Summary:You’re always waiting. Waiting on something or someone else to decide how you’re going to feel, what you’re going to do. Fuck, you’re so sick of waiting.
Rating:15+
Pairing:Dean x Reader // Dean x Jo
Tags:Cheating, affair, major angst, age gap, mentions of smut, heartbreak, break up
A/Ns:I’ve once again written a fic based on the song Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift because it’s a stunning song and it gives me endless inspiration for angsty fics! Hope you enjoy the heartache!
This fic was posted 4 weeks ago on my website and Patreon - link in my bio to find out more!
“What the actual fuck am I doing?” You slam on the brakes of your car, stopping still in the middle of the country back road, your headlights pooling in front of you, illuminating the empty path ahead and trees surrounding you. You’d not been expecting to come to this realisation right here and now, almost at your destination. “What the actual fuck am I doing?!” You repeat out loud to yourself, looking around your car.
It’s almost two A.M. You’d previously been wrapped up in bed, a hot water bottle strapped to your stomach as you willed your period to arrive so you could get it over with. But just like everything else in your life it has been keeping you waiting. You’re always waiting. Waiting on something or someone else to decide how you’re going to feel, what you’re going to do. Fuck, you’re so sick of waiting.And your period hadn’t been the only thing you’d been waiting on. You’re ashamed to admit it, but it’s true. You’d laid there, constantly lifting your phone off of the nightstand, tilting the bright screen towards you to check you’d not missed the sound of a notification.
“You’re not real,” Dean stood in front of you, tensed up while you had your arms by your side, standing across him and Sam.
Bobby stood in the middle of you two, looking between you and Dean.
“I’mreal-”you started.
“No, you died years ago. Dad told us you were dead,” you couldn’t read his expression, you couldn’t tell if it was anger or sadness.
Maybe it was too soon after John died for you to come back. They both needed some time to process, without you being there.
“Dad lied-” you took a step forward as he moved back.
“Dean-” he shook his head, sighing deeply before he walked past you, walking out of the house.
There were tears in Sam’s eyes as you looked at your youngest brother. You reached for his cheek before he moved away from your hand.
“You left us,” you felt your heart pang in guilt as you shook your head.
“Sammy,” you tried to speak.
“It’sSam,” he said coldly.
“Sam,if you could just let me-”
“I gotta go,” he moved past you, running after Dean as you turned back to Bobby.
“Bobby,” you said softly.
“Give them time. They’ll come around,” he replied.
You nodded before he smiled at you softly, pressing a small kiss to your forehead before taking your bag, walking up the stairs.
—
“Dad, I want to go back, please,” you begged, holding back your tears.
It had been a month since you last saw your brothers, last had contact with them.
He ignored your words as you followed behind him, letting out a shaky breath.
“I think I’ve more than redeemed myself. I-I’ve listened to everything you’ve said, I-I’ve done everything,” your voice wavered.
“I made a stupid mistake, I get that-”
“Shut up,” John yelled as you tensed slightly, freezing as he looked back at you.
“They’re better off without you. Your shitty influence. You’re not going to see them again, end of discussion. Go clean the weapons like I told you to. I won’t say it again.”
You walked up to Dean, seeing him turn his head away from you before looking back at the book.
He had given you the silent treatment. Sam would somewhat react when you spoke, never saying anything back. It felt like hell.
You couldn’t be mad at them, you were the one who disappeared.
“Did you track down Ellen?” Sam asked Dean.
Before he could reply, you interrupted.
“Ellen? I know her. What do you need her for?” you asked.
Dean went back to being quiet before Sam looked between the two of you, answering.
“She left a voicemail on Dad’s phone,” he said softly.
“I can take you to her,” you nodded.
“We can do it ourselves,” Dean said coldly.
At least he spoke to me
“I know where she is, she’s just-”
“We’ve done fineon our own for the past twelve years, we don’t need you now,” he raised his voice slightly.
“I’m still coming with you guys,” you tried to stay calm as Dean rolled his eyes.
“We’re leaving in ten minutes,” he replied.
“Okay,” you smiled softly at him before he walked past you, purposely bumping into your arm.
Your face fell into a sad smile before you began to gather your stuff.
—
You had your arms wrapped around yourself, standing in the cold as you stood outside Sam’s dorm room.
John told you he got into college, and that he left. You were more than proud of him, you felt empty that you missed both of their lives and they were moving on.
It was freezing, you kept your knife close as you hesitated to knock at the door.
You didn’t know what he would say, you don’t know how he would react.
You heard voices coming down the hall, turning as your eyes went wide.
Sam didn’t give any attention to you, he was talking to another woman next to him.
“I thought you had two siblings,” she said.
“No, I only have Dean, he’s the only other one,” you felt your heart
drop as he bumped into you, apologizing.
You kept your back to him, wiping your tears before you walked out.
“Did you come to visit me in college?” It was nice to know at least one of them wanted to talk to you.
Sam’s eyes were filled with tears, he walked into your room, sitting next to you.
“How did you-” you started.
“I remember bumping into you, I-I just thought I was going insane or something, but you’ve been alive this entire time,” they replied softly.
“Sammy,” you stroked his cheek, wiping away his tear.
“After Dad told me you got into college and you left, I had to see you. I heard you say Dean was your only sibling, I just thought you were mad at me for leaving, I didn’t know he told you I died. I would’ve reached out sooner,” they sniffled before shaking their head.
“Why did you leave?”
“Dad made me. After I went to jail… he was really mad. You know that I never would’ve abandoned you two like that. You meant everything to me,” he wrapped his arms around you tightly, you could feel his body shaking.
“After you left that night, I woke up Dean, I told him you went out. He said that it would be fine and that you would’ve come back. Two days later, Dad told us that he took you on a hunt and you died,” Sam’s voice was weak, he spoke between his cries while you held him tightly.
“He was just really mad, I’m so sorry. I-I would’ve never left you,” he nodded softly, while you kept your arms around him, pressing your lips to his forehead.
—
“Dean, just hear them out” you overheard Sam following Dean, talking to him.
“Why don’t you tell me then?” Dean exclaimed.
“I did! Dad forced them to leave after that whole thing happen! (Y/N) never would have left us, you know this, Dean!” Sam yelled back.
“Did you believe them? Dad didn’t spend all of his time with them, you at least have that much of a brain to know that. They could’ve easily left and come to us, but they didn’t. That’s on them, not on us,” you knew Dean would be too stubborn, he always kept people and things closed off. You pushed him away after you left, he didn’t have you to keep him safe from John.
“Why would (Y/N) lie about that? You know how Dad was, do you really think they’re lying?!” the two of them yelled at each other, you prayed Bobby would come home soon.
“Dad would have never-”
“Dad hurt you! He hurt all of us!”
“He’sdead, Sam!”
“That doesn’t change the fact! Dad was crazy! He was a terrible person, a shitty father who was only obsessed with hunting and his twenty-two-year-old revenge story! All he did was abuse us repeatedly! If mom was still alive, they would have gotten divorced and you know it too!” you heard Dean shove Sam back, hearing Sam hit the wall as you tensed, running into the room.
You pulled Dean off of Sam, pushing Dean back as you exhaled shakily.
“What the fuckare you doing, Dean?” you said shakily.
“This doesn’t concern you, (Y/N)! Why don’t you go back to being dead?” you felt a pang in your chest as your face dropped.
“Dean-” Sam started.
“Sam,stop,” you said softly.
He was breathing heavily, standing behind you as you looked at Dean.
“I get that you’re mad at me, but you should only be mad at me. If you want to hurt someone, you hurt me. Don’t ever touch Sam like that again,” you stayed tensed as Dean rolled his eyes.
“I know you’re mad that I left, I know you felt abandoned, I can’t even imagine what Dad could’ve done to you, but I’m sorry, Dean. He’s gone, and I wanted to… I wanted to see you two again, but it was my mistake. I’m so sorry for coming back into your life like this, I really am. But please, don’t take it out on Sam. I’msorry that I couldn’t protect you against Dad. I’m sorry that I got arrested in the first place, I’m so so sorry that you’ve had to suffer for these past eleven years, I’m sorry,” tears filled your eyes as you looked at Dean, he kept his eyes on the floor.
“I think-”
“I think it’s better for all of us if you leave,” he said coldly.
More tears fell from your cheeks, your heart racing in your chest.
“Okay,” you cleared your throat, wiping your eyes.
“I’ll leave,” you nodded softly.
Dean nodded, crossing his arms before he walked out of the room.
“(Y/N), don’t go. Not again, please,” Sam begged.
You turned to face him, wiping his tears.
“Sam,” before you could finish your sentence, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, you felt his tears as you held back a cry.
“I-I don’t… I don’t want you to leave again, I-I don’t want… please don’t go,” he cried softly.
“Dean doesn’t want me here, Sam-”
“Iwant you here. Please, don’t leave us again, please,” you sniffled, shaking your head.
“I will text you where I-I’m going if you’re ever nearby, o-or if you just need to escape, my door’s open,” you whispered.
“(Y/N),please,” he cried softly.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
You could feel his hands shaking as you held them.
“Kiddo, what’s wrong?” you asked softly.
Sam sat on the floor, his arms wrapped around himself as you sat next to him.
“I feel weird,” you looked down at him, seeing him shaking slightly.
“Hey, are you scared? What’s going on?” You frowned.
“I found Dad’s journal…” you tensed, realizing.
Sam was only nine years old, it was too early for him to learn about this.
“Sammy-”
“Are monsters real?” he asked.
You nodded, sighing deeply as you wrapped your arms around him.
“Dad is something called a hunter. He saves all the little kids like you, he gets rid of all the monsters,” you said softly.
“All of them?” Sam whispered.
“Yes, all of them. Here, I want to give you something,” you took your necklace off, putting it in Sam’s hand.
He looked down, slightly confused before you stroked his arm.
“It’s a special necklace. It’ll keep all the monsters and all the bad stuff away from you, okay?” you said.
He nodded, wiping his eyes before looking up at you.
“I’ll keep it forever.”
You finished packing your bags, wiping your tears before taking a few breaths, trying to calm yourself.
Sam knocked at your door, before walking in.
“Let me help you,” you nodded softly as he helped you carry your bags, following you down the stairs.
Dean was nowhere in sight, you tried to ignore it, feeling a pit in your stomach.
“I want you to have something.” he handed you your old necklace as you laughed softly, sniffling.
“I-It’ll keep you safe from all the monsters and all the bad stuff,” you sniffled, holding back your sobs before smiling softly, putting it in your pocket.
Sam helped you out, loading your bags in the car before he looked back at you.
“I love you, (Y/N/N),” he whispered softly.
“I love you too, kiddo, you pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling your vision being blurred by your tears as you hopped into the car.
Don’t look back
You screwed up
You lost it all
You wiped your face, your hands were shaking slightly as you turned on your car, driving away. You didn’t look back, you kept driving until you couldn’t see Sam’s broken figure looking at you, a look of desperation on his face.
Summary: Dean broke up with you to get you out of the hunter life that you knew nothing about. What happens when you end up finding each other again after you had just gotten released form Crowley’s clutches?
Square Filled: torture (2021) for @spndarkbingo
Author’s Note: this is based on a tiktok! here is the link. go follow the person who made the video!
Much to Dean’s guilt, this is his tenth date that he’s been on since the two of you broke up. Half of the girls he goes out with, he doesn’t really have any interests in them, but it helps fill the hole where you once were. He didn’t break up with you because he lost feelings for you–he thought the world of you and was planning on proposing to you. It’s because of the fact that you weren’t a hunter, and you didn’t know how to protect yourself from any kind of monster.
If they somehow found out that you were his girlfriend, then they would definitely go for you to get to him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Crowley got his hands on you, only to torture you for information on him. He wouldn’t be a good boyfriend or a good husband if he dragged you into his shit only for you to get killed because of it.
That’s why he’s on yet another date with a girl he just met the day before. She is beautiful, like all the others, but no one compares to your beauty. All Dean can think about is you sitting across from him, throwing bits of bread at his face for something he said. Charlotte, Catherine, Caroline… whatever her name is, must sense how broken Dean is because she sets her fork down with a sigh.
“Everything okay?” Dean asks.
“I’m just trying to see why that girl keeps staring at you,” she says.
Wow, that is not what Dean was expecting her to say. He frowns and turns around, locking eyes with the one woman that he never thought he’d see. You’re standing there with such a heartbroken look on your face at the fact that he is on a date. No words are being said, but everything is said between the looks in your eyes. You shove your hoodie sleeves further down your arms to hide your skin from prying eyes.
Breaking the eye contact, you walk to the bar where a strong drink is calling your name. Why are you at this bar? Why did Sam lead you here? Did he know his brother was on a date? Unbeknownst to Dean, you’ve still been in contact with Sam because you didn’t want to lose him as a friend.
Dean watches you go to the bar with emotional eyes, turning to his date with tears in his eyes. He clears his throat and gives his date a smile to pretend like he’s fine.
“Is there something going on between you two?”
“Nothing at all,” he lies.
“Really? Because your eyes tell me a different story.”
Dean sighs and looks to the bar again, watching as you down a double shot. The end of your sleeve falls down, and his eyes widen at the scars littering your arm. They’re mostly long and jagged scars, but there are small circular scars as well. Where the fuck did you get those? He knows your body more than you do, and he would remember scars on your arms.
Someone did that to you while he wasn’t there to protect you.
You feel his eyes on you from across the room, but you ignore them. They burn holes into you, and you’re not sure you won’t crack under the pressure. The bartender mouths something to you, but you’re too overwhelmed to understand what he is saying.
“I’m sorry. Here you go.”
You toss double the amount of your drink onto the bar counter, not caring about the amount. Your bar stool screeches on the floor as you leave, and you rush out of the bar as quickly as you can.
“Y/N, wait!” Dean says ten seconds later.
You halt on the sidewalk and sigh deeply, wiping your eyes with the back of your hoodie before turning around.
“Dean, I didn’t know you were here.”
“Where did you get those?” Dean jumps right into it.
You knew he would ask about them if he saw them. You weren’t careful in hiding them apparently. What’s the point in lying to him at this stage? You’re never going to see him again, so what the hell?
“Someone named Crowley found me and hurt me until I told him where you were,” you say truthfully. “But I never gave in. He eventually let me go when he realized I was no ‘fun’ anymore.”
Shock is all that you can see on Dean’s face. This is why you didn’t want to see him. You knew you would break down if you ever saw his face again. You’re trying not to cry, not in front of him.
This is exactly what Dean was afraid of happening, and he wasn’t even there to protect you.
Dean is confused, though, because Crowley hasn’t shown up in a while. Neither has his demons, so if he was torturing you, then he must not have gotten what he wanted.
“Why didn’t you tell him where I was? I would have taken care of it!”
“If Crowley had found you, then he would have hurt you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you in pain.” The weight of your words settles on Dean’s shoulders, and his heart breaks in two. “Go back to your date, Dean.”
You shove your hands into your hoodie’s front pocket and turn away from him.
“I’ll see you around.”
Dean watches you with tears in his eyes, but he doesn’t stop you. You have scars from people that never should have been in your life, and it’s all because of him. You’re never going to be the same, and it’s all Dean’s fault.
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Author’s Note: this is the series finale. i am so sad this is all over, but i want to thank each and every one of you guys for liking, reblogging, and commenting on my series. i honestly couldn’t do this without any of you, so for that, thank you. for those who are wondering, i did start season 8, but the earliest it’s going to come out is in August/September. i know it’s a long way away, but i work very hard to bring you the very best content.
hank you for always supporting me <3
I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.
Sam got the woman to the hospital just in time for you three to head back to your dad’s cabin and regroup. You and Dean are sitting at the table staring at your dad’s flask, Sam is on the phone with the hospital, Meg is drinking your beer, and Castiel is making more sandwiches for you three to eat.
“Okay, thanks,” Sam says before hanging up. “She’s fine. She’s checking out of the hospital tonight.”
“Well, that’s positive,” Castiel states, passing a plate to you and Dean with sandwiches on them.
“Thank you, Castiel,” you smile politely.
“Tell me again why you turned tail for some maid?” Meg asks. “You were right there.”
“Can you shut the hell up for once? Please?” you sigh. “We’re not like you, Meg. We don’t just care about ourselves. We help people no matter what. That’s not something you’ll ever learn.”
“Because Dick made more Dicks,” Sam says. “He must’ve kept a chunk of the original Dick Roman somewhere. Uh, they’d all have to touch it.”
Castiel clears his throat and washes the dishes, not commenting on anything.
“Hey, shifty, what’s your problem?” Dean asks.
“Do we need a cat? Doesn’t this place feel one species short?”
“We already have a dog,” you say and point to Zeus who barks.
Joanna mimics the dog and barks in her own way, and you giggle into her hair. She looks at her daddy and reaches out for him so he can hold her.
“It’s not like I carried you for nine months or anything.”
“Dada,” Joanna grins.
Dean takes her into his arms, trying to hide his smile. He is beyond happy that she said his name first before yours.
“You got anything to say on the topic of Dicks? Crowley was pretty sure that you could help,” he says once his daughter is in his arms.
“I can’t help. Do you understand? I can’t. I destroyed… everything, and I will destroy everything again. Can we please just leave it at that?”
“No, we can’t,” you say and stand up. “We can’t leave it. You let these fucking things in.”
“So, you don’t get to make a sandwich. You don’t get a damn cat. Nobody cares that you’re broken, Cas. Clean up your mess!” Dean says harshly.
You look at Dean in shock that he would say something like this to him. Behind Castiel’s eyes is pain at the harshness of his words, but he doesn’t show it. He puts down the dishes he is holding and walks over to Dean.
“You know… we should play Twister.”
Castiel disappears right before Dean’s eyes, and Meg rolls her own.
“Nice. You scared off the Empire’s only hope.”
“Meaning?” Sam wonders.
“Has it ever occurred to you every one of those things was in Cas? He knows them. He can see past the meat suits.”
“He’ll be able to spot the real Dick.”
“Gold star, sugarpants. Too bad he’s Fruit Loops. You might’ve had a chance.”
There is a sound of angel wings fluttering, and you turn to see Castiel with a Twister board on the floor. You honestly don’t even recognize your friend anymore. You’re not sure what you can do to help him recover from whatever pain he had to go through while healing Sam. All you can do now is just watch him and make sure he doesn’t disappear again. Dean and Sam continue to watch the security cameras while you hang with Castiel and Joanna on the floor.
“Come on, say ‘mama’. Ma-ma.”
“Dada,” she smiles.
“You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” you ask with your eyes narrowed playfully.
She makes spit bubbles and laughs, and you can’t help but giggle in response.
“There’s no real point in looking for a tell. They all downloaded Dick’s brain. They’ve all got the same tells,” Dean groans.
“Alright, then maybe the question is, what would the real Dick be doing?”
“Is that the best you can do? Idjits,” your dad makes an appearance.
“Bobby. We didn’t know if you’d–”
“Well, you should’ve. You got the flask. Dumbass. You should’ve burned it right off.”
“Bobby.”
Your dad motions for you to follow him outside, so you three separate from Castiel to go outside and talk to your dad.
“I’m still jonesing to go back, grab some poor bastard, and kill them going after Dick. It’s bad. Let’s be real. I damn near killed you and that woman.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Bobby–not really.”
“Right. That’s just what ghosts turn into. I really bet the farm I could outsmart that.”
“So, what’s it feel like?”
