Supernatural Imagines

Dean x Reader: P2.

Dean gripped you roughly by the waist, propelling you into the hallway, almost throwing you down the stairs, "Get out Y/N! I can handle this." You did as he said, not glancing back for fear of that.. thing following you. The smooth carpet almost sending you flying arse first down them, you reached out for the banister. Sprinting fast down the stairs, not even reaching the bottom of them when you heard loud thumping and yelling from the two men. You couldn't let Dean get hurt on your account, you knew he was just trying to protect you, but you could give that man a good beating with just your adrenaline fuelled fists alone. Slamming the front door without walking through it you held your breath, backing against the wall moving carefully into your kitchen.

Looking around you scanned the room for anything, something to use as a weapon. Your eyes landed on a cylindrical object, grabbing a pristine marble rolling pin that had been lying dormant by your bread bin, you walked back out towards the stairs. Whoever sold you the fantasy that you'd ever make your own bread got you good, especially with how expensive it was. Letting out a desperate gasp for air, you realised the whole time you had not taken a breath. "How am I supposed to help someone when I can't even breathe properly." Cursing at yourself you became aware that the fighting upstairs had only grown louder in volume and intensity. The sickening sound of metal striking flesh made you wince, this had to stop. Looking down at the rolling pin you thought perhaps a knife would've been better, but no time to stop and root through the cabinets now. Two against one wasn't usually a fair fight, but you had seen the size of the man's boots, and if that was anything to go on he was at least 6'5.

You jumped up and down a little on the spot, stone rolling pin in hand, and made your dash up the stairs, wielding your weapon above your head, fuelled by adrenaline and anger. Dean was currently in a headlock, hard punches flying repetitively at his jaw, he looked up at you with an expression of anger and if you weren't mistaken, a little flicker of relief. The intruder too, noticed your presence, giving Dean a short break from the assault, "Oh, the little housewife wants to play baking huh?", his voice made your stomach flip inside out, it sounded like someone crunching glass into your ears, it was so inhuman. Tightening his grip around Dean's throat, causing a sort of strangled gasp to emit from his mouth, the stranger advanced towards you. "I don't take kindly to people living in my house." His laugh, if you could even call it that, made your skin crawl, "What do you mean? This is my house?" Your voice sounded a lot less confident out loud, your words coming out as more of a squeak. The man who had been inhabiting your attic for way too long, had long choppy dark hair covering this eyes, and most of his facial features. His hair looked so grease filled you thought it was going to start dripping onto the carpet, his hands were a jaundice yellow colour, like someone recently deceased. Dean looked up at you, grabbing at his throat, he nodded his head as much as he could, signalling that your well timed distraction needed to last just a touch longer. Your eyes flickered over to Dean's hand, that was reaching for his back pocket, a glint of metal told you all you needed to know.

"You live in the attic, how can you suggest this is your house, huh? Tell me that, now you look kind of dumb." Surprised at the amount of fury you had been able to muster in your speech, you moved a little closer towards your assailant, wielding the rolling pin, although it took a bit of convincing to get your feet to move at all. The man let go of Dean, who had gone worryingly limp, you watched in horror as he slumped onto the floor, it was too late. He was out cold, or perhaps even worse. God knows how long he has been in the tight grip of this thing that had now turned its attentions solely to you. "You are a foolish being to think you have a chance at defeating me. How many people do you suppose I have killed, sliced open their throats and watched their blood spill into the drains for fun? How many individuals have I tricked and slaughtered for no reason? You wouldn't be able to guess, I've been active for hundreds of years, no one has ever caught me, and that is how it will stay. Your deaths will be ruled murder-suicide, this game I play is not fair, but it sure is fun." The man grinned in amusement, his blackened teeth making your stomach lurch in disgust.

In an act of sheer panic you launched the makeshift rolling pin weapon at the man, although you were no longer convinced it was a man or even alive. The object struck him in the face, exposing to you his cracked skin, white bone visible underneath the yellow flesh. The blow flawed him for a second, he stumbled back, tripping over the body of Dean who had not stirred. Unsure of what to do next you made a dash towards Dean, his deathly silence had been worse than listening to the voice of the creature tormenting you. "Dean, Dean can you hear me?" You reached for his hand, desperately pushing his jacket up to try and establish a pulse, desirous for any sign that he was still alive. Unfortunately the rolling pin had not done that much damage, despite it being made of heavy stone, the intruder got back onto his feet, wrenching you away, all limbs flailing. The crumpled figure of Dean against the wall was the last thing you had in your line of vision before a heavy blow met your temples.