#After their shows ended both Hunter and Steven started a reaction channel

[summerdoddles]

Steven and Hunter live reaction to LMK S5

(REAL NOT FAKE /J)

[arazialotis]

Back Of A Cop Car - Part 2

Word Count: Around 4600  

Pairing: Dean x Sheriff!Reader

Summary: The reader meets Sam in her last year of high school and is head over heels for his older brother Dean. When they finally get a moment alone, it is short lived and they both end up in more trouble than they signed up for. 

Part 1

More than ten years later Sam and Dean come back to town to finish a job their father had started. Yet they are both caught off guard when a familiar face makes their job a whole lot harder. 

Warnings: Language, General mentions of regular SPN violence/gore

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

------

It had been a few days since Officer Benoza had come crying to your office about evidence she had misplaced but it had turned up in the end. Though reminiscing in the past had brought back a longing. You wondered what had become of both Sam and Dean. Had Sam made it to Yale or Hartford? Did Dean escape the family business and trek off on his own? Had either of them found someone and settled down? You sure hadn’t aside from the relationships that lasted a few months every now and then. But as soon as you made sheriff, the dating scene halted completely.

You laughed pulling Dean’s mugshot from your desk, remembering his devilish charm but the picture now showed such boyish and innocent features, you wondered how he had changed, if you would even recognize him if you crossed paths. Your mugshot, however, was framed on the wall. Once you joined the force, the pranks became old real quick, it seemed better just to display it out in the open.

It followed you to the sheriff’s office. Yes, you were young to be in this position, but you were smart and you had proven yourself time and time again in the field. Officer Stevens was no longer with the force, although you did work a couple years by his side. He was the one that pushed you towards criminal justice and to run for sheriff. You cried a bit at his retirement party, but he found a way to keep in trouble; coming around the station frequently, giving you advice on cases he was following in the paper.

Of course when you needed his guidance and advice the most, he was off fishing in the Bahamas. Aside from him, only Officer Murillo had worked the previous case but not down in the nitty gritty. Regardless, the both of you had been putting countless hours of overtime pouring over every last detail. The previous case had ended as deemed that the murderer had committed suicide. But the details were so strikingly similar, you doubted even a copycat could pull this off with such precision. Besides all the evidence they had on the perp was circumstantial. The true murder could have seen his opportunity and laid low for a few years but the itch was just to strong and they began again.

Unfortunately, press was much different nowadays than it was even just ten years ago. With constant headlines on facebook and television, you avoided it all together. The following afternoon, having only left the office six hours ago, you were back on duty. You made your way into the office, a latte in had with perhaps two or three extra shots of espresso. Murillo had the day off, and you made sure he wouldn’t come in. In the lobby the tv was on as usual, reporting on morning news.

A male reporter with a fake tan and unnaturally white teeth was discussing the recent case. “Realistically, Sherriff Y/L/N has only been on the job for a year and a half, how can someone lose their touch if they never had it? You have to wonder if she’s the right man for the job.”

You rolled your eyes. Sexist pig. If you weren’t held to an ethical standard, you would be tempted to target him for speeding. “Can you change the channel?” You requested out of annoyance.

“Sure thing boss.” The tiny young receptionist peeped, switching channels immediately to some soap opera. “Hey, don’t listen to them. They are not here everyday seeing the hours and effort you are putting in.” “Thanks.” You mumbled and headed for your office closing the door behind, not really wanting the pep talk.

Dean’s photo still laid on your desk from last night. But you pushed a pile of papers over it, looking for the most recent criminal profile; male, satanic/cult ritualistic tendencies, long term resident to know people's routines and schedules, knowledge of medical procedures and autonomy. It was all stuff you heard before. It also contradicted the first case closure, the girl who it all was pinned on. To make things worse, there were apparently FBI agents wanting to get involved as well. Although you haven't had enough caffeine for social interaction, you headed out of your office to check on any new leads through the fingerprints and DNA found at the most recent scene.

---

Around 4 PM, Sam and Dean pulled up to station. Dean shifted the Impala into park and straightened his tie while checking his teeth in the mirror. Sam sat motionless, still upset about the situation.

“I still don’t like this idea.” Sam stated.

“Cheer up pal.” Dean patted Sam’s chest and hopped out of the car.

Sam followed him, continuing to argue. “All I’m saying is there is usually a reason we don’t come back to previous cases. We should have called another hunter in on this.” “What? You think someone is going to remember us? Weren’t you like in middle school last time we were here?” Dean asked.

“I was a senior.” Sam corrected.

“Your hair has, what, grown three feet since then? No one is going to recognize us. A lot has changed in 10 years.” Dean rambled heading up the stairs to the police station. “We just have to go in with confidence that’s all.”

