Yeah, this one is a little out there but I just love the concept of familiars in any universe. Hope you all enjoy and remember to review. This veers off into an extreme AU after episode 8 of season 10. You'll see. Remember to review, please.
He doesn't know where he is, but it sucks.
It's hot and humid and he hates every minute of it, but he had to be there for a reason because he may have been in shambles but he definitely would have not picked Hicksville.
"Need anythin' else, lemme know," okay, so the waitress isn't so bad.
He smiles at her a little but he's more invested in this magnificent burger. He sets it down whenever the waitress walks off and chews slowly, looking out the window. He'd been basically on the run for three weeks, confused and hopelessly trying to find Castiel.
He jumped a little and dropped the fry in his hand when the phone buzzed over the table top. He wiped his hands on the napkin beside him and plucked up the phone, pausing when he saw Sam's name over the screen; he shut it and went back to his meal.
"He was compromised."
Dean wondered if Cas was talking about Samandriel or himself. After he said that, Cas disappeared and since he wasn't responding...to be honest, Dean was a little lost. It was like losing his brother, he couldn't...he couldn't handle it.
"Feelings are gross," he mumbled, plucking up another fry.
Dean munches on the fry even as an uneasy feeling builds in his gut. He knows the feeling all too well - someone is watching him.
"Seriously?" He muttered under his breath and did a quick sweep of the diner.
Place wasn't really busy, even though it was lunch time. Just a middle aged woman with a toddler and what looked to be a ten year old, both girls. There was an older man in the corner with another young woman, most likely his granddaughter. There were about three other people scattered about, but they all had their eyes down on their meals or - in one mans case - papers.
Well, it wasn't anyone in here.
Dean looked up as the feeling grew, eyes flickering to the tree line in the opposite side of the broken road outside the window. Spots? He blinked and the image was gone, replaced by leaves aging from the heat and the faint patter of moisture from the humidity.
"That's it," he looked around. "I'm losing my fucking mind."
"Excuse me?"
Dean jumps, looking up at the waitress who has his refill. "Uh," he shakes his head with a small smile. "Nothing, thank you."
She bobs her head once and trails off back to the kitchen, calling out another order. Dean almost goes back to his meal, almost, but he sees this woman and he just...
"Sweet mother of Jesus," he keeps his head down, watching her strut her sweet ass to the other side of the restaurant.
She was dressed in jeans and a gold/black plaid shirt, a white tank underneath and black boots, dark hair framing her face in straight locks and squared bangs. A treasure, plunking her ass down in that chair like a throne.
"Heaven help me." Dean mumbled and bit into his burger.
He looked up still chewing only to find the woman watching him - intently - from her seat nearby. Dean swallowed slowly and took a sip of his drink.
"Can I help you?" He asked finally.
"No," she shook her head; there was a small braid tucked under her hair on the right side of her face. "But I can help you," she pointed at him.
He raised an eyebrow, swallowing his food slowly, then sucked in air between his teeth. "How so?"
She smiled a little, strumming her fingers on the table top; when had she gotten so close? An unsettling coil tightened in his gut and his fingers on his left hand twitched against his thigh.
"Dean Winchester," she almost purred. "I've...spent a lot of time looking for you, ya know?"
Okay, unsettling feeling multiplied.
"Ya know, the stalker visage doesn't really do well for you," he leaned back in his chair. "What do you want?"
She seemed to hesitate but then she's let out an airy sigh. "Hot here, isn't it?"
"Sure." Dean said lamely.
He could've sworn she had slit pupils, like a cat or something. And he sneezed, feeling a new tickle in his nose; did someone have a cat?
"I really am losing my mind." He muttered and ran a hand through his hair.
"You're not actually." The woman said and slid into the booth opposite gave him this funny look.
"I'm not what?" Dean asked, eyes narrowing.
"Losing your mind." the woman replied matter of factly and looked up at him.
"And how am I not," he felt her knee brush against his and tensed.
She grinned a little; were her teeth pointy? "Been seein' things, huh? And don't you dare say you don't know what I'm talking about."
He clamped his mouth shut and watched her for a moment. She watched him patiently with those strange eyes of her and he had this strange feeling aside how fucking gorgeous she was.
"And what if I have?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow at her.
His burger was getting cold, and so were his fries. Damn it! She leaned forward. "Then I'd be pretty disappointed," she flicked a small, silver bead at the end of her braid and he couldn't take his eyes off of it. "Come on, we're gonna take a drive."
He looked helplessly at his burger and fries as she tried to drag him away from the table; she chuckled and plucked up the red basket, carrying it in her free hand.
She bumped open the door with her hip. "You drive, hon'. And I'll hold onto the food."
He hesitated then nodded, shaking off her hand and walking around to the drivers seat. He started the car, watching her knock her boots together to get off the sand and he liked her instantly more.
"What," she asked, arching an eyebrow at him. "I know a nice car when I see one." She folded her legs in and shut the door, smoothing out her shirt.
"So," Dean started. "Where in the hell are we going exactly?"
She grinned at him, it was like the Cheshire Cat. "Just drive North. I'll tell you what to do from there."
