“You’re abastard,” she spat, without thinking. “Just like your f a t h e r.”
Draco stiffened. A brief flicker of emotion darkened his eyes: it could have been hurt or rage, or simple surprise. Then it was gone. “Actually,” he said, and his voice was bitter, “I’m a bastard in a way that’s entirely my own.”
A/N: It is a good idea to challenge ourselves once in a while, right? This is my entry for Break The Zone, just a little idea to break out of the comfort zone we all too often find ourselves in. My prompt is in bold.
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Reader
The medical examiner was just about to perform an autopsy on the fourth woman, when the two Federal agents waltzed into the morgue like they owned the joint. Sam and Dean were questioning him about the latest vic on this case. Four females in the last two weeks. There were no obvious signs of trauma, no blood loss, no gaping holes in their bodies, no spewing bodily fluids. The M.E. had no clue what the actual cause of death was for these women and all death certificates cited ‘unknown’ as the C.O.D.
“Agents, in my thirty years, I have never seen anything like this. Ever.” The M.E. looked as dumbfounded as the Winchesters felt with this case. Pulling back the sheet, Sam and Dean exchanged looks in silent conversation, then Sam asked to see the victim’s personal effects as Dean continued his questions.
“Where is it, Y/N?” Sam mumbled, going through each item with a fine toothed comb. Finally, at the bottom of her purse he found it; a hex bag, sewn into the lining. He quickly interrupted the conversation. “Doctor Wells, we would appreciate it if you would not perform the autopsy until you hear back from us, give us about forty-eight hours.” Sam grabbed Dean’s arm and dragged him from the room.