“What? Going vengeful? It’s an itch you can’t scratch out. Look… I’m done. Go get Dick, but don’t do it because you think it’ll scratch the itch. Do it because it’s the job, and when it’s your time… go.”
You can’t seem to look at your dad because if you do, then you know you’d be a crying mess. Of course, you don’t want him to go, but he can’t stay like this forever. You were scared of this exact thing happening to him and to you.
“Y/N?”
“I don’t want you to go,” you whisper emotionally.
You know he has to, but this just hurts too damn much. Dean gets up and takes Joanna from you so you and your dad can have a moment alone before you say goodbye to him for good. You and your dad step off to the side so that the men don’t have to go anywhere.
“This is exactly what I was afraid of. I was afraid of feeling this way a second time.”
“I just want you to know how proud I am of you. You’ve surpassed my expectations as a witch and as a mother. There’s no one I’d rather have as a daughter than you. I’m sorry I’ve put you through this pain, but I didn’t want to leave you and Joanna.”
“I love you so much,” you sniffle.
“I love you more. I don’t know where I’m going, but just know I’ll always be here to watch over you. You’re never going to be alone, you hear me?”
“I know.” You look over at Sam and Dean who quickly look away as they pretend not to listen. “Okay, we’re ready.”
He and Sam take the flask and go out back where they start a small fire to put the flask in. Dean has the flask in his hands while you hold Joanna, but he can’t seem to do it.
“Here’s to… running into you guys on the other side. Only… not too soon. Alright?” your dad says.
“Goodbye, daddy,” you whisper.
“Goodbye, darling.”
Dean tosses the flask into the flames without the leather cover on it. The more it burns, the more your dad is closer to the end. You look at your dad and watch as flames envelope his entire body. You let out a sob and turn to your husband who takes you into his arms.
“Mama,” Joanna finally says, touching your cheek.
“Yes, I’m your mama,” you smile through your tears.
You look up and see Castiel watching you from the back window, and there is a certain look of uncertainty in his eyes. You pull away from Dean and leave the fire to go back inside. The brothers put out the flames a few minutes later and followed loosely behind.
“Cas, I need a wingman,” Dean clears his throat.
“Dean…”
“You don’t want to jump into the jaws of death, that’s… fine. How about we run a little errand? You too, Y/N.”
“Can you watch her?” you ask Sam and pass her off to her uncle.
“Sure.”
Instead of driving there, Castiel offered to be the ride. Dean gave Castiel the location, and you know exactly where he wants to take you two. He’s going to the place where his precious car is being stored for the time being. You know he really misses her, but it’s only a matter of time before you can use it again. With a flutter of angel wings, you and Dean disappear from your dad’s cabin to the place where Baby is being stored.
“Thanks for the lift.”
“My pleasure.” Dean walks to his baby and lifts the corner of the tarp covering her, smiling softly at the shiny metal. “Dean…”
“I know you’re scared, Castiel,” you cut in before he can say anything more. “I’m scared. You let these things in, and they beat you, and now you’re afraid of facing them because they might beat you again. I understand that, but we have a way to end this. It doesn’t matter what you did, Castiel. It matters what you do now, and you’re the only one who can help take all of them down. You did a bad thing, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“I’m not good luck, Y/N,” Castiel whispers.
“She’s right, you know. Bottom of the ninth, and you’re the only guy left on the bench… Sorry, but I’d rather have you, cursed or not. Anyway, nut up, alright? We’re all cursed. Do we seem like good luck to you?” Dean says the same thing but in his own way. Castiel stares at the two of you with an unknown look on his face. “What?”
“Well, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I detect a note of forgiveness from both of you.”
“That’s because we’re giving it to you, Castiel. You’ve earned it.”
“Well, I’ll go with you, and I’ll do my best.”
“Thanks,” Dean says with a small smile.
“So, can I ask what the plan is?”
“Well, according to Crowley, Dick knows we’re coming, so we’re gonna announce ourselves–big,” Dean smirks.
“Go big or go home,” you shrug.
Dean never lets anyone drive his precious Baby, but he had to if he wanted to distract most of the Leviathans. You hated this idea, but you had to have Meg drive it so that the Leviathans would think it’s you instead of her. While she is speeding up to the doors, you and the Winchesters went through the back and split up. Sam is going to go find Kevin since they are holding him here, and you and Dean go with Castiel so he can point out where the real Dick is.
“Take her. Keep her safe, okay? I can’t kill Dick if I’m worried about her,” you say to Sam and hand Joanna to her.
“Of course.”
“Mama,” Joanna whines, reaching out for you.
“Not now, baby. You’re going to be with your uncle Sammy, okay? Be a good girl.”
You kiss her head and look at Sam before leaving for Dean and Castiel’s side.
“We’ll be right back, sweetheart,” Dean sighs.
He kisses his daughter before leaving so that it’s not any worse than it already is. You leave with the two men, trying to find the best way to Dick without raising suspicion. You’d rather not kill a bunch of Leviathans only to alert Dick and have him get away. It’s too quiet in this building, but you have a mission to do. Every Leviathan you see, you have to make sure they aren’t the real Dick based on Castiel’s opinion. When you see a Leviathan, he looks at them and nods yes or no if they are the real Dick.
Each one you pass is the wrong person, so you have to continue on until you reach the real one. Gunshots ring out from the front of the building, and you know Meg is doing her part. You only have so much time before Dick is alerted by them dying.
You’re about to walk past a conference room that had glass walls when you notice Dick sitting in there alone. You stop and look at Castiel, nodding to the room to tell him there is someone in there. You move out of the way so he can peek inside, but when he shakes his head at you, you know you have to keep looking.
If you had to guess, Dick would be in the bottom level where the labs would be so as to keep everything he’s doing out of the public eye. You three take the stairs to the labs which also have glass windows and walls. You turn the corner and see Dick and another Leviathan dressed like a doctor. Castiel peeks at them from behind you, and when he nods his head, you know you have your guy.
You bend down and sneak past the window so he won’t be able to see you when you come to a door that has access to the room. You unlock it with your magic and tiptoe inside, not alerting either Leviathan. Dick is standing there with his back to you, holding some kind of small creamer. You believe this will end mankind as you know it if he gets this distributed.
“You know, I think this might end up the slickest little genocide in history,” Dick chuckles, downing the small container.
“Thank you, sir,” the Leviathan grins, packing a box with the small creamers.
“Just sayin’. I smell 'promotion’.”
You sneak up behind the Leviathan and form a magical sword since it’s a lot quieter than Dean unsheathing his machete. You slice right through the Leviathan’s neck, cutting his head clean off. He gargles up blood but drops dead. If Dick didn’t know you were here before, he does now. He crushes the creamer container in his hands and turns around, making eye contact with your bright blue ones. He looks down at his friend, but he doesn’t have any reaction.
“Little abrupt… but okay,” he chuckles. “Castiel. Good to see you again. Thanks for the ride into paradise.”
Dean reaches into his jacket pocket and removes a bone soaked in blood. If you’re dealing with Dick, you have to be smarter than he is. The first rule of dealing with the diabolical ones is that you always need a back up, and this is your back up weapon. This is the distraction while you have the real one on you.
You just have to figure out the best time to use it.
“And good on you for pulling that together. A-plus.”
“Oh, you don’t think this’ll work, do you? You trust that demon?” Dean asks, stepping over Dick’s dead friend so he can get closer to him.
“You sure I’m even me, Dean?”
“No, but he is,” Dean says, gesturing to Castiel who glares at him. Based on Dick’s reaction, you know he doesn’t like that Castiel knows who everyone is. “See, here’s the thing when dealing with Crowley–he will always find a way to bone you.”
“This meeting’s over.”
Castiel is the first to try and take down Dick, but the Leviathan is quick to overpower him. Dick grabs Castiel’s shoulders and throws him into the wall behind him, watching as the plaster cracks beneath him. With him distracted, Dean uses that fake weapon and stabs Dick in the chest. He gasps and staggers, but this, of course, doesn’t work on him.
You have the real thing.
Dick laughs and removes the bone with no issue, snapping it in two with his bare hands. You have to be smarter than Dick if you want to kill him. You think back to what your mom said to you when you were in your magical coma after trying to defeat two Leviathans.
“Leviathans are powerful creatures, and it takes a lot more than normal to take them down–more than what you and your daughter can provide.”
If you can’t combine your magic with your daughter’s to defeat Dick, then you have to use your other abilities to achieve it. You close your eyes and take a deep breath to calm yourself, and because of it, you think of the perfect solution. Dean and Castiel don’t know what you’re going to do, they just know you’re going to do something.
“Did you really think you could trump me?” Dick laughs.
“No, but she can.”
You open your eyes just as a wave of magic stems from your body onward. Everything slows down until it stops completely. You have stopped the effects of time once again, and not even Dick can go against that. You look at Dean to see him smirking because he knows that your side is going to win. Castiel looks very worried because in his mind, there is doubt you can pull this off. Dick looks cocky because Dean’s words haven’t sunk into his brain just yet. The more you use this power, the more you have control over it.
You make sure not to touch anything or anyone–you don’t want to fuck this up before it’s even had a chance to start. You maneuver to behind Dick, looking to your left through the small windows on the doors. You can see Kevin and Sam rush over to the room with Joanna in your brother-in-law’s arms.
“I hope you know how much I love you,” you say to Joanna even though she can’t hear you. You’re not even sure why you’re saying this, but you have a feeling something bad is going to happen. “I hope you know that your dad and I would do anything to give you the childhood we never had. I hope you get that, baby girl.”
You turn back to Dick and take the real weapon out of your jacket pocket. A single tear slides down your face as you return time back to normal. Your magic is sucked back into your body as if it never left. Dick looks around for you, and you reach up to tap his shoulder. He swiftly turns around to face you, your feet are almost touching with how close you two are.
“This is for my dad, you Dick.” You take the real weapon and slam it into his neck, watching as it sticks out on the other end. You’re blown back from the impact, knocking into Castiel. Dick yells in pain and in agony that he lost this battle to a couple of hunters. “Don’t fucking mess with a witch next time.”
As soon as you stick that weapon in his neck, Sam and Kevin come barreling into the room with worried looks on their faces. Dick’s face transforms into his Leviathan form before returning to normal. Black blood starts to pour out of his nose and mouth, but he isn’t fazed by it at all. He starts to laugh evilly, in a way that makes your skin crawl. Waves of energy pulsate from his body in time with a loud, accelerating heartbeat. Suddenly, the energy is sucked back into his body in the same way that your magic was sucked into yours.
Due to this, Dick explodes into black goo. You close your eyes to shield yourself from the blast, but when you open your eyes, you’re not in the lab anymore.
In fact, you’re not even in the same environment.
You scramble to your feet and look around you to gauge just how bad this is. You’re not in the Sucrocorp building anymore… you’re in a dark forest. There are whispers and shuffling coming from all around you, but you can’t see anyone with your normal vision and your magic.
“Dean!” you shout.
You don’t think that’s a good idea, but you’re alone and scared.
“Sam!”
No one is answering you, which makes you think you’re all alone here.
“Joanna?” you ask, but much more quietly.
Tears brim your eyes when you have no clue what you did or even where you are. More importantly, what happened to Sam and your daughter? And why aren’t they with you?
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Author’s Note: this is the series finale. i am so sad this is all over, but i want to thank each and every one of you guys for liking, reblogging, and commenting on my series. i honestly couldn’t do this without any of you, so for that, thank you. for those who are wondering, i did start season 8, but the earliest it’s going to come out is in August/September. i know it’s a long way away, but i work very hard to bring you the very best content.
thank you for always supporting me <3
I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.
You grab Joanna and walk to the bedroom so you can get ready as well as get her ready. You set her on the bed and watch as she stands and bounces on the bed gently. You chuckle and grab one of your shirts from the drawers. You look at the shirt and just sigh, taking a seat on the end of the bed. You’ve been waiting for this moment for months, to kill Dick for killing your father. You have all the ingredients, you have the weapon, now you just need a plan of attack.
You’re so much in your own head that you don’t hear the bedroom door open and your husband walk in.
“You okay?”
“This has to work Dean,” you sigh and look up at him. “If it doesn’t, he’s going to kill us and Joanna. That’s a guarantee.”
“That’s the exact reason why this is going to work. You’re a damn light witch, and the best one at that.”
“I want him dead for what he did,” you say emotionally, sniffling to keep the tears in.
“You’re going to get the chance to avenge your dad’s death. We’ll make sure Joanna is out of harm’s way. We’ll keep her with Sam and have him hang back if that will make you feel better.”
“I love you.”
You stand up and kiss him with everything you got, keeping in mind your daughter who has no idea what is going on. You pull away and turn to the bed to get dressed when your daughter does something you knew was coming for a while now but didn’t know it would be now. Dean starts to leave the room, but she doesn’t want him to go just yet. The bed isn’t as hard as the floor, so she wobbles and falls a few times as she tries to run to him.
“Dada,” she says, reaching out to him.
Both yours and Dean’s jaws drop but for different reasons.
“Traitor,” you gasp playfully.
“What the hell did she just say?” Dean gasps.
“Dada!” Joanna says again, reaching out for him.
“Yes, I’m your daddy!” Dean laughs happily.
He picks Joanna up and spins her around, kissing her cheeks.
“Do you know who I am?” you ask her, taking her tiny hands between two fingers.
“Dada!” she squeals.
You look at Dean and see hints of tears in his eyes. You know how much this means to him, and you’re glad he got to have this moment.
“Are you okay?” you chuckle.
“I’m just happy,” he whispers truthfully.
You haven’t seen that smile in a long time, and you’re glad he has it now.
“Well, you definitely got a Daddy’s girl. Come on, let’s get ready.”
You quickly change into more comfortable clothing before leaving the bedroom. You smile widely when you hear Dean talking to his baby girl as if she can talk in full sentences. You have no clue what is going to happen later, but you’re glad you got to her hear first word and see her first steps.
You don’t know what’s going to happen, but you have a feeling it won’t be good.
You’re finally outside of Sucrocorp, but you have to have a plan instead of going in half-assed. You have to scout the area, see where Dick is, and then follow up with a plan. There are three of you, so you have more wiggle room here. Dean parked a ways away from the building, using binoculars to see while Sam is using his laptop to get into the cameras using whatever Charlie left on his laptop.
“You got it yet?”
“Here we go.”
You scoot further up so you’re right behind the brothers to see the laptop. Sam’s laptop shows footage of the board room where a meeting is still in progress. Dick is sitting there talking to his fellow Leviathans, and your eyes narrow.
“Thank you, Charlie, wherever you are,” Sam mutters.
“Got you, Dick.”
“Yeah, that’s the second floor.” The screen changes to show more cameras, one of which is the camera right outside Dick’s office where you can clearly see him sitting at his office, alone. “What the hell? Is that Dick?”
The screen now shows footage of Dick walking alone in a hallway.
“Son of a bitch. This motherfucker told everyone to look like him so we wouldn’t know who the real Dick is,” you curse.
“Cycle through again,” Dean orders.
While Sam is doing that, you grab the binoculars and notice someone walking to the front door. When you clear your vision, you notice it’s the maid you saw at the motel when you left Emily all alone. It’s the same motel room your dad went missing from.
“Son of a bitch,” you curse.
“What?”
“That’s the maid from the motel. The room where my dad disappeared to. We found him.” The maid walks to the building in determination. “Oh no, dad, what are you doing?”
“Wait. Are you saying that Bobby–”
“Look, just, uh, wait here.”
“I’ll go with you,” Sam says.
“Are you two out of your mind?”
“Don’t worry, Dean. I have the weapon, you have eyes on Dick, plural. We’ll take care of my dad. We’ll be right back.”
“Sam! Y/N!”
You and Sam leave the car without waiting for Dean’s response. You two rush over to the maid before she could even enter the building and alert all the Leviathans there. Sam decides to take the direct approach while you hang back just in case something bad happens. Sam rushes in front of the maid, holding his hands to stop her.
“Bobby? I know you’re in there. Listen to me. There are cameras everywhere. There’s one right there.” Sam points to one nearby. “Stop, okay? You’re gonna get her killed.” Your dad pushes Sam to the ground as hard as he can, but that doesn’t stop Sam from getting back up and trying again. “Bobby! Damn it! How are you gonna kill Dick, huh? You can’t!”
Your dad takes out a large knife from one of the maid’s pockets.
“Good enough for me,” she says in a distorted voice.
Your dad slashes at Sam to get him to move out of his way, and you gasp at his behavior. Sam looks up at the security camera and practically tackles your dad to the ground behind a parked vehicle to stay out of sight of the cameras.
“No! I’m not letting you go.”
“Get out of here, Sam. You too, Y/N.”
“No!” you yell.
Your dad slams Sam into the car and grabs his throat, squeezing it tightly.
“Daddy! Please stop!” you squeak, tears leaking from your eyes.
Your dad turns and looks at how scared you are. You would use your magic, but you don’t want to end up hurting the poor woman that he is inhabiting. Your dad knows how reckless he’s being, so he forces himself off Sam and leaves the woman’s body so that he’s a ghost again. The woman falls to the ground, but before she could crack her head open, you rush to catch her.
“We can’t be here.”
Sam coughs as he gathers himself. Your dad’s flask is inside the maid’s pockets, so you take it and place it in your own. Once Sam can breathe properly, he scoops the woman into his arms. You can’t get Dick tonight because of what your dad pulled, so you’ll have to score for tomorrow. If Dick was here all day today, then you know he is going to be here all day tomorrow. You and Sam bring the woman to the car where Dean is as confused as ever.
“What the hell happened?” Dean wonders.
“Just drive. We’ll explain later.”
Dean has no choice but to listen.
Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why! Follow my library blog @queenofdeansbooty-writes where I reblog all my stories, so you can follow that if you can’t be tagged!
Author’s Note: this is the series finale. i am so sad this is all over, but i want to thank each and every one of you guys for liking, reblogging, and commenting on my series. i honestly couldn’t do this without any of you, so for that, thank you. for those who are wondering, i did start season 8, but the earliest it’s going to come out is in August/September. i know it’s a long way away, but i work very hard to bring you the very best content.
thank you for always supporting me <3
I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.
You figured with all of your resources and people you know, you would have found your dad a lot sooner. He’s been missing for a whole ass month, doing whatever he’s been doing to try and get Dick Roman off his high throne. You have no way to track him down, so you have to wait until he comes to you instead of the other way around. The only thing you can focus on is your family and the fact that your little girl is now eleven months old. She is almost a year old, and you have no clue what you’re going to do for her birthday.
She is walking and is so close to talking, you can feel it. She is babbling a lot more and trying to imitate you or Dean whenever you sound out words to her. Your little girl is growing up so quickly, you can’t keep up with her. Before you know it, she is going to be going to preschool, and then she’s going to go to her prom.
Moments like these are special, and you have to hold them close to your heart because this only happens once in a lifetime. You can have more children, but there will always be one Joanna, so it’s going to be different with every child you may have. These moments are far in between because you’re this close to finally killing Dick. All you have left to do is grab Crowley’s blood and get a righteous bone, which is where you three are heading out to do.
You’re keeping Joanna entertained in the back seat with your magic. You’re making it rain down in sparkles and wisps, capturing her attention. She has bright green eyes, but the blue magic makes her eyes sparkle more. She coos and reaches out for the magic, but it’s always just out of reach for her.
“Are we almost there?” you ask.
“Exit is in three miles,” Sam says.
“I still say this is a bad idea,” Dean sighs.
“Dean, it was your idea, and it was the best one either of us had,” you chirp.
