Dean Winchester was an enigma even in his eyes of his younger brother. Sam, while at college took some psychology classes and wrote papers on his brother garnering an A on his papers and the English professors setting their sights on the pre-law student who could write this well about this made-up person. The psychology professors wished that this man was true so they could study him from the papers that Sam wrote. None of them knew that this person that Sam wrote about but never talked about, was his brother Dean.
At Stanford, Sam never talked about Dean. It was simply too painful to talk about the man because he left Sam and stood on the side of their bastard father. Dean was simply the big brother, protector. The first time he was truly scared of his brother he wasn't in his right mind at Stanford and his friends were terrified of the man that claimed to be Sam's brother. They never brought it up because Sam never did, also they were so trashed they weren't sure what they saw was the truth. But the thought was always there lingering in their minds, what the hell was Dean?
Sam, Jessica, Brady, Rebecca and Zach were walking back to Sam's place after going to a hell of a party. It was St. Patrick's day after all, it would be a shame if none of them went out. They were all surprised when Sam decided to come out because he never did. He was the studious one in college that did nothing but study and work two jobs. On top of it all he had one hell of a workout routine that could have made him a sports star if he wanted. His body was chiseled steel and the girls all swooned, when his shirt raised a simple inch. When the rumors went around that he was with Jessica Moore, they were all disappointed that they could no longer have a piece of that.
The group was slowly making the ½ mile walk back from their friend's party to Sam's so they could recover for Saturday. It was late, but the night was illuminated. The night was brisk and cold forcing puffs of air from the group of 5. There was no speaking because none of them could focus their thoughts enough to speak and hold an intelligent conversation. Instead, they stumbled along in varying stages of drunkenness in the wee hours of the morning. Leaving the place, they never noticed the woman standing, waiting to get revenge on the one thing that would hurt Dean Winchester. The one that every monster had come to fear the most. Not Sam Winchester, not John and not Mary when she was in her prime. No, the whole Winchester family was brutal, but the most terrifying of the group was Dean Winchester.
Dean followed orders from his father like they were gospels from God himself. He protected his family and friends fiercely. He didn't care about the pain that he was put through protecting the ones he loves. He cared little about the monsters. However, when he was hunting, he became a completely person that he allowed no one to see besides his prey. No one knew this side existed, most of the deplorable monsters didn't think even Sam or John knew, he hid it well and bounced back and forth easily. Dean Winchester the person, was one that hid his pain under a host of defensive mechanisms. John messed him up more than anyone would know. He laughed off complaints, ignored compliments, was a bad ass, a heavy drinker, and a womanizer. Under that, was a much softer man that some rarely saw and Dean himself locked him in a firm lock box. The other side of Dean Winchester is the hunter part. This one was ruthless. He cared little for the monster life and wished them as much pain as the caused the humans that they hurt. He wished them eradicated and to never exist again. His adrenaline ran through his veins clearing his mind for the duration of the hunt and hours after. That being the reason he rarely felt pain and exhaustion until hours after. His eyes almost turned black and they were cold as ice and sharp as a blade. Nothing got past him. His face set in a fierce scowl that sent you running if you had any sort of intelligence. He was in his prime when it was dark. He thrived on the darkness and being stealthy so he could run up to his victim and smoothly slice their neck open and watch the dark blood drip down into the soil and his hands. This part of himself Dean tried to ignore. He tried to ignore the way he could stealthily run up to anything and kill them in the blink of an eye. His machete or knife slicing deep into the throat like it was butter. Keeping his knife and gun in tip top condition to slice more throats. His gun easily putting rounds in the dead center of a heart without a blink. Anyone that dared harm anyone he loved was in deep shit. He trained more so than Sam and his body lived and breathed hunting. The quickness of his feet avoiding a blow. The ability to block and absorb a blow without noticing the pain. He was the ultimate fighter, fighting both the evil within and outside himself.
