【Ａｓｈｅｓ Ｔｏ Ａｓｈｅｓ】

-ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔽𝕖𝕕𝕤-

Vulnerable.

That was the only word the phoenix could think when she roughly pulled at the stiff fabric of the pencil skirt leaving itchy indents across her thighs, grumbling in annoyance when the hem she tugged down barely covered the run in her stocking. Born sometime in the late 1800s, you would have thought that the phoenix had grown used to the discomfort of women's clothing by now. Corsets tightened until breathing became a chore, billowing dresses that were two sizes too small, and heels that she was constantly abandoning when it came time to flee from the creatures seeking revenge for the blood of a mother still staining her hands. She wore it all and hated every second of it, often finding herself wishing she could have returned to the familiar cowboy attire she had taken for granted. However, when she anxiously irons out the thin fabric of her thrifted suit using the unnatural warmth of her palms, (y/n) can't help but wonder what she wouldn't give to have those clothes again. At least a corset could soften the blow of a hit.

Dean, having been watching her fiddle around with her outfit for the past five minutes, can't help but chuckle in poorly hidden amusement. "It's just for a couple of hours, you'll be fine."

Furrowing her eyebrows in frustration, (y/n) crosses one leg over the other in an attempt to sit somewhat comfortably in her seat of the Impala. However, the sound of her thigh unsticking itself from the leather below her only exacerbates her irritation. "I could have just stayed in the car, you know. Let you do all the detective work."

"And let you miss out on all the fun?" Dean teases lightly, before swinging his door open with a loud creak, "In your dreams."

"Yeah, yeah, Whatever." (y/n) rolls her eyes with a huff, begrudgingly mirroring the hunter's actions. "But don't be surprised if I end up bitin' dirt by the end of today, this shirt can barely protect me from a mosquito bite."

"I told you before, Tweety, we're just investigating. Don't be worried about running into anything" Dean reassures calmly, his use of her new nickname helping ease the phoenix's discomfort before he lightly taps at the breast pocket of his suit blazer. Feeling the slight bulge of his wallet against his chest, the hunter nods toward the woman watching him curiously. "Got your I.D.?"

"Mhm. Safe and sound." Having had it tucked securely into the waistband of her skirt, arguably the only place she could have stored it, (y/n) dramatically whips out the smooth leather booklet from its hiding place and mimics the awkward smile she had on when Dean shoved his phone in her face earlier that day. Small crinkles form at the edges of his eyes, (y/n)'s heart warming at the almost relaxed enjoyment she finds within the lazy smile that hesitantly crawls its way onto his freckled face.

"Alright." Dean concludes, motioning for her to follow when he begins walking towards the glass entrance of the public school, "Let's kick some ass, partner."

Winding through narrow hallways of pale brick chipped and stained from years of neglect, polished shoes clicking against grey scuffed tiles, the hunter and the phoenix walk side by side towards the opened doors of the gymnasium nestled between rows of rusted lockers. As they make their way closer to the fence of neon yellow tape stretched across the metal door frame, (y/n) finds her heightened sense bombarded by the frantic chatter of police officers and the putrid stench of decay wafting through the crowded hall in thick waves of nauseating stimuli. It takes everything in her not to be overcome by its uncomfortable embrace, however, the grimace she tries to hide does not go unnoticed by the impossibly observant Winchester beside her.

"You doing okay?" he questions, the usual roughness of his voice replaced by a slightly more tender tone. Needless to say, (y/n) is too surprised by the hesitant kindness to answer the hunter right away.