Supernatural | One-Shots

The Other Hunter: Dean W.

↬ Date: 07.10.2022.
↬ Prompt: N/A.
↬ Trigger [Warning]: Cursing; torturing (in slight detail), mention of blood; poorly edited (please point out any mistakes!)
I wanted to try second-person-point-of-view! Let me know if you guys like it, or not. I found it much easier to write honestly in second-person, but I like making sure you guys have what y'all like too!
↬ Words: 1802.
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"'You like being this blood-sucking bitch, don't you? You enjoy it?' A tall man spat at you, blood running down your cheek from a gash on your forehead. You gurgled your own blood, cringing at the metal taste of it. The man scoffed as he looked at you while he sharpened his hooked-knife. 'Not speaking now, are we, you? Huh. Never thought you of all people would be turned into those coldblooded things.'

'I- I'm not a-' You tried to gasp out but the man stabbed the knife he had into your arm, making you scream out, cutting yourself off. The man chuckled, and he missed the almost silent thud that came from the other room, but you heard it, it barely breaching your ears. 'S-stop- check my- my- check my gums, a-asshole!'

Salty tears mixed with the warm, gooey blood on your face, but the man ignored it as he twisted the knife, making you scream out and cry more. He pulled it out, tossing it somewhere behind him.

'Stop lying, you bitch.' The man leaned against the arms of the chair he had you tied to. His left hand came up and he harshly pushed your top lip up to see normal gums, coating your lips in more blood and dirt. 'What the fuck? Where are the holes at?! Where are your fangs?'

You spat blood, dirt, and saliva at the man but it only fell down your front.

'I'm- I am not a vampire, you prick.' Your voice was small but stern as another thud came from a different room, but it was louder. The man looked back at the door then back at you. Although you were in the most pain imaginable, you smiled snarkily. 'Y-you seemed like a smart guy. You- you should have considered that those boys I was with, them Winchesters, would look for me after you shagged me from that- that bar.'

The man's dark eyes were blown wide as his back straightened.

'Winchester? Like Sam and Dean Winchester?!' The man's shout was quiet as he heard the boys yelling your name. The man's eyes grew wider as you hoarsely shouted back for them, tears and snot and blood and dirt caked into your skin and hair. The man held nothing back while torturing you it seemed. 'Fuck me! I need- I need to get out of here!'

The man threw himself out of the window and sprinted down the backyard. You let your head roll back as the door was kicked out. The last thing you saw before you blacked out was Dean's face as it paled and morphed into anger."

Four months later

"Dean- Dean, shut up and put his hat back." You rolled your eyes and moved forwards, further into the room. Dean pouted as he took Abraham Lincoln's hat off and put it back on the wax figure.

"I can't even have fun on this hunt. I remember when hunting was a fun thing to do," Dean remarked as he looked at the other figures in the room of the museum. You looked back at him with hooded eyes.

"Fun?" You croaked as you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Dean shrugged. Your eyes coated the room, observing, but stopping short. "Whoa, I thought everyone forgot about him when he died."

"Who's he?" Dean asked as he walked behind you and looked at the young man. You sighed gently with a smile.

"The man who raised me when my father and mother left me: Sterling Holloway, the voice of Winnie the Pooh. This man was my hero, the man who helped me with my right and wrong, you know?" You gushed as you looked up at his face. Dean's face slowly showed realization of it as he remembered the man.