I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Bite Me

The girl thought for a moment, then lowered the gun slightly. "I've never done anything to warrant hunters coming after me. Why are you here?" she spat, finger resting loosely on the trigger, barrel aimed for Dean's chest rather than his head. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if that was an improvement.

"We figured there was a werewolf in the area," began Sam. "We tracked it here, then found the witness. Turns out the witness was a-"

"Shit!" exclaimed the girl, dropping the gun until it was aimed for the ground at her feet. "Weaselly lookin' guy, goes by Raymond?"

Sam blinked twice in confusion. "Yeah, how-"

The girl cut him off again, laughing. "Are you two new at this or something? You never trust the monster!" She laughed again, clutching her stomach. Her shaggy H/C hair fell in her face, the ends messy as though it hadn't been trimmed in a while. "First of all, you're not hunting a werewolf."

The boys glared at her and Dean rolled his eyes, pursing his lips. "Clearly, we realize that now. Mind telling us what we are hunting?"

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes, frowning at the brothers as though she couldn't believe they were that stupid. "You boys ever heard of a skinwalker?"

Sam quickly glanced towards Dean in confusion. His brow creased with worry as he watched his brother's sarcastic features morph into shock. "I thought skinwalkers were wiped out?" Sam questioned, looking between the two.

"No," Dean said, glaring towards his brother. "No, dad hunted one years ago. You were barely out of diapers," his voice was dripping with awe and shock. "Don't think dad ever managed to get it- always thought it was one step ahead." He narrowed his eyes in suspicion and folded his arms over his chest, finger tapping the trigger of the gun. "Last successful skinwalker hunt I heard of was- what, maybe eighty years ago. Bunch of hunters think they're extinct."

"Skinwalkers aren't common," the girl interjected. "We like to stay hidden."

Sam snapped his gaze up to meet hers. "You're a skinwalker?"

She rolled her eyes again. "How else am I supposed to turn into a wolf? Magic?" She threw up her hands in exasperation, then clutched her bleeding arm, gun resting loosely in her hands. She wasn't too worried - it wasn't a silver bullet, so she would heal quickly.

"So you're buddy, Raymond-" Dean started.

"-He's not my buddy."

"- is also a Skinwalker? Why'd he sell you out?"

The girl paused for a moment, thinking about her answer. "There's a pack near here. They set up shop about six months ago. They only started killing people recently though. Used to hunt animals, kept a low profile."

"And you're not part of the pack?" Sam questioned, knowing monsters like werewolves tended to rove in groups. Skinwalkers were thought to be cousins to werewolves, as they had similar qualities, such as a vulnerability to silver and an infectious bite. He assumed the pack mentality would be the same.

"No." she snapped bitterly. "I'd never hurt people. I hunt animals, thank you. Besides, I was here first; this is my uncle's place. I moved in with him a few years ago, and he left the place to me." She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and her eyes quickly swept over the house.

"Where's your uncle now?" Sam inquired, a tinge of concern in his voice.

"He's dead. Died a little over a year ago, on a wraith hunt."

"He was a hunter?"

"One of the best. So was my mom, before she got bit," she frowned at the brothers and threw her hands up in a gesture that was meant to say 'obviously'. "So yeah, I was kind of raised to not eat people."

She hung her head a bit, wrapping her arm around herself, as if looking for comfort from someone who was no longer around. The brothers watched her for a few moments, taking in her appearance. Her dirty jeans had scuffed knees and were frayed around the edges, by her ankles. Roughened combat boots were tied tightly to her feet and an oversized denim jacket rested loosely over her shoulders, one sleeve now stained with blood.

Dean took in a nervous breath. The girl glanced up at him, her H/L hair falling in her face. "Why does the pack want you dead?" he asked.

The girl paused again as if wondering how much to give away. She furrowed her brows in thought before once again meeting their eyes.

"Packs have a hierarchy. Biggest dog is in charge. You only get to easily be the biggest if you're a pure-blooded skinwalker." Her eyes jumped between the boys, gauging their reaction. They still looked as confused as ever. She sighed and began picking at the bloody fabric of her jacket. The blood from her wound already seemed to be clotted.

"Pure-bloods... are ones who have two parents that were skinwalkers too. My mom... she was turned before I was born. My dad was pure-blooded. He was second generation." She met Dean's eyes, a challenging glare set upon her features. "That makes me a third generation skinwalker. A rarity in the monster world. It also makes me top dog in a pack, something I don't want, and certainly not something an insecure alpha would want."

The room was silent. The only sound came from the wind quietly billowing through the open front door.

"He's afraid you'll take his pack?" Sam asked, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She nodded.

Dean glared at the floor, his fists tightened. "Whatever reason he has to kill you doesn't matter. He still needs to be stopped - he can't just keep killing people." Sam nodded in agreement, holstering his gun and wiping his sweating palms on his jeans.

Dean turned to the girl and locked eyes with her, his green eyes cold. "You should leave. You don't want to be here when we take out the pack." He threw the last few words over his shoulder as he turned to exit the house, holstering the gun.

She scoffed at him, "You really expect to defeat a pack of fifteen skinwalkers, maybe more, on your own? Are you two amateurs, or did you hit your heads too hard?"

Dean visibly bristled, his back tensing as he whipped around and snarled, "What do you expect us to do!? We can either take them out, or die trying!"

"I expect," she started, taking a few steps towards the porch, a surprisingly menacing glare adorning her features, "for you to take me with you."

Dean's mouth fell open in surprise and his eyebrows raised. "You want to help us?"

She flashed an almost wolfish grin, "Well yeah, how else do you expect to win a fight like this?" She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled widely. "Frankly, I'm tired of that asshole alpha harassing me and killing people. I just want a peaceful life, you know>"

Sam glanced nervously between the girl and his brother as Dean contemplated the pro's and con's of the situation.

Pro: Another fighter that could help them win the fight.

Con: She might turn on them and attack them.

Pro: They're less likely to die.

Con: She might turn on them and attack them-

"Alright fine!" he exclaimed, "Fine. You can come with us."

She cheered, throwing her arms into the air in excitement. "Bout time you two decide to do something smart!"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Whatever Sparky, just get in the damn car. And don't get fur on the upholstery."

"Wouldn't dream of it," her smirk audible in her words.

"Just get in fido."

"It's not 'fido'-" she grumbled, climbing into the backseat. Dean glanced at her from the rearview, the engine starting with a loud purr and pulled slowly out of the driveway.

"My name's Y/N."

1890 words.

Edited 04/25/22.