Notes:
[f/n]= first name
[t/n]= town name
P.O.V= Point of View
If you are a boy, please disregard the use of she or her. It's just hard to write Dean's P.O.V without settling on a gender.
*Dean's P.O.V*
"No doubt about it, Sam. This is a witch's doing," I say while inspecting a herb bundle we had found hanging on a wall in plain sight.
"But why would a witch be involved with these werewolf cases?" Sam questions. In the town of [t/n], there has been reports of people being torn to shreds by a serial killer with an unusual ritual: the killer always takes the heart. Obviously, for us hunters, that means a werewolf is involved.
But with this case, the werewolf seems to be particular about his choice of food. The victims report being stalked a few days prior to being murdered. If the werewolf is aware of what he is doing to his prey, that must mean the werewolf is a pureblood. That, or the murders aren't the work of a werewolf. This house belongs to the current target, Alissa Stewart, who has reported being stalked for the past couple of days.
So as usual, Sam and I dressed up as FBI agents and initiated an investigation of the house, not without an argument with Alissa, who couldn't understand why an investigation of her house was necessary. But Alissa was overruled, and here we are. The reason we investigated the house was to make sure it wasn't another supernatural being causing these deaths, like ghosts, or apparently, witches.
"Maybe it's not a werewolf responsible, but a witch mimicking a werewolf to throw off hunters. What I don't understand is why the witch placed this herb bundle in plain sight," I answer.
Sam goes quiet for a moment, pondering possibilities. "Maybe the witch gave the herbs to Alissa, and Alissa hung them up herself because she believed they were just decoration or something. Let's ask Alissa if someone gave them to her," Sam offers.
Thus we go back outside, where a fuming Alissa is waiting. "I swear, if you made a mess I'm talking to your boss!" she threatens. I hold up my hands as a peace offering and mock surrender.
" No worries, we didn't mess up your house or anything. We just have a question for you," I say and show her the herb bundle. "Where did you get these herbs?"
She arches an eyebrow at us, suspicion obvious in her eyes. "Why does that matter?" she asks.
That is a good question. "Um…" I begin, but Sam jumps to the rescue.
"The victims all have the same herb bundle, so there may be a connection to the herb bundles and the killer," Sam lies. We haven't investigated the other victims' houses yet.
"Oh, that's impossible," Alissa responds with a wave of her hand. "My friend [f/n] gave me the herbs. You see, she believes in, well, new age stuff. I told her about being stalked and [f/n] gave me these herbs, saying they offer protection. I don't believe in that stuff, but she made me promise that I would hang them up, so I did. [f/n] must have done the same for the others."
"Could we have [f/n]'s address? We have a few questions for her," Sam asks.
Though Alissa looks hesitant, she tells us the address.
"Thank you," Sam says, then turns to me. "I'll stay here and keep an eye on Alissa, you go and question [f/n]."
"Why can't I keep watch of Alissa?" I complain.
Sam shoots me a look. "Because you would flirt instead of doing your job."
"Come on, Sammy! You know I'd do my job," I retort. Sam doesn't respond, he just keeps shooting me a look. "Fine! I'll go and do the boring part," I say and start to head for my (precious) car, but then turn back to Alissa. "Hey, since you're giving away addresses, I was wondering if I could have your number…?"
"Dean!" Sam shouts disapprovingly.
"Ok, ok, I'm going!" I shout in return.
*Reader's P.O.V*
I tiredly stretch my shoulders, still stiff from last night. I've been so busy patrolling the town that my body is feeling the results of my efforts. Still, I haven't found the bastard yet.
"Hey there," an unknown voice speaks from behind me. Startled, I fly around to meet a hazel-green eyed man.
"Who are you?" I shout out to the stranger, already flexing my fingers in case I need to attack.
"Don't worry, I'm an FBI agent," the man tries to reassure me.
"Let me see your badge," I immediately demand. He pulls out a badge from his pocket and pushes it forward so that I can see it. I inspect it, determining that it seems valid enough, but I wouldn't know personally if that is true. I cross my arms and glare at him, putting on an appearance of being intimidating. "And you think you can just barge in my home without permission?"
"Well I'm on a case, ma'am. If you haven't noticed, people have been torn to shreds around these parts," he smugly replies, meeting my intimidation head-on. I narrow my eyes at him.
"And your name would be?" I ask.
"Agent Grant," he answers. "And you're [f/n]. Alissa's told me all about you. New age stuff, huh? Can you sense my 'energy' right now?"
"Very funny," I mutter. "Just cut to the chase; what are you here for, Agent Grant?"
"I'd like to ask you," he begins and pulls out my herb bundle, "what this is?"
My eyes widen when I see the herbs. Panicked, I look at Grant. "You took it down? You shouldn't have done that!" I yell at him. I turn away from Grant and grab my car keys off a table. "I have to go, now. I think Alissa is in danger." I try to push past Grant, but he blocks my way.
