Chapter Text
The library was quiet, no one had come in for a few hours and you honestly weren’t expecting to see another soul for the rest of the day.
That’s why you loved the library. People just didn’t go to them anymore, so doing homework or screwing around on your laptop was possible while still getting paid.
Plus, and more importantly, you didn’t have to worry about your powers getting out of control in front of anyone either. Out in the open, you had to concentrate with everything you had to not blow your cover.
That’s just something witches have to deal with. No you weren’t a mortal that played around with dark magic for kicks, you inherited your powers from your great great grandmother. . . but not willingly.
At first you hoped that ignoring them would make them go away, but in reality they started to become too much to handle, on the worst days it was almost impossible to control.
Not to say you didn’t use magic to your advantage sometimes.
When you turned 18 this year, your parents had all but kicked you out on the streets. Luckily compelling a landlord for a relatively nice apartment in the city didn’t take much power. Whenever you had extra money from work, you would give it to him even though you didn’t have to.
Being a good person can be annoying sometimes.
Practicing magic had it’s perks. You didn’t have to get up for the tv remote when it was across the room, cooking could be hands free, and you were just beginning to learn how to levitate.
Never would you indulge in dark magic. Never. That hadn’t looked fun for anyone. Natural abilities that you worked to conceal were harmless little tricks really. . but if they were ever seen by any passerby, it might invoke a panic.
So you could never develop real relationships or go out without having full control over your emotions.
The only place you could be free was at home. Or in the woods. Or in the library alone like you were currently. In fact right that second, you were actually glowing.
A visible aura surrounded you, color coordinating to emotions and feelings when you allowed it to, that was one of the things that had to be consciously suppressed out in the open.
Another that naturally happened was smells.
Specific smells would permeate the air around you based on whether you felt happy, sad, angry, or scared. That was easier to get away with sometimes when you found yourself outside, or in like the candle section at Walmart.
Now your aura glowed a soft sparkling gold hue coupled with the scent of rain and freshly cut grass. You were content.
Humming softly while scrolling through the Facebook feed, you found it hard not to envy all of the girls who could go out with friends uninhibited. Laughing and partying and. . . Kissing. I can never do any of that.
To think of the havoc your powers might reek if you were under the influence of alcohol, drugs, or desire made you shiver. What if my friends saw me glowing? Now that high school was over, it was a little easier.
A particularly useful skill though was the ability to read people’s emotions by touch.
That one was harmless enough to use freely, and you found yourself doing it often. But other than that and the occasional compulsion, you swore to never use powers on other people.
And never to use them for bad. Never. Period. End of story. It meant too much to you. . . All I want is to be normal.
The little gold bell above the wooden door clanked, causing you to absorb your aura and fragrance forcefully with a strong inward breath. You straightened up from the laptop quickly and adjusted your top with a big smile on, it was genuine although you were still mostly focused on concealing your power.
A tall man rounded the corner.
He wore a dark blue jacket over a flannel over a black t-shirt. Layers much? Faded jeans fit him perfectly and rested over top his dark leather work boots, that vibrated the floor with every confident step he took.
Finally your eyes found his face, and your smile fell a little at the stern expression he wore; eyebrows knitted together, lips pressed into a pouty line, and narrowed green eyes scanning the library like he was taking in every detail.
Hunter.
You knew it for sure. He had the look, the swagger, and probably the weapons tucked into every pocket he wore. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
He had you gulping and shifting nervously behind the big oak desk, like a wanted criminal. When his eyes found yours however, his expression broke into a jaw droppingly beautiful grin. It made your heart stutter and you forgot how to breathe for a moment, grateful that your face was mimicking his naturally so the dangerously sexy man didn’t think you were ogling.
Okay, so maybe he’s really just in here to get a book. Yeah. Calm down and pretend like he’s any other customer.
“Hey sweetheart,” his voice was deep and rough. . . and he fucking called me sweetheart, holy shit! Okay calm down . . Calm.
“Uh hi,” even though he was right in front of you, you gave him a cute little half wave that had him chuckling, like you were the most adorable thing in the world. Still chuckling lightly, he leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk and looking directly into your blue eyes.
You blushed and fought the urge to giggle like an idiot.
“I’m looking for someone,” he started, “a girl actually, although I’m sure she ain’t as pretty as you by a damn sight.” he winked and you almost died right there, but somehow managed to casually shrug and say,
“Yeah probably not.” with a slick little wink of your own, that had his eyebrows raising in surprise and approval.
“Well it would mean a lot to me, if you could point me in the right direction.” you nodded swallowing hard with the effort to contain your giddiness from popping out in a bright yellow. “Her name is , she supposedly works here. . Do you know when she’ll be in next?”
Your heart froze, his sharp green eyes seemed to flash momentarily like he noticed your face paled or something. He probably did, but you worked to keep a calm facade in front of the Hunter,
“Who wants to know?” fuck your voice quivered a little,
“Name’s Dean Winchester,” he said evenly with a little smirk, “Took her to dinner last night, and she forgot her wallet at my place. . . Just trying to get it back safe and sound.” you nodded and casually folded your hands under the desk so Dean couldn’t see them shake.
“Well I’m sorry Dean, but I don’t know anyone by the name . . .” you lied without looking at him, “but - but I hope you find her and get that wallet back. . .”
You squirmed in the chair and hid your face behind a curtain of long blonde hair, picking at a spot in the desk like a potential sliver was the most interesting thing in the world. Silence from mister Dean Winchester towering over you in front of the desk, had your brain thinking about breaking for the door but you weren’t stupid enough to do it yet. Yet.
