You've Never Met Someone Quite Like Me

Greased Lightning

The next few days passed in a whirlwind of car terms and greasy hands. You spent your mornings eagerly watching Dean explain the inner workings of your father's car and your evenings surfing the web for odd-sounding murder mysteries.

"There, see?" Dean said, wiping his hands on a small rag he used for poorly keeping the grease off his hands. He was rambling about car parts in words you had little understanding of, even with all his tutoring. It was hard to pay attention to his teachings, with him sauntering around in a white tank top. You found yourself lost in the motion of his hands against the rag, the rumbling timbre of his voice, the blessing of his lips curved into a smile.

"You guys want a beer?" Sam's voice tore you from your pleasant wanderings.

"Hell yeah, Sammy. Throw one here," Dean shoved the heavily fondled rag into his back pocket and snatched the beer out of the air with ease.

Sam looked to you, a beer held in his extended hand, and gestured, questioning. You nodded and strode towards him, taking the beer from his hand and twisting the top off with your forearm in one fluid motion. A trick you had learned from your dad before he passed.

Dean watched you, looking at his forearm, and shrugged before taking a long draw of his beer, "You know, it's hot as hell out here," he gestured towards the motel, "Do you want to take an A/C break?"

You nodded, your beer against your mouth. It was the first time you'd been invited inside, even after the days spent in the sun. Your heart skipped a beat or two as you walked into the boys' motel room. It was a mess, as you'd expected, with a small clean space on the table, presumably where Sam spent his time. Dean had mentioned that he spent most of his time on his laptop. A "nerd," as he had said.

You found your attention drawn to one of the far walls; it stood holding a map, littered with articles from newspapers, post-it notes, and freehanded scribbles. Curiosity got the best of you, and you crossed the room for a better view. You might have been shocked by the content of the wall had you not seen them in the woods that night. They had been hunting the wendigo, just as you'd thought. The articles contained information about missing persons, and each post-it named a location they had looked for the beast. You smiled to yourself; your method was far less involved. To you, it just made sense to look in the mine shaft. No in-depth research was required. One look at a map showed you where the likely spots for a monster to hide were, and if you triangulated where the people had gone missing from, it was easy to see where the creature was likely hidden.

"We were looking for deer," Dean said, his sudden vocalization jarring you from your thoughts. His closeness sent an electric hum through your skin. "It's buck season here," he finished, waving his hand towards the map.

You nodded, smiling to yourself, "I see. And also keeping track of the disappearances?" The last part of your sentence drifted up in tone, a taunting question.

Sam shifted uncomfortably on his feet, "Well," he started, rubbing the back of his neck with one large hand, "Always good to be safe. Can't be careful enough," he offered weakly.

Dean turned you by your shoulders back to the main part of the room, carefully sitting you on the edge of the closest bed, "We didn't find any, but we're still alive, so half the mission's accomplished," he smiled down at you. Your heart quickened at the gleam in his eye, sending a wanton pulse between your thighs. It was hard to imagine that man had no idea he was so beautiful.

Sam sat heavily in his chair at the table, opened his beer, and smiled at you from across the room, "Better luck next time," he half-whispered before turning to his laptop.

As you sat there, you weighed the pros and cons of telling them what you had seen in the woods just days before. Would they want to know you had taken care of their "deer" problem? Who were they to be so organized? Your curiosity got the better of you again, and you said, "So you guys weren't looking for the wendigo that was living up the mountain?"

Both boys froze, shocked. Dean took a seat beside you on the bed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped between them, "Did you say wendigo?" He asked without looking up, even-toned.

You nodded briefly before realizing he couldn't see you. Sam stared at you, expressionless. You felt as though maybe you had misjudged the situation and your brain clamored to find a way to fix it, "Well," you paused, "Surely you guys have heard the town's theories about where all those people went." You met Sam's eyes, looking for any indication he was about to stand and question you further. You laughed uncomfortably, "Maybe it was bigfoot?" Your follow-up was weak and met with a long exhale from Dean.

