#empitatph

Roughly two hours into your shift, your head snapped up to the entrance of the library. Two men- one shorter, one taller, walked in. They were faces you didn’t recognize at all. You figured you’d let Eleanor deal with them, so you turned your attention back to placing a copy of Twilight back on the shelf. You shook your head and scoffed. Vampires and werewolves, what a joke.

A cleared throat and a tap on your shoulder caused you to nearly jump out of your skin. You spun around, heart beating a mile a minute to see the pair from earlier standing in front of you. The taller one had a half sympathetic smile on his face, the shorter one had something akin to an annoyed smoulder on his face. 

“Hi… sorry, what can I help you with?” You squeaked out. You were mildly annoyed- the tap on your shoulder was unnecessary. 

“Do you have newspaper copies of disappearances going back.. probably twenty or so years?” The shorter one asked. His facial expression remained unchanged as he asked you. You studied his rugged look for a moment before responding.

“Uh, yeah we should,” you held tightly onto your book cart, “can I ask what for?” Your curiosity was piqued.

“We’re working on a group project for the local college’s criminology course,” He was quick to answer.

Your expression shifted to something unreadable. You pursed your lips together before speaking again. “I can bring you some, just take a seat somewhere.” You wheeled the cart back to the checkout desk before walking into the storage room behind the desk. Curiously, you had a bad feeling about those two. 

You were currently enrolled into the only college within a twenty mile radius’ criminology course. Mr. Brady hadn’t assigned any group projects since last semester. Again, they were also unfamiliar faces you were certain you would have recognized if they did go to your college.

With a sinking feeling in your stomach, you grabbed the box of newspapers labeled with "Disappearance … 1972 - Present”. It was a little longer of a time period than they asked for, but you were certain that’d be fine. It wasn’t a large box at all - but the weight of it felt heavier than any box in the room. You knew a few newspaper articles about Destiny were bound to be in this box. The dust on the top was recently disturbed. 

You pushed the door open, back out to the front desk, looking pale and slightly shaking. The taller one glanced up, noticed your pallor, and in wide-legged strides made it to your side. “Are you alright? Is the box heavy? I can carry it,” He offered with a mildly warmer smile than before. 

“Ah.. yeah, that’s fine,” You quickly handed off the box, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear as your vision started to swim. “Mrs. Ellie, I’m going on a quick break,” You spun your head to call back towards her open office door.

That night, you returned to your empty dorm room. Destiny’s half remained untouched. A now dry, open tube of mascara on her desk, an open journal, her bookbag resting against her bunk. It was hard to imagine that she might not be coming back to finish her journal entry, to pick up her backpack. You plopped down on your bed, hanging your head in your hands. “Please, Destiny, just be alright,” you pleaded to nobody in particular.

The next morning, you awoke to knocking on your door. Perhaps the cops are back, you thought to yourself. They had sporadically popped by the past few days to ask questions about her to you. After all, it was no secret in this town that the two of you had been practically inseparable since birth.

Not having energy to change into more decent clothes, you opened the door in your shorts and band tee. You wiped the sleep from your eyes as they adjusted to the light filtering in from outside. “Hello, office-” you were interrupted.

“Y/N?” The same duo from the previous day “Officers Plant and Page here…,” It was the shorter one again. His voice trailed off as he sighed and took a glance to the taller one. Your fingers gripped the doorway until your knuckles whitened.

“So who are you? College students or police officers?” You shot at them defensively. “Whoever you are, just get lost.” You went to slam your door, your heart beginning to race.

The shorter one gripped the door, pushing it back, “Just wait a minute,” He said in a gruff tone. “I’m Dean, this is Sam. We’re…,” he took another quick glance back to the one called Sam, “we’re investigating the disappearance of your friend. Please, can we just ask some questions?”

Against what was probably even the most stupid person's best judgement, you let the pair in. Regardless of their strange behavior, you somehow didn’t doubt their sincerity. You were desperate for answers with Destiny, and the hope of having even a semblance of an answer was too tempting of an offer. You angrily pointed at your couch, barking at them to sit. Sam complied with a guilty expression, meanwhile Dean stood still with arms crossed by your door. 

“I said, sit. Unless you want me to run screaming to the sheriff’s office, take a seat, Dean.” You glared coldly in his direction. You watched as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, letting out an annoyed sigh before finally moving towards your couch and taking a seat. 

It was Sam who started to speak. You didn’t let him. “You don’t ask any questions until I’m done. Okay?” You stood, your own arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

They both reluctantly nodded.

“Who are you two really? Don’t give me any more bullshit about being students here or being police. I want to know. Now.”

Sam glanced at Dean before looking back at you, leaning his elbows on his legs as he shifted his posture forward. “We… investigate weird disappearances like Destiny’s. We try to find whatever caused it. We don’t want any more victims.” 

“So… she’s dead?” Your voice caught in your throat, the familiar stinging of tears rising to the corners of your eyes.