Your eyes widened when you smelled it. A mixture of rotting flesh, mildew, and a sort of musty house smell. With a quick look up to see if he noticed, your wide and nervous eyes connected with his. They were narrowed.
He definitely noticed. Dean’s face was harder than when he walked in, and you could practically feel the gunshot to the head in your near future.
“What’s your name girl?” it sounded like a statement instead of a question, you furrowed your brow at the title he managed to make sound so demeaning,
“Cl - Claire. . .” you thought quickly, “My name’s Claire, Sir.” adding the Sir with the hopes of appeasing him with respect, but he didn’t even blink,
“You’re a bad liar ,” he growled, eyes darkening with building anger,
“I told you, there is no here!” you insisted, standing up and taking a step back from him, “I think you should leave before I call the police.” He actually laughed when you said that, and your aura rushed out in a cold inky black. Oh shit.
It was the color of fear.
Dean reached behind his back and in a flash he had a gleaming silver gun aimed steadily at your chest, you yelped and froze, feeling the color drain from your face.
“Now ,” he sneered, “I’m gonna need you to come with me.” You body felt cold and your skin prickled with goosebumps,
“Why?” you whispered, feeling your eyes shine with the beginnings of tears. He cocked his weapon in response to the question, and narrowed his eyes,
“Because if you don’t, I’ll fucking kill ya. Plain and simple.” You grandmother had warned you about Hunters like Dean. Said that they would always be after you, couldn’t see past the magic and potential evil.
That they would shoot first and ask questions later, but never before had a Hunter noticed you like this.
You had nothing to go on. No idea how to handle this man, so you did the only thing you could think of: dropped to the floor and scrambled under the desk of course. Bringing your knees to your chest and pulling the wooden chair firmly up against your shins, you tried pointlessly to reign in your magic, but got nowhere with it.
Hiding under the desk was pathetic and pointless, but you couldn’t think of a single other thing to do. With shaking hands, you dug a cell phone from your pocket and dialed 911.
Dean’s heavy work boots thudded with every step he took as he made his way leisurely around the big desk, tapping his fingers on the smooth surface as he walked. The man seemed to be in no hurry and he had even started casually whistling as he moved over to your side.
Tears spilled over at Dean’s unnerving confidence, it had your hope draining, and you hiccuped on a quiet sob. The dispatcher’s voice flooded your ear just as a dirty leather boot stepped into view,
“911 emergency -”
“There’s a man at my work - he has a gun!” your voice was rushed and high with fear, “Please you have to help me, he - he’s gonna kill me!” you muffled an onslaught of loud sobs with your hand as the dispatcher puked out some bullshit about staying calm or whatever. Dean scoffed at you,
“Oh come on now. . .” he wrenched the chair violently away from you, obviously ignoring your frightened scream as he squatted down with his forearms resting on his thighs and his gun hanging nonchalantly from his fingers. You tried to push yourself further back under the desk, but there was nowhere else to go, you just wanted to get away from him. Hunter’s are scary.
“P-please don’t shoot me!” you cried fearfully and Dean flashed you his trademark grin, chuckling darkly when you only whimpered up at him in response. Dean slightly gestured to the phone with his gun,
“Keep talkin’ sugar, wouldn’t want you to stop on my account,” he said with a gleam in his eye, “Oh and don’t forget to give her the address nice and slow so she has time to type it out. Wouldn’t want any mistakes.”
Dean only returned your stare with a humored smirk on his face and calm warning in his eyes while you gaped at him. Knowing that he was only toying with you, you said the only thing that you knew might cause him trouble later on down the road.
“His name is Dean Winchester.” As soon as you said it, Dean lost his cool.
His big hand wrenched the phone from your ear, pulling a few strands of blonde out in the process, and threw it down with enough force to smash it. A loud gunshot echoed through the library when he shot the phone for good measure.
When Dean reached out, you started crying harder and slapping at his hand like it would keep him back, huddling further under the desk like there wasn’t a wooden barrier blocking your escape.
The firing of the gun sent your fear to new heights, but by the looks of it, your terror only made Dean smile, which made this whole situation even more terrifying. He wants me to be scared. . .
The man yanked you roughly out from under the desk by your arm and slammed you into the floor hard enough to send pain shooting through your back. You screamed and fought with him until he planted a heavy knee directly on your stomach, and leaned on it until you couldn’t breathe.
Laying beneath him gasping for breath and pushing pointlessly on his knee, only made you feel more helpless. . . The guy was dominating you easily and it was sort of humiliating, but then again no one had ever attacked you before so there was no past knowledge to go on. Dean tucked the gun away, and grabbed your face roughly, forcing you to look at him.
“You can either get up and walk out of here, or I can knock you out.” he tilted his head like he was considering something, “Or you can keep pissing me off and I’ll just kill ya right here. Your choice sister.” Body jerking with breathless tears, you shook your head rapidly in his grip.
“Good choice.” he hauled you hauled up off of the floor by your arm, feeling Dean’s rage flowing from his touch. It was coming in waves that were making you dizzy, and before you realized you were doing it, you pulled on him trying to rip your arm out of his grip.
He was so mad that the emotion was actually hurting you.
The only warning you got was a growl, before his fist connected with your temple hard enough that you were seeing stars.
You felt yourself slump over against his hard frame, but couldn’t regain control of your limbs plus your mind was so scrambled from the hit that there was no pain yet, only pressure. . . you were about to blackout, and that was the worst thing that you could do right then.
If I’m passed out I won’t be able to defend myself at all. Apparently your body didn’t get the memo however, because strong arms cradled you as you drifted into the uncomfortable darkness.