A/N: Hello my wonderful followers, readers, Supernatural and Shadowhunters/mortal instruments fans! I hope all is doing well! This chapter took me a little bit, sorry about that. But here you go! I hope you enjoy! As usual all appreciation goes to whoever reads, comments, or all that good stuff!
Carry on wayward supernatural fans, and happy patrol shadowhunters.
Dean stood by the trunk of the Impala, the familiar scent of the car grounding him as he rifled through their supplies. He could hear the muffled voices of Sam, Magnus, and Alec coming from inside the loft, but he felt a growing discomfort gnawing at him. The warlock and Shadowhunters were a new breed of trouble, and Dean wasn't sure if he could trust them, even if Sam seemed to be warming up. His brother always had that knack for seeing the good in people, while Dean was more skeptical by nature.
He sniffed and sneezed again, cursing under his breath. Great—just what he needed. Turns out Magnus had a cat, and that little furball was wreaking havoc on his sinuses. He had stepped outside to escape the sneezing fit, hoping the fresh air would help clear his head. Instead, he stood there feeling restless, counting the supplies in the trunk like it was some sort of therapy.
"Look who made it out alive," came a snarky voice from behind him. Dean turned to see Andra approaching, her arms crossed, a playful smirk on her lips. "I was starting to think the vampires had finally taken you out."
He raised an eyebrow, smirking back at her. "Well, I'm just too tough to die, you know? Plus, I've got a date with a classic car to keep me company." He patted the Impala affectionately, leaning against it, feeling a little more relaxed as the banter started to flow.
She rolled her eyes, leaning casually against the car beside him. "Right, because the Impala is really going to save you from bloodsucking monsters. What's next? You gonna tell me you're the hero of this story?"
"Hero? Nah, I prefer 'anti-hero,'" Dean replied, crossing his arms with a grin. "Less pressure that way. Besides, I'm just here to keep my brother safe. You know how it is."
"Sure, and I'm just here for the free snacks," she shot back, her tone teasing. There was a spark in her eyes that made Dean's heart race a little, and he couldn't help but lean closer.
"Free snacks, huh? I should've charged you for the last batch," Dean quipped, his voice low and playful. "You're lucky I'm feeling generous."
She laughed, the sound light and infectious. "Generous? Is that what you call it? I thought you were just trying to impress me."
He leaned in slightly. "Impress you? Please. I'm just trying to keep you on your toes. Can't have you thinking you've got me all figured out."
She tilted her head, a challenge in her gaze. "Oh, trust me, I'm still figuring you out. You're a lot more complicated than you let on, Winchester."
He felt a rush of warmth at her words. "Well, good luck with that. I'm a tough nut to crack," he replied, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Maybe, but I've always been good at cracking nuts," she shot back, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Just then, the door to the loft swung open, and Sam emerged, looking a bit too pleased with himself. "Hey, are you two flirting or plotting against me?" he asked, trying to suppress a grin.
Dean rolled his eyes, stepping back from Andra and giving Sam a mock-serious look. "Just trying to save the world here, little brother. You know how it is."
"Right. Just don't let the cat hear you. It might get jealous." Sam laughed, and Dean couldn't help but chuckle too.
As Sam walked away, Dean glanced at Andra, feeling the playful banter linger in the air. Maybe the Shadowhunters weren't all bad. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a little more light in the darkness with her around.
Dean closed the trunk of the Impala, a flicker of warmth lingering in his chest from their playful banter. But as he climbed into the driver's seat, the weight of nostalgia settled heavily on him. He couldn't help but think of Ben and Lisa. The memories rushed in uninvited—Lisa's laughter, the way she'd light up a room, and Ben's goofy grin. They had been his safe haven, a glimpse of normalcy in a life filled with chaos.
"Hey, you good?" Sam asked, settling into the passenger seat beside him, pulling him back to the present.
"Yeah, just thinking about… stuff," Dean replied, forcing a smile as he turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, a familiar sound that usually brought him comfort. But today, it felt overshadowed by the memories that kept creeping back into his mind.
"Stuff? Or people?" Sam prodded, his gaze steady, knowing his brother all too well.
"Just… Ben and Lisa," Dean admitted, the words tasting bittersweet. "I wish things had been different."
"Yeah, me too," Sam said softly. "But you know they're safe. That's what matters."
Dean nodded, but it didn't erase the ache in his chest. He missed the simplicity of those days, the chance to be someone other than a hunter. But they had their own lives now, and he needed to focus on the here and now.
As they pulled away from the loft and headed into the chaotic streets of New York, Dean's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden halt of traffic. "Great," he muttered, glancing at the jam of cars stretching endlessly in front of them. "Just our luck."
