Demon!Dean x Reader254Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyA4mtI4gyW
Warnings: none really254Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpev6kon3dz
254Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtIOoLIY3NX
You let out a sharp hiss of air through your teeth. “Oooh. Ouch. That’s gotta hurt. Wonder which one hung up on you. Think it was Cas?” you asked in an undertone.
Dean nearly spits out the bourbon he had just sipped. You were standing there, just a few barstools over, leaning against the bar casually as if you’d been there for hours. Dean’s brow was furrowed a bit in perplexity and you sauntered over a little closer to him. His eyes traveled over you, looking you up and down, following your progress as you walked. He was a little slack-jawed and watched a smirk curve your lips.
When you were close enough you leaned in toward him, reaching over and taking the rocks glass out of his hand and downing what was left in it before setting it back on the bar top.
Dean glanced around and noted that everyone else in the bar had vanished. There was no sign of the other patrons, no sign of the bartender. He looked back over at you and narrowed his eyes a bit, studying your face.
You only let out a light laugh and smirked again. “Something on your mind? Cat got your tongue, Winchester?” You blinked and your eyes went black.
Dean’s swagger finally caught up and overtook his surprise and he cleared his throat and looked away, putting on an unconcerned expression. He reached over the bar and grabbed the nearest bottle of booze and refilled his glass.
You watched him take a generous sip, all the while smiling vaguely as you studied him.
Now Dean kept his eyes fixated on the wall behind the bar. “So, are you really here or is this just another scene you’re planting in my head?”
You laughed again and climbed onto the barstool beside him, shrugging, resting your chin on your hand. “I don’t know. What do you think?” you asked, peering at him.
Dean glanced around again at the empty bar. He noted that the music that had been droning from the jukebox had stopped playing. He sipped from his glass again and set it down on the bar top. “I think you’re fucking with me.”
“Hmm. Maybe…” Suddenly flashes of you laid out on that table, all color went from you, motionless, intruded into whatever this was—like another channel flickering on through the static, overtaking the bar scene. In another moment it was gone.
When he straightened up and looked over at you again you were still studying him, but the vague smile was gone from your lips. “What are you going to do about it?” you asked.
“About what? You fucking with me?”
You made no response. Dean stared down into his glass, swirling the liquid around in the bottom, watching the color change from amber to ochre in the light.
When next Dean tried to look over at you, ready to speak, ready to ask you what you wanted from him…you were gone. And he felt—he felt empty. And that realization made him angry. He’d been following your trail, not even entirely sure why, but he had yet to even catch a glimpse of you. Part of him still didn’t believe it was even possible that it was you, but he had to know. He needed to see you. He needed to replace that last fucking image of your body with something else—anything else. But you’d been like smoke; impossible to catch, leaving just a faint scent behind as the only clue that’d you’d ever been anywhere. And goddamn it, it was impossible to wash off.
”Buddy. Hey! Buddy!”
Suddenly the bar was again filled with the drone of old country and the lazy conversation of other patrons. The bartender was staring at him expectantly. “You alright, pal?” he asked.
Dean cleared his throat and nodded, unable to stop himself from scanning the room, half expecting to see you cloistered away in some corner waiting for him. “Fine. I’m fine.”
“You want a refill?” the bartender asked, pointing to Dean’s glass.
Dean waved him off. “Actually, I’m good for the night. Thanks,” he said, throwing some bills down on the counter. As he stood, he swore for a moment he saw you out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the wall near the entrance, but by the time he looked properly, there was nothing there.
The scenes you had forced into his head, and the strange feeling that he was seeing you everywhere now left him agitated and unsettled—something that wasn’t supposed to be possible for him anymore. He was a fucking demon. He went where he wanted and did as he pleased… but then—if that was true—why was he following your trail across the country?
_ _ _ _ _
“A Knight of Hell,” Sam repeated, glaring at Crowley.
“It’s not as if I planned it,” Crowley said with a shrug.
Sam scoffed. “Right. You just meant to turn her into a regular demon.”
Cas shot Crowley an icy glare. “Is that supposed to make what you’ve done better?”
Crowley looked affronted. “Oh, this is rich coming from you two! ‘Team Free Will’ is basically the Royal Family of unintended consequences. Apocalypse? Falling angels? Hello? All I did was create a Knight of Hell or two… ”
Sam and Cas glared at Crowley a beat longer before exchanging a look with each other. “We have to find a way to cure them,” Cas said.
