A Supernatural x Reader Story

Chapter One: Devil's Trap

You could tell it was morning without looking at the clock even though the early morning sunlight had not yet seeped through the window and penetrated your eyelids. It was one of those nights when you feel like you had only slept for an hour but could not go back to sleep, no matter how long you lay still in your bed, staring at the ceiling.

You stretch, sighing without meaning to, figuring you might as well get a head start on breakfast. After a deep breath and several encouraging words from yourself, you manage to lift your head from the pillow and set your feet on the soft, fairly dusty carpet. You keep meaning to vacuum, but have not yet gotten around to it. After firmly deciding that you will finish the chore later today, you tiptoe across the hall and down the stairs, hoping not to wake Bobby, whose hunter reflexes never rest.

Not a moment after your foot hit the last step, the ear-piercing trill of the landline shatters the peaceful silence of the early morning. Before you can reach one of the many telephones in the house, the ringing ceases and the sound of a very loud, very irritated voice echoes off of the stairway and fills your ears.

"WHAT IN THE HELL IS SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO CALL AT THE UNGODLY HOUR O'-" Bobby shouts before he is cut off. You hear silence, some faint mumbling, and then the sound of the phone being placed into its holder.

You already have two slices of bread in the toaster when you hear some shuffling, then heavy footfalls descending the staircase.

"What're you doin' up?" Bobby asks, seeing you in the kitchen.

"Just up, I guess," you shrug, sliding a plate of toast across the kitchen table. "Eat."

You glance at him as he takes a seat in the dining chair. Though it had been nearly fifteen years since you met him, to you, he still looked the same as he did the night he rescued you from a demon attack, the night he watched you watch your parents die. Now, his hair is a little more grey, his face a little more wrinkled, but he does not looked changed.

At twenty-seven, most people would have left home, tried their luck at independence, and you could have if you had wanted to, but you didn't. Bobby raised you, took care of you when you had no one else. It was your turn to give back, to take care of him. Not that he thought he needed taking care of, or that you thought he needed it either, for that matter.

"You remember the Winchesters?" he asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. "Used to come over while their daddy was away, the older one was your age, maybe younger..."

"Um, yeah, I remember. Sam and Dean, right?"

You had fond memories of the Winchester boys. You used to love the times when they would stay over for days in a row, until they got old enough to stay by themselves for a while, and you did not see so much of them. After Sam went off to college, you saw Dean a few times when he and his father needed Bobby's help on a hunt, but not in the past couple of years.

"Right," Bobby says. "Well, John went missin' a while back, so I'm helpin' them out with supplies and things. Said they'd be by in about ten minutes."

"Bobby, I'm sorry," you say. "I know John was your hunting partner."

A hunter don't have friends, Bobby explained to you once. He has partners. Because hunting's a dangerous business, and it's a hell of a lot easier losing a partner than a friend.

"Ah, don't be," he says through a sad smile, shrugging it off. "He ain't dead yet. And if there's something out there with enough juice to kill John Winchester, well, we're all screwed to hell."

You smile back at him before heading out to the back toward the salvage lot. If you worked hard enough, you figured you might be able to finally finish your car by sundown.