Supernatural Series Rewrite- Season 6

You Can't Handle the Truth: Part Two

Pairing: Eventual Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: angst, canon violence

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You gave your dad a chore to do in the beginning of the day, and you're calling him now to see what he's got about the whole Sam thing. He's on speakerphone, Dean is sitting on the bed, and you're sitting by the window just staring out at Sam who is by the car. You're not sure what he's doing, and you're not sure you want to know.

"Hey. You got anything?" Dean asks when your father answers.

"I've been up all night looking. Nothing fits."

"Awesome," Dean scoffs.

"You got anything else to go on?"

"Yeah, my skin crawls being in the same room with him. Why don't you look that up?"

"I'm working on it," he sighs.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this, Bobby. You got to figure out what the hell he is and fast."

"He's really starting to scare me, dad," you say truthfully.

You said it loud enough so that he can hear without you turning your head towards Dean. Your father replies, but you don't hear what he has to say. Behind Sam is a busy road full of passing cars and people walking on the sidewalk. There is an intersection by the corner that the motel sits on, and the light is red, making the people on the sidewalk more visible than if cars were passing by. Not a lot of people stand out except for a mother and her small child. She's holding onto her mother's hand tightly as they walk, but there is something so familiar about the way they both look. It takes all of three seconds to know that the mother looks like you, and if that was you, then that kid would look like your fucking kid.

Suddenly, you have an urge to throw up, so you put a hand to your mouth and run to the bathroom to throw up. You've made it just in time—a few seconds later, and you would have made a disaster.

"Y/N, you really need to get checked out. If not by doctor, then by Castiel. Please. If not for me, then for you."

"Fine, I'll keep trying for Castiel. He's not answering any of us, but he's a lot better than a doctor, I can tell you that for sure."

"Okay," he nods.

Sam enters the motel room just as you've finished fixing yourself up in the bathroom. He's wearing an FBI suit, and that means he's going to talk to someone and hopefully figure what's been going on. The only good thing that comes of this whole 'Sam' situation is that he's efficient and gets shit done fast. Doesn't mean you like it any less.

"There was another one," he informs you.

"Yeah? What happened?" you ask.

"Dentist drilled a guy to death."

"You mean the non-sexy kind of drilling, right?" Dean jokes, but then he sees how miserable you look and shuts up.

"Fifty bucks says he's mixed up in all the crazy," Sam says eagerly.

"You think?"

"Yeah, let's go talk to him," he offers, but you and Dean are hesitant to follow.

"Okay. Uh, why don't you go ahead? We'll catch up. We're gonna do a little research," Dean suggests.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, we got to know what we're up against, right?" you point out.

"Yeah. Yeah, good idea," Sam nods and leaves immediately.