Dean pushed open the doors, the layout and decor greatly updated since he last remembered it. With no recognizable faces, he was on a role. He took the lead and headed directly to reception.

“Hey there sweetheart.” He leaned over the counter, grinning at the receptionist. “I had called in earlier about some files.”

She giggled, lost in his smile. “Oh of course, let me call my boss up quick…” She picked up the phone dialing your extension. “Sorry, she’s not picking up, let me go look for her.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably next to Dean, keeping a watchful eye.

“There’s no reason to waste her time.” He pulled out his FBI badge. “I’m sure this is all you need. I’ll leave my card as well.” He assured with a wink.

The receptionist looked at the badge, debating.

You were coming back from forensics, when you noticed the two suits standing in your lobby. One of them leaning over, clearly making eyes at the receptionist. It must be the feds, you knew you had to introduce yourself now or later, might as well be now. The tall one with the long hair turned around. Both of your eyes went wide with surprise and recognition. All the sleep deprivation magically left your system replaced by excitement.

“Sam Winchester!” You squealed, running in for a hug.

“Y/N?!” Sam was just as ecstatically surprised as you at first, embracing you in a hug before shooting Dean a ‘I told you so’ scorn.

Dean straightened up and cleared his throat upon realizing it was you.

You stepped back getting a better look of Sam. “I thought I’d never see you again! God, it’s has to have been ten years at least?” He still had that brightness you remembered so well.

“Yeah, I was hoping to run into you.” Sam tried to match your eagerness.

You glance at his partner and your heart hit the floor. “Dean?” His bad boy charm had matured; his jaw more chiseled, weariness in his smile, but those luminescent eyes still promised thrill and danger. Jealousy rose in your chest knowing he had been shamelessly flirting. You tried to stand a little taller.

“Wow.” Dean felt his heart flutter, the years had been more than generous to you. “Sheriff?” He noticed the star on your chest. “Who woulda thought.” Sam grew evermore anxious.

“Not me that’s for sure.” You laughed. “So what are you all doing in town? Sorry, it’s just so unexpected.”

“Nah, it’s alright.” Sam tried to recover. “Just on business.” You noticed the badge still in the receptionist’s hand.

“Federal Investigation business, that is.” Dean added following your eyes.

You took the badge and examined it. “Bullshit.” No chance in hell either one of them was FBI.

Sam chuckled nervously sensing the change of atmosphere.

“Tell ya what.” Dean fished out a card. “Why don’t you just call our supervisor and he’ll straighten all this out.”

“How about I run the badge myself.” You declined to take his card. “Sam shall I check yours too while I’m at it?” Sam went from nervous to overly cheesy. “I’m sorry, I can’t do it anymore... We are passing through town, just on business, and definitely wanted to see you. And we just.” He paused to laugh. “Though it would be hilarious to prank you while we were at it.” The lack of amusement on your face clearly stated you were not buying it. “So, uh, when you aren’t busy, um, do you want to grab dinner or something?”

“Yeah… sure.” You passively agreed.

“Awesome. Should we exchange numbers or just call 911?” Dean joked.

You pulled a smirk having heard it several times before. You wrote your cell on your business card and handed it to Sam. “Hopefully it will work out, we’ve been awfully busy around here trying to catch a serial killer…” You stated only to gauge their reaction.

They exchanged glances. “Really, that is… wow...” Sam gasped.

“Just like the time we were locked up in here together Dean… remember?” You continued pushing, the wheels in your head spinning.

“Oh, that’s a night I could never forget.” He assured.

“Mmhmm.” You hummed placing his badge in your pocket fully intending not to return it. “Well, I really should get back to the books. Give me a call though.”

“Right, of course.” Sam agreed. “See you around.” You stayed put as he and Dean turned to exit the lobby. It was only after they were out the front door that you ran to the window. They seemed to be arguing outside the same chevrolet Dean drove as a kid. You went to the reception’s phone.

“I was going to look for you, I swear.” She defended.

You hushed her dialing Benoza’s extension. “Hey. I got a gut feeling about something. You up for some tailing?” She was more than happy to obliged.

You took a seat back in your office closing the door blaming the caffeine overload for your swirling head. Perhaps the years had fogged your memory, but the boys you remembered weren’t capable of such things, especially Sam. Yet your instincts screamed at you. The coincidence that they were in town with a string of murders with the exact same pattern as the case ten years ago; the only other time they were in your town, then mysteriously vanished.

