What?! You were under arrest? Were they kidding you? How could they think that you would do such a thing?! You loved Mark, he was everything, he was your world. You couldn't murder him, you couldn't murder anyone or anything. You couldn't even kill a damn fly. No! That must have been some kind of a gross nightmare.

Two of the officers took you out of Bill's house and led you to one of the police cars. You got into the car. You were so scared that your whole body was shaking. The ride to the police station was quiet, too quiet. It felt as if you were travelling for ages. When you got to the police station, Bill was the first one you saw. You tried to go to him and hug him but the officers wouldn't allow it.

"Bill! I-I didn't – I didn't – ", you said through your sobs.

"Listen (Y/N), I know it is not your fault. OK? Just calm down. I'll fix this misunderstanding," he said and the officers took you.

One tall, blonde, dark-eyed man led you to one of the interrogation rooms, told you to stay still and left, leaving you alone in that dark room. You had never imagined that you would stay at the other side of the table, that you would be the questioned one. Oh, God! Was that some kind of a joke? It was so quiet and dark. You tried so hard to stay calm. You did. But you couldn't stop thinking about Mark's cold lifeless body and all that blood all over the kitchen. C'mon! Bill knew you wouldn't do it, he knew you couldn't.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a voice. It was Bill's.

"Please, Tom. Just let me talk to her. She's scared," he said.

"I'm sorry Bill, but you're too close to each other. I can't let you do this," the other man answered, "I will talk to her."

Then he entered the room. The same man from what seemed like ages ago.

"So, (Y/N). I can call you (Y/N), right?" he asked nicely.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

"OK, so, why don't you tell me what happened last night?"

You knew that there was no point in arguing with that cop. You took a breath and said: "I was at our apartment. I was watching TV, then I heard a weird sound. I thought it was Mark. When I went to the kitchen I saw his body," a single tear rolled down your cheek.

"Are you able to prove what you're saying is the truth?" he asked. Was he serious?!

"What? I-I… No. I m-mean… Are you serious? How can I prove that I've been watching a stupid show the whole evening and that I did not killed Mark - the man I was in love with, by the way?" the situation was starting to piss you off and it wasn't any good, but you couldn't take it anymore, "Excuse me, officer, but I don't have any security cameras installed in my living room or kitchen. Mark and I didn't want to be recorded while having wild sex all over the house."

"I'm sorry, (Y/N), but in that case you are still the main suspect," he said and left the small room.

"Are you kidding me? Don't leave me here, you fucking bastard! You hear me? Come back!" you were yelling but the things only got worse.

Four hours later you were sitting on a small, uncomfortable, dirty bed in one of the cells at the police station. You didn't know what to do. Everyone believed that you were Mark's murderer. Maybe even Bill? You wanted to cry but you were too tired even for that. Then you heard footsteps and got up. It was Bill.

"Hey, (Y/N), I think I know what has happened last night," he said, you'd never seen him like this before.

"You do? Tell me! Please!" you were so impatient.

"OK, but I need you to listen very carefully," you nodded, and he continued, "I know a guy who might know what killed Mark…"

"No, please, no. Don't do this to me, Bill. Don't say 'what'! It is 'who', right? Please, tell me you're not going mad like my father did," you were crying.

"Shhh. I know it's hard for you, but you need to listen to him," you were totally confused, who was 'he', "Promise me that you are going to listen to him."

Who the hell was Bill talking about?!

Just then, he showed himself from behind the dark corner. A male figure, about 6 feet tall, clothed in an elegant FBI suit. His eyes were sparkling in a kind of magical way. He had his poker face on, but it still was the most perfectly shaped face you had ever seen. This man was truly beautiful, probably the most handsome man in the whole Universe. But the minute you saw him, you were paralyzed. It was him. There he was, in all his gorgeousness, Dean Winchester himself.

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