I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Sunrise

Disclaimer: Pretty much all the lore I have in this story is vastly inaccurate to Navajo legend. The Navajo have decided to keep their legends largely a secret and don't share much about their culture. So please take note of the fact that all information in skinwalkers is either from the show, or from my own imagination, and not culturally accurate.

I hid down the long, dark hallway, taking deep struggling breaths. She was dead. She was dead because of us. I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots and curling my fist in frustration. There had to have been another way, one that didn't involve her death.

I snuck a glance over my shoulder at her sagged, bloody, broken form and gagged, quickly retracting my gaze and holding back the rising bile. I had never been good at handling death. It was one thing if there was no other choice, but a frivolous, avoidable death... that was something else entirely.

It felt like a tremendous weight had been dropped onto my shoulders, pushing me down and against the wall until I was seated with my head hanging limply between my knees.

I couldn't even begin to understand what she had gone through. Possession was a new concept to me, nothing more than a myth that I would never experience, for obvious reasons. What was it like to not have control over your own body? What was it like to have to sit back and watch a demon's nefarious activities? I was thankful that I would never know, and for once I was ecstatic that I didn't have a soul.

The brothers and Bobby spoke in hushed voices in the kitchen. My ears roared as my heart pounded, blocking their whispers. If I focused, I was sure I could hear them, but I didn't feel the need. I didn't want this. How many more humans were going to die on this crusade? I thought the whole point was to save people...

I turned to look over my shoulder, eyes raking down Meg's broken corpse. Already, she smelled stale, lifeless. Her lips were blue and her skin was steadily paling as her temperature dropped. I swallowed dryly and pulled my wide eyes from her body.

The brothers stormed into the living room, their eyes avoiding the body with mixed looks of guilt, and rushed for their stuff. My pulse pounded as a swell of anger filled my chest - Dean didn't care that she was just a girl, and Sam hadn't even tried to stop him. How could they have just let that happen? Sam tucked the Key of Solomon under his arm and searched the many stacks of books for anything else he may be able to use.

"Y/N, we need to go," Dean called, slinging his coat over his arm. I stood on shaky legs, brushed the dust off my jeans, and bit back an angry retort. Everything was happening so fast - I felt like things were spiraling out of my control.

Dean marched from the room, a determined spring in his step. He looked so sure of himself now, like he had a goal and now had a way to achieve that. His confidence was often contagious, but this time I didn't feel it. How could he have confidence after what we just witnessed?

"Y/N," Bobby called from the kitchen. I shuffled through the doorway, keeping as much distance between me and Meg's body as possible. Bobby had a stern scowl on his aged features, wrinkles folding his forehead in worry. Under his arm was a book, which he quickly handed to me.

My fingers slipped over the worn leather cover of the book as I grasped it and took it from him. My eyes scanned the title in surprise. The Creation of Monsters, the same book I had been looking at before Meg's arrival. I looked at Bobby with shock, wide-eyed and subtly terrified.

"Do you-" I started to ask, but was quickly cut off by his raised palm, silencing me.

"Of course, I know. You think I can't spot a monster, after how long I've been hunting?" he said with a teasing grin rising on his cheeks. "Meg's comments weren't exactly slick either, you know."