Against your own will, not wanting to know the truth, you dug through the system’s old records, locating Dean’s file. Fingerprints and all. Your finger hovered over the mouse before building up the courage to hit scan. Since the latte you had since moved onto regular pot of coffee. You went to refill but before you even started to pour, you already heard the ping indicating a match. You poured the glass, already hearing another and then another.

It must be malfunctioning you thought, setting the cup down and heading back over to your desk. Upon seeing the results, your stomach turned over and immediately you grabbed for the trash can to spit up. His prints alone were associated with countless unsolved murders, grave desecrations, weapons, blood trails; the list went on and on, and those were just Dean’s.

You wiped your mouth with a tissue, blaming again the coffee for the incident. You texted Benoza: Someone on them at all times. No. 1 suspect, will debrief you later. She responded her understanding. Meanwhile, you were going to head back to the latest scene of the crime, if you could pin Dean or Sam there, you could bring them in for questioning; potentially more. 

---

“Do I need to say it?” Sam sternly asked. Dean blew him off. “We don’t work old cases.”

“Come on Sam. It’s Y/N we’re talking about. Sweet little innocent Y/N. This will be easy peasy. In and out. Plus, I can tell she still wants me.” Dean rambled. “Maybe I’ll get a little more out of this case.” 

“It’s not too late, we could still call someone else in.” Sam suggested.

“And give up the chance of what I missed out on ten years ago, no way.” Dean argued.

Sam rolled his eyes. “And I thought Dad had scared you away for good.” Dean clenched his jaw. Sam didn’t know the half of it. “I know he sure did me.” Sam continued.

“Ahh. I’m my own man now.” Dean brushed off the memories.

Sam followed Dean into the Impala. “Frankly, I’m surprised she didn’t arrest you right then and there.”

“Yeah, maybe just to see me in handcuffs again.” Dean teased. “But we’ll call her up, go for dinner, a few drinks, and have a great time.” Dean pulled off onto the street.

“Is that why she’s having us followed?” Sam asked.

Dean looked in his rearview mirror noting the oldsmobile. “We are not being followed.”

Sam stayed silent recognizing Dean’s maneuvers in attempt to loose the car, but after every turn, the oldsmobile quietly crept behind in the distance. 

“Fine, we’re being followed.” Dean gave in. “New plan. We go back to the motel, exit out the bathroom window and head to the scene of the last crime. If we are sure it matches, make sure Dad crossed his t’s and dotted his i’s.”

“Dean, I was there. Dad took care of the mumiho and there’s no chance that thing was going to recover.” Sam explained.

“So you’re telling me the chances of dad screwing up are less likely than two very ancient and very rare Korean spirits hitting the exact same town, oceans apart from its home country, exactly ten years apart.” Dean sarcastically doubted.

Sam pushed his lips together. “What I am saying is we do not have enough details. I haven’t been able to hack my way into the police system yet. From what the press is printing, yes it does seem similar, but for a town this size and history of crime, perhaps they are making connections that aren’t really there.” Sam argued.

“So either way we need to visit the scene of the crime.” Dean repeated.

Sam nodded in agreeance.

----

When Benoza reported that she was staking out the boys at their motel, you decided to get ready and leave for the crime scene. When trading places with the old sheriff, you had passed up on his Bronco just for a regular squad car. Not three minutes had passed since you left the station when you heard a report coming in over the radio for a disturbance at the cemetery.

You grabbed your radio. “It’s on my way, I’ll stop by.” Reading what you just had learned about Dean, it raised your suspicions.

Once you arrived you instantly regretted it. “Mr. MacGregor,” You addressed the groundskeeper. “I think you need to contact animal control.”

He had shown you around. At least four graves had the same two foot wide holes. All occuring on different nights. You clicked your flashlight on, squatted down, and shown it into the hole, unable to see the bottom.

“That’s what I thought at first too, but animals don’t go digging holes that deep and especially breakthrough…” He explained.

You stood up, brow furrowed together. “Breakthrough… the coffins?”

He nodded his head and pulled out a locket. “This was just inside the hole this morning. Caught on a root.” You grabbed a rubber glove from your back pocket and took a look to examine it. The engraving on the back the same as the head stone.

“I was here when they buried her. She was wearing it. Metal casket too…” He explained.

You place the locket in an evidence bag. “I’ll send some officer’s out to gather more evidence. Also, animal control…” You looked at the hole again not noticing traditional shovel marks. “Just to get their input. I expect you’ll cooperate with them?” “Of course ma’am.” He assured. “But you should know. There this woman been coming around at night too. Never got a good look at her.”

“Hmmm. You think she’s got something to do with it?” You asked.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Alright… Let the other officers know as well… they’ll look for prints, get a more detailed statement…” You assured him.