Sam nodded. “Our only hope is that there is something at the bunker—maybe the Men of Letters…” he trailed off, his mind heavy.
”Even if that is true, how are you going to get Dean and/or Y/N in a position to be cured? It’s not as if you can just mail them an invitation and expect them to file in, in an orderly fashion,” Crowley said.
Sam sighed and ran a hand over his face. “He’s right,” he said to Cas. “It’s going to take everything we’ve got to bring in one of them and forget about both.” He turned back to Crowley and stared at him for a long moment.
“…What? Don’t look at me like that, Moose,” Crowley said.
“You’re in on this, Crowley,” Sam said, his tone warning.
“Yes,” Cas agreed. “This is largely your fault.”
“Perhaps. But why should I care about demon Dean and demon Y/N running amok?”
Sam gave him a wry smile. “You heard Dean. With those two out there, you’re chopped liver. How many demons are going to remain loyal to you when they find out there is at least one Knight of Hell roaming around? If you want to stay in power, you need them gone. Both of them.”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
There was a deafening crack and Dean shot up stock straight while his “date” ducked under the covers and screamed hysterically.
Dean’s eyes were wide as he took in the smoke from the gunpowder hanging in the air in a drifting cloud in front of you, the pistol in your hand still aimed, and the new hole in the wall behind the bed only a few inches above him. Flecks of plaster had rained down onto Dean and he brushed them off before turning back to glare at you angrily, but unable to completely erase just how shocked he was to see you standing there at the end of the bed.
”What the hell?!” he growled. His date continued to whimper beneath the covers and you rolled your eyes at her sniffling.
You considered the bullet hole in the wall above the headboard. “Oops,” you said carelessly, affecting a fake apologetic tone, but finally dropped the pistol to your side.
”Hey! This has nothing to do with you,” you said, raising your voice so Dean’s date could hear you above her own crying. When there was no response you continued. “Yes, you! Under the blankets! Get the fuck out!”
She peeked her head out, shaking from fear, to look at you.
You gestured in a circle with the pistol as if to say, “hurry up” while rolling your eyes again. “Get on with it! I’m not going to shoot you. I don’t think…” You sighed heavily as she slid out of bed and grabbed her clothes up off the floor. “For fuck’s sake…” you muttered under your breath as she stumbled around, still whimpering. “It’d hardly be worth the bullet,” you mumbled, now inspecting your fingernails carelessly.
Dean was still staring at you, a dark shadow across his face deepening, aghast. “Is this—you’re really—“
You laughed at what he was getting at. “Is this real?” you asked loudly, gesturing in the direction of the bullet hole with your pistol again. Dean reached up and ran a hand over it. It was real. His fingers came away stained white with plaster and drywall dust.
Dean’s date only sobbed harder and dashed out into the hallway, covering herself as best she could with her clothes.
”Nice to meet you!” you yelled sarcastically, flashing black eyes at her as she left. She screamed and the door slammed behind her.
Now it was just you and Dean.
”So, I guess it’s real,” you said, sounding completely disinterested.
”Why?”
You giggled a little at his question. “Why? Oh, I don’t know. It might have something to do with you tailing me all over the country.”
He said nothing.
”Why are you tailing me?” you asked, pacing around to sit on the edge of the other bed, facing Dean who was still under the blankets, staring at you in some mixture of disbelief and distrust. His guard was up and you smiled as you recognized it. “What’s the matter? You’re acting way different than the last time you saw me… Oh, oops—the time before last.”
Another flash of your dead body jumped into Dean’s brain for a split second and he actually winced and put a hand up to his face, squeezing his eyes shut. He clenched his jaw, a wave of anger rising in his chest at the continued intrusion into his mind. He was even more annoyed when he saw the satisfied smile on your face at his reaction.
You laughed at his irritation. “You don’t like that pretty picture I keep planting in your mind?”
You watched him clench his jaw again and chewed your bottom lip, letting out an amused and satisfied noise at his further reaction. “Mmm. So, now what? You’ve been chasing me like my own shadow.” You tilted your head expectantly and raised your eyebrows at him. “Here I am. What’s next?”
There was a flash of confusion across his face. What the fuck was he supposed to do here? What the fuck were you doing? He’d been chasing you but he hadn’t even thought far enough ahead to plan out what he’d do if he actually was in the same room with you. He’d just been so obsessed with getting a glimpse—and now here you were, sitting across from him, smirking at him.
He stared at you, steely, his expression seemingly impenetrable. “You tell me.”
