The missing hunter - a supernatural fanfic
reposting this because i originally posted it on my main "private" blog but since i started writing more and posting more i thought why not make a blog just for that :) this fanfic takes place in the early years of the show since i’m only on season 10. I really like the vibe of the three/four first seasons. That’s also why Sam can’t crack the security camera– they haven't learned that yet :)
here's the AO3 link because i like posting there too, and i get more feedback thanks to the tags there!
part 2
words count: 2k
tw: blood, swearing, mention of a gun
part 1 - the missing member
“I don’t know what to say, Bobby,” Dean declared to the man at the other end of the phone.
The brothers were in a motel room in the middle of nowhere. Bobby had sent them there to find someone dear to him that disappeared a few days ago. But so far, they had no lead.
“Her stuff is still in the room, uh?”
Dean turned around from the parking lot to take another look at the small place. “Yeah, still here.”
There was silence and then Bobby’s voice broke through the phone’s speaker.
“That’s not like her. She might be in some kind of trouble.”
A frown appeared on Dean’s face. He'd never heard Bobby sound so helpless. That person, that woman whoever she was, must be someone precious to him.
“What do you want us to do?”
Sam was seated on the single large bed in the room, his laptop on his knees, fidgeting with the keyboard.
“I’ll give you her number. Maybe she’ll answer if it’s not me.” The pain in those last words made Dean sad. Who was she for Bobby to care so much and act like this?
Dean hung up, closed the door and walked toward Sam.
“What’d he say?”
“To try to call her.”
The look on Dean and Sam’s face said it all. They were aware the worst could have happened. Dean dialed the number and waited a few seconds before a ringtone was heard in the room. The two of them released a small sigh, stood up and searched for the device. The eldest found it under the bed, the battery almost dead and the screen cracked in half. He held it up for Sammy to see, and they both exchanged a look. Something bad definitely happened here.
They decided to go back to town and retrace every last step of the missing person. It led them to a bar on the avenue. A row of motorcycles were parked in front of the establishment, and the facade was all dark wood which added to the pouring rain and gloomy atmosphere. Everything in this town is dark and creepy, Dean thought.
They entered and were welcomed by suspicious glares from guys all around the place. Some were seated at tables drinking beer , others were playing billiards but stopped the moment the brothers appeared. The bartender shot them a look of annoyance. Clearly the people here didn't like strangers.
Nonetheless, Sam cleared his throat and asked, "Um, hi. We're looking for a young woman.”
"So am I." said a voice somewhere and the other men laughed.
Dean felt exasperated by their behavior and wanted only one thing at the moment: to get the hell out of there. So he talked, a bit too abruptly maybe. "Young, brown hair, pale skin, and approximately this size," he measured by holding up a hand. Truly he didn't know the woman, but Bobby gave them a description since he had no recent pictures of her.
The bartender snorted noisily and kept swiping off drops of water on the beer mugs in his hands.
"Depends what I get for helping you?"
There was no cooperation, and the Winchesters started to lose patience.
"Listen, buddy, it's a life or death situation here. She might be in danger, we need to find her." Dean's voice was low and raw, he could barely control himself not to punch the man in the face.
He slightly opened his brown leather jacket with the hand holding a shiny silver gun. The barman repressed an insult and took a quick look around.
“Look, if i were you, i wouldn’t show this to anyone here.” “Question of life and death.” he added pointedly to mock the brothers.
His sarcastic tone did not escape Dean, whose gaze became sharper, harder. Finally the man behind the bar started saying something interesting.
“There aren’t a lot of women comin’ in here, so yeah i remember some chick comin’ in. She sat at the bar and drank a scotch.”
Sam leaned forward, “Anything else?”. The man grunted but continued. “There was something weird about her, like she was on edge. She was constantly looking behind her shoulder.” He put the glass behind the bar and leaned on the counter, then added “I mean maybe she didn’t feel safe here since she was the only woman.”
“Did something happen? Did she leave with someone?” Dean pressed, raising his eyebrows.
The barman seemed to think for a moment. “Yup, I think I remember her leaving with some guys.”
“Anything weird or unusual about the guy?”
“He was grabbing her by the arm. Not in a gentle way, you know. It seemed she wasn't willing to go with them.”
“And you didn’t call the police or stop them?” asked Sam almost with a shocked tone.
“Why would I?”
Dean's patience was more than thin now. If he stayed one more minute he would definitely shoot the man right here, right now. “Alright, enough. let’s go Sammy.”
“Wait,” Sam said, “which direction did they take?” The barman didn’t even bother speaking, and just pointed the way with his head.