You sighed getting back into the squad car, setting the evidence aside on the passenger's seat. You did some quick paperwork and radioed in two officers to come by to take a closer look. Lastly, you phoned over to animal control who ensured they would come by as soon as possible. Honestly it was a bit relieving not to have pinned Dean here yet; to think it was just an animal no matter how weird the circumstances.  Everything you were taught lead you to believe that Dean and/or Sam was the murderer, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to accept it, not 100 percent at least.

---

The sun was setting when Sam and Dean had made their way to the latest victim’s house. The door was sealed shut with tape and a warning notifying anyone except police not to enter. Dean whipped out his pocket knife and tore through the wrap, allowing them both inside. They searched around a bit, eliminating the obvious; cold spots, sulfur, EMF.

“This is pointless.” Sam complained. “We need to examine the bodies.” “The police aren’t looking for what we do, they most likely missed something in the case.” Dean reassured. “Besides, wait a couple more hours and we can break into the station since you can’t break into their website.” “Shut up.” Sam groaned.

Dean waltzed to the kitchen and flipped on the light. “Hey, did the neighbors mention anything about a dog?” He nodded to the muddy paw prints on the kitchen floor.

Sam knelt down and got a closer look. Dean knew very well there were no neighbors, they were on the very outskirts of town. He pulled out his phone to compare. “They do appear… fox-like.” Dean clapped his hands together. “That’s all I need to know. So, where’s the den of the one you supposedly killed.” “Supposedly killed? I was…” Sam started to argue but he was cut off by the sound of gravel crunching underneath tires.

Sam tired the window in the kitchen but it was jammed. Dean quietly raced to the front window, pulling the curtain slightly aside to peek out.

“Oh great, it’s your high school BFF.” Dean snarked. “Is there a back door?” Dean whispered to Sam. Sam shook his head no. The both heard the sound off boots on the front porch. “Find a way out, I’ll distract her.” “What? No.” Sam quietly protested.

They both paused at the sound of the door creaking open. “Get out.” He mouthed to Sam and quietly walked towards the front.

---

You pulled up to the latest scene of the crime, to process additional evidence, to look at it with fresh eyes, to find incriminating evidence against the Winchesters; whatever the reason you were just glad to be out here away from judgemental eyes. A quiet place where you could just think without that burnt orange of a news anchor peering at your every move.

You wandered up to the front porch, your instincts stopping you before reaching the door. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears realizing the seal had been broke. Hopefully it was just teenagers, a few instantly came to mind. You uncliped your gun from it holster and slowly pushed the door open.

“This is the police.” Your voice felt foreign in your throat. “Let’s make this as easy as possible and come out with your hands up.” “Don’t panic.” You pointed the gun towards the kitchen were the voice was coming from. “It’s just me.” Dean? He waltzed out of the kitchen with his hands in the air.

“Dean Winchester.” You stated.

He smiled and popped his eyebrows. “That’s me.” “You are under arrest for trespassing on a crime scene.” You swallowed the growing lump in your throat.

“Oh come on sweetheart, I was innocent last time and I still am.” He assured with confidence.

“You have the right to remain silent.” You began the Miranda rights. His smile dropped as you put your gun away and replaced them with handcuffs. “Against the wall.” You nodded.

He complied. “You know, if you are into bondage, ya could have just asked.” You were glad he was facing the wall to conceal the blush that grew within you. “Is Sam here with you?” You tried to ignore his rhetoric.

“Just you and me sweetheart, ever since I saw you at the station just wanted to get you alone.” He assured.

“Sam!” You called but did not hear a response. You swear you felt some tension leave Dean. “I need to pat you down.” You warned.

Dean chuckled. “I always enjoy a good frisking.”

Had it been any other male, you would have rolled your eyes. You immediately removed a handgun tucked into his jeans. “I assume you have a permit for this.” You snarked disassembling it and laying it on the nearest table.

Dean chuckled nervously. You removed four other weapons including a bowie knife, another knife with unknown symbols carved into it, as well as a lock pick in his back pocket. He easily followed your push towards the squad car, thinking through his options, he’d gotten out of worse before. You locked him inside and went back to retrieve his weapons and have another look around.

In the meantime, Sam came around to the car and opened Dean’s door but furrowed his brow when Dean didn’t immediately get up and go. “Dude, Let’s go.” He encouraged.

“I got this, I can handle it.” Dean calmly affirmed.

“You in handcuffs.” Sam sniped.

“Kinky, right?” Dean smirked.

Sam rolled his eyes and practically grabbed Dean. “Hey, Hey.” Dean whispered attempting to stay put. “Seriously, I’ll win her over. We’ve done it before.” “I’m not bailing you out.” Sam warned.