“I said it as a joke.”
“It was a bad joke–good idea.”
“Yeah, only because we got no magic spell, no book, and nothing on how to find a fucking righteous bone.”
“We can call Castiel again.”
“No, you know what happened last time. Y/N and I finally had some alone time, so we took the car out for a night, and just when things might have gotten good for us, Cas showed up naked on the car covered in bees.”
“For an angel, he was packing,” you grin.
“Really? That’s what you were focusing on?”
“Don’t worry, Dean. You’re bigger,” you whisper to him.
“Okay, I don’t want to hear that,” Sam cringes.
“What? From what I hear, you’ve seen how big he is.”
“You told her?” Sam asks and looks at his brother.
“Can we focus on what we’re doing here? Dick is held up at Sucrocorp right now. If we’re going to get him, that’s where we’re going to do it.”
Dean pulls off at the exit and heads to the cemetery where you’ll find your righteous bone. This cemetery was popular for housing a bunch of nuns back in the day, so if you’re going to find a righteous bone, this is where you’re going to do it. Dean only suggested this a joke, but it’s the only option you have right now. You head into the dark cemetery with Joanna in your arms. She managed to fall asleep in her car seat, but as soon as you moved to take it out, she woke up and started crying. As soon as she was in your arms, she fell back asleep.
This girl is going to be the death of you. She is her father’s daughter.
“Well, I guess if we can’t find a righteous bone in a fucking nun crypt, then we won’t find it anywhere else,” Dean shudders.
“Alright. Here,” Sam says and stops outside of an above-ground tomb where a bunch of nuns is laid to rest. “Listen to this. Sister Mary Benedict taught the learning-impaired and died at age twenty-three.”
Sam did some research about the women who were placed here after death to see who might be the most righteous. You hate stealing one of their bones, but it’s what you have to do to get rid of Earth’s worst monsters.
“Eh, it’s a little young. Find someone who’s had time to cook.”
“Okay, well, there was Sister Mary Eunice. Uh, fed the poor and became Mother Superior at age sixty.”
“Sounds political. Power corrupts,” you state.
“Right. Okay, listen to this–Sister Mary Constant, eighty years of quiet, humble nun-like goodness. What do you think?”
“Wow. I want to be more righteous just hearing this. Well, I lay odds on her. Here we go. Let’s bone this nun.” You and Sam give Dean a weird look, and a blush creeps up his cheeks. “Sorry.”
He removes a mallet from his duffel bag and goes to town on the coffin. Joanna slept through the whole thing because you know she feels safe in your arms. As soon as you grab the femur bone, you take off back to your dad’s cabin. You have three of the four ingredients–Castiel’s blood, the alpha’s blood, and the righteous bone. All you need is Crowley’s blood.
You waited until you were back in your dad’s cabin to do the spell to summon Crowley. He made a whole point of making sure he was the last one because his blood was “special” and “can be used against him”. Paranoid bastard. Joanna is playing in her playpen, picking up her toys, and organizing where they go. It’s crazy how much she loves walking and running. She loves playing tag with Dean, squealing whenever he catches her. You know she’s doing it because she loves getting caught.
She’s going to make a great witch one day.
With everything in the bowl to summon Crowley, he lights a match and tosses it in there. Crowley loves making an entrance, but he is taking way too long to show up. Something is wrong. He either wants to screw you guys over or he’s in trouble. Either way, it doesn’t look like he’s coming.
“Is he trying to make a grand entrance or…?”
“I don’t know.”
“Son of a bitch. He’s standing us up.”
“He’s either screwing us over or he’s in trouble. I have a feeling Dick has something to do with it,” you sigh.
“Maybe.” There is a knock at the door, and Sam takes out his gun as a precaution. He walks over to the door and looks through the peephole to see who it is. “Maybe it’s good news.”
Sam opens the door revealing Meg. You roll your eyes when she walks in as if she lives here.
“Great,” you scoff.
“You deal with him. I can’t anymore.”
“You might want to be more specific.”
“I was laying low halfway across the world when emo boy pops up out of nowhere and zaps me right back here.”
“Castiel? Why?” you wonder.
“Go ask him. He was your boyfriend first,” she says to you and Dean.
You know Joanna is going to be safe with Sam in here, so you leave her in her playpen as you and Dean walk outside where Castiel is sitting in a red car in front of the cabin. You look both ways before crossing the street, stopping on the driver’s side where Castiel is.
“Hey, there,” Dean says, leaning on the car and bending down. Castiel raises his hand and waves but doesn’t say a word. “So, Cas, what’s the word?”
“Well, Dean, I’ve been thinking. Monkeys are so clever, and they’re sensible in that they leave the skins on the bananas that they eat. Is it really necessary to test cosmetics on them? I mean, how important is lipstick to you, Dean?”
“What?” you ask, very confused.
“You want to come inside and, uh, tell us what’s going on?”
“Of course.”
Castiel gets out of the car, and you escort him to the house where Sam and Meg are waiting. Sam is holding Joanna in his arms as she plays with his hair and tangles it in her tiny fingers, but he doesn’t seem to care. You’re glad he did this because you don’t trust Meg one ounce.
“Now, you understand I don’t participate in aggressive activity.” Castiel picks up the bone you stole and sniffs it. “Mm. Sister Mary Constant. Good choice.”
“Why’d you go to Meg, Cas?” Sam wonders.
“When I left, I wanted to observe the flowers and fruit. Flowers come first, obviously, but I heard nothing from them.”
“You heard nothing from who, Castiel?”
“The Garrison.”
“What happened to the Garrison?”
“Well, finally, the silence was deafening, so I went to look at the home of the Prophet. You know, Leviathans can kill angels. There’s a reason why Father locked them in Purgatory. They’re the Piranha that would eat the whole aquarium. They’re gone. The entire Garrison–dead. If there’s anyone left at all, they’re in hiding.”
“Wait, you’re saying all the angels are dead? Where’s Kevin?” you ask worriedly.
“I could steal them from their cages, the monkeys. But where would I put them all?”
“Hey!” Dean claps his hands in front of Castiel’s face. “Focus. Is Kevin alive?”
“I don’t want to fight.”
“No, I’m not–” Dean sighs and returns to his calm self. “We’re very worried.”
“They took him. He’s alive. I felt such responsibility, but it’s in your hands now.”
“Wait, hold on a fucking minute.”
“I feel much better.”
“Guys, what’s all that?” Meg asks, seeing the table you were using to summon Crowley.
“We called Crowley.”
“You what?”
“Don’t worry. He never showed.”
“What do you mean never–”
“Do you see him anywhere? He stood us up!” Dean cuts her off.
“Well, I’m sorry about that, but I’m out. He could still sh–-”
“Show up at any time,” Crowley finishes her sentence, appearing out of nowhere. “Hello boys and Y/N. Sorry, I’m late. This is an embarrassment of riches.” He turns to Meg who looks scared. “Stay, won’t you. There’s really nowhere to run.”
Meg runs for the door, but Crowley disappears from where he is to right in front of her, blocking her exit.
“Don’t even think of smoking out, pussycat. I’ve got eyes all over the place.”
“Leave her be,” Castiel says, coming to her protection.
“Castiel. When last we spoke, you, well, enslaved me. I’m confused. Why aren’t you dead?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, do you want to be? ‘Cause I can help with that.”
“Alright, that’s enough,” you butt in.
“It’s enough when I say. I came here to help you. I find out you’ve been lying to me, harboring an angel, and not just any angel–the one angel I most want to crush between my teeth.”
“Oh, so you can crush angels now, huh?” Meg sasses.
“You bore me. Do you know that? You have no sense of poetry.” He turns to Castiel. “Now, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“Well, I’m still, uh, honing my communication strategy. I haven’t even been back to Heaven. I-I keep thinking there are no insects up there, but here we have trillions. You know, they’re making honey and silk and… miracles, really.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Um, preferring insects to angels, I guess. Here. I can offer a token if you like.” Castiel pulls out a bag of a yellow substance from his trench coat. “It’s honey. I-I collected it myself.”
“You’re off your rocker. He’s off his rocker, is that it? Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?” Crowley asks you three.
“Look, did you come here to donkey-punch your old grudges or to help us end Dick? Pick a battle.”
“Well, I’m vexed. I’d like to do both, but where’s the fun in clobbering a ball of wet fur? Text me when Sparkles here retrieves his marbles, I suppose. Meanwhile, a prezzie.”
Crowley takes out a vial of his blood and tosses it to you. You catch it easily and stare at it, looking at him suspiciously.
“Just like that?”
“I’m a model of efficiency.”
“Is that right? Then why were you late?”
“Dick had me in a devil trap. He’s not an idiot. He knows what you three are after.”
“What did he offer you?” you ask, pocketing the blood so he can’t take it from you.
“A fair deal in exchange for giving you the wrong blood. It’s demon, but is it mine?” He pauses for dramatic effect, but you’re not in the mood for it. “It’s my blood. Real deal.”
“Why should we trust you?”
“Good God, don’t. Never trust anyone. A lesson I learned from my last business partner,” Crowley sighs, looking at Castiel. “Oh, bonus. Meg, I’m gonna scoop you up, take you home, and roast you till you’re jerky.” Castiel feels protective over her and advances to Crowley, but he holds his hands up. “But not… yet. Cas can have you for now. Hilariously, it seems he’d be upset at losing you. The boys and Y/N need Cas to get Dick. Don’t they, Cas?”
“Oh, I–I don’t fight anymore,” the angel stutters.
“Come on. Given the particulars of your enemy, sadly, you’re vital.”
Crowley winks at you before disappearing, and oddly, Meg is gone too. You take the blood out and look at it, tossing it to Dean who catches it.
“Well, one thing’s for sure–we only get one shot.”
“You know this thing doesn’t reload, right? Dick won’t let us kill him twice.”
“Yeah, I know. You think Crowley’s double-crossing us?” Sam asks.
“You’ve got to figure who he wants dead more–us or Dick.”
“Depends what Dick offered. Here we go.”
Sam takes the righteous bone and places it in a different bowl, turning to another one where the blood is going to go. He pours Castiel’s blood in, then the Alpha’s, and finally Crowley’s. He takes the bowl of blood and holds it over the righteous bone.
“Uh, there’s no magic words. We just… just go.”
“Alright then.”
Sam pours the blood over the bone, but nothing happens when he does so. You’d figure lightning or thunder would happen, but nothing is.
“Where are all the thunder and lightning?” Dean asks, thinking of the same thing.
“Maybe it worked?”
“Awesome.”
You hear the sound of angel wings before you feel the touch of someone’s hand on your shoulder. You turn and see Castiel standing there holding a plate of sandwiches.
“So, none of this should cause you any ill effects. I went to a little farm in Normandy for the wheat and the lettuce and tomato, and I thoroughly examined and comforted the pig before I slaughtered it for the ham. Here. You three need your strength.”
“Thanks, Castiel,” you smile and take the plate.
“Cas, why was Crowley so certain that you need to come with us?” Sam asks, not taking his plate.
“Crowley’s wrong. I’ll be waiting right here. Please, accept this sandwich as a gesture of solidarity.”
“I’m going to get ready. We have a big day ahead of us,” you state. You take a bite of the sandwich and moan at how fresh and good it tastes. “Thanks for the sandwich.”
Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why! Follow my library blog @queenofdeansbooty-writes where I reblog all my stories, so you can follow that if you can’t be tagged!
Request by @theothermrswinchester: You were in love with dean, he was in love with you. You admitted, but he wouldn’t for fear he’d lose you. You leave him,, and haven’t seen him for a few months. Dean turns into a demon now. Hunts you down, to admit he loves you. Since he knows nothing can get you now, and he’s not afraid.
Summary: Girl loves boy. Boy secretly loves girl. Girl leaves home. Boy doesn’t follow Girl. Months later, Boy finally finds Girl… but it’s not in good faith.
Square Filled: stalking (2021) for @spndarkbingo
Author’s Note: feedback is important!
The library is filled with silence as you and Dean continue to stare at one another. No one has said a thing in the past fifteen minutes after what was just confessed. It wasn’t real before, more of a hope or a feeling, but now that it’s out in the open, it’s as real as you and Dean. Sam walked into the room five minutes ago, and he’s been watching you and his brother since.
“Are you two going to say something to each other?” Sam asks, breaking the silence.
“I already said something. It’s Dean’s turn,” you say and continue to look at the older brother.
Dean wants to say it back. He wants to tell you everything you want to hear. He wants to tell you that he’s so in love with you that it hurts… but he can’t. If he says it, then it becomes real, and then you could get seriously hurt because of it. Too many people have died because of him, and he is not going to let that happen to you.
If he pushes you away, then at least you’ll be alive to hate him.
“There’s nothing I need to say.”
If the sound of a heart breaking could be heard, then both brothers would hear it. You know he’s lying. You know how he feels, so why is he denying it? Does he not want to feel this way toward you? Maybe you don’t know him as much as you claim to know. The Mark of Cain has really changed him, and it’s not for the better.
“Well then. I guess there is no point in me staying here any longer,” you say and stand up.
“What? You’re leaving?” Sam gasps.
“Unless I’m given a reason to stay,” you ask, looking at Dean.
“If you want to go, then you should go,” he says and grabs his beer to drink it.
Without another word, you leave the table and march to your room, closing the door with a soft slam.
“Are you insane? You’re just going to let her leave?” Sam barks at his brother.
“What? She’s an independent woman. I’m not going to be the thing to hold her here if she doesn’t want to be here.”
“You know damn well that’s not what she meant.”
Sam scoffs and leaves the library to try and convince you to stay here. Dean may be impossible at some times, but he’d never want you to leave. Sam didn’t spend countless sleepless nights with Dean to hear how supple your breasts look in certain clothes.
That was three months ago, and you’ve been on your own ever since.
You didn’t want to know what Dean was up to because you left to get away from him. You went through a new guy every week just to try to get over him. It never worked, but you’re going to keep trying until Dean is no longer on your mind.
While you were trying to get Dean out of your mind, Dean has been doing everything he could to get you back into his life. He has a new look on life, and he’s no longer afraid of small things like death or losing a loved one. He’d never let you out of his sight, so he doesn’t have to worry about you leaving him. He has new powers–demonic powers–so things like fear and emotions aren’t in his vocabulary anymore.
The second he turned to the dark side, he knew where you were. He kept you in sight for months, stalking you to figure out when the best time to grab you is. You’re not hunting anymore, but you do go to hunter’s bars to meet men there. It’s pathetic, really, but given your circumstances, he understands.
For the past few months, you knew there was something over your shoulder watching you, but you could never figure out who it was. You’d know it if it were Sam or Dean since they aren’t very good at being subtle. However, whenever you do look over your shoulder… there is no one there.
Some people have a sixth sense of knowing when they’re being watched, and your sixth sense has been going off ever since you left the Bunker. It’s not a good kind of watching either–not like an angel watching over you sort of shit. No, this is more sinister as if you’re in danger.
It’s hard knowing there is something out there watching you, waiting for the right moment to strike. Not knowing when that moment will come.
The bunker is the only home you’ve ever known, and you don’t have any money to grab yourself a real place. So, much like what Sam and Dean did before finding the Bunker, you live in and out of motels around the United States. You take on odd jobs to help pay for it. It’s not ideal, but it works right now.
Or it did.
You put the key into your door, walking in when you get it unlocked. You’d just come back from a night of hustling men for money at pool. It’s something Dean taught you how to master. You take one foot in the room and immediately freeze. The lights are off and it’s in the same condition that you left it in, but there is something off about the room. You’re not even sure you want to go inside right now, but you do anyway just to prove to yourself that nothing is in here.
However, when you turn on the light, that’s when whoever is in the room attacks.
You’re slammed into the door behind you, and you look into familiar green eyes that you left a long time ago.
“Dean? What the hell! You fucking scared me!” you gasp.
“It’s nice to see you too. Long time no see, Y/N. You broke my heart when you left.”
“When I left? You let me leave! You didn’t want to man up about how you felt!”
“Yeah, and now I couldn’t care less,” he smirks.
He blinks and his eyes turn pitch black. Your own eyes widen in shock. The anti-possession tattoo is peeking out from underneath his shirt, so he can’t be possessed. Then how the hell is he a demon?
“You see,” he continues, “I’ve spent months watching you… listening to you breathe at night… watching you fuck those men… and I’ve come to realize that you were never theirs. No, you’re mine and only mine. I let you go once, and I don’t plan on letting you go again.”
“How the hell is this possible?”
“Anything is possible, sweetheart.”
For the first time in your life… you don’t feel safe in Dean’s arms… and the thought scares you.
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Summary:Y/N prepares for the perfect Valentine’s day with Dean Winchester…
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The alarm clock blared and Y/N sat up in bed bleary eyed and fatigued.
She frowned at the ringing and reminded herself that she didn’t need to set the timer anymore. The Bunker had been empty for a while now and she didn’t have much to do without the boys around, anyway.
Y/N looked to her right and saw Dean’s side of the bed was vacant. “You’d think I would be used to that by now…” She stretched with a soft groan and stepped out from under her covers. It wasn’t until she checked her phone that she was finally spurred to action.
The screen read February fourteenth.
She gave a small smile at the date. “Well Dean, looks like you’re in luck!” With a renewed sense of purpose, Y/N set out to get her Valentine’s plans ready.
Every February fourteenth, Dean and Y/N would celebrate the holiday with all its clichés. Chocolate, romcoms, and a couple of beers was all it took to make the day a good one. Though their celebrations were modest, the way they saw it, having each other was enough.
Y/N walked over to her closet and put together an outfit. It was an important day and she had to dress accordingly. Once clothed, she gave a weary smile at her reflection and stepped away.
Y/N ambled down the Bunker’s empty hallways until she reached the main room. She fetched her keys, two bottles of beer she had laid out the night before, and a DVD copy of Say Anything before rushing out the door to meet Dean.
A crisp February wind met her outside and she squinted at the clear sky above. Y/N smiled at the perfect weather and stepped into her car. She turned on the ignition and let out a deep breath “Here I go,” she whispered.
Valentine’s Day, One Year Ago
“Though I respect your affections, couldn’t you perhaps ease your passions?”
Sam entered the room and rolled his eyes. “Guys, come on. Cas is right. Take it easy, we ALL live here.”
Dean and Y/N grinned from their spots on the couch. “It’s just a kiss Sammy. Get over yourself,” Dean chastised.
“You guys are making out in our movie room. It’s not just a kiss,” Sam retorted. He and Castiel weren’t really offended, but liked to nag whenever they could.
Y/N shifted in her seat and kissed Dean’s cheek. “Sorry guys. We can’t help it if we’re hopelessly in love with each other,” she teased.
Dean turned around and kissed her back. “That’s right,” he started. “Hopelesslyanddevastatingly in love…”
Sam and Castiel shared a look as the pair carried on from where they had left off. In each others arms and against each others lips. “Maybe we should-” Cas stammered. Sam nodded. “Right ahead of you.” The angel and the hunter spared a last smile at their friends before leaving the room and locking the door behind them.
“I think they’re gone…” Y/N mumbled mid kiss
Dean pulled back and winked. “I figured that would do the trick.”
Y/N laughed at his callousness and moved away from him. She lay down and settled her head on his lap.
“How’s the view from down there?” he asked.
“Spectacular.”
Dean frowned. “Honestly? You usually hit me with a testy one-liner.”
Y/N shrugged. “I’m serious. I’m getting a great look at the ceiling from this angle…”
“Yup. There it is.”
