I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Learning

It had been a week already since the Winchesters left, and I felt utterly useless. My leg was healing quickly, but it would take a while before it was fully healed. It would take me weeks, maybe months to get it back up to its former strength.

I scowled with my arms folded tightly against my torso and reclined in a newly bought lounge chair as I watched my pack members scamper across the lawn or tussle with one another. Booth had taken it upon himself to educate the others on fighting - few of them were capable fighters.

At this point, I was more than ready to let Booth kick my ass in the ring, just so long as I could do something. I hadn't been on a run in weeks, and it was beginning to show. I could practically feel my muscles dampening. I would be sore after my next run, that much was certain.

Caeden was surprisingly competent when it came to fighting, though he refused to explain why. He had deep scars running across his dark shoulders in a twisting pattern that gave me chills. Seeing him fight... he had a certain cold viciousness about him that made me doubt my easy victory the day we played capture the flag.

I huffed and reached for my book on a small table beside me, ruffling the pages with my thumb. I really wasn't in the mood for reading, but I felt like I needed to do something with my hands. I sat up slowly and rolled my shoulders, enjoying the feeling of the harsh sun beating down on my exposed shoulders. We were well into spring now, and the weather was beginning to show it.

I stood and stretched my arms high over my head, feeling my bad shoulder pop. I flinched and brought my arms back down, rolling my shoulder once more. My shoulder was healing well. It was still sore and scarred, but the skin was beginning to heal over the top of it, closing the exposed wound. I expected that by the end of the week, it would be healed enough for me to start using it as I had before, though maybe with a little extra care.

I tucked my book under my arm and reached for my crutch - I only needed one now, thank God, and I could partially walk without it. Having to rely on an object to assist me was a new feeling. Any injuries I had previously had left me out of the game for maybe a day or two. The perks of healing quickly, I suppose.

I hobbled up the steps of the back porch and relished the shade of the lip of the roof overhanging the back door. I loved the sun, it made me feel warm, safe even, but it was sometimes too much. Blistering. The moon, however... gave me a sense of hope and purpose.

It was always odd to me, how much of a pull the moon had on skinwalkers. The closer to the full moon, the more excited I got and the more I wanted to go out and run. Sure, skinwalkers were cousins to werewolves, but we weren't the same - not even close.

I wondered how many of the old skinwalker legends were true. Were we really witches in the early ages of our species? The Navajo had always said we were evil and did harm to our fellow man. Had we always been wolves? Or were we once some odd cross between man and animal in our early days, like our cousins the werewolves?

I cared little for the concept of deities, but I know that would be one of the many questions I would ask God if I ever had the chance to speak to him. That, and maybe why he felt the need to make humans so defenseless. I mean honestly, it's one thing to give a monster built-in weapons, but to leave a creature defenseless so it feels the need to perfect the art of killing? That's ten times worse.

The back door was open, propped by a chair to let fresh air in. I hummed in delight at being in the air-conditioned house, relishing in the feeling of it not being stuffy for once. The humidity in Alabama made it hard to leave the windows open in the hopes of fresh air. Thank God for AC.

My eyes flitted around the room until they finally set on Sasha's bustling form. She was dashing between the laundry room and the living room, where she had baskets of clothes, either in need of washing or freshly folded.