Your smile widened and you got up from your place on the other bed and moved toward him.
Before Dean could react you were on the bed with him, crawling up toward where he was now propped against the headboard. His unyielding expression gave way to faint confusion, but he couldn’t look away from the way you were biting your bottom lip, your eyes fixed on his face. The next thing he knew you were straddled over him, sitting across his hips, your face close to his. He didn’t know where to look… his eyes flickered from your pouty lips, slightly parted, back up to the hungry expression in your eyes. One of your hands alighted on his shoulder and you reached up with the other and started to run your fingers through his hair.
Confusion was now mixed with amazement, but he sure as fuck wasn’t about to question what was happening.
”Dean, Dean, Dean…” you mused, the sensation of your fingers running through his hair almost hypnotic. Your eyes flicked down to his lips and back up to meet his green eyes, waiting, wanting, a little wide. Your lips curved in a small smile and you leaned in even closer, your lips now hovering mere millimeters from his.
Just when he thought your lips were finally going to meet his, you pressed a finger to the side of his chin and turned his head to the side. “If you don’t back off, I will fucking kill you,” you whispered right into his ear, your voice still silky and soft. You pressed a kiss to his jawline and ever so gently dragged your teeth over his ear lobe, sending a wave of chills and electricity up his spine.
And before they even dissipated you were gone.
Dean’s head dropped back against the headboard behind him and his eyes fell closed. He couldn’t help but heave a heavy sigh and clench his jaw in frustration. The next second he sent his elbow slamming back into the headboard. God-fucking-dammit.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
“I don’t think you’re going to find anything helpful in there, Crowley,” Sam said coldly.
Crowley looked down at the leather book in his hands. “Oh, no. Of course not. This is just a bit of light pleasure reading.”
Cas grabbed the book from the demon and tossed it down angrily. The title “Demon-caused Atrocities Volume 1: The Fall of Lucifer to Early Possessions” glared up from the cover.
”I don’t even know what we’re looking for,” Sam said. “I think it’s pretty obvious at this point what we’re going to have to do…”
Cas’s brow darkened. “It’d be nice to know for sure that it’s going to work before we cage up a Knight of Hell.”
“A lot of things would be nice, wouldn’t they?” Crowley retorted. “Chiefly, you getting these bloody cuffs off my wrists,” he added in an undertone. The demon rubbed at his wrists and the metal clinked.
Sam glared at him. “As I mentioned earlier, we could arrange that by moving you to your prior accommodations and fitting you with that neck collar if you’d prefer.”
“A little trust would be nice, is all I’m saying! We are in this mess together, aren’t we?”
Rage flashed in Sam’s eyes. “Trust? Trust? Are you kidding me, Crowley?” He stood up abruptly. “The only reason we are in this mess in the first place is because of you! So, no! I’m not feeling very generous. There is no way I’m just going to let you roam around in here! It’s bad enough that you’re in here at all! Now make yourself useful before I—“
Sam’s phone directed everyone’s attention to the center of the table, where it was illuminating and vibrating.
With a final scathing look at Crowley, he snatched it up. Unregistered caller.
Sam glanced at Cas who seemed to read the signs in that look. “Hello?”
”Heya, Sammy,” came Dean’s voice from the other end.
Another meaningful glance at the angel. “Dean.”
”How’s it going out there?” he asked.
”Uhh… peachy,” Sam responded, his tone puzzled. “Why are you calling? We weren’t really expecting to hear from you again.”
”Well, I just thought I would call you up and tell you I found Y/N and I really don’t think you should bother with whatever you’re planning.” The gravel seemed thicker than normal in Dean’s deep voice.
”What? What do you mean? What happened? Did she see you? Did you talk to her?” Sam’s voice was urgent and the questions were rapid-fire. Cas’s gaze burned with more intensity, his blue eyes fixated on Sam.
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and ground his teeth together. “Something like that.” No way in hell he was going to give any details on that encounter.
”Well, what happened? Where is she? Where are you?” he pressed.
”Look, I’m not calling to give you my goddamn coordinates, okay! I’m just calling to tell you guys to drop it. She is—this is way out of your league!”
Sam hesitated. “Uhh… yeah we—we know.”
This caught Dean off-guard. He really had been expecting the typical, noble Winchester fight—the old “I’m gonna do it anyway and damn the consequences!” refrain. “What do you mean you know?”
