Dean snapped the final buckle on his duffel bag, the satisfying click echoing off the motel room's threadbare walls. He opened the Impala's trunk, which creaked in response, eager to swallow the remnants of another job wrapped up in Nacogdoches. He tossed the bag in, its metal and leather contents clattering against years of similar thuds and clinks.
As he slammed the trunk shut, his phone buzzed—a call from Dad. The conversation was brief, cryptic coordinates followed by a dial tone. That was enough for Dean; the familiar itch for a new hunt settled under his skin. He slid behind the wheel, the leather groaning a familiar welcome.
The engine rumbled to life, a low purr that spoke of open roads and restless spirits. As the landscape blurred past, Dean flipped open his phone, hitting speed dial for Sam.
"Hey, Sammy, it's me," he began, voice steady over the roar of the engine. "Look, Dad's got another job lined up. Sounds like a big one, out in some no-name town. Could use my geek brother to, you know, do the research thing. Call me back, man."
The messages piled up, each one a variation of concern and annoyance, a cocktail of emotions that Dean masked with sarcasm. "You're missing out on all the fun, college boy. I'm off to save the world... again. Would be nice to have my pain-in-the-ass brother with me. Hit me back." He said before hanging up once again; tossing the phone in the passenger seat.
Dean was good at being alone but even he had his limits; He'd been all alone for months and whether he wanted to admit it or not; it was weighing heavily on him. "Fuck it." He sighed. He'd solve the case on his own; it wasn't like it was anything new; he'd always been the one that dad loaded everything on; and he'd always happily carried it.
The last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon as Dean pulled into the gravel lot of a rundown bar on the edge of Maple Ridge. He killed the engine, the silence of the small town settling like a weight in his ears. He'd driven non-stop since the call from Dad, the cryptic coordinates echoing in his mind: 31.6035 N, 94.6555 W.
He stepped out of the Impala, the familiar ache of a long drive settling in his shoulders. As he reached for the bar's door, a crash from the alleyway snapped his head around. It wasn't the usual drunken stumble. It was the unmistakable sound of a fight—flesh and bone meeting with more than just a drunken lack of coordination.
Hand instinctively inching towards the weapon concealed in his jacket, Dean made his way towards the noise, his boots crunching on the loose gravel. He turned the corner and found himself in the role of an unexpected spectator.
A girl—no, a fighter—with raven hair was a blur of motion against a figure that was unmistakably not human. The vampire snarled, lunging with inhuman speed, but the girl met it with a dancer's grace and a warrior's precision. She was a whirlwind of lethal strikes, each move flowing into the next, a stake gripped like an extension of her own hand.
Dean watched, momentarily rooted to the spot as she drove the stake home with a finality as the vampire faded into ash. "You must be Dean Winchester?" she said without looking at him, her voice steady as she knelt down, picking up the stake.
"Yeah," he managed to say, the side of his mouth lifting in an impressed smirk.
"I'm Skye Summers," she continued, standing up and facing him for the first time. "Our parents are good friends."
Before Dean could fully register the Summers name, she flicked the stake toward him, her tone light but warning, "You might wanna duck."
He did, feeling the rush of air as the stake soared over his head and found its mark in the heart of another vampire, one that had been silently descending upon him. Skye had just taken down another one, as easily as swatting a fly.
He straightened, meeting her gaze with newfound respect—and something that felt dangerously like thrill. "Well, Skye Summers," Dean said, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards, "would it be too forward of me to ask your hand in marriage?." Skye took a deep breath with a grin, exilleration filling her veins before shaking her head and passing him.
"I'll take that as a maybe?" He glanced towards the remaining ash before chuckling as he followed her back into the bar.