I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

They're Family

I looked down, seeing my calloused hands, shadowed and blanketed by the heavy darkness. My eyes scanned over my form, recognizing all the clothes I was wearing. They were the same ones I had fallen asleep in, jeans with ripped knees and cuffed ankles to fit over my tightly done hiking boots, and a loose red flannel buttoned over my torso.

I stretched, soaking the warmth into my tired muscles, and suddenly jumped, expecting pain from my torn shoulder and feeling none. I rolled my shoulder questioningly - where was the pain? There wasn't even a dull throb.

I reached towards my back and felt under my shirt, searching for shredded skin, bandages, anything, and felt none. My back felt smooth. Frantically, I unbuttoned the tops of my jeans and pulled them back as far as I could, peaking at where the top of my mangled wound should be. It was smooth. Unblemished.

I felt sick. My eyes flitted around the inky darkness and my throat closed up. I scrambled at my throat. I couldn't breathe. Why wouldn't I breathe?

A faint noise caught my attention and I swiveled the best I could in the murk. My eyes widened with horror as my ears strained to identify the sound.

It was a growl.

I whipped in the opposite direction, searching my shrouded darkness. A shape moved in front of me and I squinted my eyes at it. My hands dropped from my throat, the lack of oxygen forgotten. I struggled to make out a shape in the dark, peering and hoping to see whatever had growled.

My E/C eyes widened as they fastened to two red ones.

I woke with a jolt, using my good arm to propel myself away from the window. I fell to the side, putting pressure on my bad leg and catching myself with my sore arm. I yelped and pushed backward, leaning against the door with wild eyes and heavy breaths.

The car skidded as I startled Dean and he quickly corrected our course. Sam whipped around to face me, worry in his hazel eyes. "Woah, woah, the hell is going on back there!?" Dean shouted, sounding panicked.

I nodded and threaded a hand through my hair the best I could. It was knotted and still matted with patches of blood. I took a deep breath in an attempt to regulate my heartbeat and then nodded again, feeling more sure of myself.

"Nightmare," I wheezed out and dropped my hands on my lap. Could it even really be considered a nightmare? If anything, it was more unsettling than terrifying. I brushed my hair out of my face as it clung to my sweaty face. "What time is it?"

"Just after eleven," Dean replied. "You've been asleep for about two and a half hours."

I nodded and swallowed dryly. "So are we close to home?"

Sam nodded and handed me a bottle of water from the glove compartment. "Another twenty minutes." I sighed in relief and relaxed, shifting so my back rested comfortably against my seat. I uncapped the water and downed a third of it.

"Wanna talk about it?" Sam inquired quietly. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.

"I was in complete darkness, just kind of... floating," I mumbled. "I wasn't in any pain either. My wounds were just... gone, and there were no scars. Like nothing had happened." I sighed out and rested my fingertips lightly on my throat. "I couldn't breathe. It was like there was no oxygen, and... I heard this growl. When I tried to see what growled at me, I saw eyes. Red. Like fire." I shrugged and leaned my head back. "And then I woke up."

My eyes flashed to Dean as he chuckled darkly. "That's it?" he asked. "You afraid of the dark or something, Scoob?"

"-Dean!" Sam chastised his older brother for his apathy.