*3rd Person POV*
Dean was on his cell phone, leaning against his car. He was fidgeting, clearly upset. "Ellen, it's me again. Any chance you've heard from her?" Dean asked into the phone. "What about Sam? Has he heard anything?" He asked then Ellen replies and he sighs.
"I swear, it's like looking for my dad all over again. I'm losing my mind here." Dean exclaims. "No, I've called her a thousand times, there's nothing but voicemail. I don't know where she went, or why. (Y/n)'s just gone." Dean said, upset, then his cell phone beeps. "Hang on." He said and he holds up his phone and shows another incoming call - (y/n)'s cell. He answers it.
"(Y/n)? Where the hell are you? Are you okay?" He asked, panicked. "Hey, hey, hey! Calm down. Where are you?" He asked after a few moments. "All right, don't move, I'm on my way." He said while (y/n) hangs up the phone slowly, looking numb. Her knuckles are bloody.
Dean drives to reach (y/n), passing a sign reading TWIN LAKES, while he was on the phone with Sam. "Yeah, I found her. Nah, I got this. J-Just go to the Roadhouse or Bobby's. I'll bring her back." he said and he hangs up.
Minutes later, he arrives at the hotel and parks, then gets out. Inside the motel, he walks frantically down a narrow hallway, checking door numbers until he reaches room 109. He knocks. "(Y/n), it's me. (Y/n)!" Dean shouts and he tries the door - it open.
Inside, (y/n) hadn't moved, still sitting numbly on one bed. "(Y/n)? Hey." Dean said as he goes over to her. "Hey, Dean." She said in a quiet voice and Dean kneels beside her.
"Are you bleeding?" He asked once he sees her knuckles. "I tried to wash it off." (Y/n) said and Dean sees that her shirt was covered in blood, he gropes at it, searching for a wound. "Oh my God." He whispers.
"I don't think it's my blood." (Y/n) said. "Whose is it?" Dean asked as he looks up at her. "I don't know." She replies. "(Y/n), what the hell happened?" Dean asked, worried and scared, and then (y/n) finally looks up at him. "Dean. I don't remember anything." She said, fear etched over her face.
Some later, Dean returns to the room, carrying a grocery bag. (Y/n) had changed clothes and was looking a little less out of it. "What'd you find out?" She asked him. "You checked in two days ago under the name Richie Sambora. Of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan..." Dean said and she scoffs at him.
"Dean." She said, flatly. "Your room's been quiet, nobody's noticed anything unusual." Dean said. "You mean no one saw me walking around covered in blood?" She asked him. "Yeah. That's what I mean." Dean said.
"Then how the hell did I get here, Dean? What happened to me?" (Y/n) asked, confused and angry. "I don't know. But you're, you're okay, and that's what matters. Everything else we can deal with." Dean said. "Oh really? 'Cause what if I hurt someone? Or worse?" (Y/n) asked, panicked.
"(Y/n)..." Dean said, exasperated. "What if this is what John warned you about?" She asked. "Hey, whoa, whoa, come on, let's not jump the gun here. We don't know what happened. We've just got to treat this like, like any other job. What's the last thing you remember?" Dean asked her.
"Just me, you and Sam in that motel room in West Texas, going out to grab some burgers, and..." she said and Dean's brow furrows. "West Texas? That was, that was over a week ago." He said to her. "That's it." (Y/n) said, shrugging, and Dean looks at her, stunned. "Next thing I knew I was sitting here. Bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month." She replied.
"Okay. Retrace your steps. The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and he never saw you come back, so..." Dean said and he pulls back the curtain and finds a bloody fingerprint on the window. "Hey." He said and (y/n) looks over at it.
The duo walk outside the motel, it's daylight, but raining. "Recognize anything?" Dean asked her. "Not really." She said as they go towards a parking garage out back. "Wait." She said once she stops. "What?" Dean asked and (y/n) points at the garage.
"I think I was here." She said. "You remember?" Dean asked and she shakes her head. "Not really, it just...feels familiar, you know?" She said and Dean shrugs, and goes to the nearest garage. (y/n) looks over to the second one and points. "Try that one." She said and Dean tugs on the padlock.
