ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ||ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ

ʙᴇᴅᴛɪᴍᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀɪᴇꜱ (ᴘᴛ 1)

The Impala races along a road, Y/N sat in the driver's seat, with Dean in the passenger and Sam in the back, leaning forwards and resting on the front seat.

"I don't understand Y/N. Why not?" Sam says angrily.

"Because I said so," she says, looking at him before turning her gaze back to the road.

"We got the Colt now!" Dean adds.

"Dean..." Y/N warns.

"We can summon the Crossroads Demon," Dean says.

"No, we're not summoning anything," Y/N says, but is ignored as he continues. "Come on Dean, even you don't like interacting with demons."

"Pull the gun on him, and force him to let you out of the deal!"

"We don't even know if that'll work!"

"Well then we'll just shoot him! If he dies then the deal goes away!"

"We don't know if that'll work either, Sam! All you two are pitching me right now is a bunch of 'ifs' and 'maybes' and that's not good enough, because if we screw with this deal, you both die."

"And if we don't screw with it, you die!" Dean shoots back.

"Guys, enough! I am not going to have this conversation."

"Why, because you said so?" Sam mutters.

"YES, BECAUSE I SAID SO!"

"Well, you're not Dad!" Sam and Y/N silently stare at each other while Dean looks between the two.

"No, but I am the oldest," she says fiercely before raising her voice. "And I'm doing what's best. And you two are gonna let this go, you understand me?" Sam, Dean, and Y/N stare at each other angrily. Sam leans back in his seat as he turns away and looks out of the window while Dean looks back at the road. The three look angry but aren't saying anything.

"Tell me about the psychotic killer," Y/N says, taking a deep breath and becoming calmer, but Sam doesn't reply. "C'mon, Sam, tell me about the psychotic killer." Sam grabs a paper from his lap and reads monotonously.

"Psychotic killer...rips victims apart with brute-like ferocity."

"Okay, any mention of his razor-sharp teeth or his four-inch claws? Animal eyes?"

"No. But the lunar cycle's right. Look, if it is a werewolf we don't have long, moon's full this Friday and that's the last time it changes for a month."

"Two days, no sweat," Dean says.

The three are in a hospital room, where a man lies in a hospital bed with bandages and scrapes. The three are dressed as detectives, holding their fake badges up to the man, Y/N holding a photo up with hers.

"I'm Detective Glass," Y/N says. She points to Dean. "This is Detective Plant." She points to Sam. "And Detective Page. We're with the county Sheriff's Department."

"Yeah, uh, I've been expecting you," the man says.

"You have?" Dean asks.

"All morning. You are the sketch artists, right?" Sam turns towards Dean and Y/N.

"...uh," he says.

"Absolutely," she says.

"Yeah," Sam says quietly.

"Yeah. That is exactly who our partner is," Dean says, gesturing to Sam. "The things he can do with a pen..." The twins laugh. Sam glares at the two. "But listen before we get started on that, I wanted to ask you, uh, how'd you get away?"