Where The Devil Don't Go

Dean - Seven

Imagine: Dean meeting your parents...

You nervously run a hand through your (H/C) hair as you stare into the mirror. There's a faint bruise on your cheek from a hunt a few days ago, and you gently brush on some makeup to cover it up. Dean steps into the bathroom, wearing only his tight-fitting black boxers. If you weren't so nervous, you'd be drooling right now. You turn to face Dean, watching in amusement as he hops around, pulling on a pair of jeans.

"What?" He asks.
"Nothing." You mutter, leaning back against the sink, and observing the antics of your boyfriend.
Dean bends down and picks up a t-shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor. He sniffs the shirt, before shrugging and putting it on. Your mouth falls open and you almost can't believe what you have just witnessed.
"Dean!" You yell more loudly than you intended to.
"What?" He looks completely dumfounded, his big eyes looking at you with confusion.
"You are meeting my parents, Dean. You cannot wear a dirty T-shirt."
"It's not dirty." He weakly defends.
You raise an eyebrow.
"It has ketchup and burger grease down the front of it." You sigh loudly. "It probably has monster blood on it and all sorts of bodily juices.
"Bodily juices?" He smirks.
"Stop." You brush past him and walk into the bedroom to the large wardrobe. "Here.
You pass him a maroon shirt and a clean black T-shirt.
"Wear this, it makes you look particularly ... tasty." You bite your lip and grin wildly.

Dean laughs, but his eyes darken slightly. He pulls off his dirty T-shirt, revealing those luscious abbs. Your eyes flutter down to his navel and back up to his shit-eating grin. He steps towards you, gently tugging on your hips to bring you closer to himself.
"Do we have to have dinner with your parents?" He whispers huskily, nuzzling his lips into your neck, just below your ear.
His hands move to cup both sides of your face, gently caressing your cheeks. You moan softly, placing your hands on his chest and weakly attempting to push him away.
"Yes. They've been wanting to meet you for ages. I can't keep telling them you're away on business."
"What if they hate me?" He rests his forehead against yours and sighs.
You smile softly. "Oh, Dean, my dad already hates you. But on the bright side, you can only improve in his books."
"And your mom?" He asks, stepping back and pulling on the clean black t-shirt.
You shrug. "She'll like you."
Dean frowns, raising an eyebrow.
"That sounds ... suspicious."
You roll your eyes dramatically. "Come on, sort your hair out and let's go."

The drive to your parent's house is comfortable but silent. You can't help but chew at the skin around your nails, a habit you picked up from your mother. You don't quite know why you are so nervous. Your type has always been broody, bad boys; a type that your parents hated. But Dean is different. He's also kind, and caring. He asks you how your day is. Your other boyfriends didn't care. You just hope your parents can see the Dean you know and love, not the distant and hard front he puts on.

Dean carefully pulls up to the drive of your parent's house. The large metal gates are already open, and Dean guides the Impala down the long drive.
"Wow." Dean mutters as the large stone house comes into view. "You never mentioned that your parents are rich."
You smile awkwardly. "You never asked."
He parks the car by the stone steps that lead up to the house, and you take a deep breath.
"Actually, come to think of it, I don't know anything about your parents." He switches off the engine.
"Well, this is the perfect time to learn." You quickly mutter as you jump out of the car and head up the steps.
Dean quickly follows and you press your finger on the bell. The bell rings throughout the house and it takes a few minutes for the door to open.

"Sweetie!" Your mom opens the door with open a wide smile, a glass of red wine already in her hand.
"Hi, mom." You force a smile, stepping forward to hug her.
"This must be Dean." She hugs Dean, who widens his eyes in surprise. "Our darling daughter has been avoiding this meeting for months."
"Well, it's happening now so let's get it over with." You mutter, grasping Dean's hand and walking into the house.
You don't give Dean the chance to marvel at his surroundings as you march him straight to the living room. Your father is stood by the fireplace, a smoking pipe in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. You pause, raising an eyebrow.
"Really, dad?" You laugh lightly.
"Bit much?"
"Just a bit."
Your dad places the pipe on the top of the fireplace and downs the whiskey in one gulp.
"Dad this is Dean." You introduce.
Your father takes a step towards Dean, and it looks like he is sizing him up.
"So, Dean, what are your intentions with my daughter?"
"Dad!" You whine, you face flushing red with embarrassment. "Please, stop."
Your dad laughs, pulling you in for a hug, and you savour the moment.
"Let's go eat. Your mother has made her famous lasagne."

