Chapter Text
Dean Winchester was, as much as he could be, a pretty normal guy. He was a firefighter in his hometown of Lawrence, Kansas. A few months ago, he even moved in with his girlfriend Lisa and her son Ben. His brother Sam was currently in Law school. And, as far as Dean was concerned, his life was a good one. He was happy most days, and the days he wasn’t he had people to talk to. So, a normal life.
It was the kind of life where the most exciting thing that happened to him was someone accidentally setting their kitchen stove on fire. It was the kind of life where Dean went to baseball games with his girlfriend and her kid where he cheered like a maniac every time they scored, and Dean had thought that would be the most exciting part of his day.
Not quite.
The game had ended a little earlier, and Ben’s team won, so Dean, Lisa and Ben were going to go out for a celebratory dinner. Most of the other people had already left, except for parents waiting for their kids. Ben was the last to come out, practically running towards Dean and Lisa, buzzing with excitement. They had just gotten to the cars, since Dean had driven separately from work, when his phone rang.
“It’s work.” He glanced apologetically at Lisa and Ben. “You guys go ahead and get a table at the restaurant, I’ll be there before you know it.” Dean flashed a grin at Ben and kissed Lisa’s cheek before turning and absentmindedly walking back towards the baseball diamond, the lights still bright against the now dark sky.
Dean could hear the sound of Lisa’s car starting and pulling away as his boss told him they would need him at work tomorrow, then proceeded to talk for a lot longer than necessary about how his day had been and how glad he was to have Dean working with them. The chief really liked to talk, so it was a miracle when Dean finally got him to hang up.
Sighing in annoyance at having to work on his ‘day off’, Dean turned to make his way back to his car, but a voice from the baseball diamond drew his attention. Peeking around the fence, Dean’s eyes focused on the only two people out there. He was too far away to see clearly, but Dean felt pretty sure both figures were girls.
“Look, I don’t know who you are, but you don’t get to threaten me!” The woman facing Dean was talking, and her voice sounded like those words were made for it. “My clothes are worth more than you are, so-“
“Charlotte, North Carolina. 10 years ago.” The woman with her back to Dean was talking now. The words were just that to Dean, but the first woman’s eyes widened and the color drained from her face. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, like she was trying to speak but couldn’t get the words out.
“H-how do you know about that?” Her voice was so low that Dean could barely hear it, even as he moved closer, ready to step in if things took a turn.
“Oh, Naomi, I know because I was there! You didn’t forget me, did you? That would really hurt my feelings.” The other woman’s voice sounded slightly, wrong. Dean didn’t know why, but something about it made his skin crawl.
She took a step forward towards the other woman, Naomi, her hand going for a pocket on her coat. Naomi stumbled backwards, landing unceremoniously in the dirt, and Dean decided to make his presence known.
“Hey! What’s going on here?”
Both women turned to him, and Dean finally got a good look at the one with the creepy voice. Her hair was short and dirty blonde, stopping right above her shoulders. She was wearing all black, and her skin was unusually pale. She looked at Dean for a few seconds, annoyed, before turning and setting her sights back on Naomi.
“This is none of your business, boy. Leave.”
Her voice was so commanding Dean almost listened. But then he caught sight of Naomi’s face and knew he wasn’t leaving. He tried to speak to the woman, but the she pulled out a knife and Dean’s voice caught in his throat.
The knife was more the size of a machete than a pocket knife, and wickedly curved, the blade a black that looked blue in the night from the waning moon’s light. She gave one more look to Dean, as if to say now’s his last chance, then she walked towards Naomi who still hadn’t moved, sitting petrified, in the dirt. Dean was fully aware that the woman with the knife was dangerous, but there was no way he was going to leave someone to die when he had a chance to stop it. He had spent his whole life taking care of others, he wasn’t about to stop now.
Dean barked out a “Hey!” at the woman, who looked in Dean’s direction again. She looked seriously pissed off, her mouth a tight line. Then, she relaxed, flashed him a grin, and talked. “Well, two is better than one anyway.” She took a few steps towards him, then closed her eyes. When she opened them, Dean felt his heart skip a few beats.
Her eyes were pure white, no pupils, no irises, just pure white. The way she looked at Dean, as if she could see his all the way down to his bones, hell, Dean wasn’t sure he could move if he tried. Just a second ago, Dean thought he could take her, big ass knife be damned. But with those eyes staring at him unblinkingly, he wasn’t so sure.
Still, Dean was not one to go down without a fight, and Naomi was still sitting on the ground, unmoving. He had barely taken his eyes off of the white eyed woman before she started moving. Dean backed up, hand reaching for the gun in the holster at his hip before remembering; it’s not there. It’s locked up in the glove compartment of his car. No way was he being one of those people who took a gun into a school. So instead Dean just keeps backing away, trying to draw her away from Naomi so she could run, get out, but she still hadn’t moved, sitting dumbly in the dirt.
