Supernatural Oneshots

Demons Rule, Hunters Drool (Dean Winchester/Demon!Reader)

Dean Winchester/Demon!Reader

The house was silent as the wind blew through its old frame. The tattered remnants of a home stood in its place, reminding others of what was and could have been. The gravel crunched as silent tires rolled over them, pulling up to the rickety stairs. The lights shone bright through the fog, as the car sputtered and died. Cursing could be heard from within the vehicle, as an man in his late fifties clambered out. The hood popped to the tiny truck, then the man bent over to examine it, smoke adding to the dense air.

A hollow wail echoed from inside the old house, startling the man under the hood.

"Is anyone there?" He said, creeping up the stairs.

They groaned under the man's weight, one even cracked and splintered as he pressed his foot down.

"Hello? Do you need help?" He asked to the house.

"HELP ME!!!" A child screamed, making the man dart inside the house.

Laughing came from inside the house, as they caught another pitiful human. The man screamed, before his voice was added to the mix.

"HELP ME!!" his voice echoed.

The car sputtered to life, slowly dragging itself to the side of the house, where hundreds of modes of transportation rested. From broken bicycles, to rusted school busses, now a lonely blue truck was added to the collection.

2 weeks later

"Excellent job (y/n), I didn't know you had it in ya." Dean turned his head around his seat, peering into the backseat.

"Well, I learned from the best." (Y/n) stated, giving the man a half-hearted punch on his sholder.

The boys and (y/n) had been driving for almost 10 hours straight before anyone had the guts to talk. The silence was eerie, not even the songs of AC/DC that flowed from the speakers had an affect on the people riding. The demon hunt had gone bad, she had escaped the trap somehow, and attacked (y/n), leaving carved flesh in her fingers wake across her face.

(Y/n) had a cloth pressed tightly against her face, to the point of stopping the bleeding but the pain subsiding to a faint ache. She peeled the rag off her cheek, gazing at the drying blood stains, before returning it to her torn skin.

When they finally reached a motel, Dean went in to get a room. Leaving Sam and (y/n) alone, licking their wounds. Dean came out, handing Sam the bags and (y/n) the keys to the room. He then proceeded to hop in his car, going to find the greasy fast food that only helped with clogging his arteries.

He came back two hours later, complaining of none of the places he went to had pie, which was a necessity for the lovable troll. Sam and (y/n) had already settled down, as much as they could in a cheep motel, with the possibility that they had to run any minute.

He placed the food on the nightstand, grease already leaving its residue on the scuffed surface. Sam took the first shower, as (y/n) cleaned off her blade.

(Your POV)

You could admit that Dean Winchester was in fact likeable he just seemed to like women who were let's say, not your type.