“We don’t think so, not yet at least,” Dean spoke up now. “She will be soon if you don’t start answering our questions.” He spoke in a harsh tone.

“Dean,” Sam whispered quietly, elbowing him gently in the side. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, your lips contorted into a frown. “Fine, what do you want to know?”

Dean fired back, “Was there anything weird you noticed before Destiny disappeared?”

“It was like I told the cops, she had started hanging out with a new ‘guy friend’ a few days before she disappeared. She never told me his name, and the cops have nothing to go off of.” 

“Did you ever see the guy?” Sam was the one to inquire this time.

“I caught a glimpse of him once. He just seemed like a normal person.” 

“And this ‘normal person’, was there anything off about him? And I mean anything.” Dean's eyes were lowered to your breasts, where more innocently than usual, he was just reading the logo on your shirt. 

You scoffed, “Eyes up here, sleazebag. Jesus, what am I doing?” You shook your head, pressing your hand to your temple. 

“No- sorry, it’s just… you don’t look like the type to listen to Testament. Is that your boyfriend's shirt?” Dean quickly retorted, his eyes glancing back up at yours.

“Seriously? That’s what you’re concerned about right now? Yeah, Dean, I listen to Testament. Funnily enough, you look just like any douchey type that would listen to them.” Your face had an incredulous expression. You were a second away from kicking them out before Sam spoke up again.

“Listen- just ignore Dean, he’s an idiot. Like he said though, was there anything remotely unusual or peculiar about the guy?” You took a long glance at Sam’s genuine curiousity on his face. It was enough for you to calm down and answer. 

“He uh… He just seemed to be really quiet. Movement wise, I mean… he just seemed to appear behind her in this creepy way. She thought it was funny.” You finally said in a quieter voice. 

Sam shot an unreadable glance at Dean before asking, “Did Destiny ever say where she was going with him?”

You shuffled to your desk, picking up your flip phone. You opened your messages, to the picture of Destiny smiling at her camera in what seemed to be a very decrepit building. “No, but.. she sent me this photo once. The next night she came home she asked me to delete it, but I never did. I can forward it to one of you…?” Your voice trailed off, tears welling up in your eyes as you stared at the pixelated but smiling face of your best friend. 

Dean quickly rattled off a number for you to send the photo to. You hovered your finger over the enter key on your phone, a slight anxiousness eating at your stomach. “Please, let me know if you need anything else, okay?” You turned back towards the two, a genuine plead leaving your mouth. The two quickly seemed to pack up and be on their way. 

It was two days after the strange encounter with Sam and Dean that you ran into them again. This time, at a bar. You were determined to relax, a few empty shot glasses lined up in front of you at the counter as you watched a game of pool go on between a few frat bros. You swayed your head along with the familiar tune of a Def Leppard song playing through a jukebox in the background, your eyes shut.

You heard the bustle of people entering and leaving, but soon snippets of two familiar voices and their.. odd.. conversation caught your attention. You couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but you knew for sure you heard Destiny’s name leave one of their mouths. 

You felt almost guilty for snooping, so you tried to keep your face hidden as you attempted to move a little closer to the two person table they were sitting at. You leaned against a table slightly out of sight, yet at an angle close in front of them as you pretended to watch the game of billiards unfolding in front of you. You tried to keep your head turned away, as you were certain Dean could see your leaning figure if he really paid attention. You didn’t want them to know it was you.

“So, you think she’s alive?” Sam asked quietly. 

“I mean, if you look at the pattern we’ve got at least another few days to find this bastard. From the other cases, it seems like he keeps them alive just enough to bleed them dry. Then, the bodies are found.” Dean responded so matter-of-factly. 

Your eyebrows drew together with concern, a frown starting to take form on your face. Bleed them dry? Is Destiny with a serial killer?

“So what, we split up and find the building he’s using this time? Once his head rolls, find the girl?” Sam sounded slightly exasperated.

“No- priority goes to keeping Destiny safe… if she’s alive. We’ll start by-,” Your attention was snapped away from their conversation as one of the frat bros playing pool stood in front of you, leaning on his stick. 

“Hey, babe. What’s a girl like you doing around a bar like this, huh?” He leaned ever so closer, the stink of beer on his breath. 

“Eugh, certainly not to be near a drunk like you,” You quipped back, “go back to playing your game.” 

The guy looked like you dealt a serious blow to his pride. “Are you kidding me? You’re ugly anyway. Stupid bitch.” He swayed, his inebriation making his voice raise to a significantly louder level. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You scoffed, straightening your posture to look at the frat bro. “Go fuck yourself!”

The man looked as if he was going to say something. You watched as his eyesight shifted behind you and slightly to the left.

This clearly caught the attention of one member of the pair you were doing your best to not alert your presence to. “Come on man, why don’t you leave the lady alone?” The familiar voice of Dean seemed to speak out from beside you. 

