XVI - Shadow

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[CHICAGO - ILLINOIS]

The impala is a staple in the Winchester family. Hell, if the impala didn't exist, you're pretty sure the boys wouldn't exist either. The impala served as many things: a home and place to sleep, a form of transportation, comfort. Currently, it is protecting you from humiliation, but the boys can't seem to understand that.

"Y/n, seriously, get out of the damn car!" Dean snaps, clearly agitated with your antics.

"I'm sorry, boys, but I think you're going to have to go on without me. I'll keep watch from in here," you reply, voice muffled from the back seat.

"You're literally laying face down," Sam points out. "All you can see is leather."

You prop up on your arms and glare at Sammy. "You know, I--" you struggle to defend yourself, "I'm just--you can't." You huff, unable to refute Sam's observation.

"Dude, why won't you get out of the car? It can't be because of the case, right?" Dean asks and you look away to hide the blush creeping on your cheeks.

"No, it's not that. It's because of these stupid uniforms we have to wear!" you growl at Sammy and he rolls his eyes. "I look horrible," you whine.

"Oh my god, Y/n, you look fine, now get out of the car," Dean says, opening the car door for you.

You sigh dramatically and exit the car hesitantly. The boys watch you with blank expressions as you smooth out the wrinkles in the blue full-body uniform. "I hate this," you mutter, then join the boys on their stroll down the sidewalk.

"Yeah, me too," Dean agrees, glancing at Sammy. "You know, I've got to say, Dad and me did just fine without these stupid costumes. I feel like a high-school-drama dork."

"Amen," you mumble, crossing your arms around yourself self consciously.

Dean chuckles to himself. "What was the play you did? What was it--'Our Town?'" he asks Sammy. "Yeah, you were good. It was cute."

Your face brightens at the memory. "I remember that! Gosh, remember the dancing? So precious," you gush, the memory of Sam and other children dancing on stage while dancing in funny costumes making you forget about your appearance.

"Look, do you guys want to pull this off or not?" Sam asks defensively.

"I'm just saying these outfits costed hard-earned money, okay?" Dean replies.

"Whose?" Sam challenges.

"Ours. You think credit-card fraud is easy?" Dean retorts and you chuckle, the lengths you had to go to get the cards extreme enough to give you back pain.

You smooth down your costume as you approach the apartment building. You smile at the deserted lobby.


"Thanks for letting us look around," Sam says to the victim's landlord as she unlocks the door.

"Well, the police said they were done with the place, so..." The lady shrugs and walks into the room, Sam next to her. You trail behind the two and Dean closes the door,taking note of the two sets of locks.

"You guys said you're with the alarm company?" the landlord asks as she steps into the living room. Blood pools in the center of the room, splattered across the floor and white carpet.

That's gonna be a bitch to remove, you think, looking down at the blood on the carpet.

"That's right," Dean answers the woman.

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