You liked being around the boys again - as much as Bobby was a great laugh, he was gruff and told old stories, but Sam and Dean were around your age and pretty much the most famous hunters in the country. Every other hunter you heard of didn't moonlight as a fed and get away with it 92% of the time, and even then, every other hunter wasn't on the America's Most Wanted list and had been for a few months.
You went to sleep that night picturing Dean's face, his lips pulled into a rare smile (that wasn't intent on sarcastically jeering a paranormal being on its deathbed, a smile that would be on his face if there was ever a day off from hunting) and eyes gleaming with the look one gets from gazing at something for too long without blinking.
Ever since that night you slept in his car with him, you hadn't gotten your mind off his dirty-blonde hair, his tough-guy swagger.
Dean Winchester.
You must have dropped off at one point because you woke when you heard an almighty crash and an abhorrent combination of cuss words following it, emanating from the downstairs of Bobby's house. Either there was a break-in - unlikely, Bobby didn't have neighbours old or able enough to do such a thing, and who'd break into a place with a car wrecking yard on the property? - or someone was sneaking out.
You knew what those whispered words you couldn't have heard earlier were; a hunt that those Winchester boys didn't want to share with you. Bobby didn't want it either.
As nice as it was that everyone wanted you safe, safe wasn't good enough. Everyone's gotta kick some ass sometime in their life.
You slipped out of bed, donning the old V-neck sweater and a pair of socks so your feet didn't make a noise on the floorboards and crept down to see exactly what you anticipated. Sam stood over an upturned duffle bag of the usual hunting gear - bottled holy water, salt rounds, a rifle - and Dean doing his best to pick up the spill.
"You'll wake up _____ if you're not careful, bitch," Dean frowned at his younger brother.
"Jerk," Sam retorted, "I know it's not a game, but can you loosen up? It's like, almost midnight and we've got to go."
You understood immediately why was going on. You were a girl. One of those things that you couldn't really change about yourself, and that was why everyone wanted to protect you. Keep you safe from the things under the bed.
You snuck back into your room, and quietly picking up your escape bag - you always kept one handy, you never knew what would come to get you as a hunter - you slid the screen out of the window and balanced the way to the front, where the Winchester's had their Impala parked. Also where the gutter was, where you shimmied down with grace like you'd never thought you'd see yourself with.
By the time you made it to the car of Dean, you realised two things. One, your hair was a complete bird's nest, sticking up and everything, and two -
"Son of a bitch," you heard his voice sigh. "_______, you need to go back inside -,"
You saw Dean by the door, giving you the disappointed look that you knew well - you were a rule breaker, but never would you do it if not needed.
"What, and be a good little girl? My ass. I'm coming. I've got all the right to." you paused, and saw Sam had come out to see the commotion. "I'm a hunter too, Dean, you saw me in that nest of fangs. It's what I'm good at."
They both sighed.
"______ -,"
"And you two are sneaking out, at midnight -," you continued, wincing, "its cliche, really. Damaging the ego there, aren't we?"
You heard another string of cuss words and a gruff laugh.
"You're pushing it, but you're in, _______," you saw Sammy sigh.
YOU ARE READING
Tough Love ✔️
FanfictionLife as a Hunter should be easy: find a case, eliminate the unnatural problem and move onto the next one. But after you, the reader, happen to cross paths with the Winchester brothers, with Dean catching your eye, it seems that nothing could be the...