Y/N giggled. “I set myself up for that one didn’t I?” he laughed, leaning his head back on the couch.
Y/N grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed gently. “You totally did,” she admitted.
They stayed quiet for a moment, comfortable in their easy connection. Dean started humming and Y/N listened as the faint tune carried on. She closed her eyes and smiled. “What are you humming?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
He hesitated and Y/N opened her eyes, taking in the glint in his eye. “Mr. Roboto,” he said carefully. “Styx.”
Y/N quirked a brow. “Is that so?”
“Is that a problem?” Dean asked, glancing down at her.
“You mean, is it a problem that you only ever hum the same ten songs from eons ago?”
Dean raised a brow and hummed louder.
Y/N raised a hand and reached out to touch Dean’s cheek. “I love you,” she whispered. He sighed and leaned into her touch. “I know,” he said softly. “And you have no idea what that means to me.”
Y/N moved to sit up. She looked into his eyes and saw him staring back. “Happy Valentine’s day,” she said. “I can’t wait to see what this year will hold for us.”
Dean leaned forwards and kissed her lightly. “As long as you’re still by my side, I couldn’t give a damn.”
With their favourite movie playing in the background, and plenty of sweets and beer waiting on the table, the two hunters nestled against each other and took comfort in the small moment they shared together.
***
Y/N drove past vast green pastures and earthy plains before finally reaching a sparse forested area. She knew exactly where to find Dean and felt her heart race as she drew nearer to her destination. She parked her car and stepped out, taking her Valentine’s treats with her.
I wonder if Sam has passed by lately… Y/N thought as she walked down a woody path. She could hear the buzzing of insects as she hiked, the unlucky few that hadn’t left for the winter. Their humming sounded suspiciously like Dean’s beloved rock hits… Y/N hiked for the better part of an hour before entering a familiar clearing. It was there that she saw Dean waiting just up ahead, the grin she knew so well tugging at his lips.
“How’s the view from down there?”
Y/N felt her eyes sting as she stepped forwards, a shaky smile on her face. “Dean,” she said softly, “you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
“And you have no idea what that means to me.”
Y/N walked towards the clearing’s centre. Her heart ached as she caught a flash of Dean’s laugh. She stopped when she reached a patch of blackened ground.
She knelt down before a heap of scorched wood. It had been months since she’d last been here and the ground was still stained with ash. She laid out the DVD and bottles of beer she had been holding. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she whispered.
Above Y/N, standing cold and out of place was a pyre. It had been months since she had lost Dean to the vampires and he had been laid to rest. She still remembered the night Sam had driven the Impala home, passenger seat, empty. He had left the Bunker shortly after and she hadn’t heard from him much since then. She winced and cast away the memory, thinking instead of her last Valentine’s with Dean. They had been hopeful then, trusting in their future. He had told her that day that he would be content so long as she stayed by his side.
Y/N looked up to the sky and closed her eyes, reveling in the sun’s soft touch upon her skin. She took a breath and spoke.
I have no idea why I did this. It sounded like a good idea at first but then by the end it was just too late to turn back. Don’t worry, I’m writing another Dean Winchester V-Day fic as we speak to atone for this one. HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY YOU GUYS!!!!
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Summary: Y/N has always dreamed of fighting alongside the Winchester brothers, but when they finally give her the chance to join the hunt, things don’t go as expected…
This is an angsty one…
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…
“Are you sure you’re up for this, kid?“ Dean asked, his tone laced with doubt.
Y/N crossed her arms and turned to Sam for support. "Tell him that I’m not as clueless as he thinks I am!”
“I don’t know, Y/N. Dean’s got a point. We just don’t think you’re ready for a real hunt yet. Maybe in time, with some more training?” Sam was trying to come off as earnest, but was sweating under Y/N’s pointed stare.
“I’ve been taking the backseat on every hunt for the past year,” she began slowly. “I’ve read the lore, done the research, and studied everything you two have taught me. I know what to expect!”
Dean shook his head and sighed. He fetched a beer from the cooler propped up against the car. “That’s all good in theory,” he said, cracking open the can and leaning against the Impala’s hood. “But it ain’t so clean cut in the thick of it. You’ve got book smarts, no one’s denying that, but you’re not cut out for a hands-on fight.”
Y/N felt something snap within her. Hunting was heroes work. It was a task that only the most skilled could endure. To hear the Winchesters tell her that she wasn’t a match for their lifestyle was a blow to her pride.
“I’m not asking for your permission,” she spat. “I’m not your sister and I’m sure as hell not your responsibility. I’ve been researching your cases for as long as I can remember, so it’s time you respected me as a member of the team.”
Y/N glared at the brothers, expecting them to challenge her. She was surprised by their grim silence, instead. “We do respect you,” Sam said softly. “It’s because we care about you that-”
“Forget it, Sammy,” Dean cut in. “I don’t think she understands. We’re past protecting her at this point. If this is what she wants, then let her have it.” He tossed his can across the gravel plot and stomped to the driver’s side. “We’re five miles from the wolf pack. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Dean scowled at Y/N before shutting the car door with a slam. Sam swallowed nervously and followed suit.
Although joining the brothers on a hunt was what Y/N had wanted, she felt hollow at the prospect of finally doing it. She assured herself that it would be a heroic endeavor and followed the Winchesters into the car. She knew what to expect. Everything would be fine.
…
His face was scarred and bloodied. His wide eyes held the broken promise of lost innocence. “Please,” he begged. “Please, I don’t want to die…”
Y/N gripped her blade tightly as the boy cowered below its tip. “You’re a monster,” she said more to herself than to him. The boy couldn’t have been a day over nineteen, with awkward bristles patching his chin, and the soft blush of youth still coating his cheeks. He was only a boy, but he was also a werewolf. A living contradiction that Y/N needed to end.
“What are you waiting for?” Dean yelled from across the field. “Kill it!” Y/N turned to the sound of his voice. The Winchesters fought back to back, defending each other’s rears as fanged creatures clawed from every side. The moonlight cast a bright glow on the land, contrasting the crimson stains on the shadowed earth.
Feeling pressured by Dean’s instruction, Y/N focused on the young monster before her and took a hesitant stab, missing his heart entirely. He cried out with pain and gripped at the blade impaled in his shoulder. Y/N froze, fear sapping her of the strength to pull back.
“Y/N!” Sam hollered. “Finish it!” She caught a flash of Sam’s wild eyes and pulled the silver blade back by reflex. The boy dropped to the ground and clutched at his wound. His face was pale and Y/N felt nauseated.
She saw his tear stained cheeks and the helplessness of his posture. She saw a reflection of herself. Frightened. Desperate. Hopeless. She raised the bloodstained blade in her hand but felt her fingers seize. It dropped to the ground with a clatter. The metallic resonance an echo of her crazed heartbeat. She couldn’t kill him.
She dropped to her knees.
“I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “Don’t worry, I’m going to fix this.” Y/N leaned over the boy and pressed her hands against the wound to lessen the flow of blood.
She miscalculated.
The werewolf bared its fangs and lunged at her. It was a wounded animal trapped in a corner, unable to tell kindness from malice. Y/N struggled against it, her back against the dewy grass. The creature clawed at her chest, tearing streaks across her shirt. Her limbs turned to lead against the assault. She had seen the Winchesters fight foes before, but had underestimated the raw violence involved. “I’m trying to help you!” she cried. “Let me help you!”
The werewolf slashed at her with pure animal instinct. It was blind to her good intentions. It sought blood. Y/N arched her back against the grass as the creature craned forwards, its fangs grazing her neck. She pushed against its chest but lost strength as it inched closer.
“I just want to help,” she choked. The creature snarled and Y/N looked away from its yellowed eyes. Her grip against its chest faltered as her resilience dissipated. Her eyes screwed shut as she accepted the finality of what was to come.
She would not survive this hunt.
Heat slicked her cheeks. She cringed. Sam and Dean never cried. Sam and Dean never let the monsters get the better of them. Sam and Dean never lay down, accepting death.
She was not Sam or Dean.
She was not a hunter.
As these thoughts richocheted through her mind, Y/N felt the werewolf stiffen above her. She was sure that the monster had bitten her neck. In her rush, she must have stayed numb to the fatal wound. She kept her eyes closed, grateful for the painless kill.
A moment later, she heard the scrape of metal and felt the weight over her body lift.
She opened her eyes.
The werewolf boy lay dead beside her, the tip of a silver blade protruding from his heart. She turned her head and saw Sam and Dean, standing tall and bloodied above her.
Dean was glaring down at her and the kindness had left Sam’s eyes. In that moment, they were hunters. Nothing more.
She gasped when a rough hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her up from the ground. The Winchesters stared with hardened features.
“You almost died,” Sam said. “If Dean and I hadn’t come in time, that would have been it.”
Y/N hummed a response, still disoriented. Blood hummed in her veins. She could taste metal on her tongue. The air was thick with death and Y/N shuddered in spite of herself. She was buzzing.
Her eyes darted around the grassplot. Bodies littered the ground, and when she looked down, the glazed eyes of the dead boy monster stared back. Her eyes stung and tears trickled out, leaving a hot trail in their wake. She turned to the Winchesters, hoping for comfort, but saw indifference instead. Sam and Dean were unfazed by the massacre, immune to its horror. They were hardened by their years on the road, and could offer Y/N no sympathy after she ignored their warnings.
“I only wanted to help,” she whispered, lowering her gaze to the young werewolf lying dead at her feet. “I thought I could help him…”
“Are you crazy?” Dean scoffed. “These things are monsters. They don’t need your help! In this job, you kill whatever goes bump in the night, end of story. The sooner you quit trying to be a hero, the better.” He shot her a look of disappointment and strode off.
Sam sighed. “We’re not trying to be hard on you, but this is it. You’ve hunted and seen it all. Are you satisfied?” He squeezed Y/N’s shoulder gravely and stepped past her to follow his brother.
Fled were the fantasies of hunting’s triumphs and honour. Y/N had learned the truth tonight. Hunting was a curse. A plague. A brutality. She watched as the Winchesters left her alone. She wanted to run away from them. She wanted to escape the pain, regret and humiliation she had brought upon herself. She wanted to escape the burden that weighed upon Sam and Dean Winchester.
Instead, she followed them.
She walked the stained path to the Impala and nodded at the boys up front. Moonlight glared from above. She climbed into the backseat and shut the car door with shaky hands. She listened to the rumble of the ignition and took one last glance at the remnants of her fist hunt.
This was just a spur of the moment fic, but don’t worry- ALL OUTSTANDING REQUESTS WILL BE POSTED NEXT WEEK!!
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You never really considered yourself a very confident person, but you had to admit, getting a little dressed up and taking the time to pretty up your face was giving you a chance to smile at yourself.
The makeup was light, but you added a few more touches that you usually wouldn’t. You applied a little bit of foundation, just to give your face that little bit of glow, then you added a little lip gloss. Something to pop your lips a little more, some color and a little shimmer. Eyeliner and mascara were your go tos for everyday life, but they seemed to even brighten up your face more with the help of the others.
Smiling at yourself, you then reached for the earrings you had chosen for the night. Taking the back off one, you turn your head a bit and slip the hook in your ear lobe with ease. Something you don’t always get since you lack earrings on a day to day basis. Just another thing you only do for special occasions.
Preparing the second earring, you could hear large boots taking on the stairs out in the other room. You smile even more knowing that Dean was home and you couldn’t wait to see what he thought of your little get up.
“Hey! I’m just about done, I’ll be out in a sec!” you yell out to him as you slide in your second earring, this one of course giving you a little more fight than the last. But once you got it in, you grabbed the small back piece and slowly made your way out into the other room; your smile as big as ever as you turned the corner because you were overly excited to see him after such a long day.
“Hey! How was your…” your sentence and excitement were immediately cut off when you saw him. Instead of being met with his bright smile and amazing green eyes, you saw his beautiful lips in a frown, his head low and his lively eyes full of confusion and hurt.
“Hey…” Walking up to him, you place your hand along his arm as you try to get him to look up at you. “What is it? What happened?” His tongue poked out against his lips briefly before he was able to look up, and you swear that only hurt you more.
“I uh…I’m sorry, I hate to do this but, can…” he finally looks you in the eye, regret spilling from him as he shakes his head a bit. “…can we just stay in tonight?”
“Yeah.” There was no question, and never would be. Not when he looked like that. “Of course we can.” you say, calming him as you lift your hand to his chest and run your fingers over his white button up.
“I um…why don’t you go and get out of this.” you tug on the lapel of his jacket a bit. “And I um…I’ll head upstairs and order us something, okay?”
“Okay.” he agrees, his right hand coming up to your hip and holding you there for a moment as he dips down and kisses you on the cheek.
You watch him walk into the bedroom before you carefully make your way up stairs and go for the take out menus in the kitchen. Sam and Sarah went out on their own date, so it was just the two of you in the house now. You find one of your favorite places and call them up, putting in an order fairly quickly before heading back downstairs to change out of your dress and heels and into your pajamas.
Dean was in the bathroom at that time, so by the time he came out, you were just finishing up. You hung your dress back up and then went into the bathroom to remove the mask you had applied not too long ago. You were sad to see it go, but you also knew that Dean would definitely give you another chance to do it again.
When you left the bathroom for the second time that night, you smiled softly when you saw Dean sitting on the couch, the controller resting on his thigh while his hand lazily laid over it. He was looking in the direction of the TV, but you were sure by the blankness on his face that he wasn’t paying any attention to it. Moving around the back of the couch, he didn’t even look up at you, which confirmed your thoughts.
Resting your hands on his shoulders, you start to massage them a bit, finally getting his attention. He attempts to look over his shoulder at you, but you just barely get a view of the side of his face before he drops his head.
Carefully, you climb over the back of the couch, spreading your legs so that Dean’s body fits perfectly between them before continuing to work the stress out of his neck and shoulders.
“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but you know I’m here if you need to, right?” He remains silent, his head just dangling as he enjoys the feeling of your hands working their magic. But, then his right hand lifts and lands on yours, effectively stopping your movements.
At first you thought that maybe you hurt him. Maybe he got into a fight or he just got hurt on some job he was on and you hit an injured spot.
“Eddie lied to me.” You lean a bit to the left as you try to look at him, but his head is still low. Though at least he’s looking more in your direction now.
“About what?”
“About Cassies killer.” Your eyes widen a bit, but you don’t truly know how bad it is yet. “They don’t have him.”
“What!?” your shock came out more like a cry. “Why would he lie about that?” Dean shakes his head a bit, letting his hand fall from yours now.
You take that opportunity to climb over the rest of the couch and you slide into his lap, straddling him now as your hands meet the sides of his face.
“Dean…”
“Bobby said they had him. They had DNA evidence and they were so close to getting him.”
“So…what happened?” Now that he was talking again, you let your hands slip down his neck, your nails lightly scraping against his skin as you tried to continue with the comforting touches.
“They lost it.” he nods at your shock. “Someone stole it all. Everything they had…it’s gone.”
“Someone…wait, what?” As if it was like he was hearing it all for the first time, he lifts his head and looks away from you for a moment. “Someone stole it? Like…came into the station or the lab or whatever, and stole it.”
“Yeah.”
“But…how does…”
“I don’t know.” Feeling defeated yourself from this information, you let your hands fall from him, your mind racing as you stare down at his chest.
“But…why lie about it? Why not just…not tell you anything and just…”
“Cause they did get someone.” As you looked to him for answers, he took a deep breath and slid his hands along your waist. “Apparently there were two of them. They caught the guy who attacked her outside the bar. But the one who…”
“Is still out there.” you finished the sentence that neither of you wanted to complete. “Either that, or someone’s covering for the person who did.”
“Yeah.” Now that everything was out, the hurt hit you. It felt like a punch to the gut, and you didn’t even want to think about how he was feeling.
“I’m so sorry.” you whisper softly, your hands sliding back up his chest and up to the base of his neck. “I can’t even…” Dean sighs softly through his nose, his right hand sliding across your arm until he reaches your cheek.
“It’s okay.” his thumb drags along your skin, his eyes exhausted as he looks at you. “I just…I don’t even know how to feel right now.” Your hands slowly meet the sides of his face as you lean in, your lips lightly brushing against his.
“I’m sorry for canceling our date.” he whispers against your lips, his eyes closed as he grips the exposed skin on your waist.
“You didn’t cancel it. You just changed the plans.” you stole another kiss before he could apologize anymore.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to make anything up to me.” With your forehead resting against his, you run your fingers along his neck and up into his hair where you start to lightly massage his scalp. He releases a quiet, satisfied moan and lets his head fall forward even more. You chuckle a little as you sit back a bit, letting his head rest on your chest now. He lets out a drawn out breath, clearly comfortable in his new position.
You keep running the tips of your fingers through his soft strands, even letting them travel down the back of his neck here and there. Dean didn’t seem to mind. He just continued to release quiet noises of agreement.
When his hands lightened their grip on your waist though, you let out a breathy chuckle as you tried to look at his hidden face.
“Don’t fall asleep before food gets here.” His groan this time was a little deeper. Obviously that’s exactly what was happening. “You need to eat something.” you giggle, still enjoying the feeling of his hair slipping between your fingers.
“Then you should probably stop doing that.”
“But I love your hair.” He smiles a little before lifting his head. Your hands slide back along his neck as he sits up; his sleepy, yet adorable eyes looking into yours. You think he’s going to say something, but instead he just leans in.
Dean only planned on a quick, sweet kiss, but the thing is, your lips were a drug to him. The way they moved with his just kept him wanting more. So the one turned into two, then into three. When he finally forces separation, he keeps close as he lets his fingers run along your side.
Summary:Selected chapters from Life’s Lessons told from Dean’s POV. Scenes that you didn’t get his perspective on, or scenes that you didn’t see… now you can. This part takes place after the events of chapters 5-8 of Life’s Lessons.
Warnings:Slight angst, Dean’s self-deprecation rears its ugly head, masturbation, sex dreams
A/N: This is also written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo, square filled: masturbation. I really hope you guys are enjoying seeing a few things from LL from Dean’s perspective, and maybe even a couple things you didn’t see! ;) As always, happy reading and enjoy! :) beta’d by my darling @downanddirtydean.
Dean shut the door, resting his back against the wood, a large exhale leaving him. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable feeling to kick in. Sadness. Loneliness. Anger. Regret. He waited for at least one of them to wash over him, but they didn’t. In fact, the only thing he felt was relief.
It was his first time coming back from work to an empty house. Lisa had left a few days ago, both her and Ben driving off in their car. The last thing he saw was the car taking a left at the end of the street, and they were gone. He was of course going to miss the kid, he had really formed a good relationship with Ben, but ultimately it was the right thing for everyone involved that he and Lisa finally broke up and she headed back to Indiana.
As he walked down the hallway, he did feel one of those feelings creep in. Loneliness. For the first time in three years, he was alone. No one to come home to. No one to ask him about his day or greet him with a kiss on the cheek. It only lasted the first year and a half with Lisa, but it was still good while it lasted. He longed for all of that again. To feel wanted by someone. It had never bothered him in the past, to be alone, because he always had something or someone to occupy his time with. He didn’t want to go back to the way he used to be, though. It would be easy to slip back into his old routine, that was true, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want those things anymore; drinking himself blind or hooking up with women he didn’t know. He was done with that. He had had his fun.
