I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Don't Worry About Me

A flurry of colorful swears that would make any sailor proud left my lips as I shoved Dean into the passenger's seat of the Impala. He was lean, but God was he heavy; I scoffed as I dug around in his pockets in search of his keys. Must've been all the burgers and God knows what else he constantly ate that made him weigh as much as a damn tank.

I tilted his head forward and pressed a few fingers to the back of his head. The spot wasn't large by any means, though it was bleeding enough to have my heart pounding and slight hunger brewing in the pit of my stomach. He was alive, and that was all that mattered.

With a sigh, I pressed my forehead to his warm pants, fanning the freckles dusting his cheeks. "You're going to be the death of me Winchester," I grumbled before releasing him. I was barely in the driver's seat before I had the car started and was pulling onto the road.

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and chewed, worrying the flesh to the point that it stung. I didn't care much, instead of taking every few seconds to glance back at Dean's form and then return my attention to the road.

Except my attention wasn't on the road. I was buried in my thoughts, bouncing between the attack and Sasha's call. My heart thundered in my chest, my fingers jerking the wheel erratically. Something was wrong, I could feel that much. My skin felt like it was crawling, a heat-like fire rising at the base of my neck.

Booth's gone, she had said. Missing. I clamped my teeth down on my lips, ignoring the thin drops of blood that rose between the dry flesh.

A shuffling from beside me and I snapped my eyes over to Dean. He shifted and tilted his head back, his fingers reaching up to brush the tender spot on the back of his head. I nearly swerved when he cracked his eyes open.

"Christ Dean, you scared me there," I growled and settled my hands on the steering wheel once again. "How're you feeling?"

"Like a werewolf handed my ass to me..." he grumbled and sat up, swearing with each movement. I swallowed nervously, watching him from the corner of my eye. "Did you call Sam?"

"No," I answered curtly. "Haven't exactly thought about it." Dean clucked his tongue and winced at the sound, his hand reaching around to touch his head once again. He seemed surprised by the flecks of dried blood that came back. "So was it her? Madison?"

He nodded his head and winced once again as we rounded a corner, the first blossoming rays of the early morning sun peeking between the buildings. "Yeah - shit - bitch was chowing down, didn't take too kindly to me interrupting her meal."

"Think she knows?"

He shrugged and fumbled for his phone in his pocket, his head tilted back against the seat and his eyes closed. He finally wrenched the device from his pocket and immediately dialed Sam's number, tapping his foot with each ring.

"Dean, are you OK?" Sam's voice came from the other end, gravelly and tired. Had he not slept?

"Yeah, now that I'm conscious," Dean snapped and ran his fingers through his messy and partially bloodstained hair. "Your little girlfriend knocked me out. It's Madison, Sam- she's the wolf."

"What? Dean, I've been here all night! She's in bed, asleep," he crowed, the sound of heavy footsteps following his words.

"The gash in your brother's head says otherwise!" I spoke loud enough for Sam to hear. Dean winced and I muttered a soft 'sorry' in response. "You tried to shoot her, right-?"

"-You shot her-!?"

"Did you actually manage to hit her?"

Dean clicked his tongue and sat up in his seat slowly, a grimace on his lips. "Maybe? Sam check her arm, maybe just above the elbow. It was silver, so it should leave a mark."