esoteric ↯ dean winchester x reader

iv.

"Hopefully that helps some." You finished your food, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go find a new case."

"Wait!-" Dean grabbed your leg by reflex, then quickly removed it, "Uh, do you want me to, uh, walk you to your door?"

"No.. I think I've got it covered, thanks." You said.

"I just think-" Dean tried to come off as a gentleman, but that was never really his style.

"Listen, dude, I'm flattered. But the whole point of a one night stand is that it's one night." You kept your guard up by being so harsh, "Go find someone else to stalk."

"No, I just ahhh-" Dean grunted and hit his steering wheel. He was humiliated and also very confused about your mixed signals, and spoke to himself, "Where is Sam's puppy dog eyes when I need 'em?"

Dean ended up moving his car to the bar. He wanted to try and find out who it might be there making these deals. He went straight up to the bar. It wasn't busy considering it was a Sunday afternoon.

"What can I get for ya, bud?" The man asked, his name tag reading 'Gary'.

"Just a whiskey." Dean told him.

"You got it." Gary poured, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Dean looked a bit offended.

"The look like you just got rejected." Gary laughed.

"Yeah, how would you know?" Dean squinted at him for a little bit.

"Lucky guess." Gary began polishing his cups, "You're the one who went home with (Y/N) last night?"

"Oh, was that her name?" Dean took a sip of his whiskey, trying to act nonchalant.

"It's okay. She's done this to a couple of guys, don't feel special. Giving them a taste of paradise, let you get real close. If you think you're gunna see her here to convince her to stay with you, you're in for a world of hurt with that mess." Gary rolled his eyes, "Trust me. I'm the one who always has to mop up her messes."

"Thanks for the tip." Dean felt off put, taking a sip of his whiskey.

"Yeah, heres another one. She doesn't work on Sunday's, Monday's, or Tuesdays. So don't bother those days." Gary leaned across the counter.

"Sounds like your speaking from a lot of experience." Dean pointed out, "A lot of suckers come in here?"

"Let's just say you're not the first one. You'd think I was a therapist for the amount of people who come in here talking about their lost loves. How they're paralyzed with heart ache and all that poetic crap." Gary said.

"You slept with this (Y/N), too, didn't you?" Dean looked him up and down.

"How did you-" Gary straightened up.

"Lucky guess." Dean cut him off, "Sorry but I'm new in town. I heard about this string of murders, you know anything about that?"

"You've got nothing to worry about, bud." Gary shrugged.

"Why is that?" Dean asked.

"Well you see, folks around here think its the legend from this bar." Gary smiled, "There was a man who sat at this bar about 100 years ago. He shot himself at the bar. He had fallen in love with a hooker, who kept on leading him on. Then one day he catches her with another client, kills the hooker then himself. And every 10 years he comes back looking for more heartbreakers."

"And you believe that?" Dean questioned.

"Everybody does." Gary pointed out the gun, framed above the entrance, "I've lived here a long time, my dad and older sister used to work here and all saw the same things. If you ask me, those people had it coming. And also, its good for business."

Then Gary went to tend to another guys needs. This was bad. Dean still didn't know how the ghost was traveling. He looked up at the frame, and looked a blank spot in the collection. Maybe the bullet or anything. But nothing was missing. He did however recognize the symbol painted on the frame. He just didn't know from where.

He sat down at a table and opened up his laptop, working off the free wifi he looked up if the bar had a website. And it did, there was even a tab on the "legend." It seemed that there had been a big increase in popularity since the legend came out. He missed Sam then, to do all the thinking for him.

It was getting dark outside. He knew he had very little time to figure this out before you were next. This thing is said to like to stalk his victim first, the way he had this hooker. He raced over there, and knocked on your door. You opened it, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You had on sweat pants again and no makeup.

"Hello?" You greeted him, a confused look on your face.

"Hi. Sorry." Dean looked at you up and down, what he wouldn't give for another night with you. He would never admit it but wow, he had never had a one night stand that had felt so passionate or emotional. "I don't have time to explain but you have to come with me right now."

"Are you serious?" You looked at him as if you were going to kill him, "Listen pal, we had a great time. But I need you to leave me alone."

"No wait," Dean held the door open when you tried to close it, "you're in danger okay, you have to believe me."

"Yeah, I can see that." You said, still trying to slam your door, not using your full power.

"Not from me!" Dean spoke, why did people always think he was threatening them?

That's when he saw it. There was a man there, bullet through his head in century old clothing. He stood just behind you and you finally shut your door.

You didn't see him yet, you were too busy being proud of your muscles for overpowering him. It didn't last long before you heard a mans hissing voice.

"Heartbreaker." He hissed. You reflexively tried to punch him. But the man grabbed it, twisting it back so that now your back was to him. So you tried kicking behind you, usually hitting his nuts helps you. But it didn't hurt him. In fact it couldnt even touch him. The mans free hand found your neck, picking you up and throwing you down into the glass topped coffee table you found at a garage sale, shattering it. You felt pieces of glass enter your sides and arms. You grunted in trying to keep your durability.

"You killed him. You hurt all of them." The man hissed. You shook your head violently. You knew exactly what he was talking about. You spent three years trying to get rid of it.

"Get off me!" You kicked up but it still couldn't touch him. His hands felt cold and like sand paper. His weight holding you down. You were so focused about getting free you hadn't heard Dean breaking the door down.

  Dean fired a salt round at the guys head. But he didn't disappear. Dean shot off an excessive amount of rounds into his head before he drifted off into a black smoke and red eyes. Dean now knew for sure what this thing was now, what he didn't know was what you were.