"Oh, don't worry about Alissa. My partner is with her. More importantly, why shouldn't I have taken down these herbs?" he asks, searching my eyes.
"Look, we have to go now. Your partner is in danger, too," I hurriedly tell him, and try to push him out of my way.
""He can take care of himself, trust me. Answer me, or I'm going to have to take measures to ensure you talk."
I grind my teeth. "Move. Now," and with a flick of my hand, Grant is tossed aside by a force. I dash through the door, making way to my car. But before I can make it, a hand roughly grabs my wrist and pulls me back, slamming me against a wall.
"So you're a witch, after all," he says, and it clicks.
"And you're a hunter," I venomously spit out.
He smirks at me. "Yep, I'm Dean Winchester, you may have heard of me." His smirk disappears and is replaced with a look of surprise. "Yeowch!" he cries in pain, letting go of my wrists to reveal reddened hands. "Bitch, you burned me!"
"Oh yes, I know you and your kind," I angrily say. "Always killing everything without getting the full story! Thinking only humans have a right to live! The idiot that you are, you don't even realize what you just did, right?"
"Oh, you mean ruining your curse on Alissa? Sorry babe, it's my job, what can I say?" he says, and suddenly whips out a gun.
"Shit!" I shout, and fling out my hand like it is a shield. The bullet that was shot seems to freeze in time, only a few inches away from my palm. Ok, now I'm pissed. "I so don't have time for this," I grind out, and flick my fingers at Dean. His body stiffens, no longer able to move on its own.
"Son of a bitch," Dean mutters, rendered motionless.
I smirk at him. "I think me and you should have a little talk," I say, and use my index and middle finger to mimic legs walking. Dean's legs move in accordance to my fingers, walking towards me. Together, we situate ourselves in my car.
"For one," I begin, "those herbs were not for hexing. They were protective herbs."
"Oh spare me your cover story," Dean agitatedly mutters.
"Those herbs are called wolfsbane, asshole," I continue, pushing past Dean's statement. "They repel werewolves."
"If that was the case, I'm sure I would know what wolfsbane is. You're just making shit up," Dean responds.
"Hunters can't use wolfsbane because it has to be enhanced by a witch," I tell him. "Listen here, bub. I protect this town from any harmful beings. I'm the resident witch, and I don't hurt anybody. Well, I should say I don't hurt anybody innocent. You come along assuming I'm evil, being all 'shoot first, ask questions later.' This is why I tend to have issues with hunters, even though I approve of them protecting people. I just wish they would realize that humans aren't the only ones who have a right to live."
"Yeah, well, hunters don't go around making deals with demons for power. Almost every witch I've met is corrupted by that power, so I doubt you're any different. Just another chick getting a kick out of being powerful and special."
"Again with the assumptions!" I yell at him. "Believe it or not, I didn't sell my soul for magic. I taught myself magic, though ancient books. But listen," I sigh as we stop at a red light. "Now is not the time to be arguing. Since you removed that wolfsbane, there is nothing keeping that werewolf from Alissa. Once we get to Alissa's, I'm going to release you from this spell. In return, all you have to do is help me kill the bastard. And for the love of God, please don't try to kill me in the process, or I'll fry your ass."
Though he still looks suspicious, at this point Dean seems at least a little bit convinced that I'm serious. Still, I have to keep my guard up. Finally, we reach Alissa's house, and my face pales at the sight of it. Smashed windows and destruction is evident, meaning the werewolf is already here. But what really shakes me is the sight of blood.
"Sammy!" Dean shouts out. Must be his partner. So I turn to Dean and snap my fingers, releasing him from the spell. I tense up, in case he decides to attack me, but immediately he is out the car door and dashing for the house. I unbuckle my seatbelt and follow suit.
The inside of the house is in worse condition than the outside. Torn and smashed furniture lay scattered about the house, along with blood splattered here and there. If Alissa makes it out alive, lord only knows how pissed she is going to be about this. A loud bang of a gunshot interrupts such thoughts, coming from upstairs.
Immediately, Dean and I are stomping up the stairs. There, beyond a smashed door, is a werewolf towering over a man who has deep gashes on his chest and holding a shaky gun, and Alissa, who is being shielded by the wounded man.
"Sam!" Dean shouts. The werewolf turns his gaze to me and Dean with a snarl. Dean whips out a gun and starts shooting, but the bullets aren't silver, thus the werewolf tackles Dean to the ground.
"Dean!" I shout, and fling my hand. The werewolf is slammed to the wall, stunned for the moment.
"Go help Sam!" Dean says, pulling out a silver bullet and loading it in gun. "I got wolf man."
"Got it!" I reply, and make way over to who I now know is Sam. He had collapsed, blood covering his shirt. I can tell he is in critical condition.