What he wanted, more than anything and especially now that he was free to make that decision, was to be with Y/N. Just like most things in his life though, even that wasn’t going to work out because now she was with someone else. Mark something. Mark, who he had met twice now. Once when he was out with his dad and ran into Y/N and Mark, and then again at her birthday when they were having drinks. Mark, who had insulted him and had earned a punch to his irritatingly perfect teeth next time he saw him. He honestly didn’t know what she saw in him, considering they didn’t seem to have much in common or even have much to talk about. He saw her at the bar when they all had drinks together. She was talking with Charlie and Meg mostly, but even if she tried to make it look like she and Mark had something good, he could see the truth.
Dean sighed as he stopped in front of the kitchen sink. He felt something else start to sink in then. Regret. Regret that he hadn’t called it off with Lisa sooner. If he had, he’d be with Y/N now.
His phone vibrated in his pocket causing him to jump, his hand reaching into his pocket and taking it out. He exhaled deeply, seeing Sam’s name on the screen before he answered. Like an idiot, he forgot he was supposed to meet Sam for drinks and called a rain check. His little brother even offered to come over with pizza, beer, and watch Die Hard, something they did when one of them wasn’t in a good mood, but he told Sam he didn’t need to. He could tell Sammy was worried, and probably didn’t believe him when he reassured him that everything was okay as he put on a light tone to his voice, but there was nothing he could do about that.
Dean hung up and placed his phone on the counter, pushing his hands through his hair as he leaned his elbows against the surface. Maybe he should’ve said yes to meeting Sam so he didn’t have to face the eerie and somewhat depressing silence of his house, but he knew his brother would tell him things he wasn’t ready to hear yet. He lifted his head as he heard a car pull up across the street, his eyes immediately finding Y/N as he looked out the kitchen window. He saw her take out a grocery bag and carry it under one arm, her other holding her phone to her ear. He frowned as he watched her walk across the small path to her porch, throwing her head back as she laughed.
His heart began to beat faster against his ribcage as he felt the urge to go to her, to ask her whether she’d want to have dinner, and maybe finally open up to her about how he was feeling. Now that Lisa was gone, he could finally be honest with her. With the way she was smiling, however, he knew that she was talking to Mark. He stepped back from the counter, shaking his head at his own stupid thoughts. Maybe he was free for them to be together, but she wasn’t.
He made his way down the hallway and into his bedroom, stripping off his clothes before he stepped into the bathroom and left the door slightly ajar. He turned the shower on, making sure the water was warm before he stepped in, pulling the curtain closed. He pressed his hands against the tiled wall, leaning forward as the spray washed down his head and wet his hair, down his shoulders and back. He couldn’t take his mind off Y/N but considering they had spent part of her birthday together despite her insistence that they couldn’t be around each other, he wasn’t surprised by that fact. She had been constantly in his thoughts since they met, and then he kissed her on that fateful night, and everything was different between them.
Suddenly they weren’t just friends and neighbors. They were two people who couldn’t explore their feelings because of their situations. Their timing was never right, with him ending things with Lisa just as Y/N found Mark. None of it was playing it out the way he had hoped, the way he had dreamed on nights he fell asleep beside Lisa but was overwhelmed by thoughts of his beautiful neighbor.
His eyes shut tightly as he felt his cock twitch, his mind getting away from him as he pictured Y/N. He saw her on the night she came over for dinner, laughing and smiling at him, her hand fitting perfectly in his, her lips against his as they forgot about the reality of their situation for a moment and kissed. His hand drifted down, wrapping around his shaft and pumping slowly, his other still pressed into the wall to keep himself steady. He groaned softly as he remembered the feel of her skin against his palms, as his hands slid up her back under her sweater, right before she pushed him away. The scent of her perfume as he kissed along her neck and collarbone drove him insane, nipping at her flesh.
A low growl fell from his lips as memories turned into fantasies, to images of her beneath him, their bodies writhing against each other as he moved deep within her. His hand stroked over his cock a little quicker, his imagination running wild as he heard her moaning his name in the heat of passion, his hands in hers as they stared into each other’s eyes. Their lips fused together in a searing kiss, Dean rolling onto his back as he held her close.
He smiled softly as he pictured her above him, gazing down at him, his hands on her hips as her hips rocked against his. Their movement became frantic as she pressed her hands into his chest, his thrusts faster as he lifted his hips to meet hers. His hand pumped faster, a loud groan leaving him as he felt himself getting closer to his release. His eyes remained closed as he imagined Y/N moaning his name as she reached the peak of ecstasy, a string of expletives along with her name fell from his lips as he reached the edge. A strangled moan left him as his neck strained back, spurts of his seed coating the tiled wall before washing away in the spray of the shower.
He blinked rapidly as he opened his eyes, wiping away the droplets of water from his face as he was hit by a wave of guilt. He sighed heavily as he cleaned himself, turning off the shower and stepping out. He wrapped a dark blue towel around his waist, wiping the fog off the mirror as he stared at himself, leaning his hands on the sink.
No matter how much he wanted Y/N in his life, she had moved on. She was with someone else, and he had to accept that. Even if every fibre in his being was telling him not to, he knew that he had to fight the voices in his head telling him to go after her. She wasn’t free to be with him.
That was something he was going to have to live with from now on.
If you’re crossed out, I couldn’t tag you! Join mytaglist! :)
The wonderfulness that is Rowena appears courtesy of the amazing @fangirlxwritesx67-
Series Summary: Dean and Emily seek comfort together in their shared grief over losing Sam. In their desperation, they may be doing more hurt than healing. Disaster and salvation surprise them both. But all choices come with a price.
Warnings: smut, angst, grieving, cheating (sort of?!), bad decisions, betrayal, thoughts of suicide mentioned (no graphic descriptions), fluff, language, alcoholism, show level violence.
W/C: 18k (3 parts)
Characters: Dean Winchester, OFC (Emily), Rowena, Sam Winchester.
Pairing: Dean x OFC, Sam x OFC.
Notes: Another ‘one-shot’ turned into a mini-seriesSequel to Need Me - but the events of that are discussed so don’t necessarily need to have read it.
Special Mentions:@thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters was the instigator of me even beginning to write this, so thank you for all your help and ideas. The Queen of smut @cockslut-padalecki checked the smut for me cause I require her validation, and she’s wonderful.
A/N: Honestly, it takes a village to raise a fic from idea to post-worthy, and I’d be lost without my village of wonderful people ❤
His hand brushed a piece of your hair out of your face, a feather-light touch that lingered.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” Dean’s soothing voice washed over you, lulling you into a deep sleep. “You make me happy, when skies are gray,”
Your eyes felt heavy. It couldn’t hurt to just close them, for a little bit.
“You’ll never know dear, how much I love you,”
Your eyes slipped closed for the final time, darkness washing over you.
Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reporter!Reader
Series Summary: Dean and Y/N have been best friends and inseparable since they were kindergartners, leading somewhat boringly normal lives in Lawrence City, Kansas. Now all grown up, Dean is working as a firefighter and Y/N as a reporter until one fateful night changes not only their lives but also their friendship forever.
Warnings: +18, strong language, light to implied smut (it’s an appetizer), flangst, a break-up (YAY ), a mix of angst, hurt & jealousy
Word Count:4.4k
A/N:She’s pissed. He’s sorry. Let’s still call this progress? I honestly didn’t want her to forgive him that soon. Their last fight was sorta the last drop for her. She needs a Dean break – we all need a Dean break at this point…
Feedback is highly appreciated! ❤️
<<15 || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List
One starry night in the Dean Cave…
Y/N hears waves in the distance and wiggles her bare toes in the white sand, the linen hem of her ivory dress tickling her thighs. It’s humid and warm, the smell of salt, sea, and suncream flooding her nose at the next cool ocean breeze. She squints her eyes at the hot sun, and as she gazes around the palm trees scattered on the empty beach and looks down at the familiar dress she’s wearing, she remembers she’s been here before – several times, actually.
It’s one of her reoccurring dreams. She can recall this same beach from her coma days, but it’s the first time she’s having one of them since she’s woken up.
“Hey, there you are.”
She turns her head to the familiar baritone voice that’s always so velvety smooth. She immediately smiles when she sees his bright beam and the sparkling green eyes.
With a few strides, Dean’s by her side and cups her cheeks, pressing his lips to hers. Their kiss is blazing and passionate, his tongue snaking between her pink lips and exploring her mouth, and she melts into his touch like she’s fucking ice cream in the sun. The kiss lasts for a few minutes before he draws back with a grin and she instantly feels the loss of his pillowy lips, a needy whine leaving hers.
“You’re eager today,” he smirks and takes her hand in his, guiding her to the small tiki bar on the beach that reads Rocky’s.
Dean’s not in his usual attire, either. He’s wearing a subdued Hawaiian shirt and fucking shorts. It’s weird because he usually never wears pants that end above the knees.
“You’re just in time. Sunset’s about to begin, and Pamela’s almost got our Pina Coladas ready. Fair warning, though – they’re pretty coconutty today.”
She giggles a little but then becomes confused, her sense of reality blurring. Why is she here? What kind of dream is this? It somehow feels real and not like a dream at all. His hand encapsulating hers feels warm and tangible, like she’s actually touching him and the electricity coursing through her veins also feels pretty fucking authentic.
“De… what-, uh, what are we doing here?” she asks and he arches an eyebrow at her, chuckling slightly.
“What we always do. We drink outta coconuts… or pineapples, depending on Pamela’s mood. We talk, we watch the sunset together, and then there’s a lot of this,” he explains with a smirk and dips his head to her neck, his teeth nibbling down to her shoulder.
She leans into his touch instantly. It’s like muscle memory (which is weird, too). But God, his kisses feel amazing. Every touch of his ignites her whole body and she just wants more every single time he does this. His hands wander down her curves like it’s familiar territory, his thumb brushes her nipple over the thin linen material until it peaks, and he sniggers winningly as if it’s the trophy he’s been waiting for.
“De, stop. Pamela’s watching,” she giggles in embarrassment, her cheeks a rosy-red as she eyes the bartender in her peripheral.
“Pamela never cares,” Dean says casually and tilts his head in her direction. “Right?”
“Nope, I’ve already seen you two have sex on this beach many times before,” the bartender quips nonchalantly. “It’s nothing new.”
“See? Personally, I think Pamela just enjoys the show as much as I do,” he grins and wiggles his eyebrows, claiming her lips again.
Jesus fucking Christ, he feels heavenly, his plump lips like soft clouds, and Y/N just wants them to stay forever on hers. However, the gnawing feeling in her stomach won’t evaporate. Something doesn’t feel right. It’s supposed to be a dream, but it all feels a little too real for her taste.
“De, wait… we can’t do this,” she breaks the kiss and shakes her head, trying to rid the chaos in her mind.
But Dean rests his forehead on hers and locks gazes. “Why? We always do this. It’s our spot. Just you and me, baby girl,” he purrs and brushes a few strands of hair behind her ears. “It’s been a while since we came here together. I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”
“Dean, I-… I missed you too,” she smiles softly and bites her bottom lip, although the wrinkles on her brow haven’t disappeared. “But this feels wrong.”
His eyebrows draw together, worry and confusion decipherable in every crease around his emerald orbs. “Why?”
“I… It feels like we’re cheating,” she says with a thick swallow. “You’re with Lisa. And I’m with…” She doesn’t utter his name as Dean’s look already darkens.
“Right,” he gulps and bobs his head contemplatively for a heartbeat before a smile creeps back onto his face, his fingers caressing the apples of her cheeks. “It’s just a dream, sweetheart. There’s no rules. Just stop thinking.”
“I don’t know, De…,” she shakes her head insecurely, tugging her lower lip behind her teeth.
“I do,” he smiles and looks deeply into her eyes. “I love you. Only you. This is the only place where I can be with you. The only place where I’m happy. Please don’t take that away from me,” he begs, and there are tears brimming in his pine green eyes now. They’re faint, but they’re there, the warm sunlight perfectly reflecting in them.
“I-… okay,” she caves after a brief hesitation. He’s right – it’s silly. She’s being silly. It’s just a dream, nothing more. She’s allowed to have them, so she tiptoes up to press her lips against his. “I love you, too.”
Dean then claims her mouth and only leaves her lips to kiss along her jaw until he reaches her ear. “Good. ’Sides, I doubt good old Nate can make you cum with a snap of his fingers like I can, baby girl,” he coos smugly, his breath tickling her skin before he sucks her earlobe between his teeth and makes her shiver in delight. “You make me so fucking hard, Y/N.”
He nuzzles his nose with hers before he reclaims her lips, but this time, he doesn’t let her go again. His hands trail up her body, his fingertips gently sliding the straps of her dress down her shoulders before the material lands in the sand. Y/N then decides to stop fighting and thinking, her defenses coming down with every layer of clothing. It’s so fucking good to feel him on every inch of her skin as Dean makes sure to leave his mark wherever he can, not daring to forget a single spot. Every urgent touch, every rough kiss, every delicious bite claims her as his until she’s moaning his name like a prayer, a promise of forever being his.
After a few hot-blooded hours of adult beach fun, the two lay intertwined on a little blanket in the sand, the sun setting behind the ocean, their surroundings engulfed in golden incandescence. She’s actually not sure how much time has passed. It’s dreamland and it’s just one forever-lasting sunset, apparently.
His fingers draw loving patterns on her back as she’s lying on her stomach. She giggles every time he finds a new ticklish spot before soothing it with a wet, sloppy kiss.
“Hey, De?”
“Hm?”
“Earlier, you said you’ve been waiting here for me. What does that mean?” she inquires curiously and gazes up at him, hand reaching out to caress his stubbled cheeks.
“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Just, uhm… sometimes I’m here alone and you don’t show up. It’s always nice when you show up. That’s all, I guess.”
Y/N can’t control nor understand it when tears begin to roll down her cheeks. She tries to avert her face, but he notices it, his thumb absorbing the wetness while worry shimmers in his eyes.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? Talk to me, sweetheart,” he lifts her chin softly.
“Nothing,” she smiles weakly and then feels his hand brush back her hair. It’s so soft and sweet and gentle that it makes her want to cry all over again. “It’s just… I wish the real you would love me like that, not just the dream version of you.”
His eyebrows knit together and she can tell he’s confused by her words. “But I-… I don’t get it. This is the real me.”
“No, it’s not,” she shakes her head. She honestly doesn’t know why she’s quarreling with her own mind, but maybe she needs to get this off her chest and can’t tell the real Dean, so his dream version will have to do. “You’re just a manifestation of my subconscious, trying to… God, I don’t even know why I’m torturing myself with this.”
“Yeah, I’m not following… What are you talking about?” He’s certainly not any less confused than before. Although, it’s somehow comforting to her that Dream-Dean is as oblivious as Real-Dean.
Y/N snatches her dispersed clothes and hurriedly slips back into her dress. She can’t be here with him any longer. She’s only putting herself through hell and doesn’t even have a good enough reason to. Why the fuck would she do this? She needs to let go and move on – like Real-Dean has, y’know?
“You’re not real, okay? ‘Cause, real-you doesn’t love me. Got it now?” She clarifies and then begins to aimlessly wander the beach, the fucking annoying sand only slowing down her flight. “Fuck. I gotta get outta here. Is there an exit somewhere?”
“Y/N, wait… just wait, okay? Hold on a moment!”
Dean rushes after her, stumbling through the sand as he hops back into his shorts and manages to catch her wrist, swirling her back into his arms. Her heart is hammering against his chest, and she knows he can feel it too. “Just calm down. Take a deep breath. It’s alright, okay?”
“No, it’s not alright,” she maintains and yanks out of his embrace. “I can’t do this to myself anymore. This needs to be goodbye, Dean,” she states firmly and yet makes the mistake of gazing directly into his irresistible eyes.
“Stop, okay? Just wait a minute, please,” he pleads, the desperation to make her stay swinging in every uttered word. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but, uhm… I know I love you, okay? Is that what you wanna hear? Because I can say it a million times if you want me to. It doesn’t matter if it’s a dream or reality, alright? There’s no version of me that doesn’t love you.”
Shit. His words move her to tears again, even though she wants to fight against it. His eyes looked so damn truthful when he said them, too. It’s all she fucking wants to hear, which is precisely why she can’t trust it. “No offense, De, but… if it were true, every version of you would be with me. If you really loved me, you would’ve told me so a long time ago.”
Dean pensively rubs his mouth, the desperation growing inside of him. “Y/N, look… you got it all wrong, sweetheart, okay? I do love you. I swear. The other me… the real me or whatever… he’s just a scared idiot. Just please don’t give up on me… or him. Please,” he begs and tears are pricking the corners of his eyes. “Please don’t leave me again. Give me a chance to prove it to you.”
“Dean-”
“No, just… please, alright? Please?” He’s insistent and it’s almost charming enough. The puppy look has always been her weakness, and she crumbles like she usually does when he gazes at her like that.
“Fine, I’ll try,” is all she can promise.
“Hey, uhm, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” she nods with a bit of reluctance. Dream-Dean seems to really want to test her emotions tonight.
“If I-, uh… If I wasn’t with Lisa and you weren’t with, uhm… Nate,” he starts, his Adam’s apple bobbing from nervousness, and she can tell even dream-him hates saying her new boyfriend’s name. Although she’s not sure if the label is accurate yet. She still thinks it’s kind of funny that even Dream-Dean is jealous. Apparently, her subconscious is aiming for a very realistic portrayal tonight.
“If I, uh, showed up on your doorstep and told you I loved you… like the real you… would you pick me?” He scratches the nape of his neck and glances at her with a look so hopeful it reminds her a little too much of Real-Dean again. Her brain’s really working on overdrive.
She’s quiet for a moment and ponders his words, even though she knows there’s not a lot to think about. She’s known that answer since she was five.
Y/N steps closer, gently strokes his cheek, and pecks his lips with a soft smile, “Yes. I’ll always pick you, De.”
With a loud gasp, she startles up in bed and finds herself back in her apartment. Her skin glistens with sweat, her breathing comes out ragged, her heart pounds furiously against her ribcage, and yup, her pj’s are definitely damp.
Fuck.
It’s still in the middle of the night, the only light source coming from the city’s neon signs outside. The alarm clock shows 3:52am, and Nate’s peacefully sleeping next to her while the guilt starts to ruminate in her belly.
God, she’s a mess. Here, she has this great guy lying next to her and all she can dream about is fucking her best friend on a beach. And Jesus fucking Christ, it was goddamn glorious. It’s the best sex she’s never had. Now, she has an unbearable itch to scratch and she knows the guy next to her can’t satisfy that need, even though she supposes there’s no reason to feel guilty. It was only a dream, albeit a very weird and fucking vivid dream. A dream she wants to go back to but realizes she can’t. Some dreams are just not meant to come true.
She closes her eyes again, snuggles up to the new guy in her bed, and soon returns to dreamless slumber.
One sunny morning in the suburbs…
When Dean’s eyes flutter open, it’s early in the morning. He groans and stretches his aching limbs on the couch before noticing his dick is saying good morning, too. The appearance is not surprising after the dream he’s had.
He smiles at the thought of Y/N on that beach, standing in nothing but her white dress and watching the sunset. They sipped drinks from coconuts at Rocky’s tiki bar before he fucked her brains out in the sand. His member’s already twitching in his sweats when he recalls how her lips felt around his cock. God, he wants to feel this every goddamn day for the rest of his life.
The bliss, however, is fleeting once he remembers how majorly he fucked up last night, not to mention Lisa wasn’t happy with him either. She gave him the silent treatment before throwing a blanket and pillow in his face and closing the bedroom door on him. So naturally, he spent the night on the couch, giving the brunette some time to cool down and postponing the uncomfortable conversation to the morning.
