Strength - DeanxReader

Chapter 1: The Infamous Winchesters

1 year later
In a far corner booth at the back of a California diner & bar was where you sat, (y/f/d) (alcoholic) in one hand, and a new hunts files in the other. Old 50's music played from a jukebox not far from you as drunk men and women stumbled over to it and blindly pressed buttons. You sighed as a clearly drunken man smelling like liquor and cigarettes tried sliding into your booth.

"Hey baby, what would you sa-" he slurred. Before he could finish you ended the 'conversation'.

"Sorry," you started as you pushed him away with your boots and onto the floor, "I don't smoke." He swore under his breath as he got himself back on his feet and found someone else to bother. Smirking, you moved into the back of the booth and fixed your jacket, eager to finish reading what hunt you would be completing in this town. The hours pass you by as your cup keeps getting refilled, the alcohol not yet into your system as you watch bodies move from inside the diner to outside.

"Can I get anything else for you ma'am?" A friendly waiter passing by you asks.

"A milkshake please, and can you leave the bottle?" You asked, pointing to your glass. She smiled and walked away, tossing her notepad onto the counter before going to the kitchen to whip up your order.

You couldn't stand the silence, when it came down to you and your thoughts, it was never pretty. Uncomfortably yet willingly, you slid out onto the side and slipped 2 quarters into the jukebox and pressed 'Eye of The Tiger'. You thought it was strange that it was on this machine, but you shrugged it off and nodded your head along to the music. You took your time walking back to your booth, shedding your leather biker jacket and pulling your (y/f/c) shirt down over your hip to conceal your gun. The waiter had dropped off your order, the milkshake and the bottle of (y/f/d) when you weren't paying attention, and left the check beneath them. Finding a straw you sipped on your milkshake, but poured a little (y/f/d) in it first. Suddenly you placed it back down on the white diner table and turned your back to the door, feeling the presence that you weren't alone. The hairs on your neck stood up and you stood on the balls of your feet, ready to attack the person you sensed.

"Definitely pegged you for a rock music person." A disembodied voice sounded behind you as you whipped around, quickly pulling your gun out of its holster and into the air, pointing it at a familiar chiseled face.

"If it isn't Dean Winchester." You smirked as he raised his hands, something silver glinting in his balled up fists.

"I just want to talk." He said, inching closer to you.

You released the safety on your pistol and took a more careful aim.

"Talk my ass. Last time we met you pounced on me, quite literally." You retorted, standing your ground. He walked a couple more steps toward you, assuming he called your bluff. To his surprise you fired two warning shots on each side of his head, your gun silenced as to not alarm the waitress in the back.

"Next time it's in your chest buddy."

Behind you a strong figure grabbed your arms, forcing you to drop your gun as you struggled to get out of the hold.

"We just want to talk, I swear." The second male voice said. You could here the sincerity in his voice, but you stared into the eyes of Dean, a man who's eyes have witnessed murders of innocents. You're options were limited, but one seemed more interesting to watch play out.

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After huffing in agreement and submission, you were dragged to a near by 4 seater table and handcuffed to a support pole as the two brothers sat across from you. Shimmying the cuff down so you could lean on your hands took work, but eventually you got into the most comfortable position you would be in for a while.

"Who are you?" Sam started, tilting his head in a confused manner.

"The names (y/l/n), (y/f/n) (y/l/n) ." You responded in a bored tone, not breaking eye contact with Dean. You watched him as his eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped, his brother following close in behaviour.

"Th..the (y/f/n) (y/l/n)? Like, badass hunter (y/f/n) (y/l/n)?" Dean stuttered, in a mix between total shock and awe.

"That's me."

"Son of a bitch." they said in unison as you rolled your eyes, unamused. You were used to this, the confusion, the shock, yada yada. Your nickname was gender neutral, you could say, so the amount of times other hunters assumed that the great (y/f/n) (y/l/n) was male was unsurprisingly large.

"Yup, definitely not a man, actually a woman last time I checked. We done here?" You said quickly, seeing the question in their eyes before they even opened their mouths. You impatiently bounced your foot up and down as you switched eye contact between Sam and Dean.

"What are you doing here? The entire hunter community thought that you had died in a vamp battle in 2015.... How..." Sam tensed up, his hand moving to a flask of holy water he held in his back pocket.

"Hey there cowboy, i'm no demon." You assured them, holding out your own flask of holy water and tipping it back into your mouth. Smirking you put it back in your front pocket with your free hand, and pulled out your silver knife. Simply touching the blade, you proved that the only type of monster you were was human.

An hour passed of more slow conversation including how old you were (everyone figured out they were around the same age, 28-ish), where you lived, why you were in California, and what happened that night 1 year ago. You answered almost everything with quick and short retorts, sticking to facts only and not letting your feelings for anything but hunting get in the way. You told them about how you had been raised in this life, practically since birth. In turn, they began telling you their life story.

"Yeah... Everyone knows the infamous Winchester story. Demons, Sam, the almost-apocolypse, et cetera? Heard it."

This was the second time of the past 2 hours alone that you had seen Sam and Dean Winchester's jaws drop at the same time. You mouthed 'Wow' as you rolled your eyes, after all, there's an entire book series about them and they're surprised about this?

After 20 more minutes of limited small talk, mostly limited because of your unwillingness to answer their most burning questions, Dean snapped.

"Alright, thats it. Sam, we're take her back to the bunker and we'll figure it out from there." Dean growled. He grabbed your right wrist as he unlocked the handcuff from the pole and attached it to his own.

"Oh hell no, I am not going back to some crazy ass bunker with two Winchesters, no no no!" you muttered loud enough for them to hear, but not the waiter who sat in the back waiting for you to leave. Thinking on your feet you propelled yourself upward as Dean walked behind you, your head connecting with his lower jaw and pushing him to the ground. As you expected, the cheap handcuffs broke with a snap when you pulled your arm above your head and forwards, and you ran to your booth with Sam following close behind. In the midst of everything you pulled out a 50 and threw it on the table (tip your waiters, kids) as you grabbed your backpack. Unknowingly, you pushed your leather jacket to the diner floor, to be left to the wiser.

When you turned around you came face to face with the silver barrel of a Winchester gun. Sighing heavily, you accepted temporary defeat and lifted your arms. Making heavy and uncomfortably (for him) angry eye contact with Dean once more, you winked, then grinned to the both of them.

"Take me away, boys."

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Hey guys, thanks for reading le second chapter. I hope I made it a good length, and eventually its going to get more interesting and complex (oooh).

Leave suggestions in the comments, and keep on reading for more (y/f/n)xDean chronicles!

Until next time,

The Writer.