This damn hunt — Part 2

Summary/Request: Can you do a one shot where Dean really likes the reader but she has no clue. He could start to nicely flirt with her, like give her compliments and all that. He could worry about her more as well. Maybe she hasn’t had much experience so she hasn’t really got an idea what he’s trying to do. Just fluffy and protective Dean :) — requested by anon

Words: 1,056

A/N: Well, this is part two. There’ll be definitely one more part, maybe two or tree. I don’t know. So I hope y’all will like it. :3


It was already dark when you arrived at the old house. The front crumbled and most of the windows were shattered. You grabbed your shotgun which was filled with rock-salt-bullets and dropped out of the Impala.

Dean followed you. You hadn’t talked a word since you left the motel. There was still this awkward tension between you both because of the incident in the bathroom. And you still felt uncomfortable to look him directly into the eyes.

“You know where the bones are?” you asked him and concentrated on the house’s door. “Nope. Don’t have any idea. Maybe in the basement.”

You nodded and checked your gun.

“Let’s go then.”

You headed towards the door and and reached for the latch. Now you had to face Dean. You took a deep breath, raised your head and looked at him. He nodded prompting.

You pressed down the latch and the door swung open. There was a loud creak and you winced a bit. You heard Dean chuckle silently and glared at him before you stepped into the house.

You switched on your flash light and held your gun ready to shoot.

“Then let’s check the basement,” Dean whispered and pointed towards the stairs which directed downstairs.

He walked forward and you followed him.

You gave him rear cover while he searched for the bones.

Suddenly you heard a strange noise and the temperature dropped rapidly. You knew that this was the ghost.

“Dean,” you whispered. “He’s here.”

”I know, Y/N. Just find the bones and kill this son of a bitch.” You smiled a bit and looked around to find the ghost and shoot him to give Dean more time.

When you turned around he was right there, just a few inches away from your face. You let out a little scream and raised your shotgun but with one gesture the ghost threw you some metres away.

You shook your head and stood up, just to see that the ghost now attacked Dean. You pointed at him with your shotgun and pulled the trigger.

He disappeared but this wouldn’t least for long.

“I think we’re near to the bones,” you assumed and Dean nodded. “Just find them. I want to get out of this house.”

After a few minutes you found the bones behind an old closet. It was easy to burn them and you were happy that this job was finished so fast.

You joked a bit with Dean when you went upstairs and you laughed. You had almost forgotten the incident which happened earlier this evening.

At once you felt a dull pain spreading through your head before you passed out.

Dean just heard a thud and looked in your direction. You’d missed the door and ran against a wall. He couldn’t help but laughed because this situation was just very funny.

But then he noticed that you’d passed out and he began to worry. He squatted next to you and tried to wake you up.

After a few minutes you opened your eyes slowly and blinked. “What happened?” you asked. Your head hurt like hell and you felt dizzy.

“Thanks god, you’re awake,” Dean exhaled. “You banged your head against a wall,” he told you and chuckled silently.

When you wanted to stand up he stopped you. “I’ll carry you.” You blushed and groaned but he doesn’t paid attention to it and lifted you easily.

“This is just so embarrassing,” you mumbled and closed your eyes.

”Naah,” he said but then you heard him laugh. “I’d say it’s very funny.”

You hit him lightly against his chest. “Shut up, my head hurts and I feel dizzy and a bit sick.”

He placed you on the front seat and closed the door before he sat down on the other side. “Just tell me if you have to throw up. I don’t want you to puke in my baby.”

You groaned again. “I definitely won’t throw up. I just feel a bit sick.” You heard Dean chuckle again. He started the engine and the music turned on.

“Turn it off,” you groaned and pointed towards the radio. You don’t wanted to hear any music right now. Dean shrugged.

While he was driving back to the motel he always glanced. He wouldn’t admit but he was worried.

When you arrived at the motel he lifted you again, carried you into your room and laid you on the bed. You were half asleep and just noticed that he was laying right next to you.

“Tell me when it gets worst,” he said and you nodded.

You felt asleep a few seconds later and snuggled against his chest and grabbed his shirt. He smiled and watched you while you were sleeping.

Your moth opened a bit and your head snuggled against his chest, snorting lightly. He wrapped an arm around your waist.

Suddenly you opened your eyes and sat up, pressing your hand against your head.

“Dean?” You sounded whiny. “I think I have to throw up.”  

You got off the bed and lumbered towards the bathroom while Dean followed you with a sorrowed expression on his face.

You were right when you told Dean that you had to throw up. Just a few seconds after you reached the toilet your meal decided to leave your stomach.

“I should drive you to a hospital,” Dean mumbled while he held your hair back. “Apparently you have a concussion.”

You groaned. “Why does this always happen to me?” You pressed your hands against your forehead and leaned against Dean’s chest.

”Because you’re a  clumsy fellow.” He chuckled. “And now get dressed. We want to got to the hospital. Or should I help you?”

You smiled softly and Dean took this as a yes. He carried you back to the bed and searched for some clothes in your bag. He helped you to dress yourself and lifted you then to carry you towards the Impala.

You leaned back in the seat and closed your eyes. Your head still hurt like hell and you felt dizzy and sick and a bit embarrassed. You were definitely a clumsy fellow.

“Thanks, Dean,” you whispered and leaned your head against the cold window. “Don’t mention it. And a concussion is very serious. I just want to make sure that you’re okay.” He frowned and speed up.