His mind hasn’t changed, though. If anything, that dream only further cemented what he’s gotta do: break up with Lisa, apologize on his knees to Y/N, and hope she takes him back, even though he doesn’t deserve it. He practically drove her into Nate’s arms last night, and he supposes every punishment he’s getting now is, in fact, well deserved. It’s his fucking karma, alright?
But Dean’s fucking done with wasting time and playing games.
As Lisa stomps downstairs, he rises from the couch, his mind searching for the right words before he notices the duffel bag in the brunette’s hands – his duffel bag. It seems to be fully packed, judging by the heavy thud it makes when she drops it in front of his toes.
“Look, Lis… I-I’m sorry,” he starts and runs a hand over his face, still rubbing the remaining tiredness out of his green eyes. At least a sip of coffee would’ve been nice before doing this.
“Save it, alright?” Lisa snaps and bitterly crosses her arms over her chest. She then pauses for a moment, shakes her head a couple of times before a humorless chuckle leaves her lips, “You know, I think I’ve been nothing but patient. I knew you were grieving when we met. And I understood, alright? I just figured eventually, you know… you’d be okay… I tried to help you. I tried to ignore the signs, the red flags… like you only moving in with one single bag. In hindsight, I really should’ve seen that one. But you never said anything. You never did anything. And then, Y/N came back, and I knew… I knew when I saw how you looked at her that you’d never look at me like that. Last night was definitive proof of that. So… I’m letting you go, alright? Just take your shit and leave, Dean.”
He purses his lips and bobs his head in acknowledgment. What else is he supposed to add to that, huh? “Look, uhm, I-, I know. I’m sorry,” he states sincerely. He knows he has messed up. “I didn’t intend to hurt you. I guess I was just… really fucked up. I wasn’t thinking clearly, you know? But I never should’ve let it get this far. You deserve better. I’m sorry. I really am.”
She nods quietly and purses her lips, “Well, thanks at least for that.”
While some of the crushing weight lifts off his shoulders, he figures it probably wasn’t the last time he has to say sorry today.
Later…
Dean’s homeless.
Y/N’s residing in his old loft now, and the only other place left for him is his brother’s couch. But things between Sam and him haven’t been the same since their fight. Once a week, his little brother graciously grants him a goddamn hearing over a beer at Rocky’s. Sam hasn’t fully accepted his apology yet, and Dean knows he won’t until the older one comes completely clean. Dean, however, can’t tell him the truth. He doesn’t want pity, nor does he want to be seen as a monster, a freak. So, he supposes there’s only one place left for him to go:
The firehouse.
After clearing it with Bobby, the green-eyed firefighter stores his duffel bag in the shared bedroom and wards off the curious questions of his colleagues. He’s not ready to explain all of his fuck-ups to his friends yet. It’s probably his ego, but he doesn’t want to be seen as the loser who can’t get his fucking shit together. Maybe Benny and Cas wouldn’t even think that, but it’s certainly how Dean feels about himself.
It’s barely nine o’clock when he finally finds his way to the fifth floor and knocks on his old apartment door. Dean’s nervous when his knuckles tap on the door, holding a cup of coffee and a paper bag with a brownie in his hands – a peace offering – while his blood thumps in his ears.
However, as the door opens, his heart sinks to the ground floor. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He hasn’t expected that.
Nate yawns at him in nothing but a t-shirt and some boxers – Dean’s about to die. Seriously, it’s gotta be his fucking karma, right? It’s all the years he’s tortured Y/N with the same damn shit, bouncing back like a boomerang straight to his face.
“Y/N? I think this is for you,” Nate calls back inside and walks away without saying much else, leaving the door open before Y/N comes into view. Obviously, the detective thinks he’s too good to stoop to Dean’s level now. It just makes him hate the guy even more, the scoreboard going nuts in his head. The dude could at least pretend he feels threatened, you know?
Dean -1.000, Nate +∞.
Y/N expectantly gazes up at him as she leans against the doorframe, arms folded over her chest. She’s clearly not amused to find him on her doorstep, but all he can fucking focus on is that she’s wearing the shortest pajama shorts in the history of humanity and a lonely white tank top, no goddamn bra in sight. He can see the fucking outlines of her nipples poking through, and suffice it to say, it’s killing him. He’s swallowing thickly while his dick can’t stop whining.
“What do you want?” she prompts sternly with a clear of her throat. His head jerks up from her chest, ears burning in embarrassment.
“I-, uh, I came here to apologize. ‘M sorry about last night, okay? I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” he explains and scratches the nape of his neck, handing her his apology merch. His plan is to grovel. Really – that’s all he’s got. He hopes wearing his heart on his sleeve is convincing enough for her to forgive him.
“Oh, food. Why didn’t you say so sooner? Lemme just drop my panties,” she retorts in bitter sarcasm and sets the items down on the little sideboard in the foyer before taking a step into the hall and closing the door firmly behind her.
Shit.
“Y/N, look, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that, okay? You gotta believe me, sweetheart.”
She nods coldly, contemplatively chews on her lower lip, and stares at her bare feet for a moment before her eyes find his. There’s so much hurt and contempt shimmering in her irises it’s overwhelming. “Well, I still meant what I said last night. I have no fucking idea why we’re still friends. I mean, whoever this guy is in front of me right now is a stranger. You’re not my best friend. I don’t even recognize you most of the time these days. What the fuck happened to you, huh? Please just tell me what’s going on. Just tell me the truth, for God’s sake.”
“I just-…” Tell her.
Her tone then grows softer, her eyes more pleading as if she can feel his reluctance, and he can tell she’s trying so, so hard to get through to him. “De, c’mon… is there anything you wanna tell me? I know something’s on your mind.”
Thereis. A lot, actually. But he can’t tell her all the things he wants to while there’s a guy waiting for her behind that very door. A guy she spent the fucking night with. The thought makes his stomach churn and his heart twist.
Oh God, they did it in the fucking Dean Cave, didn’t they? Did they do it on his bed? Fuck, was it the couch?! It’s his goddamn couch. If anyone was to have sex with her on it, it should’ve been him. Son of a bitch…
Dean runs a hand over his face and cards it through his hair, his mind racing a mile a minute. “Can I just-… I mean… did you… and, uhm, him?” He swallows as their gazes lock, and God, he’s never dreaded an answer before more in his life.
“That’s none of your business,” she snaps. “And you’re the one who told me to make him wear a condom. He did pay for dinner, y’know? Figured you’d be happy.”
And there’s the knife to his heart…
“Right. Yeah, uhm, guess I deserve that one…” He presses his lips together and rubs his chin, trying to disregard the heartbreak in his chest. “Well, uh, I just wanted to say sorry, okay? That’s all.” The words come out in a mumble as he stares at the old wood flooring that creaks underneath his boots. “Can you please just forgive me?”
Her eyes wander to the ceiling like she’s desperately looking for the answer up there, and then an exasperated sigh makes it past her lips. “I-… no,” she shakes her head and looks him dead in the eyes. It’s painful because he can see it all – the disappointment, the hurt, the anger. It’s all for him.
“Y/N, please… I’ll be better, alright? I’ll behave. I’ll even apologize to, uhm…”
“Nate,” she offers glaringly.
“Yup, Nate,” he nods quickly. “I’ll apologize, okay? I’ll do everything you want me to do, alright? You gotta believe me. I didn’t mean those things last night. I was just-”
“Dean, you should go,” she cuts him off rather harshly, although her voice is drowning in sadness. Her fingers fumble for the doorknob behind her. He knows once she disappears behind that door, she’ll also disappear from his life. He can’t let her fucking go.
“Y/N, wait! Wait, wait, wait…” His fingers curl around the hand that’s holding the brass knob and stop it from twisting it. The movement forced him to stumble closer, her body now almost pressed flush against his. His heart skips eight beats as he looks down at her. She takes his fucking breath away, and his brain needs a second to find his vocabulary again. He still only manages a volume barely above a whisper, “Just wait, okay?”
Tears are shimmering in her eyes when she meets his gaze, “I’m done with the excuses. I’m done with waiting. I think you need to figure out some stuff on your own… without me, you know?”
Fuck.
“Y/N, what do you-… what do you think I’ve been doing for the past year, huh?”
Shit, has he lost her? Has he actually overstepped the mark this time and gone too far? Was last night the final straw that broke their friendship’s back?
She shrugs impassively, her voice detached from any emotion, cold and quiet like the winds of winter. “I don’t know… You never told me.” He feels her hand move underneath his, still tightly curled around the knob, and then the lock springs open. “Please just let me be happy, okay?”
His heart implodes, takes his lungs and dreams with it until there’s nothing left of him anymore. His hand drops, the connection of her touch lost, and his feet take a step back, fighting the gravitational forces that want to bind him there. Dean nods and swallows the lump of agony that’s impeding his air supply. “Yeah, uh, of course… I want you to be happy, Y/N. I really mean it, sweetheart. I’m sorry, okay?”
What else is he supposed to tell her? Dean wants to be in her life, but not as a barrier to her happiness.
“Okay,” she breathes, bobbing her head. “I’ll call you next week, alright?”
“Good… that’s good,” he feigns a smile and hopes to fend off the tears for as long as possible till she’s slipped back into the apartment. Only then does he allow his heart to break.
Part 17
Are you guys okay after Dean’s apology tour? Look, we’re women. We hold grudges. You can bet your ass she’ll make snarky comments every time he offers her food from now on Your emotions can go HERE! Feedback is highly appreciated! ❤️
Warnings: angst with some fluffy moments, ansty ending though
Word count: 1359
A/N: This is for the wonderful @avanatural and her 300 follower celebration! Congratulations again darling and thank you so much for hosting the fun event! I’m sorry if this is late I totally lost track of time. The prompt I chose is bolded within the fic. I hope y’all enjoy it!
“Family is family. Whether it’s the one you start out with, the one you end up with, or the family you gain along the way.”
Those words echo in your head as you stare at the empty Impala, sitting quietly in the nearly empty motel parking lot. Your heart squeezes tightly in your chest as you realize the next decision you’d make would be one that would forever impact your life. Your eyes trace the lines of the sleek vehicle you’d spent the better part of the last three years in.
Three years in which you had risked your life multiple times, been through hell, literally, and seen the potential end of the world. Yet, you wouldn’t take any of it back. You wouldn’t give up any of the moments of the past three years for a chance at that apple pie, white picket fence, 2.5 kids life. Hell, you wouldn’t give up a second, even if it meant that the decision you faced now would be non-existent.
The decision to stick it out, to continue to watch the man you secretly love find momentary comfort in the arms of any woman who happened to look his way, to sit idly by as he drowned his sorrows with a bottle of whiskey, and to constantly have to bit your tongue to keep from saying the words you so desperately want to. Or the decision to run, to leave it all behind; the pain, the heartache, the desperate need to hear him whisper the three words that consumed your entire waking thoughts when you were around him. Your entire life hung in the balance, suspended in a pendulum between the choice to run and the choice to stay.
The glow of the flickering fluorescent bulbs reflects onto the shiny black hood of the Impala, pulling you in and drawing your eye to the driver’s wheel. You could almost picture him behind the wheel, one hand casually resting against it as he leans back into the leather seat, the sounds of Led Zeppelin blasting out of the speakers.
The warm air whips in through the open windows, hitting your cheeks and grabbing at your hair. A beam of sunlight shines through the window, sending a pleasant feeling of warmth racing through you as you lean back into the heated leather of the passenger seat. You tilt your head just enough to look over at Dean, your heart squeezing in your chest at the pure freedom on Dean’s face. That satisfied smile rests easily on his lips, his hand settled comfortably on the wheel. The sleeves of his worn flannel are pushed up, revealing his muscular, tanned forearms.
Dean reaches forward, turning down the sounds of “Rambling Man” filling the car. “Sweetheart, I can feel you staring at me. If you want something, all you have to do is ask.” He says smugly, giving you a side-eye before returning his attention to the road.
“I was just looking at that spider on your shoulder.” You answer nonchalantly. “It’s a big one.”
Dean shivers dramatically, a hand shooting out wildly to run over his shoulder. You can’t help but laugh at his sudden reaction and he gives you a dirty look.
“Jeez sweetheart, that’s a bit low.” His tone is sarcastic, a bit biting, but his eyes twinkle. His hand snakes out, grabbing your side and tickling it as best he can while still keeping the vehicle moving forward in something of a straight line.
You let out a loud laugh as you fight off his hand. “Dean,” You say breathlessly, his fingers relentless in their pursuit. He gives you a suave smile, accompanied by a wink, before withdrawing his hand, his gaze returning fully to the road ahead of him.
You lean back in the seat, savoring the moment. Quiet moments, where everything in the world was right and normal, didn’t happen often in this life. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d actually seen Dean smile in pure, honest happiness and that alone had you wishing that you could freeze time and stay here forever in this moment with Dean.
A soft smile spreads across your face at the memory. That had been a good day, one where the troubles of the supernatural, of hunting and saving the world, hadn’t hung over you like a dark cloud. The heavy creak of a door pulls you out of your thoughts, your attention flying to the row of rooms behind you.
A broad, unmistakable figure stands in the doorway, outlined by the dim light of the room behind him, his features partially hidden in the shadows. You don’t say anything, watching as he slowly closes the distance separating the two of you. His eyes land on your duffle, which you had discarded at your feet while you’d been trying to decide what to do next.
“Where you going Y/N?” He asks in a rare instance in which he used your real name and not some nickname he’d concocted for you. You give a half-hearted shrug in response, unable to answer as your mind floats between the two decisions in front of you.
He knew without looking, what you were thinking about, it was written all over your face. And yet, he still couldn’t bring himself to say the words he’d been burying underneath the surface for the last year. He couldn’t say the words because he knew that the moment he did, you’d be drug down with him, caught in that endless battle between the good and the evil. Or even worse, that something would use you to get to him, turn you into that evil being he felt he himself had become.
“I can’t do this anymore.” You finally speak, something unexplainable pushing you towards a decision, one that would tear you apart, but would take you out of that vicious cycle you’d fallen into. “I think I’m going to go. I’ve been crashing on your guys’ thing for way too long. It’s time you got back to really doing the family business.”
“This is family Y/N.” He says roughly, pointing back towards the half-open door of the motel room. “We’re family.” His hand falls back listlessly to his side as his kaleidoscopic eyes fall on you, boring into your eyes as he looks for some sign that you understand the implication of his words; some sign that you heard what he couldn’t bring himself to actually say.
“I know Dean.” You whisper, that broken, hopeless feeling settling back in your chest as his eyes read the emotions you can’t hide. “But this-” you gesture wildly between the two of you, “This, us, isn’t going to happen. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”
“Y/N, wait.” His voice is thick, his hand reaching out, grabbing your hand, effectively stopping your movement. He falls silent as the air between the two of you cracks with an unnamable charge. You find yourself leaning forward, the distance between the two of you dissipating. His eyes drift to your lips, lingering there before he slowly drags them back up to yours. His head tilts forward, coming even closer to yours. Your breath mingles with his, your lips only a breath away from his own. Your heart begins to beat faster in your chest, the anticipation of finally feeling his lips against yours seizing your body. Dean hesitates there a moment and you can almost taste his lips on yours before he pulls back.
He doesn’t say anything but you can see it written in his face, the fear and guilt shining like light through the cracks of his mask. You wait, hoping that you were seeing something that wasn’t there, but he remains silent.
You pick your duffle up off the scuffed, strangely stained sidewalk, hauling it up and over your shoulder before making your way towards the nearly vacant main street. He doesn’t stop you, he can’t knowing full well what a life with him would mean for you. Instead, he lets you go, watching as you walk away, his heart ripping away from his chest as you, unknowingly, take it with you.
Warnings: language, talk of drinking/alcohol, talk of nightmares and hell, PTSD symptoms, unintended violence
Word count: 2579
A/N: Okay, here’s chapter three. I hope y’all enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing this one. It just seemed to come easily while writing :) Once again, thank you @avanatural (my amazing beta!) for reading this over!
As much as you’d hoped things would start to return to normal now that the ‘team’ had been reunited, it quickly became apparent that normal wasn’t a word you’d be able to use anymore. You had noticed almost right away that Sam was different, although you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. It was just something in him that you felt was off, completely unlike the man you’d known him to be only months prior. The Sam you knew was buried somewhere deep inside and the facade of what he thought was ‘normal’ was tenuous at best.
Dean had changed too, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. You hadn’t thought much of it at first; the fixation on finding the thing that pulled him out seemed rational. After all, that thing, that angel, had altered the course of his life. But it was so much more than that too. A toxic mix of self-hatred, guilt and shame churned just below the surface and Dean hid it the only way he knew how - with alcohol, effortless lies, and sarcastic wit.
“Dean, are you okay?” You question softly, your hand resting gently on his arm. His viridescent eyes bore into yours, emotion crackling in their depths.
“Of course Y/N. Why wouldn’t I be?” He asks, a humorous lit to his voice as if he had no clue why you’d be asking him that. He gives you that coy smile, the one that always manages to make you forget how to speak, leaving your mind blank.
You stumble over your words as you try to gather your thoughts. “Dean…you’ve been through a lot and I just want to-”
He interrupts you. “I told you. I don’t remember anything.” His words leave no room for further discussion as he speeds up his gait, leaving you struggling to keep up. He quickly crosses the small, dark motel parking lot, water splashing up from the pavement as he moves.
He roughly pushes open the door, slamming it back against the wall of the small, dingy motel room. Sam lifts his head up from where he’d been bent over his laptop, narrowly missing getting hit by the car keys Dean throws onto the table.
“What’s up with you?” Sam asks, his eyebrow quirked up in confusion at his brother’s behavior. Dean doesn’t reply, opting instead for grabbing the half-full bottle of whiskey next to the TV and taking it to the other twin bed. He takes a heavy swig from it as he settles against the cheap headboard. You let out a small sigh, taking a seat next to Sam at the table.
“Piss off Sam.” Dean snarls, taking another long pull from the bottle, grabbing the remote from the nightstand and turning on a random ball game. Sam gives you a look over the top of his laptop before he closes it and stands.
“I’m going to head out and grab some dinner. Anything you guys want?” Sam addresses both of you but his kaleidoscopic eyes are on you. You give him as much of a smile as you can muster, along with a soft shake of your head.
“Whatever man,” Dean says apathetically, his eyes not leaving the TV as he finishes off the bottle of alcohol. Sam gives him a long look before grabbing his jacket off the back of the cheap, wood panel chair and the keys to the Impala.
“I’ll be back in a bit.” Sam says soft enough so only you can hear him. “Try to talk to him. He always did open up better for you.”
You give him a subtle nod, your eyes already going back to settle on Dean. He isn’t looking at you, his eyes focused on the TV, and you can’t quite tell if he is ignoring you or is really interested in the baseball game.
“Never pegged you for a sports junkie.” You call out, catching Dean’s attention.
He gives you an overly exaggerated eye-roll as he reaches for a warm, unopened beer on the nightstand, cracking it open before returning his attention to the TV.
You let out a soft sigh as you stand from your spot at the table, slowly making your way to the unoccupied side of the bed Dean was lying on. You settle in against the headboard, your eyes on Dean, instead of the TV. You don’t miss the tension sitting in his shoulders or the bags under his eyes. The longer you look at him, the more you realize those months away had aged him. He no longer looked like the young, carefree hunter he once had been. This Dean looked like, well, like he had barely survived everything hell had to throw at him.