The vampire was part of a nest in southern Indiana. His father sent him off to kill them. There was only a group of three so both knew that Dean could take them down no problem. The only problem was there were four not three. He went in his big sleek black Impala and parked a mile out trying to keep his stealth. He was armed with dead man's blood and two machetes. He snapped into hunter mode the same time he shut the Impala lid. The transformation was easy to see. He crept to the old red barn that was sitting back a little way from the road. The barn had peeling red paint as he crept forward and sat behind a tree, his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight. Looking forward Dean was confused when he saw a guard for a nest of three. He shrugged it off and smiled a sinister smile that would scare any who saw it. Luckily the only ones that did soon died and failed to tell the tale. He crept forward until he was close enough to touch the vamp. "Sweet dreams bitch" He snarled as he lopped the head off the vamp. The blood on the gleaming silver machete was highlighted with the moonlight glinting off of it, showing the amount of mercy that he did not possess. Not bothering to clean the blade he walked in the barn confidently knowing his covertness was destroyed by the sound of the body thumping to the ground with the vamps sensitive hearing. He was surprised to see that three remained with a small girl hung up in the corner no doubt a human that they were feeding off of. Dean's eyes blazed with righteous fury looking at the girl and the three vamps that stood 20 feet away. The obvious leader was a woman that was gorgeous in her own right. She was tall around the 5 foot 11 stage and had long silver hair that went down to her butt. Her legs and arms were toned showing that she was a strong one before she died. Her eyes were a deep moss green not unlike Dean's and instead showed curiosity rather than anger at her impending doom. The next was a short girl only around 5 foot 2. She came from Asian descent, her eyes a chocolate brown, her black hair meeting the edge of the shoulders. Her eyes held wrath at the beheading that was just practiced. The last one was a man tall like himself probably being 6 foot 5 and was broad. He had broad shoulders and his dark skin contrasted with the sharp white of his fangs. His eyes also showed the impending doom that was going to befall the hunter for killing one of their own. They exchanged no words knowing how this was going to end. One of the parties was going to die and the other live. After 5 minutes of simply staring at each other waiting for the other to make the first move, Dean struck with the speed of light before the other could react. He whipped a knife coated with dead man's blood and threw it in dead center of the heart of the leader knocking her down, but not killing her. Smirking Dean rushed the Asian girl and blocked her blows. She was uncoordinated showing that she had little skills in combat and instead relied on her strength and speed. Seeing this, he manipulated her into slamming against the wall instead of him. She hesitated for a split second and that was all he needed. He brought his arm up and decapitated her in one clean slice against the cold concrete wall of the barn. The man stopped cold at the look in Dean's eyes. It was one of a predator, in this situation the rumors surrounding the mere mortal in front of him was not exaggerated and he felt like he was the prey and not the hunter. Lazily glancing at the figure on the ground, he moved his eyes past the man to the other figure on the group searching and making sure that she was still down. His eyes met the other man and almost beckoned the man to come and fight him. So, he did. He rushed forward and slammed Dean into the wall that he killed his friend on. Dean winced and felt his shoulder pop out of place. But hyped on adrenaline he ignored it and continued, getting up and dusting himself off. He gave a predatory smile and threw a knife into the side of the man. This one however, wasn't covered in dead man's blood and did nothing but enrage the vampire in front of him. The man who was ex-military before his death ran forward and met Dean blow for blow, the fight was memorizing. The cold glint of green eyes meeting the light blue showing his strength. The glint of steel on the knives in the moonlight, and the clang of them meeting each other down to the panting of each of the fighters. The leader started to get up, unbeknownst to the fighters and slowly made her way behind Dean. The man and the vamp continued to fight, until the vamp got a lucky shot in Dean's side just as he dropped, the leader swung Dean's dropped machete and instead killed her friend.
