open door of the motel room.

After getting the mysterious call about our new case, Sam hadn't wasted any time packing all of our things and heading out. I didn't understand why he was so interested in these people, but I couldn't argue with him when he was this determined. So our flight was booked, our baggage packed, and our research started. And let me tell you, reading about pubescent boy band members wasn't my idea of fun.

I trudge out to my 67 Chevy Impala, where Sam is impatiently waiting for me. He has his infamous bitch face on, which meant I definitely shouldn't push his buttons. I slip into the driver's seat as Sam gets in the passenger and we're off, driving in silence. Who knew hunting One Direction would be so irritating?

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Sam slams the door behind him as he slips back into his seat and throws the plastic Target bag at me. I eagerly peek in, hoping for a warm apple pie but all I get are a bunch of books.

"What the hell is this?" I ask, gesturing disgustedly at the five band members on the cover of the books. "I wanted pie."

Sam rolls his eyes, taking the bag from me and pulling out one of the books. "The voice on the phone insisted we get all the information we can on these guys, so there's no better place to look than fan books."

"Come on Sam, do I look like I'm 12 years old?" I whine, regretting ever answering that damn phone call. "Why are we even listening to that voice anyway? This could be one big prank."

Sam didn't say anything but I knew I had somehow crossed a line. Sam knew what he was doing and apparently he was expecting me to go right along with it. I sighed quietly to myself before turning the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot.

After driving in silence for a while, Sam looks up from the book that he was reading. "Did you know that Niall Horan is Irish and the rest of them are British?" I roll my eyes and keep driving.

After about another ten minutes of driving, Sam starts digging in his backpack. In a second, he pulls what looks like a little black box from his bag. On the top of it, in messy handwriting, it says: SAM'S FIRE MIXTAPE

Before I can protest, he pushes the tape into the radio and my Lynyrd Skynyrd tape stops playing. After a second, the familiar tune of one of the band's most famous songs comes through the speakers.

"You're insecure... Don't know what for... You're turning head when we walk through the do-or..."

I try to hold in the lyrics but after the first chorus I'm singing along. It's hard to tell so early on, but I think I might have One Direction Infection. But don't tell Sam.

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