Dean tried to tell her to run, but the words hadn’t even left his mouth before he was being forced to jump backwards, narrowly avoiding the white eyed woman’s knife from cutting through his chest. That was all Dean could do really, jump away and run from her, who was smiling the whole time she tried to cut Dean to ribbons. As hard as he tried, Dean couldn’t even get a swing in, devoting all of his energy and awareness into not getting killed by this woman- no, not a woman, not a normal one at least. Thing, Dean decided, was a bit more accurate.
They went on like this for what felt like hours, but Dean knew it was only a minute or so, and he knew he was beginning to tire. There was no way he could keep doing this, but he had no idea if Naomi had even moved yet, not daring to take his eyes off this creature for even a second.
Finally, Dean’s luck wore out. He didnt dodge quite fast enough, getting knocked to the ground by the hilt of white eye’s knife. Dean landed hard in the dirt, the air leaving him, and barely had time to look up before the knife was splitting through the air, coming straight for him and oh god, he was about to die, wasn’t he? He had had a few moments when a fire got bad, but they had never felt quite as real to him as this did. He was usually reckless, but now he realized his life was important, and he suddenly realized how much he didn’t want to lose it.
Dean’s eyes closed, and he held his breath for the sharp sting as the blade met flesh, but it never came. Instead, he opened his eyes to find someone else standing over him, their back to him. Dean was too shocked to move, staring in disbelief at the person who put themselves between him and white eyes.
Then the stranger turned, and Dean was met with a flash of bright blue eyes.
“Go! Get her, and get out!” The man yelled at Dean, and that was all he needed. He sprang to his feet, running in the direction he last saw Naomi, who was still sitting dumbly in the grass, looking for all the world like a deer in the headlights.
“Come on,” Dean grunted, hauling her to her feet. “We gotta move!” He grabbed her by the arm, all but dragging her across the diamond to the gate leading to the cars. He stopped there, pushing her forward, telling her to call the cops while sprinting to his own car, fumbling for his keys and unlocking both the door and the glove compartment as fast as he can. He took barely a second to catch his breath before he’s running again, gun in his hand, holster forgotten, back to the baseball diamond. He caught a glimpse of Naomi on her phone, frantically waving her free arm around, and her panic tinged voice before he’s back in the gate.
It takes Dean barely any time to size up the situation. White eyes was facing him, her wicked black blade gleaming and moving fast. The strange man who saved Dean had his back to him, but Dean could see he has some kind of weapon too, and was managing to fight off the white eyed creature, even almost getting a few hits in.
Now, normally, Dean would try anything other than violence to solve a situation like this.
But this was not normal.
Steeling himself, Dean clicked off the safety of his pistol, raised It, and yelled,
“Hey you white eyed bitch!”
Both of them turned to him, one pair of white eyes, one of blue, both confused. The blue eyed stranger seemed to realize what’s happening a second before white eyes did, diving to the side. This seemed to bring an almost instinct from White eyes, who’s blade curves as if to hit the stranger as he dives, but then the bullet Dean fired hits her square in the chest.
What happens next is not exactly what Dean was expecting. The white eyed woman simply blinked a few times, looked down at her chest, then back at Dean. Her pure white eyes just stared at him for several long seconds, and Dean had that feeling of being paralyzed again. Then, as absurd as it was, she laughed, a deep, mirth filled chuckle, before winking at Dean and saluting him.
Dean was about to fire off another shot, but then there was no one there, like she had just vanished into thin air. Blinking, Dean looked around, expecting to see her running off in some direction but there’s just nothing, no one. Well, no one except the stranger.
He was lying face down in the grass, just to the side of the baseball diamond, unmoving. Something akin to panic flared in Dean’s chest, tucking the gun into the waist of his jeans as he jogged over to the man.
“Hey,” He started, flipping the man over. “Hey, are you alright? That la- that thing’s gone now, you’re gonna be ok- oh god.” It was something Dean was usually good at, comforting people. But as soon as the man was flipped onto his back, Dean felt his stomach flip.
There was a long cut across the guy’s chest. It had gone clean through his shirt and his skin, and it was bleeding. That wasn’t the part that made Dean sick though. It was the blackish tinge to the wound, like a really bad infection had already taken root, that made Dean want to throw up.
The guy’s eyes were closed; he was unconscious, and that much wasn’t a surprise. Dean was trying to figure out where to start when all of a sudden the woman from earlier was yelling at him, telling him the ambulance would be here in 20 minutes and the cops sooner.
He simply nodded in response, eyebrows furrowing. The hospital was 10 minutes way from the school, so why was it going to take them so long? This dude was in serious need of some kind of medical attention, more than Dean could give, and it was gonna take them that long?
Sighing, Dean decided he had to interfere. Even if the cops got here before the ambulance, it would still take too long to get this guy to the hospital. Dean could be there in 9 minutes, 8 if he sped. Dean took off his red flannel and tied it as tight as he could around the guy’s chest, trying to at least slow the bleeding. Making up his mind, Dean crouched down and hefted the injured man into his arms, his stomach churning every time he looked at the cut. It was a short walk to his car, but Dean hadn’t carried anyone of this guy’s weight like this in a long time, so he was out of breath by the time he set him down in the passenger’s seat.
