A New Life (Dean Winchester X Demon Reader)

Questions

Trees flashed past the window blurred with rain. Lightning lit up the sky, the thunder shaking the older car you were riding in. Your shoulder brushed against the side of the car, ready to make an escape at the drop of a hat. Both you and Dean were silent, his hands tightly grasped on the steering wheel, his eyes occasionally flickering over to you before turning back to the road. Your entire body shivered, your damp clothes sticking to your skin. You weren't sure what to say, or how to act with the man who supposedly knew you, so you stayed silent as the storm raged on. 

What seemed like an hour but was probably only minutes, Dean was carefully driving the car down an embankment into a cave. Your eyes widened, your heart pounding furiously, but he quickly came into an old fashioned looking garage with antique cars. 

The room was huge. There had to be room for at least ten cars, many of those spots already filled with classic and unique cars. A motorcycle sat off to one side, a workbench towards the other end. "What is this place?" You asked the first words spoken since you had agreed to go with Dean. 

Dean was just climbing out of the car, but at your words, he popped his head back inside. "None of this rings a bell?" He asked, his voice tinged with sadness. You shook your head, disappointing him even more, which made you feel horrible. You did feel a connection to him, and you felt like you had disappointed him before.

Staying silent, Dean came around to your side of the car, ready to help you out. But as his hand reached out, you tensed, pulling away from him. "I'm sorry," you apologized. "Its just...everything is so new and stressful, and...,"

Dean smiled a soft smile that didn't make it up to his eyes as he interrupted you. "It's fine, I understand. Let's get you a change of clothes."  

You nodded before following him down a long tiled hallway. Doors lined both sides, each one with a different number. He suddenly stopped in front of you without warning, and you ran into his back. Almost falling backward, you blushed, catching yourself. Dean stood there, facing the door for a moment before finally opening it and stepping inside. 

Dean stood off to the side, letting you step into the room. Glancing around nervously, you tried to get a feel for the place. It was fairly non-descript, matching much of the decor that you had already seen. A full-size bed was placed in the middle, a nightstand on either side. A small couch and dresser made up the rest of the furniture. Albums were placed on the floor next to the dresser, which was covered in empty whiskey bottles and a gun cleaning kit. A door on the far side no doubt led to the bathroom.  

By the time your eyes found Dean again, he was already standing by the dresser, opening drawers and pulling out clothes. Without looking your way, he tossed them onto the bed. "Here are some clothes for you to change into. The bathroom is through that door. Why don't you warm up with a shower?" He suggested. 

"Are you sure the owner of these clothes won't mind me borrowing them?" You asked, grabbing a pair of jeans that surprisingly seemed to be in your side.

"Sweetheart, you are the owner of those clothes. I know you don't believe me, but hopefully, we can help with that."

"Dean, who are you talking to? It's 4:30 in the morning." A sleepy voice asked from the door, and you looked over to see a very tall man leaning against the door frame, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Seeing another man in this place, so far from civilization, was a little terrifying. Sure, you had come with Dean because you couldn't think of another way, but knowing you were surrounded by two strangers? It was a little too much for you to handle. 

Shrinking back towards the bathroom door, you hoped that the giant man wouldn't notice you, or get mad at Dean for bringing you here. For all you knew, the clothes could have belonged to his girlfriend because you didn't believe Dean that these were yours. 

"Sam...," Dean started out catiously. "I have news. Both good and bad." 

"isn't it too early for this?" Sam grumbled. "How much have you had to drink?" Sam never glanced farther than his brother, his long mahogony hair standing on end, his eyes still cloudy with sleep. You stayed still, hoping that he would go back to sleep without noticing you. 

"Sam, I found Y/N." Dean told him.

"What?" Sam asked, and that's when he finally looked away from Dean and noticed you cowering in the back of the room, mostly hidden by shadows. Sam took a step towards you, and you took a step back, still unsure and afraid. 

"What's the bad news?" Sam asked, cocking his head as he stared at the way you cowered.  

"She remembers nothing. Not who she is, what she is, and who we are. Zip, nada, nothing." Dean explained, and you thought it was weird. What did he mean by what you were, you thought to yourself.

Dean turned to face you. "Why don't you hop in that shower? Sam and I are going to the library to talk."

You nodded but stayed still until the door was shut and you were by yourself. Walking into the bathroom, you placed the clothes on the counter before turning to the mirror. It was sad when you couldn't even recognize the person staring back at you. Turning away, you pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it on the floor, your jeans soon following. Taking your bra off, you noticed a thin white scar just above your breast. Tracing the rigid line, you wondered what kind of life you had led before, and if you were a good person. It felt like you were a good person, but that didn't mean anything. Turning the shower on, you climbed under the warm spray, your shivers finally stopping.

When the water finally started to cool down, you shut it off, grabbing one of the fluffy towels that were hanging up. Quick you dried, before pulling on the borrowed clothes, amazed at how well they fit, still determined they weren't yours.

Stepping back into your room, you noticed Dean hadn't returned for you yet. After spending another five minutes arguing with yourself, you forced yourself out the door, hoping to find the so-called library. Turning left, you wandered the hallway, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. Coming to a small flight of stairs, you climbed them, immediately hearing voices echoing off the walls. They stopped as soon as you were noticed standing there nervous and unsure.

"Sweetheart, why don't you come over here," Dean suggested, pulling out the chair next to him. The room was huge, two tables flocked with bookends on each side. Sam and Dean sat at the closest table, the light flooding the wood in between them. Slowly you made your way over, sliding into the chair, glancing nervously over at Sam. 

"This is my brother Sam. He's really smart, and he wants to help you too." Dean told you, and you looked at Sam deeply for the first time. He had long, brown hair, that he kept tucking behind his ears. His eyes were a shiny, gentle hazel. His was a face you could trust, a face that said he was there to help.

"Can you tell me the last thing you remember." He asked gently. 

"I remember standing on the sidewalk in Denver, a cop asking me if I needed help. That was a couple of days ago." You answered, and watched as the two men seemed to have a silent conversation between them.

"So nothing before that? Not even tiny glimpses, or dreams while you slept?" Sam continued his questioning.

"You're going to think I'm crazy." You mumbled, your eyes staring down at the scared wood below you. 

Dean placed his hand on top of yours, the gesture meant to soothe and comfort, and this time you didn't jump from the contact. "Never, but if you want us to help you, you need to tell us everything."

"Well, when I was on the bus, I had a flashback. But it couldn't be true, because if it was, I would have been alive in the 1800s. I was dressed in one of those old fashioned dresses, and there were carriages."

"Anything else?" Sam urged as if you hadn't just said you had been alive over a hundred years ago.

"Well, when I fell asleep, I dreamed of a dark place, that seemed so evil. And of a man. I didn't see his face, but I heard his voice, and it was British."

Sam and Dean stared at each other, and you slid back in your seat, afraid that you may have angered them.

"I know what we need to do. We need to summon Crowley." Dean said, but by the looks of his face he wasn't happy about it, and you turned your hand so your fingers were interlaced together, squeezing his hand to comfort him.