I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Yellow Eyes

I sipped on my lukewarm coffee as I watched John pace up and down the room, deep in thought. He had a stern frown on his face, as though he didn't quite believe what he was hearing

The brothers watched their father pace from their own perches, Dean sitting at the end of one bed with his own coffee, and Sam seated at the table, tapping his foot nervously against the carpeted floor.

John halted, his back to us and a puzzled look on his scruffy features. He spun on his heels and faced Sam. "A vision, huh?"

Sam spoke slowly, through gritted teeth. "Yes. I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling," he said flatly, hoping his father wouldn't push any further. I too hoped John would just take his word for it.

We didn't have time to be explaining all of this, and I had a feeling I knew John wouldn't be too happy about this conversation. To my knowledge, his son hadn't told him about Sam's odd visions, and I had no doubt that could potentially push him over the edge. No man as obsessed with authority as John could stomach his underlings hiding multiple secrets from them.

"And you think this is going to happen to this woman you met because..?" John asked, raising a brow in suspicion. I rolled my eyes and took another sip of my coffee, frowning at the bitter flavor and his continuous pacing.

"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them," Sam snapped as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. I glanced up at the analog clock hanging on the wall, its hands signifying that we had been sitting here for almost an hour. John hadn't arrived until about ten minutes ago, and now we were wasting time.

"It started out as nightmares. Then it started happening while he was awake," Dean added. He stood and padded across the carpeted floor towards the coffee machine, swishing the pot's contents and nodding in satisfaction before refilling his cup.

John stopped once more and glared at his sons, arms folded against his chest in the typical 'disappointed-dad' pose. "All right. When were you going to tell me about this?" Everyone turned to look at John with baffled expressions.

"It wasn't relevant, John," I offered. "He hasn't had visions for, what, months? I was beginning to think it had stopped." John glared at me with a vicious look, as though he wanted nothing more than for me to disappear. I shrunk into my seat and took another sip of my coffee, glaring right back at him.

"Something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me," John spat, pointing an accusing finger at his sons. I bit back a snarl and bolted upright, fully intending to launch to my feet and give him a piece of my mind.

Dean beat me to it and slammed the coffee pot on the counter, marching towards his father with a truly venomous look in his eyes. "Call you? Are you kidding me?" he spat, standing nose to nose with his father. "Dad, I called you from Lawrence, remember? Sam called you when I was dying. I mean, getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery."

John's nostrils flared and his lips twitched as though he was trying to hold back a scathing remark. After several long moments of heated glares, John finally dropped his scowl and spoke again. "You're right. Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."

I flinched. John, saying someone else was right? I had only known the man for a little over a month and had seen him a handful of times, but I knew he was not the kind of person to readily admit to his wrongness.

Dean took a step back, eyeing his father once more, and then turned and made his way back to the coffee pot. He leaned against the counter and surveyed the room as he took a sip of his refilled cup.