"Yeah," he said calmly, "Maybe it was." He stood and crossed the room abruptly, opening the mini-fridge in the corner, and stared into it. After a moment, he reached in and pulled out a pie dish before taking a seat at the table with his brother. He studied you for a moment. His gaze was hard and cold, unlike the warming looks he gave you while under the hood of your car. You watched him apprehensively as he opened the dish and forked a bite into his mouth, only briefly closing his eyes to appreciate the pie. You held back a smile. He swallowed and turned to his brother, "Do you think she was the one that ganked it?"

Sam shrugged, eyes not straying from your face. You weren't a large woman, not compared to them or a wendigo. But you weren't necessarily incapable, not in your opinion.

Dean forked more pie into his mouth, his shoulders relaxing as he did, as though the pie itself was calming him.

Unable to sit in the discomfort any longer, you spoke, "Ok. Yes. It was me. I read about it online and came here to 'gank' it," you threw up air quotes. "It's not that big of a deal. If I had known you guys wanted it, I wouldn't have done it. There are lots of towns with lots of monsters," you stood, anxious to make it closer to the doorway. "I'm sorry I upset you guys," your voice cracked. You weren't usually so easily unsettled, but after just a few days of knowing these two large men and not knowing what role they played in this exactly, the danger seemed to be growing.

Dean pointed at you with his fork, "You. You killed it?" He asked, pie falling from his mouth.

You swallowed and nodded your response.

Dean shrugged with his fork and turned back to Sam, making a face before returning to his pie.

Sam swallowed audibly, eyebrows drawn together, and shook his head, "How?"

You took a deep breath and rubbed your hands, looking around the room as if it possessed the answers, "I just," you paused, exasperated, "I ambushed it with an accelerant and set it on fire. It was only a matter of time then before the fire got to it. I've found it's easiest that way."

Sam's eyes widened, "You've found? You've done this before?"

You nodded.

Dean laughed through his pie and stood, "That's freakin' awesome."

You exhaled a breath you hadn't realized you were holding and sat back on the bed. The next few hours passed with Sam and Dean quizzing you about the monsters you had hunted. Each man's eyes filled with wonder as you recounted stories of demons and vampires you'd encountered, the occasional werewolf on full moons, even a djinn, though you hadn't killed that one; just barely escaped. The conversation ended just as the sun began to set.

Dean offered to walk you back to your room, and you eagerly accepted. Even just a moment of time without Sam's prying ears was welcome.

He stopped in front of your door and put a strong hand on your shoulder, kneading your hidden scar, "Listen, thanks for killing that wendigo, but next time you run into something like that, don't forget that you can call us for backup."

You smiled shyly, your skin tingling at his touch, "Thank you. I appreciate that."

"See you tomorrow?" He asked, hungry eyes lingering on your mouth.

You swallowed and nodded, his eyes boring holes into you, making words impossible to grasp.

He smiled and turned to walk back to his room, "Dream sweet, Huntress," he called over his shoulder.

And sleep you did.

~

The next morning came too soon, you were roused by the sound of Dean's voice outside your door, "I'm going to ask her! Don't get your panties in a bunch." He knocked.

You rolled out of bed, sure you looked absolutely ridiculous, and answered the door. He stood in front of you, shirtless. His jeans hanging low on his hips with no belt to correct them. Something sprang to life between your thighs and heat seeped into your core. You blinked sleep from your eyes and passively wondered if you were still dreaming.

"Good morning, Huntress," his voice growled in his throat, "Sam and I were wondering if you'd like to tag along on a hunt. He found some news stories about some disappearances a couple of states over." He paused, voice low and breathy, "Hey, eyes up here."

Your eyes shot up to his face. He greeted your gaze with a smug smile and stretched, lifting his arms over his head. His waistline sank lower on his hips.

"Um, sure. Yeah. That sounds great," you stuttered, trying to make eye contact with his eyes and not his biceps.

"Great! Come over after you've packed?"

You agreed and pushed the door closed in his face. He definitely knew how beautiful he was. Rolling your eyes, you made your way into the bathroom to shower the sleep off you before leaving your room. He may be beautiful, but he wasn't going to mess with you that easily.