A/N: This is set before Supernatural begins when Dean is hunting on his own so around 2003/2004 (Cassie has recently dumped him) and Eclipse and Breaking Dawn never happened. This Bella/Dean
"Credit card fraud, first degree murder, kidnapping, identity fraud, Breaking and entering on five different properties, car theft..." And the list goes on and on from the Chief of police's mouth. I notice his name tag reads Tom. It suits him, a boring name for a boring person. He doesn't seem to understand that I already know what crimes I've committed, I mean, I was there. I roll my eyes, I've been listening to this list for two minutes already and he hasn't really made a dent in the known crimes I've done, let alone the unknown. Now, time to put us both out of the misery of listening to this.
"Blah, blah, blah... Ok I did a lot of bad stuff, just get onto what you're going to do with me." This is said with a casual smirk on my face. The rage was now bubbling up in the already irritated Tom. His face was going a bright purple with blue veins pulsing out of the skin in his forehead. It sorta reminds me of my Dad while he was angry... Ahhh, Good times. I smile to myself.
He use to get so worked up because I would sneak out to do exactly what he told me not to do; follow in his footsteps. This was mostly of course pre-Edward but sometimes while Edward was away I would go and find something nasty to hunt. Unfortunately Dad would usually catch me fixing up my injuries and help patch me up. This would then be followed by a long lecture detailing exactly why being a hunter is so horrible. The clumsiness i had in Forks was an over exaggeration to cover up my variety of injuries. It was perfect because no one ever had questioned the scars, broken bones and bruises; everyone just assumed I had fallen again. If they knew I got all my injuries fighting the supernatural, most would be shell shocked.
"You'll be kept here until we can transport you to the local jail, where I'm sure you'll be a resident for a very long time." The shackles around my wrists pinning my arms to the steel table are released only to be immediately replaced with a more portable pair. I can already tell I would have a ring of purple tomorrow where the metal touched the skin. Escorted by two officers, we head down a series of corridors before coming to the cells.
Someone was already in the holding cell they are leading me to. They are pacing along the left hand side of the cell. Judging by the height of around 6 foot and the shoulder width, it was definitely a male. There is an aura of danger surrounding the man like a fog. He's trouble. I mentally note to keep an eye on him. His stride is confident and cocky, not menacing and predatory like some of the criminals I have encountered. He seemed perfectly at ease in the cell, which would in similar circumstances put my guard up but unlike others with the same ease in this environment, he seemed like a person that could look comfortable just about anywhere. The cell door is unlocked with a crack and the man turned his face our way, a cheeky grin on his lips. Now I can see his face properly, I can see he's in his early twenties but his face like mine shows age and heart break beyond our years. His green eyes are an image of my own; steely but filled with pain. This doesn't detract from his attractive features, instead increasing the intensity and mystery in his aura.
"What's a beautiful woman like you doing in a place like this?" He says as the officers leave. His grin had turned sleazier.
"Oh you know the usual; murder, kidnapping, theft," I list them off on my fingers, a small smile threatened to break my serious expression, "I was caught last night playing with my latest victim. She shouldn't have slept with my toy boy, the slut. Well, at least I could warn all the other girls by carving the word into her pretty little face." During the speech, I make my expression become more psychotic. By the end, he his grin had dropped into a blank face. He starts backing away from me cautiously like I'm a wild, vicious animal and into a subtle defensive stance. "Sadly, the cops caught me before I could watch her blood gush out her neck and the life drain out of her eyes with every drop." I hold the expression for a few more seconds before bursting out laughing. The guy tensed up more making me laugh harder. I gasped for breath trying to get a hold of myself, "Sorry," gasp," couldn't help myself." I walked up to him, a friendly smile on my face, "Hi, I'm Bella."
The guy realised the previous speech was an act and though still tense returned my smile.
"Dean. Dean Winchester."
"So Dean, what are you doing in this cell?" What am I dealing with?
"I got caught by the police here while breaking into one of the houses on Pearson Rd." That's odd. I wonder...
"Really, do you mean the abandoned house where that boy was found dead?"
"Uh, yeah." He scratched his neck. He was trying to get into the victim's house. He could be involved in the slaughter. "I wanted to get a closer look at the murder scene. I mean, it's interesting," Dean finished. I reached into my pocket for the little container of holy water I kept on me. I splash a little on my hand before "accidentally" brushing my hand against the skin of his hand. I watch the spot carefully out of the corner of my eye. No burning. Not a demon then. I try this again with my silver bracelet and rock salt. Negative results so Dean is human.