The woman looked terrified, and Dean offered her a ride to the hospital as well. She hesitated before telling him she’d rather wait for the police. The stranger’s wound wasn’t getting any better, and the only thing wrong with the woman was a hoarse voice and probably shock. She’d be fine, Dean decided, sliding behind the wheel of his 67 Impala.
He had barely pulled away from the baseball field when he remembered Lisa and Ben, and he smacked himself. They were probably waiting for him at the restaurant before eating. They were going to celebrate Ben’s team winning, and Dean had forgot all about it in his near death experience. Dean took a deep breath as the line rang, waiting for Lisa to pick up and preparing for the verbal smack down he was about to get.
“Hey, baby.”
“Dean,” Lisa’s voice was already reprimanding, and Dean winced despite himself. He was a big guy, and most people were intimidated by him. But sometimes Lisa got this edge to her voice, perfected from years of being a high school teacher, and Dean felt like no more than a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Where are you? Did you forget about dinner?”
Dean sighed, trying to think of a way to explain his absence without lying entirely. There was no way he was dropping any of this on Lisa and Ben, especially not over the phone.
“Uh, yeah, no. I didn’t forget I just-“ Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, coming to a stop at a red light and glancing over to the strange man, who, he noticed, had stopped bleeding.
“Listen, I’m not gonna be able to make it tonight.”
He heard Lisa sigh on the other end. “What’s up? Did something happen?”
Dean smiled bitterly into the phone as he took a turn, down the road the hospital was on.
“Yeah, I got called into work. There was a fire a ways out of town, and they needed some back up. But I’ll see you two at home, alright? I gotta go, bye.”
He heard a quiet bye, be careful, from Lisa before he hung up, the hospital now in view. The car was maybe 50 feet from the entrance when a sudden yell caused Dean to almost drive the car into the ditch. Instead, he managed to pull the car to a less than gentle stop on the side of the road, and had barely put it into park before a knife was on his throat.
“Woah!” Dean put his arms up in surrender, turning a bit to see the stranger sitting up now, his blue eyes blazing, the arm that was not currently holding a knife to Dean’s throat was clutching at the makeshift bandage made from an old flannel. He didn’t look like he was going to hurt Dean, more like a caged animal.
“Where am I?” His voice was low and gravely, and Dean wondered if it always sounded like that, or if it was because he was hurt.
Dean gestured to the knife still at his throat, waiting to answer until the man had withdrawn it. He still held it at the ready, just farther away.
“Right,” Dean cleared his throat, lowering his hands, and turned more to face the other man.
“Well, my name’s Dean, the guy who’s ass you saved earlier.” Dean watched as the man’s brow furrowed for a second, his eyes darting away, and he took the moment to finally look the guy over.
All he had been focused on earlier was the nasty cut on his chest, but with that covered, Dean could finally look somewhere else. The guy had a mop of tousled dark hair, and had the beginnings of a matching beard. He was wearing some jeans and a plain T-shirt, that now featured a giant rip in it, under a plain black jacket.
And his eyes were probably the most startling part. They were a bright blue, and Dean was trying to figure out a better way to describe them to himself when he realized they were now looking back at him.
“Uh, yeah.” Dean coughed. “So, thanks for that. You got cut up pretty bad, though, and it actually looks like it might already be infected, so I’m taking you to the hospital to- “
“No!” The sudden panic in the guy’s voice was enough to stop Dean’s next words right in his throat.
“What?”
“No, I’m not going to any hospital, or any police department.” The guy’s momentary panic had subsided, leaving just a sort of grim determination to the way his jaw was set.
Dean blinked, surprised.
“Um, ok, normally I’d go with that.” Dean started, trying to figure out how to word his next sentence.
“But,” He stopped, sighing. “...Have you seen what that…. chick left you with? I mean I tried to bandage it but I didn’t really have anything. And I just think that you really need to go to the hospital cause it doesn’t look good and I have no idea how to even start fixing it and what are you doing?”
Dean cut himself off, now just staring at the stranger. He had peeled back the flannel and was now poking at his own injury, wincing and hissing as he touched the more tender parts. The black tinge Dean had noticed earlier seemed to be spreading, and it was now all around the cut. Dean had to look away for a second, swallowing hard. That did not look normal.
He was spared from trying to form a coherent sentence when the guy spoke.
“I’m not going to a hospital. They can’t help me, and it’s not safe there for me.”
Despite the whole situation, Dean laughed. There was no humor behind it, more exasperated.
“Not safe? Dude, no offense but are you feeling alright? It’s a hospital, it’s like right there, and we’re going.” Dean had barely put the car into drive when a sharp point poked his chest.
Oh, yeah. He had a knife.
Dean’s eyes widened as he looked down to find that knife, now pointed directly at his heart, and followed it to find the stranger.
Well, Dean thought, that’s what he gets for trying to be a good guy.
“I’m not going,” The man’s voice was even lower, which Dean hadn’t thought would be possible. “To any damn hospital. But, you are taking me somewhere.”