esoteric ↯ dean winchester x reader

lxxxiii.

You and Dean made your way through the station to the back room where Professor Redfield was left sitting in his thoughts. He'd been interrogated about the incident for hours. The cops felt bad because they thought he was innocent, but had nothing to prove it and the public would go nuts without something to be told.

"Professor Redfield. FBI." Dean announced in such a professional tone it almost made you laugh.

"Call me Donatello." Professor Redfield insisted and you could tell he was one of the cool professors, Dean gave him an odd look at hearing the name and he laughed, "Yeah. I'm named after him."

"The... Mutant Ninja Turtle?" Dean asked, you shoved his shoulder and gave him a you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me look.

"The, uh, Renaissance sculptor." Donatello crooked his head.

"Right, of course." Dean scratched his head and looked at the coffee machine. Donatello changed his focus to you.

"The cops think I'm a terrorist. I-I teach chemistry at the university. I-I lead a quiet life. I have a cat!" Donatello begged, then soon realize the weight, "Had a cat."

"Donatello, we are sorry for your loss." You slid into a chair at the table he sat chained to, "I just a few questions, okay? Um, other than the fog, did you notice anything or anyone that seemed out of place on the street that night?"

"It – It all happened so fast. I, uh... It was like it came out of nowhere. We hardly ever get fog, and never like that." You could see Donatello replaying it all in his mind as he told it live, "It was horrible. They were clutching their throats like- like – like they were choking. And, oh. Their bodies – oh, my God – these terrible black streaks. And that's when it happened. It was like nothing I've ever felt before in my life. It was like my head was exploding, only not with pain – with – with – with knowledge and – and clarity! Things that I'd never known before. Symbols and – and voices – in languages I don't speak! Then... horrible... horrible visions... of destruction... and death. You think I'm crazy."

"No, uh, not at all." You offered a hand over his and your finger zinged, you knew what this meant, "Just, uh, you know, will you give us a moment?"

You walked toward Dean at the coffee table, keeping your voices hushed.

"This is gonna sound crazy, but this guy. He's a prophet." You said confidently.

"I've, uh, Sam and I we've worked with prophets before so I've heard this story before. How do you know?" Dean asked, curious.

"I touched him, and I felt it." You said, in the most roundabout way of describing the feeling of just knowing it.

"Ok, can you stop feeling him?" Dean started and you pushed his shoulder again,

"You're so dramatic." You rolled your eyes, "I'm just confused because I thought Cas told me about how Crowley rounded up all the prophets and tried to kill them?"

"Yeah, but we rescued them and Donatello wasn't a part of that, but, yeah, it's possible Crowley missed a few." Dean shrugged, looking at Donatello staring at his tea.

"And, obviously, he had no idea he was next in line after Kevin, so." You said and Dean flinched at the name.

"How would he? The next prophet hadn't gotten hit by the God power yet." Dean shrugged off his uncomfortableness, "So, Amara's fog – could it have been Amara's God power?"

"It's still God power." You pointed out.

"All right, I need a lot more coffee," Dean said.

"Yeah." You said, trying to keep your hands to yourself in front of Donatello.