I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Devil's Trap

"You said you wouldn't bring the gun!" I shouted as the Impala's engine roared to life and Dean sped the vehicle down the alleyway at high speeds. "You promised-"

"If I hadn't brought it, we could have all been dead!" he shouted back, his knuckles white as he clutched the wheel, turning sharply onto a more public road. I gripped tightly onto the back of the seat, holding myself in place as our bags slid across the seats. "We've still got two bullets-"

"I don't care about the fucking bullets!" I screamed, slamming my hand down on the back of the seat. "I care that you killed another human! How many more people have to die, Dean!?"

"As many as it takes to kill this son of a bitch!" he swore, the car swerving under his jerky movements and dashing onto the highway.

My jaw dropped in shock and I collapsed backward into my seat. I couldn't believe he had just said that. When did this become about jeopardizing the safety of others for petty revenge? I pulled my jacket tighter around myself, hiding in the thick fabric as though that could possibly shield me from any and all negativity.

The very fact that he cared so little for the lives of those in his way irked me. I tried so hard to overcome that instinctive drive to kill - it felt like he was mocking me. He chose to do this, a choice I wished I could make for myself. I wished I had that control - if I did, I would never kill unnecessarily.

Dean's eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, glancing back and forth between my scrunched form and the road. He never spoke, though I didn't expect him to. Neither of us were going to apologize - we both had our own beliefs and were too damn stubborn to admit that either of us could be wrong.

John shifted in his seat from beside me, the duffel bags being the only things separating the two of us. I scowled and dug my nails into the plush fabric of my coat and dropped my gaze in anger. It was John's fault that all of this had happened - his fault that the brothers had been dragged into his mess, his fault that Meg had come after us, his fault that we wanted to rescue him.

But no matter how much I wanted to blame him, to be angry with him, I just couldn't. We were all responsible for the day's - week's events.

I should have stopped it when I had the chance. I should have convinced them to take a different route, one where no one had to die, one where the boys were safe. But I knew that route was unlikely to exist. For whatever reason, this was the road we were meant to take.

I hated it. I wanted off that road, to change directions, even if it meant crawling down the overgrown path and dragging myself towards a life where no one had to die, where my family would be safe.

But, if my family wouldn't follow, then I'd have to stay.

It wasn't long before the city had long faded into the distance, leaving only the open road. Dean seemed to be constantly holding the accelerator to the floor, winding down the road at intense speeds. It couldn't have been good for the car, but we needed to get as far as possible.

Suddenly, the car began to slow, and Dean directed the car toward the side of the road. A row of trees blocked a dirt road that angled towards the right of the road and disappeared into the thin forest. He followed the road with tense shoulders as if he was ready to turn around at a moment's notice.

"What are you doing?" Sam questioned as he straightened in his seat, putting his palm on the dash and gazing out the window. "I thought we were heading back to Bobby's?"

Dean shook his head and drove cautiously down the road. "We need to make sure dad is alright," he replied and cast a quick look at his brother, grimacing at the severe bruises and scrapes that decorated his face. "And we need to get you fixed up."