"Okay." He mutters and he starts to think of ways to open it. "Wait." said (y/n) and she digs in her pocket, frowning. She pulls out a key and gives Dean a significant look.
Dean opens the padlock with the key, raising his eyebrows at (y/n). He pulls the garage door open to reveal a filthy, beat-up VW Beetle. "Oh, please tell me you didn't steal this." Dean said, disappointed, as (y/n) fidgets. They go into the garage and open both doors of the car, (y/n) on the driver's side. She touches the wheel and shows Dean her stained finger.
"More blood." She said and Dean points. "(Y/n). Back seat." He said and (y/n) reaches down, picks up a blood-stained knife that sticks to the floor of the backseat. She stares at it. "You think I used this on someone?" She asked Dean. "I'm not thinking anything." Dean said.
(Y/n) looks around, rubs the knife handle off on the inside of her jacket while Dean picks up a pack of cigarettes. "Okay now this is disturbing. Come on, (y/n), this couldn't have been you. Had to have been someone else, somebody who, uh..." Dean said and he sniffs the pack. "...smokes menthols." He said as (y/n) digs around and picks up a piece of paper.
"Here. Gas receipt. Few towns over." She said as she holds the receipts up.
Sometime later, they pull up in front of a small gas station and Dean looks over the receipt while (y/n) looks around. "All right. Receipt's for ten gallons at pump number two. You getting any, uh, any goosebumps yet? God, this looks familiar, deja vu vibes?" Dean asked her and she shakes her head, quietly. "Maybe someone inside'll remember you. Come on." Dean said and they get out of the car.
They go into the convenience store and the clerk looks up in shock, then anger. "You. Outta here now, I'm calling the cops." The clerk yelled and Dean and (y/n) look at him, shocked.
"You talking to her?" Dean asked the clerk, confused but also angry as he didn't like the tone this guy was giving her. "Yeah, I'm talking to her. Bitch comes in yesterday, stinking drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging." The clerk said and Dean glares at the clerk.
"Okay, buddy. One: watch your mouth. Two: this girl? You sure?" Dean asked and the clerk nods as Dean turns to (y/n). "You're drinking malt liquor?" He asked. "Not after she whipped the friggin' bottle at my head." The clerk yelled.
"This girl?" Dean said, still confused. "What, am I speaking Urdu?" The clerk asked, annoyed. "Look, I'm really sorry if I did anything --" (y/n) tried to explain but the clerk shakes his head.
"Tell your story walkin', girlie. Po-po will be here in five." He said as he picks up the reciever. "Wait, wait, put the phone down." Dean said as the clerk stops then Dean turns to (y/n). "(Y/n), go wait in the car." He said and she looks at him, confused. "But Dean --" she tried to argue but Dean yells. "Go wait in the car!"
She sighs and then leaves as Dean turns to the clerk. "Okay, look, man. I just want to talk to you, that's it. Okay?" He said and the clerk hangs up. "Now, when she took off yesterday, which way did she go?" Dean asked him.
"Why don't you ask her?" The clerk asked, annoyed. "'Cause I'm asking you. Now please, you'd be doing me a huge favor." Dean said. "Oh, do you a favor? Well, that is what I live for. You know, your girlfriend didn't pay for the booze. Okay? Or the smokes, which she also illegally lit up." The clerk said and Dean's eyes widen a bit.
"You saw her smoking?" He asked him. "Yeah. Chick's a chimney." The clerk said and Dean clears his throat and pulls his wallet out, then places some bills on the desk. "This, uh, ought to cover it." He said and the clerk looks at the money for a moment. "Hmm. It's, uh, it's coming back to me now. She took two packs." He said and Dean sighs as he pulls out more money. "Of course she did." He mutters and he pats the man.
"She went north. Route 71, straight out of town." the clerk replied and Dean nods, then grabs two candy bars and leaves with a smirk.
Dean was driving down a dark road, while (y/n) was staring out the window. "What's going on with you, (y/n)? Hm? 'Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people, I mean, that sounds more like me than you. I mean, I've seen you drunk...and you're more of the happy and giggling type of drunk." Dean said as (y/n) sits up, straighter.
