You turned to smile at Dean as you pulled your pistol from the trunk of the impala, pushing it closed as you stepped away. You grabbed his hand as you turned to the imposing mansion in front of you, can of red spray paint gripped tightly in your hand. A demon had been terrorizing the surrounding areas, and you and Dean were here to put a stop to it.
You felt flutters of anxiety in your stomach, this would not be a simple hunt, and you had to be prepared for any outcome. Although you had been on countless hunts like this before, you couldn't help but feel that this one would be different. You felt a dark cloud looming on the horizon, coming ever closer.
You suppressed a shudder as you reached the mahogany door of the house. You gripped Dean's hand me securely as you pushed the door open, your other hand tightly gripping the gun you held in front of you, finger poised on the trigger.
You cautiously moved into the spacious entryway, the cheery decor providing an almost comical contrast to the tense atmosphere surrounding you. You turned to Dean for assurance, feeling your stomach settle slightly when he smiled at you, his green eyes filling with adoration. You had been dating for a few months and things were great between you, he was your rock whenever you were scared, and you in turn kept him calm when he almost succumbed to rage.
You then continued on, leading the way for him. You paused when you reached another door, this time with steps leading down to what you assumed to be a basement. You and Dean had a quick round of Rock Paper Scissors, which you lost, leaving you to reluctantly begin your descent, the way lit by a shaky bulb hanging above your head.
You spun around, gun poised to fire when the door was slammed shut behind you, but there was no one there. Going against your better judgement, you continued on, electing to believe that it was just Dean playing a prank on you. You finally reached the bottom, where the narrow corridor widened into a large room, lit by sconces hanging from the walls. It looked like a scene from a horror movie, its gray stone walls dripping with condensation.
A single circular rug stood out to you on the center of the floor, it was the perfect place to put your devils trap, and you couldn't help but to wonder if it was too perfect. You cautiously moved towards it, not letting down your guard for a moment as you lifted the rug from its place on the floor and began to paint a large circle underneath it.
The Devil's trap finished at last, you placed the rug back down and stepped back to admire your handiwork. With the rug covering it, it was invisible, and therefore it would do. You jumped as you heard the door swing open, and you hid behind the nearest stack of boxes, just in case it didn't turn out to be Dean.
Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest as you tried to quiet your quick, anxious breathing. Your hand twitched nervously on your gun at every small sound you heard, but you held it as steady as possible, the only way this was going to work was if you didn't move too quickly. You cocked your head to the side when you stopped hearing anything from the stairs, it was eerily silent, save for your quiet breaths.
The hair on the back of your neck rose as you felt cool breaths on it. You froze, fear dulling all of your hunting instincts, and that second of indecision was what ended you. In an instant, the person, or could you even call it that, had disarmed you and you were being held to the boxes, arms behind your back.
"Thought you could fool me?" The sickly sweet voice asked, its owners black eyes staring at you with a predatory gleam in them. You gave no indication that you had heard what had been said, instead electing to turn your gaze away from the cruel onyx inches from your face.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you," the creature demanded, grabbing your face and turning it back in their direction. You gathered your courage and spit back into the cold, unforgiving face. The demon sputtered, anger evident in its expression as it tightened its grip on your arms.
"So that's how we're going to play it then. I can play dirty too, you know. Your little friend, the Winchester, is upstairs right now, looking for me, isn't that right?" Your eyes widened in fear as you realized the creature's meaning. "Let's give him something to do, shall we?"
With that the demon pulled your right arm out from behind you, brandishing it as it reached into its pocket and pulled out a long knife.
"What's the tattoo for?" The creature inquired, "Anti-Possession, right? Sadly, it's only useful when still attached to the skin," The demon laughed as it sliced through your skin, cutting through your tattoo and thus making it useless. You screamed before your gaze was filled with black smoke, choking as it forced its way down your throat.
A strange weightlessness filled you, and your thoughts were suddenly clouded, every movement you attempted to make did nothing, you were merely a spectator in your body.
"Dean!" You called out despite yourself, "Help!" Nothing you did could stop the words pouring out of you, and fear filled you as you imagined what awaited him when he came to your aid.
Your heart sunk as you heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, "Y/N? Where are you?" Dean inquired, fear evident in his voice.
"Over here", the creature called out, "she's gone now, I'm fine"
Dean finally appeared at the bottom of the steps, relief evident in his expression. He ran towards you, gripping you in a tight hug that you couldn't reciprocate.
"I was so worried when I heard you, I thought for sure she had got you," He said, squeezing you tighter.
"Oh, she did," The demon responded, throwing dean against the wall, an evil smirk covering your normally benign features. Dean's face froze as he took in what was happening, an angry scream echoing from his lips when your bright Y/E/C eyes flicked to a cold, unforgiving black.
Laughter burst through your lips as they opened again to address him, "I'm really liking the new vehicle, think I might keep it for a while."
"You son of a bitch, what did you do to her," Dean called, tears forming in his emerald eyes.
"Oh nothing, for now," With that ominous statement, you turned to walk away from him, a small smirk playing with the corners of your lips.
"Hey!" You turned, the smile growing even more as you saw Dean standing there, the Colt raised in his shaking hands.
"I'd be scared, if you were going to shoot me, which you're not."
"What makes you say I won't do it?"
"Simple, if your shoot me, your precious Y/N dies with me."
And with that, he pulled the trigger.
You felt a shooting pain in your abdomen as you fell to the floor, but you smiled, the smile growing wider when you realized that you really were smiling, not just thinking about it. Dean ran to you, tear rolling down his cheeks as he spoke to you, his tone getting louder and more insistent as he went on.
"Come on, Y/N. You're okay. You're gonna be fine. It's just a scratch, you can do it. We've had worse," He moved to hold your head in his lap as he cried over you.
"We've done it before, together. And we're gonna do this together as well. Don't you even think of quitting on me, I can't do it alone," Dean's voice cracked on the last note, breaking into a sob.
As he said the last words, you ceased breathing, a soft smile still etched on your face.