“Yeah, and who the hell are you? Her boyfriend?” The drunk man gawked.

“What, jealous or something, you limp-dicked son of a bitch?” Dean cracked a taunting grin at the frat bro. 

This set off the drunk frat dude, as he reeled his pool cue back like a bat, poised and ready to swing.  You instinctively flinched backwards as he swung it towards Dean’s chest.

In an impressive move, Dean caught the cue. The hard thwack of the wood resonated through the suddenly quiet bar as it hit Dean’s hand and wrist. You knew that had to hurt like a bitch. Dean yanked the stick towards himself, causing the drunk man to stumble directly into his swinging fist. 

The drunk fell flat on his ass on the floor. Shortly after, you watched as he used his legs to sweep Dean to the floor. In an attempt to catch himself, a few glasses slid off a table and hit Dean square in the head. The two traded blows on the ground for a good thirty seconds before the frat bro’s face was bloodied and battered. You couldn’t bear to watch anymore as Dean’s fist connected with his face with a sickening crunch.

“Dean- Jesus, get off of him,” You lunged forward, pulling at his shoulder. That was enough for him to push himself up, wiping his own blood from his face using the back of his sleeve with heavy breaths. You gently pulled him by the elbow out of the bar.

“Where’s Sam?” You kept nervously looking back at the entrance of the bar, half expecting a group of the frat bro’s friends to come out looking for Dean next. 

“He uh- left to do some research, The library isn’t too far,” He continued to huff, subconsciously leading the two of you back to his car. He leaned against the hood of his Impala as he shifted his gaze down to you.

“Listen- thanks, you didn’t have to do that..,” Your voice trailed off as you inspected his wounds. “Dean, your head is bleeding pretty bad-,” 

“He wouldn’t have left you alone if I didn’t step in, Y/N, I know the type.” He seemed to have caught his breath now. He occasionally pressed his fingers to where his head was bleeding at a steady pace, eyeballing the amount of blood on his hand. 

“Seriously, your head. Can I drive you to a hospital?” You had a concerned look on your face. 

“No, I’ll take care of it myself,” He said suspiciously quickly. “I got a first aid kit. Besides, figure'd you wouldn't wanna hang around a sleazebag like me any longer.” He flashed a impish grin at you, his eyes holding a mischeivous glint to them.

Once again, against your better judgement, you practically forced him to bring you with him back to his motel. There was no way in hell, stranger or not, you were letting a man with a bleeding head injury treat himself. Dean stumbled into the room, grunting that the first aid kit was in his bag on the table. 

After rummaging through some intensely questionable items, you pulled out the white and red plastic kit with a cross on it. The dingy motel room smelled like cigarettes. It was quiet as you brought it back to Dean, instructing him to sit up. 

“Let me clean and bandage it for you. I owe you this much.” You muttered, guilt still panging at your heart every now and again. 

Dean sat up wordlessly, your hands finding the sides of his face to tilt his head. The bleeding had slowed on your short drive to the motel, so you took it as a good sign. It had been sort of awkward, quiet, and tense since the two of you got in the Impala together.

In an attempt to ease the awkwardness, you decided to crack a joke. “Even though you did something nice for me, I still think you’re an insufferable asshole.” 

A short chuckle left his mouth as a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Right back at’cha, sweetheart. You got a hell of a mouth on you, y’know that right? Here I was thinking you were this quiet, mousy girl at the library.”  He winced and slightly flinched as you dabbed at the cut on his head with an alcohol pad. 

You just shook your head, an amused smile reflected back at his own. “Just stay still, jerk.”

Silence filled the motel room for a while. The faint light from a singular lamp cast a shadow across Dean's sharp face. You were placing butterfly bandages over his cut, as it wasn’t deep enough to necessitate stitches. You found yourself slowing down the application for some unknown reason. 

“Hey… Dean?” You quietly asked, smoothing over the corner of one of the bandages with your thumb. 

“Hmm?” He continued to stare up at you, an unreadable shine in his eyes.

“Destiny… I was listening in on you and Sam at the bar earlier. Do you really think she’s okay? Who’s got her?” Your gaze lowered to his, your thumb frozen in place. 

In the most honest and soft tone you’ve heard leave Dean’s mouth yet, his eyes stayed locked onto yours, “Not who but what. We’ll make sure she’s safe. We’ll bring her back to you.” 

Once again, tears prickled at your lashline. You chewed on your lip as you opened the final bandage, sticking it in place and once again smoothing it down with your thumb. “Who are you, Dean? I don’t know if I should be scared about leaving here or not,” you attempted to joke with him. 

“Nobody that’ll hurt you, but someone you don’t wanna know, princess.” You felt him lean his head slightly into your hand. You were almost afraid to breathe as your eyes locked onto his again.

You almost didn’t believe it was your own actions as you leaned down to his level, placing a chaste kiss against his lips.

extra A/N: y'all know next chapter is gonna be fire. >:)