Pour Me Out ~ Supernatural Fanfiction

The Van Allen's vs Like a Virgin

Ten hours later Dean was pulling into the excluded driveway of a large house. Dean sighed, pulling the keys out of the ignition and turning to look back at Jackson. "You ready for this?" He asked and Jackson simply stared back at him with the green eyes he inherited from the older hunter. Dean licked his top teeth, "yeah, let's do this."

Dean set the car seat at his feet and pressed the buzzer, he could faintly hear it resonate through the house.

"Yes?" A voice came through the small metallic box.

Dean leaned down to look into it. "Dr. Visyak. My name is Dean Winchester."

"Office hours are Monday through Friday."

"Bobby Singer sent me," Dean added. Silence. "Hello?" Nothing. Dean straightened up with a disappointed noise, looking down at his son with a shrug. "Well, that could've gone worse." He admitted. A second later the door opened, and Dean jerked his attention from the baby to the older woman. "Hi."

"Bobby Singer," she repeated, gesturing for him to come inside - eyeing the baby carrier oddly as he walked passed. "Tell him something for me next time you see him."

"Hmm?" Dean followed her into the living room.

"Actually kick him in the jewels. That's more poetic." Dr. Visyak leaned against her oak desk, a glass of some sort of clear drink in her hand. Dean could only guess what type of alcohol it was.

He smirked, "No love lost between you two, hmm?"

"No. Just the opposite."

"Oh?" Dean turned from where he was studying a bust on the mantle and sat Jackson down at the foot of the couch.

"That's his story to tell. He's an idiot." She mindlessly tapped the rim of her glass with her thumb before motioning to the white couch. "So, what's this about?"

"Well, uh..." Dean hesitated as he sat, "Dragons."

"Really?" Dr. Visyak seemed unconvinced. She stepped forward to stand between the two matching white chairs.

"What?" Dean eyebrows shot up promptingly. "No twelve-sided dice joke?"

"We can joke about them because they've disappeared. But they aren't funny. At all." The woman circled around to sit in one of the chairs across from Dean. Her eyes fell down to the baby once more curiously - it wasn't everyday you saw a hunter carrying a baby around.

"Well, one just flew stateside."

"Are you sure?"

Dean nodded. "Fits the lore to a tee."

The woman paused. "B-But how?" she finally asked, confusion filling her voice as she slowly believed what she was told. "I mean, why? It's been seven hundred years!"

"Banner crop of crazy all the way around these days, doc."

She nodded, tracing her finger around the rim of her cup in thought, "So you want to know how to kill it."

"That's right."

"Well, you'll need a blade."

"Uh, okay." Dean said after a silent moment when it was clear she wasn't going to elaborate any further unless he asked. "What kind of blade?"

"One forged with dragon's blood."

"Okay. So you need one to kill one but you got to kill one to make one." The hunter narrowed his eyes in confusion. "How does that work?"

"Well, there aren't many dragon swords around anymore. Five or six tops, worldwide. I mean, there's the Sword of St. George, and of course Excalibur, And theres —"