Supernatural One-Shots (Actors and Characters)

A Nut and a Bolt ~ Dean Winchester

     A young woman groaned as she gained consciousness. She was tied to a pipe, and when she tried to free her arms, the rope cut into her wrists. Her mind was hazy, but she could faintly remember how she had ended up this way.
     She had been hunting a shapeshifter with her friends, Sam and Dean Winchester. When she went to grab lunch for the brothers and herself, she was attacked by the shifter.
     Now she was in the sewers, tied to a pipe, barely conscious. Her head was pounding like mad and all she wanted to do was hit it against a brick wall; that would have hurt less. Or at least, that's what her clouded mind told her.
     "Not trying to escape, are you?"
     The familiar voice makes the young woman freeze. Her mind awakened fully, shocked out of its haze. That was her voice. She watched as a woman identical to herself approached her. The only difference between her and the shifter was that it had a sick smirk planted on its lips.
     "You don't look happy to see me, Meg," the shape shifter chuckled sinisterly. "The Winchesters were, though."
     "What the hell did you do, you son of a bitch?" Meg shouted, glaring up at the creature.
     "Now, now. That's no way to talk. Besides, I didn't do much," it replied, walking circles around Meg as though she was prey.
     "I swear, you lay a hand on either of them and you'll be dead meat," Meg growled. The shifter only continued to smirk, ignoring the threat.
     "You've got a lot of secrets, haven't you? They're all up here," the shifter told her, pointing to its head. "I can see every memory you've every made. I know your weaknesses."
     "Yeah, and don't think for a second that I don't know yours," Meg spat. The saliva landed on the shifters shoe, making it turn up its lip. In an instant, it stopped walking and kicked Meg in the ribs, making the young woman gasp.
     "I don't like to have to get physical with you, Meg. I much prefer mental pain, don't you?" the shifter inquired. It stared the woman down. "Remember when you were six? You watched your little brother drown in the lake behind your house."
     "What are you playing at?" Meg asked, bringing her knees to her chest to prevent any further blows.
     "He was splashing around and screaming for you to help, but you didn't do anything. You just watched. Eventually he stopped moving and his body went under the water. Remember how your parents cried? It was all your fault, Meg. If you had done something, he wouldn't be dead."
     "Stop it," Meg demanded, feeling her eyes burn. She had been blaming herself for her brother's death for a long time, and the shapeshifter knew it. It was trying to manipulate her emotions.
     "Or that time when you were nine. Your dad was murdered right in front of you. You were hiding in your closet. Once again, you were useless. You did nothing to stop it," the shifter taunted.
     "Shut up!" Meg yelled, clenching her jaw. She tried to force herself not to cry, but she failed and a tear rolled down her cheek.
     "I don't think I will. This is a lot of fun," the shapeshifter laughed.
     The shifter continued to make the young woman relive her worst memories as tears glided freely down Meg's face. She didn't want to cry, but she had held it all in so long that the damn overflowed.
     "I think I'll go visit the Winchesters again," the shifter said, smirking, "Those idiots think I'm doing research."
     "Stay away from them," Meg commanded, but the shifter had already left.

     A few hours later, the shapeshifter returned. Meg had dozed off, but when loud footsteps echoed in the sewer, she opened her eyes. A shadow appeared on the far wall, a person closely following.
     "Meg?" they asked, running over to the young woman.
     "Dean? What are you doing here? The shifter could be back any second. You've got to go," Meg told him quickly. Dean's hands found their way to her cheeks, holding them gently. There was dirt on his fingers, but Meg wasn't too focused on that. She was about to asked what he was doing, but warm lips crashed against hers. She had wanted that to happen for a long time, but now it didn't feel right. When Dean pulled away, he was smirking, but it wasn't his usual smirk. It was evil.
     "I understand why he wanted to kiss you now," Dean said, standing up.
     "Dean, what are you talking about?" Meg questioned, struggling against her binds, "Untie me, will you?"
     "No thanks, I'd rather not?" he replied, shrugging.
     "Dean?"
     Dean whirled around and backhanded Meg, making her head snap to the left. "You never shut up, do you?"
     "You're not Dean," Meg said, feeling fear bubble in her stomach, "What have you done to him?"
     "Oh, don't worry sweetheart, Dean's just fine," the shifter smiled in a sickeningly sweet way, "for now."
     "You son of a bitch," Meg growled. The shifter threw its fist at her, hitting her nose. A dreaded crack was heard and blood poured from it. Meg groaned in pain. Cracking its neck, the shifter smirked down at her and raised its fist again.

     The creature didn't stop delivering blows until Meg passed out from the pain. She hurt everywhere, and she wanted no more than to die right there and be released from her misery. She would have given up sooner, but the thought of Sam and Dean coming to rescue her made her fight for her life.
     The shifter left after she lost consciousness to carry out its plan. It didn't take long for it to succeed, and soon it was carrying an unconscious Sam Winchester to the sewers. It tied the Winchester brother up a few feet away from Meg. When it was done, it went out to hunt down the other Winchester.

