Supernatural [Reader Insert]

4. Annie Oakley meets Nancy Drew

At the motel room, Bobby and Sam changed into their suits. You assumed they would visit the police station posing as a pair of FBI agents. Dean sat at the kitchen table with a beer in his hand from the case he had bought on the way back. It looked to you like he was pouting again.

You sighed and walked over to him, crossing your arms. "Come on, it can't be that bad." He looked up at you from the beer bottle he had been turning in his hand. "Babysitting me."

The corner of his mouth quirked up and he looked over at his brother, who was putting on a simple black tie. "I came to work a case," he told you.

"And they get to have all the fun," you guessed his thoughts and pointed a thumb behind you at Sam and Bobby.

Dean nodded, his half-grin still on his face.

You looked back at the two suit-wearers for a moment, thinking. I wouldn't want to be a hunter stuck in a motel room while there are werewolves on the loose... But all he has to do is keep an eye on me... You turned back to Dean.

"We'll keep you posted," Sam said as he and Bobby walked out.

Dean nodded in acknowledgment as they left.

"I think I saw a bar down the road," you told him. "Walking distance. We could go down there and see if anyone knows anything."

Dean sat up at the word 'bar' and smirked as he said, "That's not a bad idea."

You grinned as he stood. He pulled the gun out of his belt to double check that it was loaded and you did the same with yours before putting it back in the belt of your jeans and under your shirt.

"Let's go," Dean grabbed the room key and headed for the door. You followed after him until he paused and turned back. You watched him reach into the bottom of his bag and pull out a knife. He stashed it in an inner pocket of his shirt before turning back to you.

"Just in case," he said with a cheeky grin.

Once outside you pulled your flannel closer around you and crossed your arms for warmth. It was spring in northern Illinois and the sun had set a while ago.

"So," Dean stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and walked next to you. "How'd you learn to shoot?"

You smiled as memories of days at shooting ranges with your dad flashed in your head. "As soon as I was old enough my dad made sure I could defend myself. I started with martial arts when I was five. He took me to the shooting range plenty of times, but wouldn't let me shoot until I was older. I remember when I was seven I had ballet on Mondays and Wednesdays, martial arts on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and then on Friday afternoons we'd go to the shooting range. He wanted me to be able to defend myself, but he didn't want it to keep me from doing the other stuff I wanted to do. He made sure I was never late to ballet just as much as he did with martial arts. It didn't take long and I quit ballet, and then martial arts, but I always stuck with shooting. When I asked my dad why he started me so young he'd just say something like, 'everyone should be able to defend themselves,' or, 'if you ever need it, you'll thank me.' I enjoyed it too much to ask any more, I guess... I used to wonder what he was afraid of, but now I get it. The world's a dark place- both mine and this one."

"Sounds like a smart man," Dean commented.

You hummed in agreement. "Yeah, my dad liked me to be busy. Said it kept me out of trouble."

"Did it?" Dean smirked.

"I suppose it did," you told him with a grin. "I knew I needed scholarships to get into college so grades were always important, but I couldn't go out and drink on free weekends either because I always had tournaments. You can't get in trouble if you're too tired to leave the house."