Prompt 84-Suspension of Disbelief- Introduction- Ebonypsyche- Supernatural/BtVS

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Title: Introduction
Fandom: Supernatural/BtVS
Prompt: 84-Suspension of the disbelief
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: While on a hunt, Dean encounters a unique victim.

 

This had to be one of the craziest things that he'd ever seen.

 And when considering the life of being a Winchester, that was saying a fucking lot.

 Dean ran a tired hand over his face, never lowering his gun, as he walked in to find a girl leaning against the wall, talking animatedly with no one. Except "no one" was ripping at her clothes. Her soaking wet clothes. Dean had yet to figure out that part either.

"You mustn't do that," she chided to the air. "He'll be angry. Send you away in a cloud of smoke and sulfur and it's no fun in hell."

Dean quirked an eyebrow at that. If this was anywhere else, he'd write her off as bonkers but right now all he could think was how to get her out of here.

"Hey," he tried softly, wanting to get her attention without alerting the spirit to his presence. "Sweetheart?"

 She turned her head to him. The first thing he noticed was that her eyes weren't focused yet they felt like they were locked on him. Like he couldn't escape her gaze no matter how hard he tried. He thought for a second that maybe she was the thing that he was supposed to be hunting. But then she raised a hand to her left. "There. Nasty thing. He tried to break Ms. Edith."

And okay, maybe she was out of her mind. Didn't mean she was wrong. Dean pointed his gun where she pointed and fired. The spirit immediately became visible, a deathly gray color, before exploding. Dean stared at the space where it had been for a few minutes before turning his attention back to the girl who was, and this was the best word he could come up with, tasting her cuts.

 "It doesn't taste the same," she moaned. "I miss the music of blood on my tongue."

 "Yeah," Dean said. After wrestling with himself for a second, his conscience won out. "Are you okay?"

 She looked up at him before nodding slowly. Dean thought how much like a lost little girl she looked, despite the drowned out look she had. She clutched her hand around something in her lap. "You're my prince," she whispered. "My new prince."

Dean walked to her, then leaned down and scooped her up. "Yeah? Well I do have the charming part down." He tried not to think how fragile she looked in his arms.

"You're his protector," she continued as they went outside. "He wanted you to be his prince." Her voice was fading, like she was passing out. Dean shook her slightly to keep her awake. At least until they made it to the hospital.

"I don't swing that way, princess."

She laughed at that. "You would for him. Anything for Sammy."

Dean nearly tripped. "What about Sammy?"

But she wouldn't talk to him anymore. She zoned out so much that she didn't even respond when Dean laid her in his car. It was then that the sinking feeling that he was entering something that he might not be ready for crept over him.

And that was a feeling that he didn't like at all.