I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader] Book 2

Give A Damn

 "I think I've died and gone to hell," I murmured miserably to Sam, my hand on his arm as he flashed an invitation to the man waiting at the door. I shifted uncomfortably in my dress, a flowing gown that surprisingly fit me quite well. I nervously adjusted the deep cowl neckline that showed off far more than I was comfortable with. The open back left a chill down my spine and I subconsciously worried over the prominent scars that cross-crossed my skin.

Sam chuckled at my side, hazel eyes carefully scanning the crowd. "Just schmooze for a few hours and keep an eye out for the hand. Then you can dress however you want."

"Sam, I didn't even graduate high school. How the hell do I schmooze with these pricks?"

His lips split into a soft smile as we stepped into the museum, the sound of laughter and clinking champagne glasses rattling in my ears. Blood rushed to my head at the sound of racing heartbeats, faster than normal as alcohol flowed and excitement roared. Nervously, I fidgeted with my hair that covered my mangled ear.

"Do you think Dean's going to be here soon?" I panted, lungs constricting. The overwhelming number of scents, the constant sounds, God just the sheer number of heartbeats and pulses was enough to make me dizzy. I hadn't been packed into a small room with this many humans in ages.

"Soon, probably. I'm sure Bela's keeping him busy," he said with an eye roll. I held back bile as it rose in my throat. "Shit-" Sam suddenly said, dragging me backwards as he did a sudden backpedal towards the door. I halted and unlaced my arm from his, opening my mouth to speak before a flash of gray suddenly descended upon him.

"Samuel, I was beginning to think you wouldn't show," the old woman purred, practically gluing herself to Sam despite how much he leaned away from her. Gert, Bela's contact. I grimaced as she placed a hand on his chest and looked at him with what was meant to be a seductive gaze.

"We're on business, Gert," Sam offered, glancing at me from the corner of his eye with a pleading look.

"But sometimes business can be pleasure," she said, sliding a bony hand under the front of his tuxedo jacket. I gagged as I wandered away from the pair, only glancing back to see her lead him into the throng of dancing couples. Sam could handle himself just fine, and the date of an infatuated cougar wasn't the worst cover.

I navigated the crowd shakily, jumping every time someone brushed against me or I received an odd look. My heart pounded in my chest as I moved between the crowds of heavily perfumed, well-dressed individuals, a choked 'excuse me' leaving my throat as soon as I bumped into someone. If I could just find a secluded vantage point, perhaps I could search for this hand of glory without becoming so overwhelmed.

I didn't notice Dean enter the massive room, too busy tucking myself into a tight alcove between two bookshelves. I folded my arms around myself, a palm covering the dappled scars that decorated the skin of my throat.

—

Dean's eyes scanned the room as Bela clung to his arm, sharp nails pressing into the fabric of his tuxedo. The second she showed her invitation to the man at the door, her hand dropped from him, instead busying itself in her purse. A sense of relief briefly washed over him before he saw Sam marching towards them.

"How long do you expect me to entertain my date?" Sam demanded quietly, not missing the smirk that rose on Bela's lips. "You know there are limits to what I'll do, right?"

"Look, there's security all over this place, all right. This is an uncrashable party without Gert's invitation, so..." he began and trailed off, a spark of amusement in his green eyes.

"We can crash just about anything, Dean."

"But this is a lot easier and way more entertaining," Dean said with a muffled laugh. Reaching out a hand, he patted his brother on the back before giving him a playful shove back into the crowd. "Quit playing hard to get, Sammy." With one last glance over his shoulder at Bela, he followed Sam into the crowd, eyes searching the horde for a familiar face.