As much as you wanted to get Dean to talk about it, to help him find something that served as an outlet for those feelings he denied existed, you knew that sometimes, all you could give him was the quiet assurance of your presence.
You had had a naïve notion that finding the being that pulled Dean from hell would help relieve some of the tension hanging over the three of you, but it hadn’t. In fact, discovering the existence of angels had created more questions than it had answered.
“How can you just buy the crap he’s saying?” Dean raises his voice as his gaze shifts from Bobby, to Sam, to you. “C’mon, angels aren’t real.”
“Don’t you want to believe that all this, the years of hunting, of no recognition, of barely scraping by were for some bigger reason?” You question, your eyes searching his as you look for even a glimmer of understanding. The barely restrained anger continues to blaze behind his eyes, yet you continue. “Dean, for the first time in years, I feel that it’s not all meaningless. I have hope.” You pause, needing to take a deep breath to calm that rush of emotions rising in your chest. “Why don’t you?”
“Because hope doesn’t exist. It’s all a lie.” He gruffs out, his pessimistic and unbelieving tone fracturing your already fragile heart. “The only one you can ever trust is yourself.”
You reach out a hand to brush back the lock of hair that had fallen down over his forehead. “You know that isn’t true Dean. Somewhere in you lies that hope. All you have to do is trust a little.” You whisper, giving him a small smile before taking a step back. There was that part of you that knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Dean believed.
And the longer it took for Dean to return to ‘normal’, the more frustrated Sam became. You could see it in the words that Sam could barely restrain himself from saying. It was in the skeptical set of his brow, every time he watched Dean down half a bottle of whiskey in a short amount of time. It was in that question that he’d been asking Dean on repeat since Dean had returned; “Are you okay?” And every time, Dean managed to talk his way out of Sam’s concern, brushing it off with a loud laugh or a sarcastic reply.
And one day, on the drive back to Bobby’s after a long hunt, it happened. Sam had had enough; he so clearly wanted his brother back and he was done waiting for Dean to return to who he’d been before hell.
“Dude, you look like shit,” Sam says, watching as Dean climbs behind the wheel of the Impala. Dean doesn’t respond; instead, he fires up the engine, revving it loudly a few times before easing it out of the parking spot in front of the motel. Dean doesn’t crank up the radio like he usually does once the blacktop is rolling smoothly underneath the rubber of the tires, a sign in itself that worries you.
“Must’ve been the nightmares. You were pretty loud last night.” Sam presses, turning his body towards Dean. You can see the tension set in Dean’s shoulders and you bite your lip, hoping that Sam doesn’t push it.
Dean doesn’t respond, instead he reaches forward and cranks on the radio, Foreigner blasting from the speakers loud enough to drown out any attempts at conversation. Sam is quiet for a beat or two before he leans forward and shuts it off.
“Dude, ignoring it isn’t going to help.” Sam says abruptly, his tone a bit more gruff than it had been a moment before.
Dean gives Sam a wordless look, his brow set in bored exasperation as his attention returns to the road. “I told you, I don’t remember anything.” He says firmly, although you don’t believe a word.
Sam doesn’t either apparently, as he continues. “Dean, that’s bullshit and you know it. Something happened down there, something you remember and don’t want to talk about.” He exclaims loudly, slamming a hand against the dash.
“Sam, that’s enough.” You say stiffly, noticing the way Dean was currently clenching his jaw, his hands tight around the steering wheel and his shoulders tight with tension. You want to reach forward and run a hand across his shoulders in an attempt to erase that rigidity. More than that, you want to be able to take him into your arms and erase the memories that have haunted him since returning.
Sam turns to look at you, eyes steely in a way you hadn’t seen before. “I’m not just going to leave it Y/N. He’s obviously hiding something and I’m not going to gullibly take it like you do.” He hisses at you, frustration leaking through his voice. You are taken back by his words, unsure of how to respond.
“Enough.” Dean snaps, causing both of you to look at him. “Both of you, shut up. I’ve had it. No more talking.” His words are harsh, but you know better than to push it right now. So you lean back against the leather seat and close your eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. You aren’t that upset that he snapped at you, but rather his rejection of your attempt to help him, to protect him (even if it was from his own brother) hurt. It hurt, knowing that Dean was hurting and you couldn’t help him, that he wouldn’t let you help him. You tuck your legs up underneath you as you let out a small sigh, your gaze wandering to the window to look at the stars shining in the dark sky. The miles pass slowly as you desperately try to come up with some answer to the whole situation.
Dean pulls into Bobby’s yard an hour or so later, the headlights briefly illuminating the path to the house before the entire yard goes dark. The three of you remain quiet as bags are grabbed from the trunk and you wearily make your way to your rooms. You hesitate at the door of the room you and Dean share, unsure if he wants you in the room with him after what happened in the car.
“What are you waiting for sweetheart? Open the door.” Dean’s gruff, tired voice pulls you out of your indecision as you step forward, pushing the door of the darkened room open. You shuffle forward, stopping only long enough to drop your duffel on the floor before shedding your dirt-stained jeans and wrinkled top, exchanging them for the large T-shirt and flannel lying near your side of the bed.
You crawl into bed after that, too tired to care about finishing the rest of your nightly routine, opting instead for the warmth of the bed. The bedspread is pulled over you and tucked into your side, causing you to sleepily open your eyes.
“G’night sweetheart,” Dean says, his mesmerizing hazel eyes gentle, a sharp contrast to the empty, hard eyes that had stared back at you from the rearview mirror only hours before.
“G’night Dean.” You mumble, your body already half asleep as the exhaustion of the day wears down on you. You feel his hand come to gently cup your face, a thumb running slowly over your cheekbone as you fade away.
Movement in the bed next to you wakes you up in the dark, early hours of the morning. You blink a few times, trying to orient yourself when you feel Dean turn over roughly beside you, muttering a few incoherent words as he does. “Dean…Dean.” You call, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly, in an attempt to wake him up.
Before you can even register what’s happening, Dean is on top of you, his solid weight pressing you deep into the mattress, an arm heavy against your throat, cutting off the air to your lungs. You try to push him off, try to tell him to stop, but all you can do is flail your arms about helplessly; the lack of air causing your vision to become fuzzy. You see, through the growing haze coming over vision, as the heavy fog of his nightmare lifts, the realization of what he’s doing reaches his eyes before he scrambles off of you.
You pull yourself up into a sitting position, coughing occasionally as you regain your breath. When you can breathe normally again, you scan the room looking for Dean. You find him standing stock-still near the door, about as far away from the bed as he could be while still being in the room.
You climb out of bed, wrapping Dean’s flannel, the one you’d been sleeping in since he ‘died’, tighter around yourself as you slowly walk up to him. “Dean?” You ask, tentatively reaching out a hand towards his arm. He jerks backward before you can touch him.
“Don’t.” His voice is thick, almost gravelly as his gaze meets yours. His emerald eyes are swirling with a wild combination of emotions, of which the easiest to identify is guilt. A heavy ache settles in your chest as you realize that Dean was already blaming himself for what happened.
“Dean, this wasn’t your fault.” You say, your tone low, but firm in an attempt to make him understand. “You were having a nightmare. I shouldn’t have tried to-”
He cuts you off almost immediately. “Stop. I almost choked you to death and you’re blaming yourself? I almost killed you, one of the only truly good things in my life.” His voice is dark in a way you thought he reserved solely for talking of the repulsive creatures you hunted. You realize with a start that he didn’t think himself any better than those monsters.
“I need some air.” He spits out as he turns and practically flees from the bedroom, leaving you standing by yourself in the dark. You hear the loud purr of an engine down in the yard a few moments later, an engine you know could only belong to Baby and you reluctantly climb into bed, intent on waiting up for him until he returns.
You lay alone for hours, straining to hear the warm chug of a downshifting engine, marking his return to the shabby farmhouse. It never comes. Instead, you spend the rest of the night in bed, surrounded by his smell, but unable to feel him. It serves as a cruel reminder to only a few short weeks ago when you’d thought that the last physical thing you’d have to remind you of Dean was the scent that lingered on his pillow.
Honestly, the lyrics tell you everything you need to know.
Link to my favorite version if you want to give it a listen: If It Kills Me by Jason Mraz
Hello, tell me you know Yeah, you figured me out Something gave it away And it would be such a beautiful moment To see the look on your face To know that I know that you know now
And baby that’s a case of my wishful thinking You know nothing Cause you and I Why, we go carrying on for hours, on and We get along much better Than you and your boyfriend
Well all I really wanna do is love you A kind much closer than friends use But I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through And all I really want from you is to feel me As the feeling inside keeps building And I will find a way to you if it kills me If it kills me
Well how long, can I go on like this, Wishing to kiss you, Before I rightly explode? This double life I lead isn’t healthy for me In fact it makes me nervous If I get caught I could be risking it all
Baby there’s a lot that I miss In case I’m wrong
Well all I really wanna do is love you A kind much closer than friends use But I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through And all I really want from you is to feel me As the feeling inside keeps building And I will find a way to you if it kills me If it kills me
If I should be so bold I’d ask you to hold my heart in your hand Tell you from the start how I’ve longed to be your man But I never said a word I guess I’m gonna miss my chance again
Well all I really wanna do is love you A kind much closer than friends use But I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through And all I really want from you is to feel me As the feeling inside keeps building And I will find a way to you if it kills me If it kills me
If it kills me I think it might kill me
And all I really want from you is to feel me It’s a feeling inside that keeps building And I will find a way to you if it kills me If it kills me If it kills me It might kill me
Summary:You weren’t supposed to be in this mess. Hunting wasn’t your thing; you much preferred the safety of research sitting behind a computer screen.
Now as you looked across the space at your best friends, it was everything you could do not to give up.
You had to hold on, though. For them.
For him.
Triggers: torture, swearing, possible sexual abuse
A/N: I do not own any pics or gifs. This was a request from anon, and I am so excited to share it with you soon!
Summary: You’re broken. You know this. And as many times as you’ve told yourself that it made you unlovable, dysfunctional, and flawed—you still found yourself feeling hopeful when you met Dean Winchester.
“So, you get into hunting like the rest of us? Some monster kill someone you love?” Dean asked, crossing his ankles and leaning back while he sipped on his glass of whiskey. You had followed the ‘67 Impala you were admiring earlier to a bar on the outskirts of town. It was a little seedy, but that was something you were used to.
You quietly cleared your throat, picking at the label on your beer. “No, my uh…my family died at the hands of a drunk driver.”
“That sucks,” Dean replied. It didn’t sound insincere or flippant, though. You could tell he meant it. And when you met his gaze you found pity and understanding there.
“I bounced around from foster home to foster home from the age of seven to eighteen. Then I fell ass-backwards into hunting when a werewolf gave me this nice trophy,” you said, gesturing to your scar.
The brothers nodded in understanding. Sam had that same empathetic look on his face as before. Dean, however, was regarding the scar with his eyes as if it were some kind of trophy or a battle scar. You blushed involuntarily and looked away, continuing your quest to remove the beer label.
“Do you have any sight left in your eye?” Sam asked cautiously.
You gave him a small smile. People didn’t usually ask you about your scar or your eye. In fact, they usually pretended it wasn’t there because it made them uncomfortable.
“No,” you said, your eyes shifting down. “The werewolf’s claws tore too deep for my eye to be repaired.”
“Well I’ll tell you one thing,” Dean began, lifting his glass toward you, “you’re still one hell of shot.”
You lifted your bottle to meet his glass and and clinked them together. “It wasn’t always that way,” you said. “When all this happened I had never even held a gun. So along with learning how to use one, I had to learn to adjust to my lack of depth perception. With everything, actually.”
Dean’s mouth lifted in a half smile.
“What?” you asked him, your own mouth curving up a little.
“Nothin’…I guess I’m just picturing you reaching for things and missing and tripping over stuff you thought was further away. It’s kinda funny,” he replied.
You found yourself chuckling, the action a foreign feeling in your throat. “Yeah, it was sorta like a bad sitcom for a while. Lots of physical comedy.”
“You know what that reminds me of?” Sam said, a smile on his face, too. “That time we lost that lucky rabbit’s foot and we were fumbling around like idiots.”
The brothers chuckled and you looked at them with questioning eyes, a smile still on your face, too.
“Yeah,” Dean said, answering your silent question. “Turns out the thing was cursed…”
He went on to tell the rest of the story as well as a few others. It was great hearing about their funny experiences on the job. Hunting was generally a sad occupation that ended in death. Swapping funny stories with the boys made it seem a little better, though.
Before you knew it, it had grown late. Sam had left about an hour before to head back to the motel where you were all staying, and you and Dean had stayed at the bar, telling more stories and getting to know each other. The bartender made last call and the the two of you stumbled out into the cool air, opting to walk the few blocks to the motel.
You remembered walking to your door. You remembered laughing a lot. You remembered Dean’s smile. Other than that, though, the next morning you found your mind to be empty. What was not empty, however, was your bed.
No…that was filled by Dean Winchester.
Shit, shit, shit.
You got out of bed quietly so as not to wake Dean and went to the bathroom after grabbing your duffel bag.
Did I sleep with this guy on the first night I met him?
You looked at yourself in the mirror and realized that you had pajamas on.
Not naked. Good sign.
Waking up in bed with a guy was pretty damning evidence, though.
You got dressed and left the bathroom, grabbing everything of yours and stuffing it in your bag, your face flushing with embarrassment every time your eyes landed on the bed. Thankfully, Dean didn’t wake up. You slipped out, walked the few blocks to the bar where you left your car, and got in, wanting to forget what you couldn’t remember.
Once you were about an hour away, you stopped at a diner for some breakfast. You sat at your table, scrolling through the news to see if you could find a new case. After the waitress brought your coffee (which you were hoping would help with the raging hangover) you heard your phone chime. You picked it up and read the name.
Dean Winchester.
You sighed. Apparently we also exchanged numbers last night. Great, you thought.
D: i hope youre just out gettin us some coffee, sweetheart
You rubbed a hand down your face, feeling totally awkward.
Y: Listen, I gather that we had some fun last night but I’m not looking for anything serious, okay? You can relax.
You put your phone down, pleased with your response. This way, he would have an out if he was just looking for a one-night-stand.
Your phone buzzed a few seconds later.
D: we did have some fun last night but i don’t think it’s the kind you’re thinking of
You sucked in a breath. We didn’t have sex? You thought to yourself.
D: not that I’d be opposed to that kind of fun ;)
You had to laugh at that in spite of your embarrassment.
Y: Wow, a girl gets blackout drunk and you don’t take advantage. Must be a real gentleman.
D: i try. now where are you
Y: Well I was colossally embarrassed when I thought I slept with you right after I met you, so I’m an hour outside of town.
D: will you come back and have breakfast with me?
Y: Well I’m colossally embarrassed that I thought we had sex and we didn’t and that I fled because I thought we did so I think…no.
D: please sweetheart. just wanna get to know you more. i can fill in the gaps from last night
You paused to think about if you really wanted to see him again or if you just wanted to let this go. It wasn’t like you had a lot of friends—none, to be exact. And knowing hunters could be helpful down the line.
D: i’ll even bring Sammy if it makes you feel better. no funny business
You felt your resolve slip. He just wanted to be friends, and you could appreciate that. You told him where you were and he agreed to meet you there with Sam. Thankfully you hadn’t ordered yet, so you just sipped on coffee until they arrived.
You didn’t miss the looks of the staff and other patrons when the boys sat down with you. You knew the looks well. It was a little different this time, though. Usually, the looks said, “wow, look at the freak’s face.” This time, they said, “wow, I can’t believe those incredibly handsome men are here with the scar-face.”
You leaned forward a little, letting your hair shade your right side of your face. After the boys got settled in there was an awkwardly silent moment where Dean’s eyes scanned your face. Sam got up to go to the counter to “get the coffee orders in.” You knew he just wanted to give the two of you a second, though.
“Dean, I’m sor—“
“No need to apologize,” he said, interrupting you with a half-smile on his face. “Honestly, Y/N, all we did last night was talk. Then we fell asleep on your bed. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
You felt your heart squeeze a little bit. He was being so nice and he didn’t need to be–what with you running out first thing this morning with little to no information.
Stop it, you heard in your head.
You shook your head a little to clear it. “Thanks, Dean.” He gave you a killer smile and you couldn’t help but smile back before you could remind yourself not to get too close to him.
The three of you ate breakfast and just chatted after that. You were surprised at how comfortable you were with them. It was rare for you to let your guard down enough to joke with people and even more rare for you to enjoy it.
“So, Y/N, what’s next for you?” Sam asked when you were all too stuffed to eat any more pancakes.
“I’m not sure,” you said with a shrug, finishing off your coffee. “Just start looking for another case, I guess.”
Dean looked at his brother and the two had a silent exchange that you couldn’t quite interpret.
“Well, uh, if you want, we are actually heading to another case today,” Dean said, running his hand through his hair. “It’s actually right by our home base, so if you wanted to help, you’d have a place to stay for free.”
“That’s nice, Dean, but I wouldn’t want to be a bother. If you need help with the case I can always just get another motel,” you responded. You feared he was only offering out of some kind of pity he felt for you.
“No, no, you would have to stay with us. Trust me, you wanna see where we live,” Dean said with a devilish smirk. You weren’t sure what that meant but when Sam rolled his eyes behind Dean’s back you decided to just go with it.
“Okay, you’re on.”
As you all got up to leave you couldn’t help but be shocked at how much your path had changed in the last twenty-four hours. Hanging out with other hunters was not something you had done before. In fact, you hadn’t really hung out with anyone in your adult life. It was scary, but something about it also felt exhilarating.
“See if you can keep up,” Dean said with a nudge as he walked by you. You knew it would be tough keeping up with the Impala, but you decided you were up for all kinds of new challenges.
Summary: You’re broken. You know this. And as many times as you’ve told yourself that it made you unlovable, dysfunctional, and flawed—you still found yourself feeling hopeful when you met Dean Winchester.
If there was an award for the unluckiest person in the world, you’d probably win.
Scratch that, you wouldn’t. Because ironically enough, you have to have luck to win things.
You hopped out of the lemon of a sedan you had stolen only two days before and kicked the door shut hard with your foot. The silver paint was rusting off and the windshield was cracked—some signs you should have noticed when choosing your target, apparently.
Inconspicuously stealing cars was hard enough. Did you also have to always pick the ones that are on the verge of total engine failure?
You huffed a sigh and slung your canvas backpack onto your shoulder, dragging your feet and kicking up dust on the road as you walked toward the nearest hint of civilization. You could see signs for fast food up ahead, the once-brightly-colored plastic—now faded from the sun—hovering above several boring brick buildings.
You breathed in the scent of fresh air mixed with french fries as you walked, your stomach grumbling at the thought of food.
You pulled out your phone, opening the map app and checking how far you were from the hunt you had planned to arrive at tonight.
Well, that’s not happening without wheels.
After walking for about five minutes you reached the small strip of restaurants and shady-looking convenience stores. You decided to forgo greasy burgers, instead ducking into a small diner that promised the “fluffiest flapjacks around.”
You seated yourself as the small sign at the register suggested. You chose a booth by the window and sat so your right side was facing outside. You folded your legs under you and pulled out your laptop to continue researching the case.
“What can I get ya, hon?” Without looking up from your computer you answered the waitress quickly.
“Coffee, pancakes, fries. Please and thank you.”
You heard the waitress huff out a small chuckle but ignored it.