The scream that emanated from her mouth was un holy. It was sharp, loud and scared all the birds pecking at the dead body outside. She went to the man and wept. This disgusting man made her kill her beloved. She glared at the man on the ground and vowed revenge. She kicked him twice in the ribs hearing with satisfaction the crack of two ribs and the whoosh of air escaping his lungs, something her beloved would never do again. She bent down to him and hissed "I will end whom you love the most, mark my words boy." Before Dean could defend himself, she punched him harshly in his face knocking him out. Dean awoke what seemed like hours later, marking by the sun in the eyes. All at once his aches and pains made themselves known, his broken ribs, his black eye and split lip with his stab wound. His eyes narrowed in fury when he remembered what the vampire said and therefore what it meant. But first, he had to clean up his mess, and himself. Running on adrenaline, he stumbled to get to his knees. Breathing through the pain, he managed to stand up and glared at the vampires around him before he remembered the girl in the corner. He cursed his bad luck. First he would burn the bodies, get her to a hospital, patch himself up and drive straight to Sam. Hopefully the vampire didn't know where he was and that would be in his favor. "SAM" he suddenly cried out, dropping to his knees in anger and despair. The cry was sharp to any ears that was unfortunate enough to hear the cry. It was full of pain, despair and anger. It was so filled with emotion that any human would be struck to their knees. He was such a shitty hunter he couldn't even protect his family against some weak vampires, and only four. His father would be disappointed. Standing again, anger coursing his veins and deciding that she was going to die slowly if she laid a finger on his little brother. Angry, he punched the wall gaining a broken finger in the process that he couldn't feel through his torrent of emotions. Save this girl or get to Sam? As much as he wanted to get to Sam, he couldn't, he had to complete the hunt. He gathered the bodies of the deceased and burned them watching with pleasure. His snarl looked terrifying in the light of the fire. The glint on his eyes was a terrifying sight to behold with the blood surrounding him and on his clothes. Step one done, he walked back into the barn and went to the girl. She was strapped to the bed, her t-shirt and jeans shredded barely hanging off her small body and her shoes were nowhere to be found. Her wrists were tied together tying her to the bed. Enraged, he easily cut her free and went to pick up his mess. He grabbed his machetes, knives re-sheathed after cleaning them and his dead man's blood darts that he never used. After making sure that his involvement was wiped away he went to the girl wrapped her in the blanket and walked back to the Impala, his wound making itself known. He finally made it back to the car, put his stuff away, and checked on the girl. She was around 18 and was pretty. She had short blonde hair that suited her and lines that showed she laughed a lot. Checking her pulse, he found It, but it was weak. Fueled once again by anger he took off to the nearest hospital. He wondered what to do with her. He couldn't walk in since he was also covered in blood but also couldn't just leave her at the door. He saw a doctor walk out and decided to get him to come help the girl. He flagged down the doctor-after putting on another coat to cover his blood and shrugging off the blood on his face as hers- and charmed him into taking her no questions asked. He watched the flurry of activity as they fought to save the girl. When the doctor turned around to ask the man about the girl, the man with the tortured green eyes was already gone.
Dean stumbled into his room and locked the door. Exhaustion threatening to overtake him he stumbled to the bed and took the first aid kit off the second bed where he put it earlier. His first action was to drink whiskey and a lot of it. After a few minutes, he felt the burn of the alcohol and started treating himself. He balanced himself against the wall and the bed frame and put his shoulder back into place. He grunted in pain and moved on. His ribs he could do nothing about but wrap, and like his other aches and pains. The main concern was the stab wound. He looked in the case and sterilized a needle as best he could. Clenching his jaw in pain and drinking whiskey constantly he slowly stitched up his wound. It was small but deep. The wound was only about two inches but he would definitely have a new scar to show off to the ladies. Barely able to clean off the needle and his hands, he threw a bandage on and sunk into the bed falling into unconsciousness.
Dean awoke and groaned into the pillow before remembering the events before his unwanted drag to the void. He sat up in bed hissing at the pain in his side and ribs before he looked out the window and saw that dusk had fell again. He slowly got up and pushed down the pain and stumbled to the bathroom. Taking care of business, he decided he needed a shower before he left. He quickly took a shower, having the hot water soothe his tense muscles while avoiding his wound from getting wet. He got out feeling semi-refreshed, and looked at his wound. It looked good at the moment, not infected or red, just there and thumping with pain. The stitches were clean and neat just like his father drilled into him a long time ago. He put another bandage on re-wrapped his ribs and checked himself for any other wounds. His shoulder still thumped but not as much as the night before. His face sporting a black eye and split lip. Glancing down to his hand he forgot that he broke his ring finger, and put the pain to his shoulder. He quickly set it and put a splint on it. Satisfied, he threw on clothes cleaned the room of all traces of him being there and booked it. 20 minutes down the road, his ribs were already protesting, and he decided he was hungry. He stopped by a joint called Carla's diner. He walked in and immediately all eyes on him.
