A Supernatural x Reader Story

Chapter Fifteen: Time is on My Side

Three weeks.

Three weeks until the hellhounds come, and Dean is the only one who knows that he won't be the only one they rip to shreds.

And Dean, who has become as intent as Sam on saving his soul, looking through every book, interrogating every demon, only to turn up each time with no leads on Lilith, the demon who holds the contract, or how to kill her.

You decided that you could cover more ground if you split from the boys again for a while.  You went on a few interrogations before deciding that you could cover more ground if you split from the boys again for a while.

Since leaving them after a case somewhere in Idaho, you have been driving across the country, asking every hunter in your address book if they know of any way to break the deal without killing Sam.  Each time, you have walked away empty and answer-less.

On yet another long drive out of town, trying to find a hunter you do not particularly want to find, Dean explains to you over the phone what they got out of the latest interrogation, which led up to a familiar, predictable nothing.

"Yeah, well, nothing on this end either," you admit, your tone too tired to convey the frustration you really feel.  "Anything else?  Do you know what you're doing next?"

"Looks like we're going to hunt a zombie," he replies casually.  "Guy in Erie, PA got his stomach ripped out –"

A voice, unmistakably Sam's, utters something indistinct in the background.

"What?" Dean asks.  Sam's voice again.

"Sorry, liver," Dean corrects.  "Anyway, his body was covered in fingerprints that match a guy who died in '81."

"Interesting," you mumble, musing over what explanation there could be.  "So, you two are taking the case?"

"Yeah, I guess," he says.

You laugh at the lack of enthusiasm in his voice.  "Well, don't sound too excited, Dean," you warn.  "You might break something."

When the line goes silent for a while, you pick up the conversation again.  "Tell you what, I'm about to leave Cleveland, and I'm headed up toward Erie anyway.  I can be there in an hour or two.  Why don't I meet you guys there?"

"Okay, see you soon."

As you set your phone down, a small smile raises the corners of your mouth at the thought of seeing them.  Though it has barely been a month since you separated at Colorado, you can't help but miss them – the daily banter, Dean's classic rock, having to tilt your head up so you could look at Sam when he talked.  You had grown so used to seeing them everyday that it sends nervous chills down your spine to think of how, in three weeks, an eternity without them will start.

Shaking your head, you force the thought out of your mind and continue the drive until you cross over to the small town on the edge of Pennsylvania.

As soon as he opens the dingy, umber-colored motel room door, you are pulled into Sam's arms, more tightly than you ever have been.  Your feet are off the floor and he is bearing all of your weight, but you doubt he realizes.

"Missed you too."  You smile through your strangled words, your lungs being tightly compacted in the hug, but you can't bring yourself to care enough to let go.

One of you must pull away at some point, or maybe you both did at the same time, because, before you know it, you are in another pair of arms.  Dean's.

"What happened here?" he asks after pulling away, concerned, one hand on your chin examining the cut that you forgot runs along your jawline.

"Oh," you chuckle at yourself, recalling the memory, and at his worry over the shallow, three-week old nick that didn't even need stitches and has already been fading to a pale rose, almost white.  "You know how hunters are – not much for unexpected visits.  But, anyway –" you glance over at the table, upon which rest stacks of research, a half-eaten, foil-wrapped burger, and Sam's laptop – "what do we have on the case?"