Don't Go Eating My Heart

Dream A Little Dream of Me

"You're sure she's the monster?"

"Am I sure? Are you questioning me?"

Dean flinched away, scooting closer to the door. He never should have opened his mouth. But that woman, she had been normal, nice even. She wasn't a monster.

"She just doesn't look like a monster." Dean mumbled.

"They don't have to look evil to be a monster Dean. What, did you want her to have horns and breathe fire?"

"If anything that would be a dragon and they're not real." Dean snipped, tired of his dad thinking he was an idiot that didn't know anything.

"Are you being smart with me?" John snapped.

"Just being smart sir."

"Watch yourself."

John's voice was level and Dean knew to shut up while he was ahead. A few minutes later John parked the car down the street from a small yellow house known as 27 Cherry Street, home of a murdererous shapeshifter.

"We need to get into the house so that we can kill her. Story needs to be believable and get us in quick. What happened?" John questioned as they hopped out of the car.

"I fell of my bike and scraped my hands pretty bad. You found me. Took me to the nearest house to get me patched up."

John nodded as he stood in front of Dean. "Sounds good. Ready?"

Dean took the knife from his father's extended hand and made a few small cuts on each of the palms of his hands. Not bad enough to take forever to heal, but enough for his story to be believable.

The pair walked up to the red door with the gold plated numbers 27, and John knocked against the metal. After a few seconds the door creaked open and Dean's face immediately contorted into a grimace and tears began to well in his eyes.

"Excuse me miss can you help him? I was driving past and saw him completely wipe out on his bike. He's okay for the most part, but his hands are pretty ripped up."

The woman's eyes widened slightly as she looked at the young boy in front of her and a wave of sympathy rushed over her as she pictured her own daughter in his place.

"Of course! Come in come in. Let me go run and get a rag from the kitchen."

John shut the door behind him and Dean awkwardly stood in the living room. This lady had just invited a stranger into her home in order to help him just because she cared that much... and Dean could already hear the bullet entering her heart. It's part of the job Dean reminded himself. She is a murderer. She is a monster. And it was his job to kill her.

The woman returned the room and sat on the couch, patting the cushion next to her as an invitation for Dean to sit next to her. Once he was seated she gently began to clean his wounds with the rag. Dean watched his dad out of the corner of his eye as he carefully looked around the room. He saw John's posture tense slightly as he looked at a picture frame, but Dean couldn't tell what the picture was.

He winced as the woman touched the rag too hard on one of the cuts.

"Sorry." Her voice was soft. "The good news is it doesn't look too deep, so you won't need stitches."

"That's good." Dean offered a small smile.

"Is this your daughter?"

Both heads turned to look where John was holding up the picture frame.

The loving smile that crossed the woman's face made Dean want to puke- she had no idea what was about to happen.

"Yes. Her name is Marley. She's actually around your age." She said looking at Dean with a twinkle in her eyes.