I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Can You Hear Me?

I groaned and squinted in the early morning sunlight, the scalding light peeking up over the tops of the surrounding pine trees. My skin crawled, covered in dirt and who knows what else. My eyes stung from exhaustion, my muscles stiff and sore from tension and discomfort.

It had been three days since my odd conversation with the white wolf, three days since he had last spoken. Each night since, I had found myself back in that darkness. Each night, he refused to speak to me, instead lost in his own thoughts. I had nearly convinced myself that he just didn't know I was there, but that couldn't have been true. He was ignoring me, for whatever reason.

I threw my arms over my eyes, blocking out the sunlight. I was about ready to skin that wolf and wear his pelt as a coat. Each night felt full to the brim with unanswered questions. He refused to speak, no matter what I said, no matter what I asked. I scoffed; he was supposed to be teaching me - what a load of bullshit that was. Teach me what?

I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair, dragging as many sticks and leaves from my tangled locks as I could. I was steadily growing sick of sleeping in the woods every night, and the nightly frustration was pouring into my attitude. I was stressed, and confused, and I really just wanted to be back home in my own bed.

With one last groan, I pulled myself to my feet and gathered my sleeping bag that was covered in debris. It had been another restless night, illustrated by the mess I had made - my sleeping bag was strewn all over the place, and the dirt beneath it was disturbed as if I had flailed most of the night. I sighed deeply and gathered the mess of fabric and rolled it into a tight, dirty ball.

"I'm telling you, Booth, there's nothing here for us," I heard a voice speak softly, not far from the small camp we had set up. My eyes widened and I spun in my crouched position to face Calliope's soft whispers. "If there were others like us here, don't you think we'd notice?"

I scowled and pulled myself to my feet; with a quick dusting off of my jeans, I followed the sound of her voice deeper into the woods, out of sight of the bright sunlight and instead cast in the shadows of pine needles.

Something had her riled up and anxious, although she refused to say what. Both Booth and I had pressed her from time to time, and instead of answering honestly she would flash her signature cheesy grin and move on with her life. But I wasn't stupid - I knew she didn't want to be in Montana again, for whatever reason.

"It's just one more day," Booth countered, voice low and reassuring as he spoke calmly to her. His tone was often gruff and harsh, and left him seeming more threatening than he really was - yes, Booth could take just about anyone in a fight, but he wouldn't, at least, not without reason. But with Calliope, Andrew, and even sometimes myself he was much calmer, quieter, and softer when he spoke. "We're heading home soon. You can stick it out for one more day-"

"Yeah, I can," Calliope argued, her voice taut with frustration. "But I don't want to. You shouldn't want to either." She sighed and ran her fingers through her dark hair, surprisingly tidy despite our circumstances. "Booth, there are things in these woods-"

Both scoffed and took a few steps away from her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his denim jacket. "There are always things in the woods. Whatever's out there, I think we can handle it." Calliope snarled and gripped the sleeve of his jacket, dragging him back towards her.

"Booth, we don't know what's out here!" she snapped, nails digging into the coarse fabric of his coat. "If there even are others like us out here, they probably don't want to be found-"

"Callie," Booth spoke lowly, his familiar harsh tone returning to his voice. He gripped her wrist tightly and glared down at her. "Whatever you're afraid of, it's not going to get you. Not while we're with you, at least."