I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Where Are You?

Calliope struggled to hide the way her hands shook and her cheeks flushed. Her skin prickled with tension, the instinctive drive that told her to run in the back of her mind crumbling with each step closer that she took. She could feel her getting closer, different than she had ever felt it before.

She turned towards the woods surrounding the home she had made for herself - this little cut out of the sweltering Alabama landscape was nothing like the wilderness she had to endure on her own. Here, she had a family, people who loved her and depended on her.

She could've had that before. Could've had that with her.

"Ye gonna keep starin', or are ye gonna get in?" Gator called out, dragging Calliope from her thoughts. She jumped in fright and stared up at the angular, pink-haired minx of a woman who grinned down at her from the bed of the pickup. "Y'alright there, Cal?"

"Fine," she answered sharply and Gator raised a brow in response. "I-I'm fine." Her voice shook and she dropped her gaze before gripping the tailgate tightly. Gator moved over, making enough room for Calliope between all the weapons bags and various supplies that littered the pickup bed.

Gator slapped the roof of the truck a few times and cackled out a brief 'all good back here, 'Dalgo!' The truck roared to life moments later, its old frame shaking under the power of the engine. Calliope settled into her spot, back to the cab of the track, and drew her knees to her chest.

"Y'sure yer alright?" Gator's voice cut through the roar of the truck engine. Calliope dropped her chin on her knees and watched the now empty soft blue ranch house fade, residents all suffering through their own hunts, trees quickly obscuring it from sight. It wasn't long until the dirt road shifted to pavement and Hidalgo turned onto the nearby highway.

"Just nervous," she replied, flashing what she hoped to be a reassuring grin. "First hunt in a while."

Gator hummed, a noise that sounded much more like a crackle on her rough vocal cords. "I get ye. Ain't no fun, the first time in a while. Takes some time to get back into the swing of it."

Calliope remained silent, her eyes transfixed on the open road behind the truck, clouds of dust rising beneath the tires. She felt as though she was being watched, an icy gaze that she had only seen a handful of times watching her every movement. Tracking her just as it had when she was in foster care. Chasing her just as it had when she ran away.

She shivered and buried her face in her knees. It was the one bond she wished to forget - she craved the bond this new family of hers had. It was the only one she wanted. But this old one... it was festering, and wretched. She didn't want it.

It is unfortunate that skinwalkers are always connected to their maker.

---

"Kill them."

As soon as the words left his mouth I lunged towards the mastiff, jaws locking around its throat, and threw it to the ground. It whimpered out a pitiful yelp as its head collided with the rough earth, head throbbing and throat sore from the rough grip.

A thunderous roar and ear-splitting howls rang out in the hills, nearly deafening the pained yelps of the mastiff as I sank my fangs into its throat, shaking violently. Flesh ripped and tore, blood dripping down my jaws, though I paid it little mind. My eyes were focused on the flood of skinwalkers racing toward me.

A figure barreled into me from behind, jaws clamping around the back of my neck. I released the mastiff and rolled onto my back, crushing my attacker beneath me. The wolf-dog released, lungs deflating at the bulk of my weight crashed into him.

I spun as a claw reached up to rake my side, ripping the skin. With a snap of my jaws, I gripped the wolf-dog's shoulder, grinding the plate between my teeth. The bone cracked, blood rushing forward as the skin tore, fur filling my mouth. The wolf-dog howled, battering my skull with rough claws. With a final wrench, I yanked his shoulder forward, feeling the muscles give and the joint pop.