"I'm [f/n]," I tell Sam. "I'm a witch, but I'm here to help you. I'm going to remove your shirt, ok? I need to press my hands on the wound while inciting a healing incantation." Sam looks at me a moment, obviously a bit mistrustful, but after a while he nods his head as a signal to begin. I remove the jacket and tie, and set to work on unbuttoning his shirt. After getting his shirt off, I place my hands on the bloody mess called his chest.
I ignore the commotion Dean and the werewolf are creating. Apparently, Dean missed his shot, and now is struggling with the werewolf once again. But I have to set to work immediately on Sam, so I push aside my worry. "Dean!" I shout. "Keep the werewolf distracted! No matter what, I can't be interrupted while doing this spell. Your partner is in critical condition!"
"That's what I'm doing!" Dean's strained voice replies, busy struggling with the werewolf. I turn my attention back to Sam, and begin the incantation. My voice puts on a powerful tone, speaking in an ancient language. My hands faintly glow as I watch the slow process of Sam's wound starting to close.
I hear a loud crash, Dean having been tossed at a table. Alissa is cowering in a corner, whimpering. But I tune it all out, focusing on my incantation. Minutes have passed, when I hear another gunshot. This time, a yelp is heard and then silence. Dean must have finally killed the werewolf. And just in time too, for Sam's wound has been healed. However, Sam had passed out in the process.
"How is he?" Dean asks me breathlessly, coming to my side to see Sam's condition.
"His wound is closed, but I recommend taking him to a hospital or something. He lost a lot of blood, so he needs some blood pumped into him. I don't know what you can say to the doctor, though, considering the wound is closed," I tell him sheepishly with a shrug. "I'm sure you'll think of something."
"Thank you," Dean says, which catches me off guard. "If you weren't here, I don't know what would have happened to Sam."
I smile warmly at him. "No problem, it's my job. Let's get him to my car, he should get some blood asap."
"That's ok, my car is parked outside," Dean replies, and tries to heft Sam up. "Ugh" Dean grunts. "Mind helping me out carrying Moose here?"
I grin at him, amused by the nickname. "No problem," I reply, and with a wave of my hand Sam begins levitating. I glance at Alissa, who is wide eyed and going through utter shock. "I'll take him to your car, so can you take care of Alissa?"
Dean too glances at Alissa. "No problem," he says, and crouches down to be level with the cowering girl. I leave the room to let him comfort her.
I find a black impala, which I assume to be Dean's car. I open the back seat door and carefully place Sam on the seat. After making sure Sam is properly situated, I walk to my car and pull out a piece of paper and pen from a compartment. I scribble on it, when Dean walks out of the house.
"How is she?" I ask him.
"Oh, you know, just acting like any girl who has had her world turned upside down. I mean, after having been attacked by a werewolf, had her home torn up, and discovering her friend is a witch, wanting a little alone time is understandable," he replies. "But she is holding up fine, I'd say. Just give her some time."
I nod at him. "Ok, thanks. Here," I say, and hand him the piece of paper I scribbled on. He looks at the paper to see a weird symbol.
"What's this supposed to be?" he asks.
"A witch's version of a phone number, you could say," I tell him. "If you ever need my help, or information or something, just scribble that symbol somewhere and you'll be able to contact me."
"And you couldn't just give me your phone number?" he says.
"Well, that symbol enables me to teleport to you if need be. I figure you don't need help from a 'lowly' witch such as myself, but you know, if you need me, I'll help," I tell him with a smile.
He grins charmingly at me in response. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. You're not so bad, after all. Sorry I jumped the gun," he apologises.
"No problem," I tell him with a dismissive wave. "I'm not dead, so all's well that ends well. Just make sure you make sure someone is evil before trying to shoot them."
"I'll try," Dean says, but I doubt he'll keep that in mind. He gets into the driver's seat of his car. "I should be heading out now. Stay out of trouble, you hear? I don't want to have to come back to find you being the wicked witch of the west."
I roll my eyes at him. "Yeah, yeah. See ya', trigger finger," I tell him in farewell.
"See ya', beautiful," he says with a wink, and with that he drives off. I shake my head at the retreating car. That man may get on my nerves, but I can't help but like something about him. Plus, admittedly, he was kind of cute.
But I shouldn't think that way! He's a hunter, I'm a witch, end of story.
*Dean's P.O.V*
I glance at the piece of paper I had tossed on the passenger's seat. Seems like by the end of the day, I managed to get a hottie's number after all.
Wait, hottie? No way, can't be thinking that way! She's a witch, I'm a hunter, end of story.
Still, no denying how attractive [f/n] is. I wouldn't mind seeing that face again someday.
Wait...dammit! Remember, Dean, [f/n]'s a witch. Off limits, man. Yeah...off limits.
To Be Continued
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