Summary: After a road race leads to a steamy night with Dean you aren’t expecting to hear from him again.
Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam
Word Count: 1300
Warnings: a little bit of angst6Please respect copyright.PENANALDtIytaEuX
6Please respect copyright.PENANAtrYZY9XACf
The next morning you wake up to your phone buzzing. Eyes closed, you feel around your nightstand for it and, still half asleep, you answer with a groan. “This better be good.”
“Y/N?” A voice like sandpaper covered in honey sends a shiver down your spine.
“Dean?” You shoot up off the bed.
“Yeah, hey. What are you doing?”
“I just woke up, actually,” you say, your heart racing.
“Hey, well, I was wondering if you’d like to meet for coffee?”
“Sure!” you say, trying and failing to sound cool about it.
“Great!”
Was there a hint of excitement there too? You wonder.
“Is there a place you like to go to?”
“Yeah, Bob’s Bakery on 2nd? Meet you there in an hour?”
“I’ll see you then.”
An hour later the sweetness of donuts and the sharp smell of coffee hit your nose, mingling into the familiar smell of Bob’s. Walking to the counter you spot Dean sitting at a table along the far wall. You wave before putting put in your order.
“Hey,” you say, coming to stand by the table.
“Hey,” he says, half rising from his chair.
You sit down, watching his green eyes watch you. “I was surprised you called.”
6Please respect copyright.PENANAJ9vQmbRC4x
His lips pull up in a little half-smile and his eyes flick down before coming up to meet yours. “I said I would.”
“Yeah, but, no offense, I’ve heard that before.”
“Yeah? Well I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he says simply and you can tell it’s true.
A smile spreads over your face and you’re about to respond when your coffee arrives. You take a sip of the hot, deliciously creamy liquid, watching him over the rim of your cup as he drinks his coffee too.
“So, you said you and your brother are here for work? Pest control?” you ask, setting your cup back down on the table.
“Yeah, we’re working a job for Goldbar Mill.”
“Really?” Your stomach drops to the floor. “Listen, last night was great, but I’ve got to go,” you say, scooting your chair out to stand.
“What? Why?”
“'Cause I don’t date liars,” you say, looking down at him.
Confusion crosses his handsome face, “What? I’m not a liar, I-.”
“I work at Goldbar Mill. In fact, I run business operations. So, tell me how you have a job there and I don’t know about it.”
Dean opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, then pauses.
“You work for Goldbar Mill?” His voice is quiet, almost a whisper.
“Yeah, I do. So, unless you start explaining yourself-.”
“So you know what happened there last night?” He raises his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.
“What? No. What happened?”
“Did you see your boss before you left?”
“Yeah.”
“And was he alive?”
“Yes, of course, he was alive. What kind of question is that?”
“Well, he’s not anymore. He was found dead, murdered actually, just before my brother called.”
“Oh my god.” You slump back down into your seat. Your boss was kind of an asshole, but you’d never want anything bad to happen to him.
“Did anything out of the ordinary happen last night?”
“No, it was just a normal night. Wait, are you a cop?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s not important.”
“Says you, but the way I see it; some guy I slept with last night just so happens to be involved with an investigation in the murder of my boss. Not the most comforting situation.”
“I promise I’ll explain everything, but right now I’ve got to get back to my brother. As soon as I’m done, can I call you and come over?”
“I don’t know…”
“Please.” His green eyes are pleading and earnest and, you can’t explain why, but you know you can trust him.
“Fine,” you sigh. “But if I don’t like what you have to say, I’m kicking you out.”
“That’s fair,” he answers quickly.
“See you later, Dean.”
“See you soon, Y/N.”
But you don’t see him soon. When you get home, just after setting your bag on the kitchen counter, pain splits the back of your head and your vision goes black.
—-
Dean’s POV
I’ve called Y/N’s cell phone three times now with no answer. I was sure that she was open to hearing what I have to say. I throw my phone down onto the motel bed in frustration as I pace the floor.
“Maybe she changed her mind,” Sam says, looking up from his computer.
Based on the two crime scenes, we’re sure it’s a werewolf and he’s trying to find a connection between the two victims.
“Do me a favor; just find out where she lives.”
“Dean-.”
“Just do it, I’ve got a bad feeling.”
“Fine,” Sam huffs.
Half an hour later I’m pulling up to her house, a well-kept Craftsman with a porch running all along the front. I knock on the door and wait, no answer. Peeking into the windows I scan inside for movement, but the house is still, empty. Back at the front door, I pound my fist against the wood causing the knocker to rattle in protest.
“Y/N?!”
Still nothing. Jumping down the stairs and off the porch I run around to the back of the house. Thankfully, the fence isn’t too high and I clear it easily before taking the stairs two at a time up to the back deck.
“Y/N!”
I try the knob of the backdoor, praying it’s unlocked, and I’m granted this one small victory. I step inside and my stomach turns to ice. A kitchen chair is on its side and small bright red spots dot a line on the floor from the table to the door. Kneeling down, I touch my finger to the spot, hoping that it’s not what I know it is. The dot is cold and sticky against the pad of my finger and I force the bile back down my throat.
“Son of bitch!”
Pulling out my phone I dial Sam.
“Y/N’s been taken.” My heart clenches when I say the words out loud.
“What? Why? How?”
“I don’t know. You need to add Y/N to the mix when looking for a connection between our vics.”
“Ok, I’ll start again and see what I can find. What are you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna find her.”
—-
You wake to a throbbing pain pulsing in your head. Reaching to check, you find your hands are bound. Blinking, you open your eyes slowly, waiting until your lap comes into focus. Once you can see clearly you lift your head; it’s dark outside and the room is lit by a few lamps. One of the lamps is very familiar to you; you purchased it as a housewarming gift, realization dawns.
“Jake?”
“Hey, you’re awake,” your ex-boyfriend’s voice sounds from your left. He moves into view, kneeling in front of you. “Sorry about the restraints. I have to make sure you won’t run away.”
“Why?”
“Well, I need to show you something.”
“What’s going on?” He seems off: twitchy and edgy, not like the Jake you knew.
“Something’s happened to me and it’s the best thing and I’m going to share it with you and then we’ll be back together and-.”
“Hold on. What’s going on?” you ask again.
“It’s better if I just show you. We won’t have to wait too much longer. Just, don’t freak out ok?” He lies down on the couch and closes his eyes.
Confused, you stay quiet. Now you’re convinced something’s not right, Jake’s behavior is verging on unhinged and you’re worried about what he’s going do.
A few minutes later Jake starts to convulse and change; his fingernails grow long and sharp, as do his teeth. He stands, letting out a howl and you scream.
ns 172.70.127.94da2