Good Dog Pt. 1 (Dean Winchester x Reader)
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!werewolf!reader
Warnings: Fictional violence, death, stalking (in an animalistic way?), guns, blood, some probably non-cannonical supernatural creature aspects (fate/imprinting? not sure what to call it), letting Dean swear bc he's a grown man, perspective switch about half way through (bold word tells you where it switches!!), I write dialogue like I speak so it feels natural to me
A/N: I'm horrible about consistent posting. My husband has been rewatching Supernatural so here's a Supernatural fic in the big 2025. Enjoy!
Dean was used to being hunted. It came with the job. But he wasn't used to the feeling of eyes on him 24/7.
It had started about a week ago. Coming home from a job, clothes splattered with blood and saturated in sweat. As soon as Dean's hand wrapped around the doorknob of a shitty motel door, he heard a deep rumble. He gave pause, searching his surroundings, but the sound had gone as quickly as it graced his ears.
Then there was the drive to the bar. It had been a grueling night and Dean just wanted to have a drink and shut his mind off. He could feel his mind begin to wander and his vision blur for a moment. He nearly missed the dark figure that darted into the road, forcing him to swerve on to the shoulder to avoid a collision. Dean popped his car door open and stepped out, the handle of his Colt clenched tightly in his hand. There was...nothing. No sign anything had been there in the first place. His free hand attempted to wipe the exhaustion from his face before he hit the road again.
Other strange events continued to happen. At least once a day, a sight, odd sound, or even just the feeling of something being out there made Dean's skin crawl.
Yet again he found himself laying in a cramped motel bed, staring at a 70's wallpaper that was peeling away and faded, lit only by the lamp at his side. He could hear Sam's soft snoring barely above the hum of a small air conditioning unit. Dean felt his limbs growing heavy. As he closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to relax, a loud scratch at the door jolted him upright.
"Sam, did you hear that?" Dean whispered. The younger brother didn't stir. "Yeah, okay. Of course not." He muttered, tossing the bedclothes off of him. His footsteps were light as he made his way to the door. A curious eye peered through the peephole. Everything appeared still, crickets continuing their songs without interruption. Dean would have slipped back into bed were it not for the sight of deep gouge marks in the ground close to the room he and Sam were in. An exhale he didn't notice he was holding blew harshly out of his body.
Dean grabbed the Colt from the nightstand and left the room, making sure to lock it behind him. He followed the grooves in the ground. A cold chill spread down his chest. Dean hesitated when he noticed they led into a wooded area close to the motel. He turned back to look at the door where Sam was sleeping, the thought of forgetting the night and just telling his brother what he saw later crossing his mind. But the past week of strange occurrences had him convinced he needed to deal with it.
It wasn't until Dean had completely lost the light of the motel sign that he began to hear the sound of leaves dragging on the ground. His eyes searched in the darkness, barely able to make out a figure moving away from him. He raised the gun in his hand, chambering a round. The figure stopped and appeared to stiffen. "Don't move." Dean rasped as he stepped closer. He could now see a second person on the ground, seemingly not moving. "Shit. What the fuck is going on here?"
The standing figure turned its head, revealing deep green eyes. A hand clutched at the figure's abdomen. Dean could see long fingernails wrapping around a still-bleeding wound. It didn't take long for the connection to click in his mind. "Go back inside, Dean." A feminine voice responded. The tone dripped with fatigue. It sounded almost pleading.
Dean continued to approach. "And leave a werewolf dragging a body in the woods? Tough shit lady." The picture in front of him became clearer. The person--rather, body--on the ground was obviously dead. They had the same long nails and green eyes as the woman next to them. "Okay, a werewolf who...killed another werewolf. And how do you know who I am? I'm giving you like, five seconds to fucking explain."
The woman turned around and Dean felt his eyes widen. He was no stranger to beautiful women, but it may have been the first time he'd met one like this.
You weren't sure he'd even believe you. "Firstly, pretty much anyone related to what you do knows who you are." Dean seemed to look off for a moment before nodding his head slightly. "Secondly, it's a weirder story than I think you'd like to hear when you're this tired."
He almost agreed before a look of confusion crossed his face. "You fuckin' stalking me?"
You shook your head. "No, but he was." You motioned to the dead werewolf on the ground. Dean looked at the man before locking eyes with you. "Look, I'd be more than happy to explain, but not here. You know as well as I do that there's bound to be some other freak in this woods looking to kill you."