     Dean Winchester was running all over St. Louis looking for Meg and Sam. They had split up a while ago, and now he couldn't find them. After a while, he decided to go back to the sewer where he and Sam had found the skin that the shifter had shed. It wasn't his best idea, but it was his only idea at the moment. Meg and Sam could both handle themselves in the city. He knew there'd be trouble if the shifter was there, but he had to take a chance.
     He glanced around, then lifted a manhole cover and climbed down into the sewer. Turning on his flashlight, he looked around, seeing more skin. Shuddering, he went deeper into the maze of passages, then came to an open area, lit up. He nearly dropped his flashlight at the sight of his little brother and his best friend, both tied to pipes, unconscious.
     Dean looked behind him, searching for the creature. Not paying attention to where he was going, he ran into a pipe. The metal flashlight clanged against it, causing Meg to stir. Her eyes slowly fluttered open.
     She let out a small gasp when she saw the oldest Winchester, believing him to be the shapeshifter. Dean heard her and his head snapped in her direction. He discarded the flashlight on the floor and rushed over, but she tugged at her wrists, trying to get away from him.
     "Whoa, Meg. Calm down. It's me, Dean," her friend said, but she shook her head rapidly, giving herself a headache.
     "No! You're not him. Get away from me!" she shrieked.
     "What are you talking about?" Dean asked, placing his hands on her cheeks. He didn't want her to shake her head; it looked as though she had taken a few hard hits, and there was a trail of dried blood from her nose all the way to the neckline of her shirt. He knew she was only hurting herself by jerking her skull back and forth.
     "Not again!" Meg cried, trying to move her head away, "Get away!"
     "I'm not trying to hurt you, Meg. You keep shaking your head and your gonna make this all worse," Dean told her. She stopped moving her head, but the fear in her eyes didn't disappear. "Now, what are you talking about?"
     "You know exactly what I mean, shifter," Meg replied bitterly. Dean understood now.
     "I'm not the shifter, Meg. I promise."
     "Prove it," the young woman challenged him. He racked his brain for ideas, but he came up blank. He rubbed the back of his neck, and when he felt the string of his necklace, he knew what to do. He removed the necklace and held it up for Meg to see. The string was the cheap white kind that kids used to make necklaces for their parents, and the only thing on it was a lug nut.
     "You gave me this on my eight birthday. Dad was fixing up the Impala in your dad's garage. You took the nut when he wasn't looking and put on a string for me," Dean grinned at the memory, "You told me that I made you feel safe and secure. Kind of like a nut and a bolt."
     Meg stared at the object, then looked at Dean. The oldest Winchester could see that she was still cautious, but she didn't seem as scared.
     "Remember what I told you, Meg?" Dean asked, running his hand over the nut. "I promised you that I would never take it off. It'd take a whole hell of a lot more than a shifter to make me break that promise."
     He could see her let her guard down and tears slowly fell from her eyes. Immediately, he went around the pipe and cut the rope with his switchblade. Returning to her side, he pulled her into a hug. She was cold and covered in bruises and dried blood. He held her close to his body as she shook with sobs.
     "I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch for doing this to you," Dean told her, rubbing her back as her arms wrapped around his torso. Her face was buried in his chest. He bowed his head down and kissed her temple, then moved his hand up and ran it over her hair. He had never seen her break down like that before, but he didn't blame her for crying that way. She looked as though she had just come out of a car crash or something.
     "Dean," Meg whispered, catching his attention. He made a sound of acknowledgement, waiting patiently for her to speak. When she didn't, he looked down at her beaten and bloody, but still beautiful, face. She lifted her head and stared up at him, then without warning, placed her lips against his. Despite having a busted lip, she enjoyed the experience. Dean carefully held her face, rubbing his thumb lightly over a forming bruise at the corner of her eye.
     Meg had known Dean most of her life, and she knew how much of a ladies man he was. That's why she was so surprised by how gentle he was being. He didn't push things further; he just kissed her, sweet and slow.
     They separated for air and Dean leaned his forehead on hers. Their eyes remained closed for a moment longer, taking it all in, as though they were trying to sear the memory into their brains so they wouldn't forget.
     "What was that for?" Dean whispered, finally opening his eyes. His bright green irises seemed to glow in the dim light of the candles that surrounded them.
     "He kissed me," Meg revealed, "The shifter, I mean. It didn't feel right, and I needed to know if this did." Dean's anger flared inside of him when he heard what the shapeshifter had done. His curiosity took over when she finished, however.
     "And did it?" he inquired. She smiled, although it hurt, and leaned up to peck his lips.
     "Yeah."