The three of you walk into the dining room, where your mother is sat at the table. A hot dish filled with lasagne sits in the middle of the table, and the aroma of homemade food fills the air.
"Mmmm, this smells divine, honey." Your dad sits next to her, kissing her on the head as he sits down.
You and Dean sit down opposite your parents. Waiting patiently as your father dishes out the food.
"Let's eat." You mom grins.

An awkward silence fills the room, and for the first time ever you see Dean eat his food carefully.
"So, Dean, what do you do for a job." You dad asks.
Your (E/C) eyes bulge slightly, and you choke on the food in your mouth. Before you have the chance to interrupt Dean answers the question.
"I'm a hunter, like (Y/N)." He smiles.
Your parent's jaws drop open and you mother pales.
"Dean." You whisper, not quite believing that he just said that.
"What?" He questions, looking between the three of you. "I presumed that you are all hunters."
Your father rises to his feet, a motion so fast that his chair falls backwards.
"I told you to never bring a hunter into this house!" He booms.
"Dad, wait-" You attempt to interrupt and explain yourself, but when your dad gets like this there is no stopping him.
"How dare you, (Y/N)." He booms. "After everything we have been through. All the pain and suffering we have been through because of men like him. I thought you knew better."
Tears prick at your eyes.
"Dad, he's different."
"That's what you said about your last boyfriend." Your mother stands up, her eyes dark with anger. "I thought we taught you better.
"What's going on?" Dean quietly asks.
"Just let me explain!" You cry desperately. "I brought him here so you could tell him. I thought you would be happy."
Your mother scoffs. "So, you brought a hunter into our house so we could tell him what we are? How stupid are you?"
Hot tears are falling down your cheeks now, and you join your parents in standing. Dean looks more confused, a fork still in his hand with a cold piece of lasagne dripping off it.
"Dean, my parents are not hunters. They are witches."

The whole world seems to hold its breath as you utter those words. Your parent's eyes snap to Dean to see his reaction. But he just remains still in his chair.
"What?" He questions, carefully standing up as if to not make any sudden movements. "Witches? I thought you were all hunters."
You sigh loudly, running a frantic hand through your hair.
"My family is descended from hunters. But my grandfather married a witch. She gave birth to my mother, and she met my father. My grandfather stopped hunting to raise a family."
"Are you a witch?" Dean asks.
You shake your head. "My parents adopted me." You whisper. "They didn't want to risk their child being born magic. They couldn't face knowing I would be at risk my whole life. They use their powers for good. They are both surgeons."
"You were meant to live a normal life." My mother sounds less angry, more defeated. "When did you start hunting?"
"Four years ago."
Your father breathes out. "After your grandparents died?"
You nod. "I tracked down and killed the demon that killed them, and then I met Dean."
You sit back down, exhausted from getting that off your chest.
"You've been lying to us for four years?" Your mother also retakes her seat.
You sigh. "I did it to protect you. I kept other hunters away. I kept monsters away. I helped people. I got sucked into the life, and when I met Dean, I felt happy."
Dean gently takes your hand in his, using his thumb to rub reassuring circles on your skin.
"I don't know what to say, (Y/N)." Your father mutters.
"Mr and Mrs (Y/L/N), I just want to say that I love your daughter with all my heart. I'll never let anything happen to her, or you. (Y/N) is family and now you guys are." He smiles. "I just wish I hadn't had caused this drama during dinner. I promise that I mean you no harm."
Your parent's glance at each other, silently having a conversation through their eyes.
"(Y/N), what you have revealed has shocked us both, and we are gravely disappointed in you." Your father starts, and your heart sinks. "But, if this is the life that you truly want to live, then you have our blessing."
Butterflies fill your stomach and you run around the table to embrace your parents.
"Thank you."
"We only want the best for you, sweetie."

The rest of the evening goes by without a hitch and soon you and Dean are waving goodbye and heading out of the front door.
"Remember we are always here if you need us." Your mother smiles, hugging both you and Dean.
Your father shakes Dean's hand. "Look after my daughter, Dean."
Dean nods. "I think she looks after me more."

You walk down the steps with your mom, waiting for Dean at the bottom while your father finishes his conversation.
"I like him." You mom smiles. "He seems genuine. I'm sorry for how we reacted, sweetie. It may take us a bit of time to get used to knowing the truth, but we will always love you."
"I know, mom." You hug her. "Come on, Dean. It's cold."
Dean shakes your father's hand one more time and jogs down the stairs. He pecks your mom on the cheek and the two of you get in the car.
"So, witches who heal people for a living, huh?"
"Yep."
"Awesome."