"Dean, wait, right here. Turn down that road." She said, quickly. "What?" Dean asked. "I don't know how I know, I just do." She said and Dean turns down a back road and onto a private property. It is a large house with plenty of emergency lighting and security cameras outside.
"Whoever lives here, I'd say they don't like surprises." (Y/n) said as she looks over the house. "Should we knock?" Dean asked. "Yeah. I guess." She said and they get out of the car and head to the front door.
Dean knocks on the front door while (y/n) pokes around the corner. "Hey Dean." She said as she waves her flashlight at a window. It's broken, the ledge covered in shattered glass. "I'm surprised the cops didn't show. Place like this you'd think it'd have an alarm." Dean said as (y/n) finds a disabled alarm on the wall. "Yeah, you would." (Y/n) said as Dean looks at it then at her.
They go into the house to see that the floor is covered in broken glass and scattered items. In a back room, they come across a body on the floor. "Hit the lights." Dean said and (y/n) turns the lights on as Dean kneels behind the body.
He places a hand on it and turns it over; it is a middle-aged man with a deeply cut throat; he is dead, his eyes staring. Dean puts a hand over his own mouth while (y/n) looks horrified. "Dean, I did this." She whispered, devastated. "We don't know that." Dean said, firmly.
"What else do you need? I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood --" (y/n) exclaims. "I don't know, (y/n), why don't you tell me?!" Dean asked her, angrily, but then he calms down. "Look, even if you did do this I'm sure you had a reason, you know; self-defense, uh, he was, he was a bad son of a bitch, something!" Dean said as he pats down the body. "He doesn't have any ID." Dean said and (y/n) looks at a closet.
"I need your lockpick." She said to him. "What?" Dean asked her. "I need your lockpick." She said again and he hands her his lockpick. She takes the lockpick and opens the double-door closet in the room.
Inside the room, one wall is covered in firearms, the others in charts and clippings. "Holy....Either this guy's a Unabomber-" he said. "Or a hunter." (Y/n) finished as guilt started to grow in her chest. "Dean, I think I killed a hunter." She said, shocked and Dean looks up and sees a security camera near the ceiling. "Let's find out." He said, as he points at the camera.
Later, (y/n) was sitting in front of the desktop computer, Dean standing behind as she cues up the security tape. "Here we go." Dean said.
On the tape, (y/n) was fighting the same man who lies dead on the floor behind them. The fight moves off camera and (y/n) drags the man back into the frame; she kneels, pulls the man up against her legs, and slits his throat. (Y/n) stares in shock as Dean pulls back from the screen and stands straight, looks at (y/n), who looks down.
Minutes later, (y/n) was still sitting at the computer desk, staring at a page in her hand. Dean bustles around behind her, cleaning up. "How do you erase this? Huh?" Dean asked but (y/n) doesn't reply. "(Y/n), come on, I need your help." Dean said, desperate.
"I killed him, Dean. I just broke in and killed him." (Y/n) said, in fear. "Listen to me. Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are going to come looking for his killer, which means we've got to cover our tracks, okay?" Dean said and (y/n) holds up the paper. "His name was Steve Wandell. This is a letter from his daughter." She said, tearfully.
Dean looks from (y/n) to the letter, then makes a decision. He grabs the CPU, lifts it above his head, and smashes it to the floor, stomping it with his boots for good measure. Dean looks at (y/n), still sitting there despondent, tosses a rag to her. "Wipe your prints, then we go." He orders and she looks at him then nods.
Later that evening, (y/n) precedes Dean into the motel room. "All right, we get a couple hours sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror." Dean said while (y/n) folds her arms across her chest, upset. "Look, I know this is bad, okay? You gotta snap out of it." Dean said but she doesn't say anything. "(Y/n), say something!" Dean exclaims and she turns to him.
"Just get some sleep and leave in the morning? Murder, Dean. That's what I did." She said, upset. "Maybe." Dean said and (y/n) scoffs. "Okay? Hey, we don't know...shapeshifter!" Dean said, looking for anything. "Oh, come on. You know it wasn't, you saw the tape. There was no eye flare, no distortion..." she said.
