Let Y/N represent you. Insert your name there.
(For everyone reading this, this is a fan fic that ships you with Dean. I will be creating more SPN fan fics that may ship you with Sam. Please leave feedback for not only this fan fic, but for what people you would like me to ship, or what people you want me to ship with you. Comment if you guys like inserts or just plain SPN fan fics. Enjoy!)
(P.S. Sorry everyone for disrespecting the impala, it's just that I have a mustang in real life and I had to include it, sorry again and don't come at me.)
Shoot! You shot up in bed. You were in an old, puke green motel room. A disgusting scent of mildew filled your nose as you tried taking a deep breath. You were in so much trouble. Sarah must be enraged.
You got up and and rapidly began changing into you're last night's clothes. Sadly, you had no other option than to wear toe-pinching heels and a black, lacy dress. At least you had your car- wait a second. You didn't have your car. You ditched Sarah at the bar after your argument, meaning Sarah had probably taken it to the motel. Just Great. You have to walk all the way to your motel. Unless, you call Sarah and she answers.
You quickly typed in Sarah's number and clicked the green call button, desperately repeating, Please answer, please answer, as Sarah was your last hope.
"Hey, this is Sarah," the phone answered.
"Sarah you gotta help me-" you pleaded, perilously.
"I can't get to the phone right now. Leave a message," Sarah's voicemail said, tantalizing you and crushing your faith. You sighed, took off your heels, knowing walking barefoot a mile was better than walking the same in heels, and began for the door only to hear him.
"Going so soon?" he questioned, his voice deep and hoarse, clearly indicating he had just woken up. Although his voice was deep, he was your age; around twenty-fiveish. He had auburn hair and not a beard, but not clean-shaven chin and cheeks. The actual facial hair that didn't look bad.
"Listen uh-" you began.
"Dean," he replied.
"Dean, right. As much as I enjoyed last night, I gotta get going," you said, convincingly. You really didn't need a clingy one-night stand.
"Barefoot?" he asked looking at your feet.
"Well, I don't really have any other choice, so I mean, I guess," you answered.
"Let me give you a ride," Dean offered. You hesitated. You sure as hell didn't want a ride from your one-night stand; it is pretty self explanatory how awkward that would be, but you also didn't want to walk a mile barefoot to your motel. You figured getting a ride couldn't be that bad.
After agreeing to the offer, you and Dean headed outside for you to see his car. A classic chevy impala, but you weren't sure what year. As if he read your mind, he said, "It's a 67'." You had always loved classics.
The two of you headed into the car and he started the engine. "2.5 L 4-cylinder?" you asked, almost in a daze at how exquisite the car ran. Dean looked over at me in a bewildered face.
"Know a lot about classics?" Dean asked.
"You could say so," you laughed. You looked at Dean to see him also smiling. You couldn't stop staring at his perfect, defined jawline and his lips...oh his lips. All you could do was remember what it felt like to press your lips against his. Snap out of it! you told yourself. You can't fall for a one-night stand! You know your job in this world! The car quickly got quiet as you stopped creating conversation.
"Let's turn on some music," Dean said, switching the radio. After skipping a few radio stations, he came across the song, You Give Love A Bad Name, by Bon Jovi.
You found yourself mouthing the lyrics, Shot through the heart and you're too late, darlin' you give love a bad name. You loved this song! Dean had seen you mouthing the lyrics and exclaimed, "You know this song?" You were sure you're face turned a bright red.
You brushed the embarrassment aside and exclaimed, "Who couldn't, it is Bon Jovi!"
"You aren't so bad," Dean said, which warmed your face again. The moment was quickly over as Dean asked which way to turn and quickly arrived to your motel. "Well, here you are," he said.
"Yep," you replied, opening the impala door. "Dean, thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it."
"No problem, Y/N," he responded and he began driving off. You were surprised he remembered your name. You stared as the impala drives off into the distance, until you could no longer see it anymore. You sighed and headed to your motel room, not looking forward to Sarah's reaction.
You reached the door to your room and knocked. You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for extreme anger to be lashed out at you. You heard the locks click and the door opened. There stood Sarah, glaring at you. She opened the door more, allowing you in and shut the door behind you.
Sarah walked over to the desk and continued to stare at you. She wasn't speaking words of course, but you could hear her loud and clear. She was furious.
"I just-" you began to explain.