The hunter shook his head. He lowered his gun, keeping it tightly in his hand. "I don't like this. Keep those fangs to yourself. I even get an inkling that you're thinking about bitin' me-"
"You'll shoot me dead and burn my body. Yeah, I get it. Help me take care of this guy and we can talk." You grabbed one of the male's arms, pulling him deeper into the woods. Reluctantly, Dean took hold of the other arm and assisted. It wasn't long before his body had been disposed of and you were silently walking alongside a man who on perhaps any other occasion would have already shot you.
Dean paused at the door to the motel room, turning back to face you. "Sam is in here sleeping. Don't wake him up, and don't touch him. Got it?" You only nodded in reply. You managed to slink into the bathroom without waking the younger Winchester brother.
Sitting on the edge of bathtub, you finally took another look at the wound on your side, noting it had quickly healed. A sigh of relief escaped your lips. Dean stood in front of the closed bathroom door, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. Your hands came up to rub your face.
"Dean, I don't really know how to explain this." It came out softly.
His jaw flexed. He leaned back slightly, his back pressing gently against the door. "Try."
"For about a week now, Clint-uh, sorry, that guy we took care of-has been absolutely losing his shit. I don't know why exactly, but he decided you were a good target to hunt. I'm sure you noticed the-"
"The weird shit that's been happening to me. Weirder than normal, I guess."
"Right, yeah. Well, I've been stopping him from getting close enough to hurt you. That night he tried to jump at your car, you probably saw me tackle him into the road." Dean nodded at your words. "And look, I'm not gonna give you the whole 'I'm different from the rest' spiel. I can't tell you why but I've got this, like, pull to protect you. It's instinctual."
You could see Dean inhale quickly. He held his breath for what seemed like forever.
"I guess I've heard stranger shit before. But as I'm sure you know, I don't tend to roll with werewolves. I don't even know your name."
You couldn't help but tell him your name. It was almost pleading, don't push me out. "I get it Dean, I do. But I can't stop whatever has me doing this."
Dean rubbed his eyes, a yawn threatening to roll off his tongue. HE was tired. "Okay, look. I don't know what to do about that. But I'm fucking tired and I need to sleep. You can stay but you have to leave before Sammy wakes up." He hesitated, chewing his lip. "If that makes your 'instincts' or whatever feel like I'm safe."
You stared up at him. At no point were you expecting a welcoming party, but you'd thought he'd maybe be a bit more appreciative. "It's fine Dean, really. I don't want any problems." You stood, taking a second to stretch. It was gonna be a long walk home. A tentative step was made toward the door before Dean's hand reached out and grabbed your arm.
"It's the least I can offer for you killing a werewolf to protect me. Even if I don't particularly like having one in my room."
You nodded, letting him pull the door open and lead you into the main room. Dean released your arm and sat in the lounger chair in the room. "I can rest there-" You whispered.
"It's fine. Take the bed. Your senses are better than mine, you'll wake up before Sam." He replied, shuffling in an attempt to make himself comfortable.
You crawled into the queen bed, noting the strong smell of the things that made up Dean's scent. Leather, alcohol, tobacco. It pulled at your heart a bit. You managed to choke down the feeling before closing your eyes.
When you finally awoke, you could sense that Sam was beginning to stir. Your eyes scanned over to Dean. He had managed to lean back and fall asleep at some point in the night. Slowly, you got out of the bed and padded over to him. A hand rested softly on his shoulder, giving it a shake. "Dean, go lay down. I'm leaving."
The man took a deep breath as his eyes opened. The corners of his mouth threatened to turn up in a small smile. He stood and shuffled over to the bed. "I guess...be safe out there. If there's more of 'em, find me."
One corner of your mouth pulled into a smile. "Okay." You stepped quietly by Sam. As you pulled the door open, you could feel something swell up in your chest. "I'll be there to protect you." It was matter-of-fact. "Even if you don't want or need it. I'll be out there."
It was the last thing you said before closing the door and starting the walk home.
You couldn't have known that Dean Winchester felt guilty for letting you go out that door. Werewolf or not. You couldn't have known that later that day, he'd tell Sam what happened and Sam bitched him out for not making you stay longer.
Dean didn't need protecting. He was a capable hunter. And he was used to being hunted.