“Get outta here.” Dean growled.

Sam sighed but gave in. It would help to have you on their side for this case. He shoved Dean back in and silently closed the door before taking off into the woods.

Coming back out of the house, completely unaware of their interaction, you threw the weapons in the passenger's seat on top of the locket. You sighed picking up your papers so you could record everything that just happened.

“This brings me back…” Dean started. You pretended not to listen, flipping through papers. “I was a wide eyed 22 year old stud… A fiesty girl with no regards for rules or authority sat next to me, that cross around her neck throwing me off at every turn.” You automatically grabbed at it even though it was no longer there. “I don’t know what she had in mind that night, but I was just glad to be by her… She stood by my innocence, even though she had no reason too…”

He was just playing minds games with you. Had to be. Every instinctive thought in your mind blared he was a cold blooded killer but your eyes darted to the rearview mirror and met his piercing green eyes in the back. You looked away flustered.

“Back then she told me a ghost story. I told her there was no such thing. Course, I thought I was protecting her. She didn’t need to know of the truly horrifying things that haunt this world. But maybe she’s old enough know to know the truth.” He rambled.

“She didn’t think monsters were real.” You piped in sarcastically. “Only to learn that she loved one and it now sits in the back of her car.” Shit! You squinted your eyes shut. Did you just use the word love?

Dean smiled and looked down at his feet, taken aback by your words. “I’m not a monster sweetheart, I’m what monsters are afraid of.” 

“So, what? You think of yourself as some sort of vigilante?” You questioned.

He chuckled. “I guess you could say that.”

“Well, no one is above the law in my town.” You promised.

“Do you hold the ghost and demons to that same standard?” He played.

“If they existed, I’m sure I would.” You affirmed.

“Oh but they do. You just don’t want to believe or don’t have the will to see the patterns.” Dean explained.

“So your saying sweet ol’ Larry who lived in this cabin was some sort of monster and it was your job to put an end to it.” You clarified remember something about religious psychosis or cults in part of the criminal profile.

“No. Larry was a victim. While your wasting your time looking for a serial killer, Sam and I are hunting the real murderer… A kumiho.” He disclosed.

You turned around to face him. “A what?”

“A kumiho. An accent spirit from around East Asia. Goes by different names; Kitsune or Huli Jing. The difference with the kumiho though, it’s always a malevolent creature. It can shift between that of a fox or a woman in white. Always preying on men, cutting out their livers and eating it in order to survive… if it can’t get fresh meat, digs up graves for leftovers…” Dean explained and you shivered in horror unsure if you thought he was capable of such violence or that such a thing could actually exist. “You’re town had a problem with one about ten years ago. I thought my father had taken care of it, but obviously Sam and I need to clean up his mess.”

But you kept on your front. “I’m impressed, Winchester. You’ve obviously done your research. Or should I say your father had.” He raised an eyebrow questioning. “Oh, don’t play coy with me. Obviously, no matter how delusional, your basing these murders on lore that fits with the wave of Korean immigrants that came to mine in this town… oh was it… the 1950s?” “Interesting…” Dean pondered. “I wonder if you went back far enough in your police records if you would find the same pattern… maybe this 10 year thing is a hibernation of sorts...” He theorized.

The radio crackled through. “Y/N, you there?”

You grabbed it. “Yeah, go ahead.” Normally the first thing you would have done was call in the arrest, but you completely glazed over mentioning it now.

“Animal control got back with us… found fur down one of the holes, fox…” They explained over the radio, you gulped down your nerves trying to remain calm. “And, I don’t know… only prints around here we could find where the ground keeper’s… he doesn’t have much else to go one the women… expect dark hair and a long white dress.” 

You made eye contact with Dean through the rearview mirror.

Another officer laughed. “Heh, maybe it was a ghost.”

“Shut up, Marc!” Another cop barked.

“Anyways, we can stake out the night if you think it’s worth following up on.”

You looked at Dean for guidance, he nodded his head. “Yeah, go ahead. It can’t hurt.” You ordered. “But for the love of god, if that over tanned ape of a man shows up, do not engage.” You referred to your favorite news anchor. “I’m going off air for a while. Call my cell in case of emergency.”

“Sure thing boss.” Marc followed up before you clicked off.

“Dean…” You turned back around to meet his eyes. “Let’s say your right... Let’s say I go against my every instinct that says you or your brother somehow planted that fur there…  Where would we start?”

“We go looking for it’s den.” He calmly directed.

Either you were going mentally insane or Dean Winchester was telling the truth. Regardless of which one was right, you were about to place this entirety of this case in the hands of your number one suspect.

-----

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