The man was tall and obviously battle worn. He had a split lip and black eye and was clearly sporting broken ribs and maybe an injury. He wore some worn boots that have clearly seen a lot of action with his long legs sheathed by faded blue jeans. His torso was covered by a thousand layers starting with a black t-shirt followed by a plaid shirt and a leather jacket that was clearly loved. He ended with some short blonde hair and eyes the color of an emerald. Carla had been running this diner in the middle of nowhere for a long time. She learned a lot of ways to read different people in her 25 years of working in this place, first as a waitress, and slowly making her way up to owner. The man in front of her screamed many things but she was unsure which one, they all conflicted. On one hand, he was clearly fierce and protective. He had seen many things with the way that his eyes flicked over the few people in the place and towards the exits. His eyes were dark and glinted in the dim light. His face was pretty and was marred by the scowl on it currently. She shivered at the maliciousness of it and would hate to be the one who that look was directed towards. She thought that anyone that was smart would run away from this man. Then he stepped further in and went to the counter where she was standing and his demeanor changed in a split second. Gone was the scowl and the fierce eyes and the militaristic gait. In its place was a boy, a lost boy in her eyes that was made to grow up too fast. She felt drawn to him and his sparkling green eyes as she lost herself in them for a minute. Shaking her head, she scoffed thinking herself to be far too old to be chasing some tail like his. He smiled and if she was any younger she was sure that she would have melted. Instead she looked past his sparkling eyes and smile clearly trying to sweet talk her and it was working to an extent. He spoke, the words deep and velvety. Between his voice and eyes one could be lost at sea or stuck in a forest and it wouldn't matter. Knowing that he was there to protect them and he would stay forever.
"Hey pretty lady, may I have a black coffee and a bacon sandwich to go?"
Blushing she smiled and said "Of course, it will take a minute so have a coffee while you wait."
He inclined his head but said nothing more while he was waiting. She studied the enigma in front of her and got nowhere. His food came up and he gave her a soft smile when he noticed the hash browns in the bottom. "Have a great day ma'am" he stated as he walked out the door she couldn't help but stare. Later, deep in the night when she couldn't sleep, she would dream of green eyes that were so soulful and sad, she would wonder how he was and what happened to have him be so angry and sad in the same moment. She couldn't help but wonder who dared hurt him so? She wouldn't admit it to anyone besides her German Shepard Roscoe, but she hoped that he would walk back into her diner happier and with a lighter conscious.
Dean drove straight down to the middle of California only stopping for food, to stretch his ribs and to occasionally sleep. He made it there in a record two days. He went straight to Stanford and looked for Sammy. It was dark, early and cold. It was probably 40 degrees and the moon was bright, shining on the Impala. Its beauty was magnificent. The engine growled for a moment before he turned off the engine staring at Sam's apartment complex thinking how he was going to do this. How he was going to see Sam and look him straight in the eyes and say he is in trouble because Dean is incapable of doing his job. He continued to stare at the small apartment complex that held nothing of any value or importance. He geared up waiting for the Vampire and wanting to alert Sammy to his mess and what he did. Anger wormed into his skin and veins alighting his deep fury as he ignored the pain threating to make itself known. Dean walked up to the old tired brown door in need of a paint job and knocked. He waited and when it was obvious Sam wasn't home he simply pulled out his lock picks and let himself inside. Looking around it was just as he remembered it, cold, dark, and sparsely furnished. It had a meager four rooms. A kitchen, bathroom, living room, and a bedroom. The living room had a small TV on a rickety brown table. In front of it was a sad looking plaid blue couch from the 1970's and an old ratty dull orange chair next to it. Snarling, he vowed to get Sam new furniture, no matter what he had to do. He wandered into the bedroom and found a surprisingly nice queen size bed. There was a small table next to the bed with a lamp with no lampshade on it. There was a small six drawer dresser, that looked like it could fall over any minute with clothes neatly put away. It looked like he only had a good bed and the rest was shit. He made another mental note to get him better furniture later. He started to walk out of the bedroom when he saw a bra hiding in the dresser.
