I Am Not An Abomination: A Supernatural!Universe X Reader Adventure

Riding with the Winchesters

      After an awkward, holding-back-tears kind of goodbye from Bobby, (Uncle Bobby being the one holding back tears, FYI), you threw your bags into the back of the Winchester boys' 1967 Chevy Impala. It was currently drizzling rain, and Dean was waiting impatiently by the drivers' side door. Sam didn't seem too bothered by his impatience, so you weren't either. You were confident you could get Dean to loosen up about your hitching a ride with them soon. It was a talent of yours. People-skills. Somehow people were attracted to you, even if it wasn't at first. Which made you annoyed when you didn't want people around. Oh well.

      Sam opened the backdoor to the Impala for you and waited for you to slide in. You thanked him and sat down, keeping your satchel under your arm. Sam got in the passenger's seat at the same Dean got in the drivers' side. You waved to Bobby through the raindrop streaked window, then watched as his face panicked and he ran inside. You were confused. Then Bobby ran back out holding up a leather bag. You rolled down the window and Bobby handed it through to you.

      "Almost forgot the gifts," Bobby said, with a breathy, choked up chuckle," Here. From me, for you, and something for the boys."

      "Aw, thanks Bobby," Dean said with a funny inflection," You shouldn't have."

      "Aw, shut up Princess," Bobby said.

      Sam laughed and Dean whacked his shoulder. You looked back up at Bobby.

      "Thanks."

      "Don't thank me until you've spent a week with them, ya idjit," Bobby said.

      The Impala started rolling and you rolled up the window. You waved one last time before Bobby disappeared. You watched the gates roll up. You stared at the sign that said," SINGER AUTOS," and fought the urge of sadness as it got farther away and covered up with thick foliage.

      "No Sammy, I'm not going to change out the cassette," Dean snapped at Sam.

      "Don't you think listening to the same tracks 200 consecutive times is a little bit excessive?" Sam asked.

       "I'm only at 90, stop being so dramatic," Dean said defensively," Don't you have earbuds or something nerdy like that?"

      "I do, but I can't hear anything with your stereo so loud!" Sam explained.

      "Oh I'm sorry!" Dean said," But remember rule number one. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole!"

      Sam shook his head and tried to turn up the music or podcast or whatever on his phone up to rival the screaming guitars of Metallica. You didn't mind the arguing. It was kind of nice actually. At least it wasn't awkward silence. It was 7 hours of Metallica and Dean screaming the lyrics while Sam suffered in the passenger seat. You stared at the 'bag of gifts' Bobby had given you. You were too curious  to wait to find out what was inside. Besides, he didn't specify when you could open it. You carefully undid the clip lock and opened it.

      The first thing you saw was two bottles of scotch with Post-it notes attached. One with Sam's name and one with Dean's name. You put it aside on the floor of the Impala's backseat, then see a case of your whiskey-gin. You grinned and pulled it out, setting beside the Winchester's gifts. Of course Bobby would gift you alcohol. Then you see a leather-bound book sitting in the bottom. You picked it up and opened it.

      The spine cracked and you took a whiff of its musty scent. It smelled like home. Like Bobby. His handwriting was a little drunken, but you had learned to read his scratches. It was his datebook of hunts. You checked the first date. 30 years ago. Wow...

      "So, Y/n, how old were you when you first moved in with Bobby?" Sam asked, apparently fed up with trying to argue with Dean about their clashing music.

      "Oh, probably 4, or 5," you say," He and Rufus killed the monster that killed my parents. Bobby took me home and taught me about monsters. And more importantly, that they can be killed."

      "If you don't mind my asking, what happened to your parents?" Sam asked.

      "Chupacabra," you say," It was one of my dad's coworkers, who had some beef with him about some car deal gone wrong. He went after my dad, then my mom."

      "Did it attack you?" Sam asked.

      "No, it was too busy chewing up my mom," you say.

      You could tell Dean's reaction to the loose way you described it was almost shock. You guessed that he wouldn't say something like that. But it was the truth. You had gone over the memory so many times that you were almost numb to it. Sure you felt sad, but it wasn't like the over top kind of grief most people would probably experience. You summed it up as you were always built to be a hunter, keeping your emotions down and at bay. It felt strange sometimes, but it became normal.

      "Rufus, you say? What he'd say about you?" Dean asked.

      "Told Uncle Bobby to stick me in the system," you say," But he wouldn't have it."

      "Uncle Bobby?" Sam said with a laugh.

      "That's what he told me to call him," you said, then added," Rufus was Uncle Idjit until I learned his real name when I was 10."

      Dean laughed this time," Oh I'm sure that went over well."

      You smiled, then asked," So, what are we hunting?"

      Sam and Dean exchanged a look, then Sam pulled out a newspaper. He pointed to a circled article.

      "This," Sam said," Apparently some guy was found in his apartment in Casper Wyoming with his throat slit. We're heading out there tonight, getting a motel room, then checking it out in the morning."

      "Alright," you say," What should I do?"

      "We're... figuring that out still," Sam said.

      "Yeah, don't get your hopes up yet, kid," Dean said, slightly callously," You might be sitting on the sidelines for this one."

      "Of course," you say, but secretly plot how you could sneak along.

      Your only hope to legitimately coming along on this case, was Sam. He was already glaring at Dean while Dean ignored said glare. You hoped Sam would stand up for you and allow you to tag along.