"No, do not say a word," Sarah said, stopping you from giving a dumb excuse. Sarah was very unlike you. More books, you could say. You were more, well to be truthful, fun, and you were more outgoing. "Now, I am going to give you information about the case we came here for. And unlike some people, I actually spent my time last night researching, not hooking up with people."
"It wasn't-"
"No shush. Anyways, Y/N, several students who attended the local high school have been found dead in their bedrooms. Apparently their skin had been almost melted or peeled off."
"Shifters?" you guessed.
"I thought the same thing, but it would be very unreasonable to first have them all be shifters, because usually they live alone, and to have them be dead," Sarah explained. "So far, it has been five students within five months, and the most recent incident was with Emma Goldberg, which happened two nights ago."
"Well, let's go check out this Emma Goldberg's house," you said.
Later, you two were arriving in your 66' red convertible mustang. Of course, you were driving, no one got near to driving your car except for you, unless you and Sarah had a very long road trip. You parked across the street from Emma Goldberg's parent's house.
You got out, straightened you're suit, followed by Sarah. You two approached the house and knocked on the door. Opened the door, was a woman, sniffling and wiping the skin under her eyes with a tissue.
"Hello, I am Special Agent Thompson, and this is my partner Special Agent Murphy. We are here to just ask a few questions about your daughter Emma Goldberg," you said, holding up you're fake FBI badge in your wallet along with Sarah. You almost didn't have to think whenever you said that, after all you said it all the time.
"We were already questioned by the police," the woman said, sniffling. She was wearing a shiny pearl necklace paired with pearl earrings. She wore a black dress, most likely to mourn her daughter's recent death.
"Yes, you were questioned by the local police department, but we go into more depth to figure out what is going on," you explained in the most professional way possible.
"Well then in that case, come on in," she motioned is towards the sofa. "Can I offer you two any tea?" she asked.
"That would be great, thank you," Sarah said. Mrs. Goldberg returned with warm cups of tea and handed them to you and Sarah.
"Thank you," you said, setting down the tea. "Now, Mrs. Goldberg, did you're daughter have any enemies, or anyone who would want to hurt her?
"No, of course not. She was a wonderful girl. She always participating in school activities, you know like joking clubs and all of that stuff. Everyone loved her," Mrs. Goldberg explained.
"And these clubs she joined, what were they?" Sarah asked.
"Well her main club, that she devoted most of her time to, was a science club," Mrs, Goldberg said.
"Okay, and has she been acting differently at all lately?" you asked.
"No, not that I have noticed," Mrs. Goldberg said.
"Okay, has there been any weird smells or electric problems around the house?" Sarah questioned.
"I don't see how this has anything to do with what happened to Emma," Mrs. Goldberg said, confused.
"We just want to make sure that there wasn't any gas problem around the house, we just need to cover all possible areas," you explained.
"Well, I guess not. I haven't noticed anything," Mrs. Goldberg said.
"Okay, well Mrs. Goldberg, thank you for your time. We can show ourselves out," you said. Mrs. Goldberg nodded her head and you two headed towards the door.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Mrs. Goldberg got up to answer the door. There, behind the door were two other FBI agents. At first glance, you thought you were in extreme trouble because the thought the actual peds had showed up to ask questions. Then, you noticed it was Dean. Dean from earlier. Next to Dean, was a very tall man who had long brunette hair.
"Uh," you let out, bewildered.
"Wait are you-" Dean began. The room had gotten silent as you realized Dean was a hunter as well.
Before the situation had gotten any worse, you began to talk. "Sorry, Mrs. Goldberg, it seems as if there has been a mix up, Agent Murphy and I must have forgotten to tell our supervisor about how we were coming. We will just all be on our way," you said, quickly saying goodbye to Mrs. Goldberg and shutting the door.
"Can someone please explain what is going on?" the man who came with Dean asked.
"Yes, please someone," Sarah agreed.
"Ok well, let's just not stand here, let's meet up at the burger place. Just follow my car," Dean said.
"Alright," you said.
"Where is your car?" Dean asked.
"Right in front of yours," you pointed to your mustang. Dean looked shocked.
You smiled and looked over at the man who came with Dean who was also smiling. "Jealous are you?" you asked, rubbing the fact that you had a convertible in his face.
"What...No," Dean said, obviously lying. You and Sarah walked over to your car and got in.
"Hey, Dean," you said, getting his attention.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Bet you mine is faster," you smirked. Dean looked absolutely offended and seeing his face just made you laugh. You hopped in your car, turned on the rock music, and revved the engine, just to get on Dean's nerves.