I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Despite it not quite being spring yet, the North Dakota weather was quite warm. With not a tree in sight, it was just me and the bright sun, its rays beating down on me until I was dripping sweat. It didn't take long for me to remove my leather jacket and wrap it around my waist, the hot sun warming my now exposed shoulders.

I wasn't far from the eastern Montana border. I was in the badlands at this point, enjoying the scenery and the steep, jagged cliffs. Nothing like back home. The view rivaled that of the vast flax fields I had passed some hours ago, their stems and shoots a vibrant green. In just a few short months those fields would turn a pale purple from the sheer number of tiny purple flowers. I wished I could be here to see that.

After hours of walking my limbs had found an odd rhythm with my feet thumping haphazardly against the paved highway. Sometime later I would take notice of my throbbing feet and aching knees, and tread a little more gently. Eventually, I would lose interest and continue with my thundering.

I was sure that by now Dean had been alerted to my absence. I knew he would be furious, but I hoped that he would eventually understand -- after all, it wasn't a true goodbye. I knew that, had either of the boys asked me to, I would have stayed. Sam trusted me and my judgment, although he may not have agreed with it, and knew that my mind was made up. He wouldn't try to change it. Dean, however, always believed there was a better way – he was pushy that way, always getting so fixated on the task at hand and finding the best solution. He wasn't methodical about it like Sam was. No, he was all heart. I knew this about him because I had once been the same.

My mind wandered as I walked, never focusing on one thing for very long. Thoughts bounced around in my head like a pinball machine. It was an adventure -- what would I think up next?

For now, it settled on Dennis. I didn't like recalling my past - yes, it was a part of me, but it was a part of me I had left behind. No one from my past was with me anymore. Despite my uncle being dead for nearly a year and a half now, I could still picture his warm, inviting face. He was always a happy person, though I'm sure he often faked it. He was a firm believer in the idea that if you act happy, eventually you would become happy. I always admired that about him.

While living with him I had settled into a bad habit of playing the part of his negativity, which unfortunately stuck with me after his death. I couldn't help but see the shadows cast by the light - sometimes I thought this made me balanced, other times I saw it as a shadow blanketing me.

I remember the day I learned about his death. I had received a call from an officer in Georgia; they had found a body they wanted me to identify. I hardly believed it until I saw it with my own eyes.

I sighed loudly and rolled my shoulders, shifting the bag on my back. I could feel myself getting tense - this wasn't something I thought about very much, though I understood I couldn't just ignore it.

After only a day of driving one of his many rust-bucket pickups, I reached the sheriff's office, bursting through the doors and demanding to see the officer I had spoken to on the phone. Together, he and I had driven down to the coroner's office to identify the body.

It hit me like a semi when I saw him. I had expected him to look nightmarish, but the only flaw in his appearance was his ruptured skull, his missing brain, and his hair shredded. It was obvious that he had been attacked by the very wraith he had been hunting.

His face was immaculately clean, having been washed by the coroner before his autopsy. His eyes were closed and what I determined to be a faint smile was etched onto his lips. The skin around his eyes was wrinkled with age, laugh lines visible. His red beard was tidy, unlike his tousled brown hair - as a child I had teased him for his beard being a different color from his hair, although now I knew it wasn't that uncommon.