Noting that Sam wasn't here, he slipped back out to go hunt him down before the vamp got to him and locked the door swiftly behind him. He walked back out to the parking lot and slipped into the shadows wanting to remain hidden in case Sam or the vampire came. He felt in his prime. The bright moon shining above him with the quiet sound of crickets trying desperately get laid. He stalked about a quarter mile away from Sam's apartment when he saw Sam and 4 other kids stumbling towards something, no doubt Sam's apartment. Dean was amazed at how quickly he found Sam. He was afraid that he was going to have to track his cell phone in order to find him. For once in his pathetic short life, fate was on his side. Dean lightly smiled when he saw Sam. He got there before the vampire and he is ok. He subconsciously felt his chest begin to loosen when he saw Sam happy and drunk no less. He was glad that Sam was happy even without him. His heart constricted at the thought but he continued to watch, as he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He saw the glint of sharp teeth and a body flying towards the group, so Dean rushed out and body slammed the vampire.
"Well well well, hello Dean." The female vampire dropped into a velvet tone in front of him and the others. "Seems that I found the key to your heart, little brother Sam."
Straightening, Sam heard his name being mentioned with these people in front of him, so he fought to pay attention with his fuzzy head. Somehow in the few minutes that these strange people were in front of him his whole group fell down and are sitting in a small group.
"Can't let you hurt him, especially since he is incapacitated at the moment now can I?" He replied in an equally velvet tone. However, his eyes betraying his true intentions. His eyes are dark with anger, the joviality and pain quickly disappearing in the dark of the night. His muscles tensed and he got off the vampire and stood awaiting her move.
Sam tilted his head, the cold clearing his head slightly. "I know that voice but I don't know where though. Maybe he is in my psychology class?" He thought.
Suddenly the pretty lady-not as much as Jess though-was in his face before she snarled and whipped around to the man behind her. She had a knife sticking out of her back, but it looked like it did nothing of interest to her. "You're going to regret that hunter."
"More than I supposedly am now for killing your beloved?" He replied his voice sharp as a razor blade.
Sam placed the man now, it was his brother Dean. But he didn't know how that happened because Dean isn't here. He's somewhere else hunting something. But clearly Dean is hunting something here, this woman whatever she was. But his thoughts slipped before he could think anymore. Dean watched Sam tilt to his left leaning on a woman, Jess he thought, the alcohol clearly getting to him. Thankful that Sam no longer had to see this he turned his attention to the bitch and glared, feeling the vampire shrink from the ferocious glare. "Now you die." He rushed forward and went toe to toe with her. She pulled a blade out of nowhere and started blocking his blows to her neck. "Jeez do all of you like fighting with knives or what?" He laughed, a dark sound that sent a shiver down the spines of the students sitting on the ground, Sam waking up and seeing the rest of the battle. Dean clearly had enough of playing cat and mouse. He feinted left and pulled the machete out of his waistband and decapitated the vampire before she knew what was happening. He stared impassively down at the head feeling the blood run down his arms but not finding the strength to care. Suddenly the moon escaped the brief cloud cover and shined down on Dean like an angel. His eyes almost glowed in that moment and they were so cold it would take an icepick to chisel them away. His face was in a deep scowl looking like he could kill a puppy. He let out a bark of laughter as he stared at the corpse. He then coldly said "Try me bitch, no one touches Sammy." He then set the body on fire, and as the fire dried the blood on his clothes and face, it made him look fiercer. But the most terrifying thing about the exchange is how he changed into the Dean that he knows. He didn't know that monster but this Dean he did. Seeing Sam watching him, Dan quickly relaxed his stance.
