A hunter shouldn't be in love with a monster.

But here he is.

He doesn't know how he let it get to this, or even how he managed to get away with all of this without Sam noticing how he was keeping you alive. He knows he should've taken you out ages ago, but he physically couldn't bring himself to do so. It goes against everything he's ever believed in, though he doesn't like to consider that fact all that much.

His reasoning, justification? If Sam could go around loving werewolves like Madison then he could go around loving vampires like you. You're too damn attractive for a vampire, he knows, but he's a weak, weak man when it comes to someone good looking.

"Well, well, well," He should be repulsed by the sight of you stood over a cadaver, but his words were crooned and gentle and it sounded like he didn't mind all that much. His eyes rake over the blood dripping from your fangs for a moment and he swallows thickly. Imagine those fangs digging into his—woah.

Dean clears his throat, shifting his jacket over his body as he mutters, "Havin' fun there?" He steps a little closer, eyeing the body before his gaze lifts back to yours again. This is all so very wrong and he knows it. But he doesn't mind all that much, remember.

He's a damn hypocrite.