I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader]

I Quit

"Do you?" he questioned, turning his green eyes on mine. I sucked in a deep breath and held his gaze for a few long moments.

"No," I finally replied quietly and dropped my gaze. "No, not forever."

I wanted to help others, and I had the ability to do so. It would be wrong of me not to act on that, right? At some point, I would need to draw the line as to how far I would go to help others, and how much I was willing to give up. My pack- my family meant so much to me, but truthfully, I was terrified for them. I was beginning to think I couldn't save anyone.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" I asked, fingers digging into the thin fabric of the duvet. Dean turned his green eyes to meet mine, lips pursed in deep thought and mild irritation, as though he was already tired of people asking him that.

"I'm fine," he grumbled, frowning in the weak light. "I promise, I'm alright." Before I had a chance to retort, sounds of laughter echoed from the kitchen. Dean turned to face the open doorway, a serious look masking his once tired features.

"I guess that's my cue to leave," he spoke, eyes never leaving the doorway. He stood and brushed off his jeans, bits of ash and dust spiraling to the floor. I watched his movements, wishing he would sit down and continue talking with me. He was shutting down, blocking out whatever he was feeling - it wasn't healthy, and I wanted to help if he would let me. "It's getting late. You should get some sleep," he said. And with that, he left me alone in the dark room without a chance to respond.

---

I nipped at Calliope's heels playfully as she ran, a fabric bag of groceries clamped tightly between her jaws. It felt good to finally get out of the house after a week of being cooped inside; it had put all three of us in a playful mood, although Booth was certainly less excitable than Calliope. The older dog was content to sit back and watch us romp.

In the distance I could see Bobby's house, the wrought iron gate towering high and the edges obscured by thick trees. The house had been so cold and quiet, like every inch of the dilapidated home was grieving over John. No one had discussed it, at least, not around Dean. The elder Winchester hadn't said a word regarding his father's death, and instead had busied himself with the Impala, doing his best to repair the ramshackle car.

I frowned and trotted behind Calliope as she made her way through the rows of cars towards the front of the house. Her curled, fluffy tail wagged with each stride, blue eyes wide with excitement. I wished the others could find as much joy in the little things as she did - even Booth, who was often the voice of reason, had been quiet, not entirely sure how to comfort. Truthfully, his methods of comforting were more aggressive and realistic than others, but he meant well.

Booth loped into the yard, a large bag of his own held in his firm jaws. He held his head high, tilted back slightly to keep the bag as far off the ground as possible - while larger than a normal blue heeler, he was still much smaller than Calliope and I and stood maybe hip height on the average adult. His frosty blue eyes held a look of playful annoyance, and he would surely tease us for leaving him behind.

Calliope shifted, her old tennis shoes that were definitely too small for her trudged through the dust with a bag in each hand. I followed suit, my own boots leaving tracks in the dirt, dust coating my flannel and jacket. It was cold in South Dakota, and while Calliope enjoyed the weather change I was often left shivering until mid-afternoon. I was thankful that summer was fast approaching, ushering out the chill.

"We're back with lunch!" Calliope called and held the screen door open for Booth and I. Sam stood from his place on the couch in the living room and took a bag from Booth's extended hand, helping us sort out where everything went. He looked rather cheerful today and his bruises had faded until they were almost gone.