“Well…” Sam wasn’t sure if he should tell Dean what they thought Y/N had come back as or not. He was trying to weigh the options as quickly as possible and he looked again to Cas who seemed also at a loss for what to do. Crowley was even earnestly listening, his expression thoughtful. When Sam caught his eye, the demon raised his eyebrows and tilted his head as if to say, “go ahead.”
Sam put the call on speakerphone.
”What exactly happened to make you say it’s out of our league?” he pressed Dean again.
Irritation was dripping from Dean’s tone now. “What the fuck does it matter? I’m giving you the courtesy of the damn phone call to tell you to stay out of it! Shouldn’t you be grateful and not giving me the third degree?”
Now it was Crowley’s turn. “You said you had been hearing rumors among our demonkind that Y/N has gone nuclear,” Crowley said. “Did you hear in what exact way?”
”You’re still there, are you?” Dean chuckled. “Have they got you back in the dog collar yet, boss?” Dean asked.
Crowley’s face grew red and he clenched his teeth together, but he kept his voice calm. “I’m not quite sure even you really understand just how out of our league this Y/N-situation maybe,” he said.
Dean rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, I’m not gonna beg you for it. If you want to say it spit it out, otherwise I’ve got drinking to do and tail to chase.”
”We believe Y/N came back as a Knight of Hell.” It was Cas who finally said it. The words fell like lead weights and seemed to just loom in the room somehow.
A heavy silence stretched on the other end of the line, and if it hadn’t been for a little bit of background noise, Sam might have thought that Dean had hung up. But he spoke eventually.
“Bullshit.”
Crowley smirked. “That seems to be the lay of the land. You aren’t the only big bad demon in town anymore, Squirrel.”
Dean shook his head. How was that even possible? “How? Why would that happen?”
Sam laughed a little cynically. “Why does any of the shit that happens to us happen? Dean, I’m talking to you right now and YOU are a Knight of Hell. And somehow Y/N being one is unbelievable? You’re the one who just called us up to tell us to leave it alone because we can’t handle it.”
”You can’t,” Dean said again.
Sam threw his hands up and looked at Cas.
”But there’s no way she’s a Knight of Hell. Leave it alone.”
And then Dean hung up.
_ _ _ _ _ _
It was a rare moment where you were relaxing at the latest hotel you had decided to call home for a few days. Your boots were off and you had the TV on, kicked back against the headboard with a beer.
For once you had been able to put aside the rage which usually fueled you to keep moving, and your mind was quiet. That was until there was a knock on the door.
You annoyedly climbed to your feet to answer it and were surprised to peer through the peephole and see two demons on the other side of the door. Your hand went to your hip and landed on the hilt of a demon knife you had tracked down in Romania. You wrenched the door open.
The two demons stared at you for a long moment before one of them finally spoke.
”We’re—we’re very sorry to disturb you,” he began.
”Then why did you?” you responded, leaving the door open and retreating farther inside, grabbing your beer off the nightstand.
”Umm… well, we came to offer you our help,” he said again.
You looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Help?”
The demon nodded. His associate stood a little back toward the door and was wringing his hands anxiously.
”What could you possibly help me with?”
”Anything!” he said eagerly, stepping farther into the room. “Anything you need!”
You peered at him in curiosity, your face not betraying anything.
”Listen, Y/N—“ he stopped abruptly when he saw the slight narrowing of your eyes when he said your name. “—umm… sorry. Your—Your Grace, your power is being spoken of all over. We know you’ve been killing humans and we want to help. We believe that you could truly unite demons again. Many of us are scattered and leaderless. We believe in you and your power. We want to help you.”
You took a swig out of your beer can and approached the closest demon, the one who had been making the little speech. You considered him closely, your face still impassive.
And then you jammed that demon knife into his chest.
Fiery light burst from his eyes and his mouth and the body crumpled to the floor as his associate jumped and went wide-eyed in surprise.
”What the fuck could I possibly want your help with?” you said, still looking at the body on the floor. You took another swig of your beer. You turned your back to the other demon and casually called over your shoulder. “Get out.”
He didn’t need to be told twice.
To your annoyance, there were a series of these incidents over the next few weeks. Now not only were you leaving a trail of scumbags but a trail of demons too. And despite your best efforts, the goddamn demons seemed to respect you even more for it. Fear you, sure… but respect you, too.
This is what you were expecting when you were sitting in a bar in Plainfield, OH when you felt someone suddenly approach you and stand over your shoulder.
”Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested,” you said, sipping your beer.
”Are you sure about that?”
You were surprised when the voice belonged to Dean.
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