This Dean was soft, his eyes let people fall into them and feel safe. He stance no longer rigid and he stared at Sam and his friends. He sighed, pocketed his machete and knives, and went to the group. None were getting up from the ground, three of his friends unconscious with only Jess and Sam conscious. Dean sighed again and cursed. Sam saw and now he has to get all the idiots back to Sam's apartment. He moved them all one at a time, with Sam last. He expected Sam to ask him a question, anything, but Sam only stared at him in wonder. Dean finally got Sam back to his bed and threw him and Jess on the bed, but he put the others on the floor in the living rooms with a sheet, seeing that Sam had nothing else in his apartment. Dean took the liberty of cleaning himself and his wound in Sam's bathroom. After, he walked back into the bedroom and looked at Sam. He looked so much younger when he was sleeping. The worry lines were gone and replaced with a soft smile on his lips. Dean walked over and patted Sam's shoulder and kissed his forehead in a rare moment of vulnerability. "Good-bye Sam." Ignoring his brother rolling over seemingly trying to lean into Dean's touch he quietly left the apartment and went to his baby. He looked at the apartment one more time before he got into his car. He sighed but softly smiled at a job well done. He sat in the driver's seat listening to the engine purr. He eventually pulled out of the parking lot, but not without sending a prayer to whoever is up there that Sam didn't remember the side of Dean that occurred tonight, gunning the engine he disappeared into the moonlight like a ghost, never even there.
Confused, Sam awoke to a pounding at his door. The last thing he remembers is leaving the party and a vague hazy memory of Dean fighting something. He definitely didn't remember coming back and getting into bed with Jess by his side. Hearing the pounding again, he pushed his thought aside and stumbled to the door. He peered out and saw a man there, confused as to who this man was he swung open the door and squinted at the man.
"Sam Winchester?"
Dumbfounded he nodded and stared at the man. "I'm here to deliver some furniture and other things, where would you like them?" Eyes wide he said nothing as the man chuckled good naturedly, "he said you might be like this, we will put it where it needs to go." Sam was too hungover to process what was happening. In came a lot of furniture, there was a sleek black leather couch that was followed by twin red armchairs. A dining table big enough to fit five was followed with chairs meant to go around it. End tables were brought to each room with lamps to illuminate the rooms. Rugs were brought and situated in each room. A new dresser was put into his bedroom next to the old one. Blankets and pillows were put on the bed to be used later. Dumbfounded he was amazed with what walked into his apartment, his friends confused also, seeing Sam was broke. The delivery man walked out, but came back to the door and said "The man who ordered this said to tell you "bitch". I hope that means something to you, since he paid me handsomely to say it, have a good day." He nodded his head and left leaving Sam to stare at the hallway in shock. He knew that it was Dean yesterday. He just didn't know what was wrong with Dean. At first he seemed vicious and he was afraid of Dean. Dean should never look that terrifying as he did last night. But he was and that scared him even more than the cold green eyes with the vicious smirk. Brushing it off as him being drunk, Sam shook his head, a small smile worming onto his face. "Thanks jerk" as he gently shut the door and went to his fridge knowing that it was fully stocked. It was, so he turned to his friends and smiled. Everything was again right in the world. Dean was firmly back in big brother mode and not the monster he was last night, that was all a figment of Sam's drunk mind. Banishing the memories before he got nightmares because of it. Smiling he went to Jessica and hugged her trying to choke down his emotions. "That bastard." He whispered into her hair. She pulled back and asked "you say something?" seeing his tears she asked worriedly "You ok?" "No Jess, I'm fine everything is perfect." He smiled before pulling her back into an embrace. Everything truly was alright with his world.
The only thing that showed Sam that he wasn't hallucinating that night, was the article in the newspaper about a body found in a small alley near his apartment burned beyond recognition, and his friends questioning the encounter when they got drunk again. However, when Sam never responded they quickly dropped it. Sam thought he would never see Dean again, and hoped to never truly see the vicious side in all its glory. It was the only time that he wished that he would never see his brother again. He didn't like feeling like prey in the company of his brother. Unfortunately, the next time the only role that alcohol had in the encounter, is that he couldn't drink enough to forget Dean's vicious side, and the things he is capable of. Maybe Sam isn't the only one that has some demon blood in him.
Thats all she wrote! All mistakes are mine and I dont own the supernatural characters. This is a one-shot!