He cocked his head a little but did as she said, looking down at the gun tucked against the drivers side door; she made one wrong move, he blew her away. One minute she was the hottest thing on Earth and now...she was a blank slate. He felt nothing for her right now, not even indifference.
She bobbed her leg for a moment, eyes reflecting the damp trees that rolled past them. She looked over at Dean and smiled, almost like a child does to their mother or father.
"You know you're creepy," Dean paused, looking forward again. "Right?"
She chuckled. "I get that alot," her head snapped forward, nose twitching; Dean couldn't help but be a little concerned about that. "Turn left up here."
Dean turned the wheel, wincing as Baby bumped and jarred over the uneven road. "This is so not good for the suspension," he grumbled and glared the woman.
But she didn't seem to notice his displeasure. She was gazing out the window, watching the foliage fly by.
"A right up ahead and then about a quarter mile straight after that." She said absent-mindedly.
"Yes ma'am." Dean muttered and turned.
Where the hell was she taking him?
"Okay, stop," she held up a hand and he eased down on the brakes. "Come on out with me."
Dean whined a little but she was gone before he could deny it. He hesitated and then plucked up the basket of food, frowning as he shut the drivers door; his fries were cold. He followed behind her as she basically skipped along, brushing apart the dipping branches and moss.
"Sweetheart," Dean wiped off his fingers on his jeans. "As much as I enjoy this little stroll, I would love to know where we're goin'."
She smiled over his shoulder and held a finger to her lips. "Almost...there," she dropped.
Dean's eyes widened and he hurried forward, stumbling when he saw the trench she was fumbling around in. There was a sleeping bag tucked under dangling roots and a plastic bag filled with clothes.
"What the -?" Dean barked. "Do you live here?" He asked.
"Yeah," she snapped, wrapping her arms around herself in self consciousness "What about it," her eyes were defensive, almost predatory.
"Well-Nothing. Never mind," he stumbled over the words.
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking around in embarrassment. Okay, maybe he shouldn't have said anything.
She cooled instantly then looked around, waving her arms. "This is the place," she smacked her thighs with her hands and smiled warmly at him. "But I didn't bring you here to admire my decorating."
He chuckled and licked his lips. "Well," he gestured to himself. "I'm here, so what is it," he paused. "And if you try anything -"
"You'll blow my brains out," he arched an eyebrow and she grinned. "I know you, Dean Winchester. I know, even if you wanted to - and you won't - you wouldn't harm me."
"Wanna bet," he rumbled, getting that uneasy feeling again.
Her grin softened to a half smile and she stepped closer to him, steps slowly and deliberate. "I don't need to," she was close now, he could feel her body heat. "You. Wont. Hurt. Me."
His eyes widened again and, unfortunately, he dropped his food. But she was too close and all he could think of was the way she smelled - like dirt and some old perfume - and the way her eyes seemed to shift to a golden color.
"Alright," he mumbled/stuttered, looking down at her hands that were lingering near his chest.
She chuckled and he was pretty damn sure her eyes were golden down, the pupil gently slit like...like a cats. He prickled and pushed her back, watching her stumble and - was that a fucking tail?
"What the hell are you," he growled, pulling out his gun and pointing it at her.
"Take a guess." She half-growled as she landed on her side.
Her clothes were fading and Dean raised an eyebrow at the exposed flesh of her thighs and breasts. Before he could become more interested, spots seemed to color her skin, fur was beginning to sprout on her throat.
"What the actual fuck?!" Dean shouted and began to back away. "What the hell are you?!"
She didn't answer him, she just growled; the look she gave him said she felt bad. Her jaw popped out a few inches, nose flattening and whiskers sprouting beneath her skin. Teeth grew elongated and stained, neck thickening and the spotted pelt grew over her entire body.
"I died," Dean mumbled. "That's it - I died and I'm in hell where smoking hot women turn into monsters - or I got drugged," both seemed very real possibilities.
Where once stood a woman was now a very large jaguar that shook its head and whined. Claws stirred up soil and her tail flicked back and forth, golden eyes fixated on Dean.
"Sweet Jesus." Dean breathed and back away, gun aimed at the jaguar's head.
'Please...scared...not...hurt...you.'
There was a voice in his head.
Great.
"Shut up. Just shut up." Dean barked, and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Why me? Why is it always me?"
Always! Fucking always! Dean ran a hand back over his hair and then stumbled back another step when the jaguar began to approach him. Her ears flattened back on her skull and whined, slinking towards him when a perfect tree happened to block his path.
He wanted to pull the trigger, he really did, but he just couldn't. No matter how much effort he tried to put against that trigger, he just...couldn't.
He let out a defeated breath and dropped his arm, sinking down to the forest floor, legs splayed out on either side of the jaguar as she stopped between them.
"Kill me already," he looked up from under his brow. "Just fucking kill me."
Did he really wanna die? Maybe...just maybe. Maybe that was why he followed her out here, it would explain a lot.
She whined and plopped down in front of him, her head lolling sideways against his left thigh. "Familiar..."
He froze, brow furrowing. "Wait, wait, wait," he looked up fully. "A familiar...those are only for witches."
Her tongue ran over her black lips. "No."
He hesitated, needing more answers. He massaged the bridge of his nose, and went slack against the tree. "Of course," he looked down at her again. "Got a name?"
"Nalah."