"What did you expect? It's New York," Sam said, half-amused, half-sympathetic.
"Yeah, well, I don't like it. I don't like sitting in traffic, especially here," Dean grumbled, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in a restless rhythm. "It's like a freaking parking lot. Can't we just drive somewhere without a million people in our way?"
"It's not like we can just teleport out of here," Sam replied, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.
Dean shot him a sideways glance. "If only we had that kind of power. I'd be teleporting straight to a burger joint." He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
"Right, because that'll make everything better," Sam teased, nudging him playfully. "You and your burgers."
"Hey, don't knock it. A good burger can solve a lot of problems," Dean insisted, a grin breaking through his annoyance. "Especially when you're stuck in a sea of honking horns and impatient drivers."
As they sat in silence, the noise of the city around them faded slightly, and Dean's thoughts drifted back to Ben and Lisa. He wondered how they were doing, what their life looked like now. He hoped they were happy, safe from the darkness that often seeped into his world.
"Maybe we can get out of the city after this," Sam said, breaking the silence. "Head somewhere quieter for a bit."
"Yeah, that sounds nice," Dean replied, his voice softer now. "I could use a break from all this… insanity."
"Agreed," Sam said, nodding. "Just you, me, and the open road."
Dean smiled, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the chaos. No matter how tangled life got, they had each other, and that was enough. He glanced at Sam, grateful for the bond they shared, even in the midst of traffic jams and memories that threatened to pull him under.
As they sat waiting, a horn blared loudly, snapping Dean back to reality. "Fantastic," he huffed. "Just what I needed to hear. Let's see if we can find a way out of this mess."
With a resigned sigh, he shifted the Impala into gear, ready to navigate the maze of cars ahead. Maybe the road would open up soon, and with it, a chance to leave the past behind—if only for a little while.
As the Impala sat idle in the traffic jam, Dean felt his thoughts drift back to Andra. Her fierce spirit and unwavering strength were easy to admire, and he found himself wondering how someone like her could exist in a world filled with darkness. She was tough—he'd seen that firsthand—and there was a beauty about her that struck a chord deep within him. It was a warmth he hadn't felt since Lisa, and that realization both thrilled and terrified him. He couldn't afford to let himself want something like that, not when their lives were so unpredictable, teetering on the brink of danger at every turn.
Dean's mind wandered to the idea of Andra as a hunter. She had the skills, the grit, and the heart for it. She'd be a force to be reckoned with, someone who could stand shoulder to shoulder with him and Sam, taking on the dark things that lurked in the shadows. But could he really entertain the thought of being with her when their world was so perilous? He shook his head, trying to dispel the warmth that surged through him at the mere thought of her.
Hunters and Shadowhunters weren't all that different, he mused. They both fought to protect the innocent, to keep the darkness at bay. The only real difference was that Shadowhunters answered to someone—a higher power, a set of rules that guided their actions. But in the end, their roles were the same. They battled the supernatural, striving to make the world a safer place, even if it meant making tough calls along the way.
His mind wandered to the vampires they had encountered—the ones who had tried to survive on cattle instead of human blood. They weren't inherently evil; they were just creatures trying to exist in a world that hunted them down. He remembered Gordon, a hunter who had wanted to wipe them out without a second thought, seeing them as nothing more than monsters. But Dean had seen the fear in their eyes, the desperation to live, and it had made him pause.
Then there were the werewolves he had come across—those who were simply trying to navigate their dual nature, doing their best to stay out of trouble. Dean had always been taught to view these creatures as threats, but now, he found himself questioning everything he had learned. Maybe the world wasn't as black and white as he had always thought. Maybe there were shades of gray that made the lines blur.
When had that shift happened? When had he started to see beyond the simple good versus evil narrative? He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment, but he felt it, a subtle change in how he viewed the world, how he viewed people. Andra was a part of that shift—her strength, her resilience, everything that made her uniquely her.
Dean's breath hitched slightly as he thought of her again, how she made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt in years. But that warmth was accompanied by an ache of longing, a reminder that the life they led came with risks that could tear them apart at any moment.
He sighed, gripping the steering wheel as the traffic inched forward, his heart heavy with unspoken feelings. He could only allow himself this flicker of warmth for a little while before reality would crash back in, reminding him of the dangers that lurked around every corner. He had to be careful—careful not to let his heart lead him into a trap he couldn't escape.
"Just a little while," he whispered to himself, the words barely audible over the hum of the city. But for now, as he sat in the car with Sam, he allowed himself to hold onto that flicker of warmth, that connection to Andra, even if just for a moment longer.