I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Sugar Rush

"So's that what the inside of your head looks like? Empty?" He teased. I laughed and spun to face him, sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor.

"Is that what you saw? Emptiness?"

"Was there anything else to see?" he retorted, frowning upon seeing my raised brow. So he hadn't seen the energies. "If it's not your head, what is it?" I shrugged and pulled the duffel bag from around me into my lap, zipping it closed. "Some sorta... what, dimension?"

"I think of it as a visible phone line," I grinned as I pulled myself to my feet and swung the bag over my shoulder. "But you actually get to see who you're calling. That's the easiest way to think about it at least. Hurts your head a bit less than the other options." I scrunched my nose at the memories of my head filling with throbbing pain, caused by both the white wolf and the tervuren.

"Right. A phone call," he mumbled with disbelief and huffed out a sigh. "Are we trying that again?"

Once again, I shrugged. "Yeah, if you're willing. I figured a hunt might be a good way to test out the range." He scoffed at my wording. Range. Maybe it really was like a phone call. "And if we can get it to work, maybe we can pull someone else into the call."

"Who were you thinking?"

"Maybe Sasha? We'll see," I uttered it as a question, unsure of just who I would pull in. Could I even connect with two at once? "Whenever I'm ready, I'll just have you mention it to her. Hopefully, she won't freak out as much," I teased with a wide grin, meeting his glare. He really didn't want to be reminded of his brief panic last night. It had been even worse when I came out of the darkness.

Once more Booth fell silent, his brows knitted together in thought. "Why me?" he finally asked. I cocked my head in curiosity. "Why me first? You could've had Sasha, or Caeden, Gator - Gator seems to trust you an awful lot. Was it just convenience-?"

"You're my second, Booth," I chimed in with a chuckle. "My second in command, my beta, whatever the hell you want to call it." He fell silent, his blue eyes wide with surprise as if he wasn't expecting that answer. What else had he expected? "Any other questions?" he shook his silvering head. "Great, well... I gotta hit the road, but you know how to get a hold of me." I winked and made for the stairs.

"Very funny," he grumbled under his breath.

---

The Impala was like a second home. It would never measure up to the real thing, to my house with my little plot of land and expanse of woods. It could never match what was left of my life before the Winchesters, would never beat the summers spent at my uncle's house during my teen years, or the months following my mother's death. It would never beat the warm memories of sitting around the fire in my backyard with Dennis, roasting marshmallows, and drinking beer in the middle of the night.

But it certainly came close.

The Impala felt untouchable, like its own little world. It was soft and warm like a home should be, and welcoming to anyone who stepped foot inside. Those stolen moments with the brothers, with Dean, were what kept me going some days. Just for a few more hours in that car.

I expected the car to be filled with a few hours of silence, as it usually was when Sam was with us. Sam, engrossed in a book. Dean, the tapping of his hand against the steering wheel matching the tempo of the radio. And me, gazing out the window and wishing I was running beside the car.

Instead of the usual silence and occasional bursts of chatter, the Impala was filled with cheerful laughter and loud music. There were no mentions of the case, or my suspicions and paranoia. It really was its own little world, a comfort to step into, in which we were untouchable.