Confetti it's a Parade Book 2

Sleeping Beauty

Dean Winchester x Reader
Synopsis: A unique take of the story

"Witches. Why does it always have to be witches?" Dean grumbled as he slammed the door to the motel room. He had just come back from a trip to the coroners office, and you and Sam had just filled him in on what you had found out at the victims house.

"Dean, it's not always witches. We haven't had a witch hunt in over a year." Sam argued from his spot at the table. You were currently sitting at the couch, making sure you had enough witch killing bullets to take with you.

"And I would have been happy if we never have another one." He said as he plopped down on the bed, kicking his feet up and crossing his arms. 

"Well, hopefully when we get this done, there will be one less witch out there." You said as you stood up and made your way over to him. Leaning down, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, feeling them spread out in a smile, his mood lightening up with the display of affection. 

"Fine." He said. "When do we go gank this witch?"

Slipping into the bathroom, you let the brothers argue over the small details of the hunt. You didn't care about the where, or the when, you just cared about the end result. Witches gave you the creeps, and you hated hunting them just as much as Dean. Maybe more, since they were the ones who took you out of a foster home, keeping you as a slave for over a year until Sam and Dean had rescued you. You still had the scars, and the nightmares to prove how much witches had messed with you. But you also had the knowledge that you had gained during your torment. And that knowledge helped you in killing as many of them as possible.

"You done in there sweetheart? We're ready to take off." Dean said through the door, and you opened it to find him leaning against the frame, his FBI garb gone. In it's place was his favorite red flannel shirt, a dark gray t-shirt underneath. His bowlegs were encased in a form fitting pair of faded jeans. You truly enjoyed this look more than when he wore his FBI suit. 

"Yep. All ready to go." You said, turning off the sink and following him out. Grabbing your bag of weapons you headed out the door, to the Impala where Sam was already waiting. 

"You know Y/N, you could stay behind if you wanted to. I know you have so much history with witches, and I don't want you to..." Dean said quietly by your ear, but you interrupted him.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather kill as many of these evil bitches as I can. It might not make the memories fade, but it does make me feel a little better." You explained, and he didn't push the fact any farther. And that's what you loved about Dean. He showed his concern, but he wasn't going to push his issue. He knew he wouldn't win anyways, but it still made your heart happy to hear how much he cared.

You climbed into the backseat, zoning out as Dean drove down the busy town road. The witch was holed up in a fancy hotel downtown, making the job even harder. Dean grumbled once again when he saw the valet parking. "Seriously? Why can't we just park ourselves?"

"Dean, it's okay. Why don't you park in the back anyways. That way we can make a quick exit if needed." You said, seeing a couple of meter parking spots by the alley. 

He gave you a grateful smile before making a quick u-turn and taking a spot that had just opened. Slipping your gun with the witch killing bullets in your jacket, the three of you hiked the short distance to the front of the hotel. The front desk staff gave the three of you weird looks, but didn't say anything as you made your way to the elevator. You already knew which room was hers, so you didn't need to interact with anyone.

"So, Sam here knocks on the door, and when she opens it, we all three push our way in, Y/N covering our rear. Sound good?" Dean said quietly as the elevator quickly made its climb. Of course the witch had to be on one of the top floors. 

As soon as it opened, Sam peered out, making sure the coast was clear. Quietly walking down the hall, you and Dean stood on each side of the door as Sam knocked. "Room service." He yelled, and you could hear the witch's muffled voice before she opened the door. Before she could do anything, Sam had a hand around her neck, pushing her back into the room. Dean went in next. Glancing once more down the hall, you followed, slamming and locking the door behind you.

"The Winchesters, and their female consort. Of course." She muttered, standing there in her white linen pants and blood red blouse, as if Sam wasn't holding her by her neck. With a flick of her hand, you and Dean went flying into the nearest walls. Twisting her finger, you could do nothing but watch as Dean started coughing up blood, bending over at the extreme pain. "But I think you underestimated me."

Sam twisted her neck, pulling out his gun, and moving his arm to hold it up to her head. Before he could pull the trigger, the gun turned hot in his hands, and he dropped it. She flicked her wrist, and he went flying against the wall, letting go of her at the same time, falling to the ground unconscious. "Now, let's conduct this meeting like the civilized adults that I wish we were."

"You bitch!" Exclaimed Dean, and she turned on him in a rage.

"How dare you call me that. You know nothing about me. Even though I'm a witch, it doesn't mean I'm a bitch!" She argued, striding over to him in her red patent leather heels. Cooling herself down, she ran her hand down his chest, smiling at the way he tensed but was unable to fight back. "Hmm, what should I do to you?"

"Leave him alone!" You yelled from your spot against the other wall, standing still and calm. In your experience, you knew the more you fought, the harder the hold would be. If you could only concentrate, you could slip out of her hold. But with her hands on Dean, that seemed to be out of the question. 

"Wait you turn sweetheart. I've something planned for you too." She promised, before turning back to Dean. Pressing her hand tightly against his chest, she tilted her head back, chanting in a language that was a lot like Latin. Dean struggled, trying to get away, but soon his eyes rolled back in his head, and he grew limp in her grasp.

"Dean!" You yelled, fearing the worst. 

"Don't worry. He's just sleeping." She said, standing back and letting him fall to the ground. You heard Sam waking up, and you hoped he would be able to surprise attack the witch while she was busy with you. Because she was heading right your way.

"What did you do to him?" You asked when she stepped close enough you could see the gold specks in her eyes, and the slight smattering of freckles across her nose. 

"Why, I just turned him into sleeping beauty. That's all. I do love my old fashioned fairy tales." She told you, before running a long, red painted nail down your cheek, twisting at the last minute to slice your skin open. "But what should I do to you? Ooh, I know." She said, before leaning forward, her red painted lips coming close to you.

"Hey, I don't swing that way!" You tried exclaimed, but she ignored you, pressing her lips to yours. It was a weird kiss, nothing like the passionate ones you shared with Dean. Her lips were dry and waxy, and she muttered words softly as she kept her lips pressed against yours.

What seemed like an eternity later, she pulled back, a sly smile on her face. "What did you do to me?" You asked her, seeing Sam sneaking up from the side.

"Those lips of yours are now a curse. Touch them to anyone, and you will die. Simple as that." She said, just as Sam raised his gun up, shooting her in the back. She looked surprised for a moment, before she crumpled to the ground.

Part 2 coming soon...