I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

The Usual Suspects

I slumped limply over Clarence's broken form, his eyes narrowed but still fixated on the trees up above. I watched with a slack jaw, half expecting him at any moment to take another shaky breath and proclaim that he was in good health. He never did.

A sob broke the silence around me, quiet, timid, as though they didn't want to be heard. I lifted my head to see a woman I didn't recognize bandaging her friend's arm. She clearly had no idea how to wrap the bandages and stem the flow of blood from his rather nasty gashes. I rose slowly to my feet, only to be halted by a comforting hand on my shoulder. I met Caeden's eyes and placed a hand on top of his own.

"Watch him," I whispered as I stepped around Clarence, shooting one last glance at his bloody form. I pursed my lips and hung my head. Now was not the time to think about what could have been different.

I crossed the grass and fallen leaves, speckled and stained with blood until I reached the woman's side. She was thin and wiry, with a shock of short pink hair styled into what would have been a short mohawk, had it not been ruined by the night's events.

I dropped to her side and held out my hand. She froze, her blue eyes wide as she stopped her wrapping. Slowly she handed the roll to me. Wordlessly, I took it from her and unwrapped her work. From the bag by her feet, I withdrew a second lump of gauze and stretched it over the first, hoping that may slow the bleeding.

"What's your name?" I asked the man beside me as I wrapped his wound tenderly. I winced with each touch and each motion to tighten it.

"Augustine," he mumbled out, scrunching his hooked nose in pain. His olive skin paled, sweat beading on his brow.

"Why did you help us?" I inquired softly, glancing at the pink-haired minx by my side. He glared at the ground, her hands balled into fists and buried into her thighs. Her nose was covered in dried blood, the cartilage askew. It was broken, and it didn't look like it was the first time.

Augustine chuckled morbidly and draped his other arm over his face. "You helped us. They were after us, not you." I lifted a brow, waiting for him to elaborate. Instead, he groaned, his chest rising and falling heavily.

"We should get you to a hospital," I murmured and lifted his arm, inspecting my work. His arm was in far worse shape than mine. If it wasn't treated properly and quickly, I didn't doubt it would turn septic. "What about the rest of your pack? Where are they?"

The pink-haired woman shook her head and pointed over her shoulder. I turned to see their companion with the friendly demeanor and warm eyes dragging two bodies to the side, away from the rest of the mass. They were bloodied and battered, much like my own pack. But, at least all of mine were safe.

I turned back to the pair and opened my mouth to offer my condolences, but was cut off by a harsh wave of the pink-haired woman's freckled hand. "Things happen. Ain't the first time we've lost people," she said, doing her best to sound aloof, but I didn't miss the hitch in her voice. "'S been a long couple o' weeks," she said and ran her dirty hands through her hair, spiking it back up again. Reluctantly, she held one of her grimy hands out to me. "Name's Gator," she said, her name fitting the strong Texan accent.

I reached for her hand and held it tightly in my own. "Y/N," I offered and pointed over my shoulder to my companions. "Caeden, Marcus, and Andrew," I offered, dropping my hand slowly as I watched Marcus patch up Andrew's leg, a bullet wound evident on his skin. It was a graze, but the silver poisoning would make it slow to heal.

"You've met Auggie," Gator continued, pointing to her slumped friend, he held up a weary thumbs-up. She pointed over her own shoulder to her friendly companion. "That there's Hidalgo. He don't talk much." She then pointed towards her fallen companions, her thin lips drawn into a tight line. "They was Tony and Amelia. Last few of our pack."