"Yeah, but it wasn't you! All right? I mean, yeah, it might have been you, but it wasn't you." Dean yells at her. "Well, I think it was." (Y/n) said as she sits down on the bed. "I think maybe more than you know." She mutters.
"What the hell does that mean?" Dean asked and she sighs. "For the last few weeks I've been having...I've been having these feelings." She replied and Dean walks to the bed to sit opposite of her. "What feelings?" He asked, softly.
"Rage. Hate. And I can't stop it. It just gets worse. Day by day, it gets worse." She said, sadly. "You never told me this." Dean said and she gives a slight shake of her head. "I didn't want to scare you." She said and Dean nods, slaps her knee, then stands up. "Well, bang-up job on that." He said.
"Dean, the yellow-eyed demon, you know he has plans for me and for Sam. And we know that he's turned other children into killers before, too." (Y/n) said. "No one can control you but you." Dean said and (y/n) scoffs.
"It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean, it feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely I'm, I'm just becoming..." she stops. "What?" Dean asked. "Who I'm meant to be. I mean, you said it once yourself, Dean. I gotta face up to who I am." She said. "I didn't mean this!" Dean exclaims, angrily.
"But it's still true. You know that. John knew that too. That's why he told you, if it ever came to this..." (y/n) said and Dean shakes his head. "Shut up, (y/n)." He said, firmly. "Dean, you promised him." (Y/n) said to him. "No. Listen to me. We're gonna figure this out. Okay? I mean, there's gotta be a way, right?" Dean asked, desperately.
"Yeah there is." (Y/n) said and she takes a handgun from her duffel, and shoves it at Dean. "I don't wanna hurt anyone else. I don't wanna hurt you. Or Sam." She said as a tear runs down her face.
Dean looks down at the gun (y/n) is handing him. "You won't. Whatever this is, you can fight it." Dean said to her and her eyes starts to tear up. "No. I can't. Not forever. Here, you gotta do it." (Y/n) said and they stare at each other for a long moment; then (y/n) grabs Dean's right hand and places the gun in it.
Dean doesn't move, but just stares as (y/n) in shock, who was shaking and upset. "You know, I've tried to hard to keep you safe." He said, tears welling up in his eyes, and she nods. "I know." She said and Dean shakes his head. "I can't. I'd rather die." He said and he drops the gun on the bed and shoulders past (y/n).
"No. You'll live." (Y/n) said and she picks up the gun as Dean turns to face her. "You'll live to regret this." She growls and she pistol-whips Dean, who falls to the floor unconscious.
An insistent knocking wakes Dean up. He looks around to realize that he is on the floor of the motel room; the motel manager, who has been knocking, opens the door. "Hey. It's past your checkout." The manager said as Dean gets up, groggily.
"What?" Dean asked. "It's past checkout, and I've got a couple here needs your room." The manager said and Dean looks over to see an embarrassed businessman with a hooker. "Yeah, I'll bet they do." Dean mutters then he turns to the manager. "What time is it?" He asked. "Twelve-thirty." The manager replied.
"That girl who was with me, have you seen her?" Dean asked him. "Yeah, she left before dawn in your car, and you should have gone with her, because now I'm gonna have to charge you extra." The manager said and Dean rolls his eyes in annoyance as he digs in his wallet. "Oh, son of a..." Dean mutters. "It's just policy, sir." The manager said as Dean hands him the money.
"I need to use your computer." said Dean. "Now, why would I let you use my computer?" The manager asked.
Later, the manager was counting a stack of cash, as Dean talks on the phone behind him, in front of a desktop computer. "Hi, uh, so sorry to bother you, but uh, my daughter snuck out of the house last night and, uh, went to a Justin Timberlake concert." Dean said then he pauses for a moment before he answers. "What? Yeah. No, Justin is quite the triple threat. Uh, anyway, she's not back yet, and, and I'm just, I'm starting to worry." He said.
