I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Heart

I gagged and turned sharply away from the blood, nearly hitting my head on the edge of the desk. Sasha jumped and reached forward to haul me to my feet. "Werewolf," I grumbled, covering my nose with my hand.

The scent seemed to linger in the air now that I had finally caught it. Like all werewolves, it smelled rotten, like meat left out too long in the sun. I grimaced and marched to our bag and swung it over my shoulder. "We got what we needed. Let's head back to the motel."

I waited patiently for Sasha to finish her report to the floor manager, the lies once more falling smoothly off her tongue. She was a rather convincing liar, not just about this either. I could certainly use her on cases more often.

When she finished we hurriedly quickly down the few flights of stairs to the parking garage below where the old beater Marcus and Caeden had stolen sat waiting. It had been recently washed, revealing a warm red tint beneath all the grime. It was still a mess, but it was our mess now.

I hated California traffic. For every minute that we sat at a red light, or in a traffic jam, I debated walking back to the hotel more and more. At this point, it seemed like it would be faster. Sasha turned away from me, eyes focused outside the window as she tried to quell her rising nausea. She was just glad she hadn't vomited, although she wished she knew why she was so sick.

I was relieved when I finally pulled into the motel parking lot what felt like hours later. Sasha and I enacted what had become a ritual by now and changed the plates to our spare set before heading inside. You could never be too careful.

Dean's excited voice caught my attention as I popped the latch on the door and slipped inside. "-I'm sorry, man, but what about 'a human by day, a freak animal killing machine by moonlight' don't you understand? I mean, werewolves are badass. We haven't seen one since we were kids."

"If you think werewolves are badass, wait till you see a skinwalker," I teased, holding the door open for Sasha, who quickly found a seat on the couch beside Booth, a newly cleaned pistol, and a rag in his hands.

Dean seemed to freeze upon seeing me, although I didn't pay much mind. His eyes followed my movements as I shirked my coat and hung it on the coat rack beside the door, waiting for him to continue. Our conversations had been clipped over the last several days - I doubt anyone missed the way I flinched when he touched me or hated the way his scent clung to me.

Sam nudged his brother playfully and laughed, jarring Dean from his thoughts. "You were saying?"

"Right, uh..." Dean mumbled, glancing between Sasha and me. "What'd you guys find at the office?"

"A load of bull," I grumbled and took a seat beside Sam at the small dining table. "I swear they bombed that place with chemicals. But, we did find some blood, and had a bit of what I'm ninety-nine percent sure was werewolf scent on it."

"Only ninety-nine?" Sam teased.

"No one's perfect Sammy, but I like to think I'm about as close as it gets," I clipped back, earning a laugh from him. "So what now boys? How are we going to find this bastard?"

"Well we already know what brings these suckers down," Dean crowed with an excited grin on his freckled face. His freckles seemed more prominent than ever in the California sunlight; it was enough to have butterflies rising in the pit of my stomach. I wished I could squash them.

Every skinwalker seemed to jump when Dean opened a black case with what must have been sixty silver bullets in it. "One of these bad boys should be enough, yeah?" I nodded cautiously in confirmation, eyeing the way Booth swallowed dryly at the sight of the bullets.

Dean quickly shut the case and shoved them back into his bag. I was certain he or Sam would load the guns later, away from the three of us. Sasha breathed out a sigh of relief, only audible to the three sets of highly tuned ears.