And so they strode out of the bar toward the Impala, in the light rain that hadn’t stopped since their arrival. “Oh I swear this rain is making me crazy. Everything about this town is weird, man.” Dean muttered, his hands on the wheel, driving the car out of the parking back on the road. Since there was nothing for miles in the direction the man had indicated, they decided to go back to the motel room and wait in the car in case she showed up.
Sammy also tried to take a look at the security camera, but his skills with a laptop weren’t that sophisticated. He couldn’t break into the town website to access the cameras. So they waited. Dean eventually went out to fetch dinner, and they waited for hours.
Finally, when they were both struggling to keep their eyes open, a silhouette appeared. In the dark night it was impossible to guess who it was, but the stranger stopped at the door of the room they were watching, and after a moment struggling with the key, the shadowy silhouette disappeared inside the room. The Winchesters didn’t waste a second and got out of the car toward the room’s door as if they weren’t about to fall asleep a second ago.
It wasn’t locked from the inside, so they pushed it slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible because who knows who was- or what was, that silhouette.
The boys entered the small room slowly, guns in hands. The lights were on but the place was empty. A noise came out from the bathroom followed by a grunt. At the very moment the brothers appeared at the bathroom’s door, the silhouette turned around and held a gun at them.
“Drop the gun! Now!”
“Who are you?”
“You, who are you?”
The three of them pointing guns at each other and yelling in confusion would’ve been a funny image if the tension was not that palpable and if the stranger was in a less miserable state.
“You’re two against one, that’s not really fair.” The voice was calm and steady but felt a bit out of breath. Indeed, the silhouette was soaked in blood, her clothes dirty with mud and rain. Her hair was a mess, clearly she hadn’t had access to any commodities for a few days.
“Wait,” said Sam, “are you y/n?”
Suspicious, the woman kept the boys at gunpoint, clutching her weapon like a lifeline. “How would you know?” she asked, her brows furrowed and her chest heavy with short breaths.
“Dean, I think it’s her.” And with that assumption they both lowered their guns. “Bobby sent us looking for you.”
“Looking for me?” she asked, as if she hadn’t understood Sam’s sentence in the first place and needed confirmation of what she heard. But all of a sudden the world started to spin and she wasn’t steady on her feet anymore. She stumbled back against the sink and let her arm fall down by her side, the gun pointed toward the ground. She placed the back of a bloodied hand against her forehead and closed her eyes tight, trying to make the room stop spinning and the white stars popping in her visions disappear.
“Hey, you alright?” Dean knew it was a stupid question considering how dirty and tired she seemed, so he added, “you hurt?”
And all y/n was capable of doing at this very moment was to stare at the two boys in front of her, her memory working like a DVD on fast forward. She couldn’t stop. Maybe didn’t want to, because her brain brought back memories she thought were long forgotten. She doubted they even remembered her at all, and at that thought her heart skipped a beat.
“Hello? Anyone in here?” Dean pressed sarcastically, like he was talking to some stupid teenager.
Getting back her senses, y/n cleared her throat and articulated a week “yeah” that sounded more like an exhausted plea. The brothers didn’t seem to buy it either, judging by the concerned look they both shot at her.
“Seriously, I'm fine. Just.. tired.”
“Where the hell were you to make Bobby worry-sick?”
What? Dawn almost choked on her own saliva. Bobby being so worried he’d send John’s boys after her? Why would he do such a thing when she’s already proved numerous times she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself? And suddenly emotions flooded in her. Not good emotions. “Why are you here? I’m a grown up, I can watch out for myself. I’ve been hunting my whole life y’know.” The words came out more harshly than she’s intended to. She stormed out of the bathroom, bumping into the boys, barely suppressing a wince because of her bruises.
In her backpack was a first aid kit. She took it and sat on the bed while taking off her dirty sweatshirt. But by the time she was opening the kit to fetch out something useful, Dean snatched it off her hands. “Hey! We’re talking to you here! We drove hours to come here because Bobby asked us to! Because he was worried you’d get yourself into trouble, and that’s how you’re thanking us?”
Dean was pissed. Sam though didn’t say a thing but gave his brother’s arm a slight hit. “Dude, c’mon. Look at her.” That’s what Dean did, he took in the messy states she was in. Blood on her left temple, trailing down her chin and neck, the right cheek looking slightly bruised. Cuts all over her arms and dirt on her hands and under her nails, even on her face. She seemed like someone who had just spent hours in filthy air ducts. Or in the forest running after something– or running for her life maybe.
No one said a word for what seemed to be an eternity, then y/n stood up slowly and walked back to the bathroom to try to wash out her hands, arms and face. She winced every time she touched a cut or a bruise but did not let it show. She was facing John’s boys, and she knew by experience that there were nothing that could make them flinch. So she did what she always forced herself to do since she met them when they were only kids. She clenched her jaw, and kept her composure as neutral as she could– but she was so tired, the dark circles under her eyes said it all.