Malevolence Part One

Sitting in your truck, you take a long drag on your joint. The dilapidated barn sitting across the field blocks an otherwise beautiful view. It's late autumn and most of the leaves have fallen leaving the trees bare. There's a nip in the air and the sky threatens to open up to snow any day now. You exhale softly and smoke fills the little cab of your truck. Checking your face in the rear view mirror, you assure yourself that your make up hasn't smudged. After taking one last drag, you put out your roach in the ash tray and finally step out into the cool air.

The smell of rotting leaves and damp wood fills your nose. You zip your coat tighter and roll your shoulders. They still ache from your last expenditure. Rolling up your jacket sleeve, you check your watch. Unsurprisingly, the Winchester boys are late again.

It's another ten minutes before the Impala rolls up next to your truck. By this time your fingers are numb and you have your fists buried into your pockets. The car doors slam as the boys get out to greet you.

Sam has a sweet, boyish smile on his face. You always marvel at how soft his features are, despite all he's been through.

"Hey Y/N. How's it going?," he asks as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

You relish his touch as you feel his muscular arms wrap around you. He's always been the gentle giant. The smell of leather and coffee wafts through the air and you immediately feel comforted. Sam has been a close friend as long as you can remember and you're happy to see him again. "Hey Sam. I'm good. It's good to see you."

As you pull away from the embrace, your eyes lock with Dean's sage eyes. Your belly immediately flutters and you feel your face redden despite the cold. You've never quite gotten comfortable around the older Winchester. His harsh look and intimidating stature has always given you the impression that he doesn't like you. You're sure that he doesn't want you coming between him and his brother.

"Hey Dean," you smile at him demurely.

"Hey Y/N. How you doing? This the place?"

You nod, "Yea I've been scouting this place out the last couple days. There's definitely a vamp nest in that barn over there. My guess is that there's twenty to thirty of them."

"Well I'm glad you called us," Sam responds. "This is definitely a job for multiple people."

Dean walks around the the back of the Impala and opens up the trunk. An array of weapons are laid out and you eye up a large machete.

"Well, let's do this thing," Dean growls.

The stiffness in your shoulder has worsened due to the cold and recent fight. You flinch slightly as you hit it while sliding into the booth. The local bar is nice enough and it's warm which is all you care about. You sit next to Sam and Dean slides in across from you. He places three pints on the table and hands them out. Your enjoy the feeling of a nice cold beer warming you up.

"Well, that could have gone worse," you say lightly.

"Coulda gone a lot fucking better too," Dean mutters into his beer.

There's a clear tear in his jacket and a combination of mud and blood is splattered across his face. None of you had thought to shower before getting a drink. You look at Sam and at yourself, realizing that the three of you are all covered in mud and vampire blood. However, nobody else at the bar gives you guys a second glance.

"Come on," Sam chimes in. "We cleared the nest and none of us are dead or maimed. I'd say it's a pretty good day!"

You chuckle and cheers with Sam, but Dean just looks on gloomily. You can't help, but feel that Dean is staring at you.

After a few more beers, the three of you are starting to feel relaxed after a long day. You've caught up on all your latest hunting stories and have had a few good laughs. The conversation soon turns to more personal matters.

"So Y/N," Sam attempts to ask casually, "How are you and Mike doing?"

The question catches you off guard. Normally, you don't talk about your relationship with Sam. You know he doesn't approve of Mike. "He's good. Up in Nebraska right now hunting werewolves. I'll probably drive up there and join him in the next couple of days."

"And you guys are good? Still happy with him?," Sam presses a bit harder.

Dean scowls across the table and finishes off another beer. You know he hates talking about personal matters. "Yep. We're good," you reply briefly.

Luckily, the waitress interrupts you before Sam can ask anymore questions.

"Can I get anything for you, dears?," she smiles sweetly. She only falters a little when she sees your appearances. Dean orders another round of beers and she swiftly scurries away.

"Christ," you swallow, "Maybe we should try and clean up a little. At least the blood."

Dean pulls out a packet of wet naps from his bag and you raise an eyebrow at him. "What?," he defends. "You gotta be prepared for a quick clean up in this business."

You laugh and reach for a wipe. Sam has already grabbed a couple and is in the midst of cleaning off his face. As you run the wipe over your own face, you feel it sting your small cuts. Persisting, you scrub away all the blood and muck.

Gathering up the used wipes, you get up and throw them in a nearby garbage can. When you return, the boys are staring at you. Sam's hazel eyes are wide while Dean's are narrowed into a glare.

"What?," you ask confused.

"Where'd you get that shiner?," Dean growls under his breath.

You raise your hand to your face and silently curse yourself. All your make up has come away with the wipes. A large purple bruise sits clear as day next to your left eye. There's a slight cut at the centre of it and another one going through your eyebrow. You try to look nonchalant.

"Must of got hit by a vamp," you shrug as you return to your seat next to Sam. "My adrenaline must of been so high that I didn't notice."

Sam purses his lips at you and sadness fills his amber eyes. He decides to hold his tongue as he doesn't want you leaving sooner than you plan too. Dean doesn't show the same restraint.

"All that mud did an amazing job at covering it up," he scoffs sarcastically.

Your eyes flash to meet his and you grit your teeth. "Yea, I guess it did," you snap back. "I think I'm going to call it a night guys. Feeling pretty tired."

Throwing some cash on the table, you move to leave.

"Y/N—," Sam starts, but you cut him off.

"I'll just be at the motel. I'll see you in the morning."

You walk away before either of them can say anything else. The waitress passes you with a confused look on her face. She's carrying three pints to the table, but you're no longer in the mood to drink. You push the large front door and enter into the cold night air.

Back in the booth, the two Winchester's look at each other grimly.