The Hunter Diaries // Dean Winchester x Reader

Chapter 12

"I still don't understand," You said. You were stalling, asking questions to keep him occupied. He mixed a few ingredients inside a bowl, measuring everything precisely before dumping it inside. "How do I have angel grace? My biological parents were human." 

Aamon glanced up at you, ignoring your question and walking over to you. He reached over and plucked a hair from your head, inspecting it and walking back over to his bowl, dropping it in.

"An angel had injected their grace inside of you when you were a baby," Aamon said. "He had done it to hide his grace. It was traceable, you see. He had disobeyed heaven, hiding it into an infant- you. It's dormant and deep, but the angels found you nonetheless. Of course, the angel who the grace belonged to was smart. You were a baby, a newborn life that the angels wouldn't take. But they had trouble extracting the grace within you and they left some."

"The angel who gave it to me... He's dead?" You asked.

"Oh yes," Aamon said. "He died long ago. An angel blade through the heart. And when he died, the angels had done their job, leaving you with a residual grace that they didn't bother cleaning up." He sighed, his crystal blue eyes scanning the large, leather bound book atop the table in front of him. He walked over to you again, a knife now in his hand. Panic swelled in your chest at the sight but he slice himself, using his fingers to draw intricate symbols in a circle around you.

You twisted your hands in the cuffs, trying to see if there was any leeway. But there wasn't. The metal dug into your skin painfully and red welts soon showed up on your delicate skin.

You knew there was no getting out of this. Aamon had searched for you for so long, trying desperately to get you in his grasp. Yet each time through the years, you had slipped away, your life almost in his ashen hands, but you always managed to get away at the last second, leaving him back at square one. But then he had found you again. After murdering Carter in cold blood, he knew you'd be sloppy. And you were. You had forgotten one of your hex bags one day. One you always had in your back pocket. But you had washed your jeans, being too caught up in Carter's death to remember to put it back in your pocket. And with that tiny sliver in your warding, Aamon was able to peek through, capturing a glimpse of where you were located.

But it had always ended up that way.

Andrew Graten was your first boyfriend and your first everything. He had loved you with every inch he had and that's what got him killed. Aamon had found him one night, gutting him after he demanded he told him where you were. But Andrew refused, and Aamon had left your boyfriend's house covered in crimson.

Your parents were killed when you were ten. You were at school when Aamon showed up. Your father had quickly sent one of his old friends, Bobby, a message, telling him something was going down and to take care of you, that Aamon had finally found them. The hybrid drank your parents dry and waited for your arrival. One that never came, since Bobby went and got you from your elementary school.

Aamon had always been right on your tail. And everyone around you had died. Their blood was on your hands and you never forgave yourself for any of their deaths. Which is why you so easily gave into Aamon's deal. You couldn't allow another person to be murdered because of you.

But honestly, you were also tired. You spent your whole life running and you didn't want to do it anymore. You wanted it to be over. Of course, you'd rather it be Aamon's life that ended, but if it meant the people you loved were going to be safe and you wouldn't have to run anymore, you were content with your life ending, for there was time you may have done it yourself.

Aamon snapped you out of your thoughts as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back so you could look at him. He smiled down at you, his fangs poking through his gums.