"Yeah, I know. I was caught trespassing on that property as well. I got interested in that area after I heard about the good hunting in this town." This hint is to see if he's one of us. There isn't any good animal hunting anywhere near here but that boy's murder has ghost written all over it. This man could certainly be one of us with the faded scars against his skin and checking out the murder scene, not to mention the last name. I think I may have come across a relative of the infamous John Winchester. I look up at him; he face faintly reflects his surprise but mostly his recognition.
"I heard about the hunting in this town as well and came to investigate. How long have you been hunting?"
"Most of my life; my father became passionate about it after his sister was killed. He taught me."
Obsessed was a better word. Only my birth was enough to get him to tone down the hours he would spend hunting. After Mum left him because of his frequent and unexplained absence, he stopped hunting while detesting it for ruining his marriage. The single reason he trained me was because he want me to be able to protect myself. Unfortunately for him, I decided I enjoyed hunting so did it as often as I could.
"Hunting was a... release for my Dad as well after my mother's death."
"You by yourself?" I question, wanting to see if he is in the same boat as me. I have been alone for a long time and this job gets really lonely when going alone. I wouldn't mind a partner but I never got one because I wouldn't want them to have to deal with me. It would be unfair to them with the nightmares and general bitchiness that come with the package that is me. Dean, though, seems to have some issues himself.
"At the moment." He look as deserted as I feel. I start searching through my hair.
"So am I. We both have a ghost to get rid of and two of us will lessen our chances of dying. If we click during this hunt, want some company?" My fingers finally clasped around the thing I was digging through my ponytail for.
"I am irresistible," He says it like he's stating a fact; "A five minute conversation and your already wanting spend months living with me." His cocky smile is back in place. I snort not acting at all lady like, "Yeah right, it's not like there is much of a choice of company here. So congratulations Dean, are able to, somehow, get me to want to stay in your company in my state of extreme loneliness."
"I still think if there were hunters here you would still pick me to spend your precious time with. I mean, look at me; I'm adorable...and hungry. Food isn't great here and I want pie." This is highlighted by his stomach gurgling, "So how are we getting out of here because I'm still thinking of a plan."
"Be careful Dean anymore complements to yourself and you might not be able to fit your head through the door way." I then give him a condescending look,
"Being a woman, means constantly having something on you to pick locks with."
With that I unfurled my fingers, revealing the bobby pin resting in my hand. A smirk snuck onto his face to match mine. I slipped my arm through the bars and put the bobby pin into the lock. After twisting and turning for a minute, the door opened with a creak.
"This way." I darted down the hallway leading to the exit, Dean hot on my heels. We kept on running when the door on the left opened causing me to hit my head and fall backwards. Two officers walked out of the open door, only for Dean to punch one in the jaw. The officer hit the ground hard and stayed there. Dean then started throwing punches at the other, who surprisingly was giving a good as he was getting. Blood was sprayed along the ground from the officer's obviously broken nose. Dean has a steady stream of blood trickling down his chin from his lip and both have bruises scattered along their faces. The fight is taking too long and creating too much noise so I step in, hitting the officer in the back of the neck. He hits his friend as a dead weight. Dean looks at me appreciative smile on his lips. I nod then grab his hand leading him out of the station. We run until the station is out of sight. He then pulls me to a stop.
"My baby is this way, Beautiful." Dean points in the direction of Pearson Rd. We slip into an easy walk side by side, our hands stay clasped together dangling loosely in-between us.
"We worked well together then," I muse. It was really more interesting already; working with others, or maybe it was just Dean. It has been a while since I have talked to someone in my self-imposed isolation excluding interrogating people associated with the victims. It feels nice to have someone beside you. I want to keep the comfort and I think Dean will be the perfect for the job. We have already got on quite well and he's lovable; not that I would ever admit that in front of him. Call it what you want but something tells me to keep Dean close; that he's going to be very important to me. Decision made, I comment, "We have ghost to hunt. Then, we have to choose a new hunt."
Dean, you're going to have to put up with me for a while cause I'm not leaving. I smile at the thought feeling the warmth of him beside me. I shake my head softly. No, not anytime soon.
A/N: Ok, this is a little one shot I did in my spare time, but I was considering making it into more. That depends on the reaction to this though. Please read and review.