"Right. Yeah, I know, girls just wanna have fun. But see, (y/n) is uh uh uh, a diabetic, and uh, if she doesn't get her insulin, I just, I have to find her. Please, I'm begging you." Dean pleads as he types on the computer and end up on the website. "Yeah, no no no, I"m on the website right now, I just need to activate the GDS in her cell phone." He said and he enters a password; his GPS screen shows the name Dean J. Mahogoff, mobile phone number 785-555-2804
"Yeah, right there. Duluth, Minnesota. Yeah, that is a long way to go for a concert. I appreciate your help." He said and he hangs up.
In Minnesota, at a bar, Jo begins scrubbing the bar and saying goodnight to some customers. "Good night, thank you." She calls out as (y/n) enters and clears her throat while Jo had her back to her.
"Sorry, we're closing up." Jo said. "How about just one for the road?" (Y/n) asked and Jo turned to face her, not looking welcoming. "Well, you're about the last person I'd expect to see." Jo said and (y/n) gives a small smile at this.
"Well, I guess I'm full of surprises. So can I get a beer?" She asked. "Sure. One beer." Jo said and she brings a bottle of beer over and sets it down on the bar firmly, then turns away, bustling over cleaning up the bar.
"So how'd you find me?" Jo asked. "Well, uh, it's kind of what we do, you know?" (Y/n) said. "Speaking of we, where's Dean and Sam?" Jo asked her. "Couldn't make it." (Y/n) replied as she comes up tot he bar.
"So what're you doing here, (y/n)? I mean we didn't exactly part on the best of terms." Jo said and (y/n) nods. "Right. Um, well, that's why I'm here." She said as had takes off her jacket. "I kinda -- I wanted to see if we could square things, you know?" She said.
As (y/n) takes off her jacket, Jo notices a circular burn mark with a short line through it on (y/n)'s forearm. "That looks like it hurts." Jo said as she gestures towards the mark. "No. Nah, just, just had a run-in with a hot stove." (Y/n) said, brushing it off.
"So you were saying something about squaring things?" Jo asked. "Yeah. Um...Look, I know how you feel about my dad and John. And I can't say I blame you. They were obsessed--consumed with hunting. And they didn't care who got caught in the cross-fire. And I guess that included your dad. But that was my father. That's not me." (Y/n) said to her.
"What about Dean? Or Sam?" Jo asked. "Oh Sam is nothing like his dad. But Dean's more like John than Sam, but h--" she stops once she sees the look on Jo's face. (Y/n) chuckles a bit. "Boy. You're really carrying a torch for Dean, aren't you?" She asked and Jo scoffs, uncomfortably.
"I'll take that as a yes. It's too bad." (Y/n) said as she smiles tightly. "'Cause see, Dean, he likes you, sure, but not in the way you'd want. I mean, maybe as kind of a...a little sister, you know? But--romance, that's just out of the question, he--he kind of thinks you're a schoolgirl, you know?" (Y/n) said then she let's out a laugh while Jo raises an eyebrow at her.
"I'm not trying to hurt you, Jo, I -- I'm telling you 'cause I care." (Y/n) said. "That's real kind of you, (y/n)." Jo said. "I mean it." (Y/n) said and she places a hand on Jo's shoulder. "I care about you, like a sister." (Y/n) said, a smile that didn't seem like her own, and Jo immediately felt uncomfortable.
"Maybe you should leave." Jo said to her, firmly, and (y/n)'s smile falters then she looks down. "Okay." (Y/n) said and she removes her hand off of Jo's shoulder and stands to leave. Jo turns to face the bar, leaning on it heavily, when suddenly (y/n) reappears, grabbing her from behind and manhandling her.
"(Y/n), get off me! (Y/n)! Get off me! Let go!" Jo shouts, frantically. She closes her right hand on a beer bottle, but before she can hit (y/n) with it, (y/n) grabs her wrist and slams it onto the bar, shattering the bottle.
"Jo, Jo, Jo." (Y/n) said, trying to calm her but it wasn't working. (Y/n) shoves Jo around until she faces the bar and pins her there, left hand over her wrist.
"(Y/n), no! No! Please! Please!" Jo screams before (y/n) slams her forehead into the bar, knocking Jo out, and she lifts her carefully to lie on the bar. "It didn't have to be this way. Maybe it did." (Y/n) mutters before she gives an evil grin.