Time went by quickly when you were absorbed in werewolf lore and before you knew it your food was placed in front of you.
“Thank you,” you said, looking at the waitress out of the corner of your eye. You saw in your periphery that she was an older woman, probably in her late fifties. She gave you a smile, the wrinkles around her eyes becoming prominent as she muttered something about “kids and their technology” while walking away.
You rolled your eyes to yourself. I’m not a kid.
In fact you were in your late twenties, but you were sure you hadn’t been a kid since you were about seven anyway.
You ate slowly, still scrolling through your computer. You let your long Y/H/C hair fall over the right side of your face as was your habit.
You got the sudden feeling that someone was watching you. You peered up through your eyelashes to see a man sitting one booth away. He was facing you, the other side of his booth unoccupied as well. He smiled, and you felt a small blush rise to your cheeks.
He was cute, and you found yourself smiling back at him, which was not something you would normally do. He had jet black hair and eyes that were almost dark enough to match. He had dimples in his cheeks, and before you could even react, he was getting up to come talk to you.
He sat across from you and smiled again, reaching out his hand.
“I’m Jake,” he said in a friendly tone. You were so thrown off by his approach that you forgot yourself for a moment, reaching up and tucking your hair behind your ear before shaking his hand.
“Y/N,” you said. You barely got your name out before you saw it. It was the same reaction everyone had: shock followed by an attempt to mask their feelings of disgust.
“Uh, nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said. You didn’t believe him for a second. “I, uh, actually forgot that I have somewhere to be and I’m late.”
He exited the booth without another word. The whole interaction lasted less than thirty seconds. You threw money on the table, packed up your bag and headed to the bathroom. You leaned over the sink, throwing water on your face to cool it down. You looked in the mirror after drying it with a paper towel.
Emotionless eyes—one Y/E/C, one cloudy blue—stared back at you. You used your finger to lightly trace the line down the right side of your face—the one that split your eyebrow down the middle. The one that stretched all the way down to your chin. The one whose creation had also taken the sight in your right eye.
The one that caused “cute-guy-Jake” to flee immediately when he saw it.
The next day you finally made it to the small town in Missouri where you were sure there was a werewolf hunt. Life may not have been kind to you, but you were pretty good when it came to your instincts as a monster hunter.
Especially with werewolves.
You clenched your teeth silently and parked your most recent theft on the side of the road. You went for something newer this time, a silver 2008 Toyota Corolla. You figured it would most likely run okay. The only problem with newer cars was the alarms. You had stalked the owner for a bit, watching to see if an alarm set with the tell-tale two beeps when they locked it.
Luckily, it didn’t.
You liked this car. It was nicer to drive than you were used to. There was something to be said for the classics, though. They always just felt so lived in—so loved.
Speaking of classics—there was a classic ‘67 Impala parked a little way up the street from you. It was beautiful and well taken care of. You slid your hand across the shiny black paint as you walked by it, the surface silky smooth and obviously recently waxed.
You snapped yourself out of your classic-car-daze and headed quickly toward the old farm house on silent feet. As you got closer you heard swearing and snarling. Never a good sign.
You slowly cracked open the front door, trying to get a peek inside without making the door—that looked to be a hundred years old—creak too loudly.
You were surprised to see not only three repulsive werewolves standing in front of an old, dusty fireplace, but also two human men. Well, the men weren’t standing so much as being held captive.
One man who you could tell was very tall was laying on the floor unconscious. The other had his back against the mantle of the fireplace, his hands raised in surrender. Though he was clearly outmatched and outnumbered, he still had a cocky air about him—as if he knew he would get out of this jam.
The man’s gun had been kicked away from him and it lay about three feet in front of the door you were peeking through. You knew that the men were hunters. Who else would be stupid enough to come after a monster that had three times their strength.
You chuckled inwardly. Me, I guess.
A plan formed in your mind and you set it in motion immediately, knowing this man didn’t have much time left. You threw open the door, causing all four conscious heads to turn your way. In one swift motion you swept your arm down, picking up the other hunter’s gun and pointing yours at one wolf’s heart, pulling the trigger before it had time to react.
Shooting a werewolf right in the heart with a silver bullet was probably the thing you were best at when it came to hunting. It had been just about the only thing you had practiced in your down time in the last ten years.
While the wolves were distracted the hunter attacked the two you hadn’t shot from behind, causing them to fall to the floor. You chucked the gun to him and he caught it expertly, immediately aiming and pulling the trigger, sending a bullet into the second wolf’s heart.
The final one scrambled to his feet, ready to attack. You saw in his eyes that he knew he was done for, though, and you pulled the trigger before he had a chance to run.
With all three wolves dead, the man ran to his partner, attempting to shake him from unconsciousness. You slid your gun in the back of your pants and walked toward them. The man was able to rouse his partner, and he helped him up as the taller man took in the situation.
Both men looked at you at the same time. You prepared yourself for their reaction when they took a good look at your face. You were surprised, though, when you watched them both react in ways that you’d never experienced before.
The taller man looked at you, his hazel eyes narrowing just the slightest bit. Not in a mean way, though. He looked as though he was trying to understand what had happened to you. His eyes changed, then, as he pushed some of his long chestnut hair behind his ear. There was pity in them, but not the kind you were used to. You realized slowly that it wasn’t pity. It was empathy.
You looked to the other man now, taking him in as he did the same to you. He had short hair that was styled in a way that looked effortless but amazing. He had dazzling green eyes, the kind that look like they couldn’t possibly be real. You knew, though, that hunters didn’t have time for things like colored contacts.
You watched as his eyes followed the scar on your face, sliding down your forehead and stopping on your blind eye before ending to the right of your mouth. He didn’t react like his partner, though. In fact, he barely reacted at all. It was as if he had noticed that you had freckles or dimples—not a hideous scar.
“You really saved our asses,” he said, his deep voice booming.
“It’s no biggie,” you said, hating how high and nervous your voice sounded. The men didn’t seem to notice, though.
“I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean,” the taller man said. His eyes were kind, and you found yourself making contact with them which was unusual for you.
“I’m Y/N,” you said, letting your hair fall like a curtain over the right side of your face. It was a habit you had, and the fact that it covered your scar was the only reason you kept your hair long.
“Well, Y/N,” Dean said, clapping his hands together, “what do you say we buy you a drink as a thank you?”
You were hesitant. You usually tried to stay away from other hunters—and people in general. Something told you that you could trust these men, though. You were going to be careful, anyway.
Request: Hii I was wondering if you could do imagine where y/n is huntress from europe (slovakia maybe) and she come help Sam and Dean, but in the end, after some months or year, when she and dean fell in love, she gotta leave cause she wanna protect them, and she say I love you to Dean in her mother language, but he has no idea what she said and after some days he asks Sam what that means and he when he say the meaning, Dean’s gonna cry? I hope you understand and thank you – @stxrmkatie
Pairings: Dean x Reader
Warnings: a smidge of hurt and angst
Word Count: 705
A/N: This is pretty short but I hope you like it, if you’d like a second part just send em in! Feedback is loved!
“So get this,” Sam started, capturing Dean’s attention with a slightly annoyed sigh due to the overused phrase. “This monster isn’t native here.” He continued. “So, meaning?” Dean reiterated. “Meaning, we don’t have the things to kill it—“ “It’s called a vodyanoi, I suppose you two are American hunters?” An accented voice asked from behind the boys. Dean first turned, brows furrowed and Sam’s eyebrows looked shocked. “Not so subtle in your talking…” She murmured and Dean immediately drew back his expression. “I’m (y/n), from Slovakia, where the vodyanoi originated, someone tried to take it in the States.” She explained.
“Would you mind helping us out?” Sam asked, eyeing the way Dean had just been struck. “I definitely do not, after all, I travelled very far to kill it.” She beamed and Dean subtly pulled his lower lip between his teeth as he bit it, unfocused. “Dude!” Sam nudged his brother seeing her smirk, turning around and Dean just staring at her. “Wh—what?” Dean shook from a trance that is this Slovak girl. Sam rolled his eyes. “Let’s go!” He pushed, laughing, glancing at (y/n) as Dean was still frozen in his spot.
“Thank you so much for your help, (y/n).” Sam sighed, handing you back the weapon. She smiled. “No, I think the thanks goes to you two.” She gratefully said. “Sweetheart, you were great out there.” Dean muttered, still in a state of trance. “You are more than welcome to stay with us—if you want to.” Dean was quick to his offer and Sam smirked. He knew his brother had a pretty devastating string of love life that he was happy that (y/n) seems to like him as well. “I—Yeah, that’ll be great.” She smiled.
The next few days were hunt free and Dean took that time to get to know her, to show her how different America is to Slovakia. She enjoyed everyday, most especially with Dean. “I like you, very much, (y/n).” Dean whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She bit her lip and leaned in, Dean going in for the last inch, kissing her deeply. A few months of hunts and relaxation and time with the Winchester brothers, a call with a tone that (y/n) wished she didn’t hear. She pulled away softly, pecking his lips. “I have to answer this.” She said and he nodded.
She moved a few feet away and answer the phone. “(Y/n), musíte sa vrátiť. Chápem vašu príťažlivosť, ale nemôžeme riskovať veci.” The voice said, talking about (y/n) having to come back and not risk anything. She clenched her jaw. “Rozumiem. Budem tam o týždeň.” She replied saying she’ll be back in a week. Tears threatened to spill and Dean knew what she was about to say. “When do you have to go?” He asked, his green eyes shining with pain. “In a week.” She answered. “Do you have to?” He asked, cupping her cheek. “I need to protect you guys.” She whispered. “And I have to. They need me.”
A week quickly passed and the two spent every passing minute together until the faithful day that Dean brought her to the airport. “That was the best year I’ve ever had, (y/n).” Dean smiled, kissing her forehead. “Same for me, Dean, I promise you, we will see each other soon.” She whispered. “I promise too.” Dean said and kissed her deeply. “Ľúbim ťa.” She whispered kissing him once more.
Dean didn’t know what she just said but he will remember it to his heart. “Ľúbim ťa…” He whispered to himself, eyebrows furrowing together. He and Sam were researching when Dean had the urge to just ask Sam. “Sammy, what does this mean,” Dean paused remembering just how she said it. “Ľúbim ťa.” He pronounced. Sam’s eyebrows shot up and gave his brother a sad smile. “Ľúbim ťa means I love you in Slovak.” Sam explained. Dean’s heart shattered. He knew she knew that he loved her through his actions but now he knew she loved him back.
Tears slowly slipped down his cheek and Sam patted his brother, walking by to grab some beer.
A/N: inspired by the soung “Dancing with your ghost” by Sasha Sloan (might wanna check it out while reading this)
*I do not own any Supernatural characters and/or gifs I may use*
It was one of those nights.
You were stressing too much. Thinking too much. Feeling too much.
So far you’d spent your entire night working on college assignments. The teachers there definitely didn’t go easy on you and with all the hunting you had to keep up with at the same time, you felt like you were already way behind. That’s why you decided to stay in for the night, locking yourself in your room with your laptop, your books and a cup of steaming hot tea to get yourself back on track. Maybe even work a little ahead just to make things a little easier for yourself once another case turns up.
So you handed in assignment after assignment, read and summarized chapter after chapter, you took notes and made cheat sheets for yourself. And at one point, after God knows how many hours, you worked through most of the pile of work that had to be done. The cup of tea still stood on your nightstand. The forgotten liquid now cold and thus, no longer steaming.
Throwing your head back you sigh in relief. You’d been so worried you wouldn’t be able to catch up in time, that combining college and hunting would inevitably lead to nothing but failed exams. Only now, now the weight was lifted, you realized how much it had been dragging you down.
But now there is nothing left for you to do, you realize how quiet it actually is in the bunker. Suddenly well aware of the fact that you are all alone and that you’d forgotten to put on the music like you usually did to fill the silence. You hear the whirring of your laptop, which has probably been on for way too long, you can hear your own breathing. But most of all you can hear your own voice speaking clearly inside your head.
There is nothing left for you to do to occupy the voices. And they’re running free. Bursting after the suppression they’ve had to endure like only bad thoughts can. And there is nothing you can do to distract yourself, nothing to help you put those bad thoughts back into the dark corner of your mind where you liked them to be. Your school work was done, the bunker clean enough, hell, there isn’t even enough laundry to actually do the laundry.
And you are all alone.
After sitting still staring at your wall for way longer than good for you, you get off the bed. You don’t bother cleaning up the assortment of books that are spread all over your bed, nor do you shut off your laptop. It’d turned to stand-by somewhere in your sitting-session and you have no desire to see your tired face staring back at you in the reflection of the black screen.
You do however grab your phone, shuffling through your songs to find the perfect one as you pad towards the kitchen. You get yourself a glass and grab the first bottle of liquor you can find and then take a seat in one of the armchairs in the library.
Your thoughts are racing, doubts filling you up. You down your first glass in one big gulp, hoping it’ll quiet things down up there, and instantly pour yourself another one. Frustrated you huff, still unable to find a song. To find the rightsong.
You skip one song after another. Too happy, too sad, too fast, not sad enough.
But at one point you find it. As the first tunes of the song start playing you take another sip of your drink, the burn the alcohol leaves in its wake becoming a little less every time you take one, and you close your eyes, listening.
Yellng at the sky Screaming at the world
“Sweetheart?” A voice interrupts, sounding tired yet a bit worried also. “What are you doing up this late?”
You open your eyes to be instantly met with a pair of green ones. You smile and get up to pull your boyfriend Dean in for a hug, the alcohol slightly slowing your movements down but not having any real effects aside from that.
As you wrap your arms tightly around him you bury your nose in the crook of his neck, inhaling his smell. His smell, a combination of the cologne he always uses combined with gunpowder, instantly calming you down more than the alcohol had been able to so far.
“Everything okay?” he mumbles against your hair while softly rubbing your back. Only now you had him back in your arms you realized how long it had been. How much you’d missed him.
“It’s just a bit loud up here tonight,” you answer, whispering against his skin.
You know, the bad thing about admitting to people that you weren’t doing as good as you liked to pretend you were doing wasn’t actually that you’d have to tell them you weren’t okay. It was the part that followed that you usually wanted to avoid. Because when you tell people you’re not doing so well, the follow up question is usually something like ‘what’s wrong?’. When you tell people you haven’t been fine at all, they expect you to lay it all out for them. To tell them exactly what is going on. And that right there, is what you didn’t want to do.
You were fine admitting. You just weren’t fine with talking about it.
But Dean always understood. He was there during your darkest times. If you wanted to talk he listened, if you didn’t he just held you or helped you in other little ways. He’d cook pizza for dinner, make you your hot chocolate just the way you like it or put on a movie he knew you loved. Even if that happened to be a chick flick .That’s one of the things you loved so much about him. He understood that sometimes you wanted to deal with things on your own.
That’s why you don’t shut him out as soon as he asks; “do you want to talk about it?”
And that’s why he doesn’t push you after you simply shake your head, wrapping your arms around him just a little tighter.
Holding on too tight Head up in the clouds
The song continues in the background as Dean softly starts to pull away. You look up at him pouting, instantly missing the heat his body provided you with. But as he extends his hand for you to take, your expression shifts to a confused one.
“Dance with me?” he asks, a tender smile on his lips as he looks at you. You’re wearing sweatpants and an oversized shirt that’s most likely his. You have no make-up on whatsoever and you’re positive your hair is a mess, and yet he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful girl he has ever seen in the entire universe. There’s another thing you loved about him. He always made you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.
You chuckle. “But this isn’t dancing music,” you protest.
But Dean leaves his hand hanging in the air, waiting for you to take it. “Then we’ll make it dancing music,” he shrugs, eyes sparkling.
You shake your head, laughing, but take his hand nonetheless. Allowing him to pull you closer again. You rest your arms around his neck again just as he puts his hands on your lower back. But this time you don’t bury your head in his neck, you keep your head up. Your eyes locked with his. The world around you disappearing as the two of you start swaying in the same, slow, rhythm, following the music.
Heaven only knows where you are now
You stay like that for a while, your bodies pressed together, the same song repeating itself over and over.
You shut your thoughts off at first. Putting all the doubts and the worry away as you focus solely on Dean. And you wish it could stay like that forever. Just the two of you dancing together without a care in the world. There’s no use in worrying about tomorrow if you stay like this forever.
But as the song plays and plays while you keep dancing the lyrics start making more and more sense to you.
How do I love, how do I love again?
How do I trust, how do I trust again?
“Y’know,” Dean then speaks up. “You have to let me go at some point.”
You shake your head and smile, but doubts start creeping in. “I’m alright, Dean,” you assure. But you’re not sure who you’re actually trying to convince. Him, or you.
He doesn’t reply. Just interlocks your hands and lifts them above your head to bring you in for a twirl. And one second he’s there to twirl you around, but once you return to your previous position, a smile on your face, he’s gone and your hand is grabbing in thin air. “Dean?” you choke out, face falling and tears filling your eyes.
And just as you see the first rays of the rising sun the last line of the plays, suddenly sounding louder than it had before.
A/N: I wrote this one a while ago.. tonight I figured why the hell not read it again, edit and correct it and post it? So I hope y’all like it, if you do please leave some feedback <3
Also this is inspired by the song Lost in the moment by NF so you might wanna check that out
*I do not own any Supernatural characters and/or gifs I may use*
“Don’t try to shut me out of this. I’ve been here since day one. I’m just as much a part of this as you are,” you whisper, tears threatening to spill as you discretely study his face in the dim light of the increasing amount of shimmering stars. As if it would be the last time you could ever do so. Trying to take in the freckles dusting his nose and cheeks, the emerald green orbs that once carried so much happiness, so much hope, but now had become dull. Both the hope and happiness now brought back to an eventual spark that would light up his entire face but was usually suppressed by emotions such as grief, pain and sadness.
You had known the Winchesters ever since you were a little girl. When you were six years old a werewolf slaughtered both your parents. You would have shared the same fate, hadn’t John Winchester stepped in right when he did. You didn’t have any family to stay with, so that’s why John decided to take you in until he found someone to take care of you. Luckily he never did.
Soon after he introduced you to his two sons. Sammy being just as old as you, Dean a couple years older. At first you didn’t talk. You were timid and distrustful. But Sammy always offered you his toys and both the boys protected you like you were their sister, allowing you to slowly but surely warm up to them, developing a deep and valuable friendship. Even though you were younger, you became especially close with Dean. As you grew up the two of you happened to share the same taste in music, the same love for food, the same kind of humour.. kind of the same everything. When everyone was sleeping the two of you were often still having deep conversations about life or whatever was on both your minds. You were there after he tracked down his first monster by himself, when he got his first girlfriend. You were there every time John thought he had screwed up and he needed someone to comfort him. To tell him he was so much more than a screw-up. Likewise Dean was there the first time you killed a monster, the first time you had a date, the first time you were able to go to prom and got stood-up. He was there every time you had another nightmare about your parents or when the thoughts in your mind got too much to bear. Yes, you got along great with Sammy and you loved him like a brother, but your bond with Dean just went so much deeper. You trusted him with everything you had in you. And he trusted you.
Or at least after everything you thought he did.
You knew there was something going on. Hell you’d known there was something going on ever since the boys succeeded in killing the yellow-eyed demon. Dean had forced you to sit that one out. When both the boys returned they quickly revealed they succeeded, they killed it. Yet they were both rather vague about what exactly happened that night. But you didn’t miss the stiffness in Sammy’s posture or the concealed worry in Dean’s eyes. You had chosen not to say anything about it back then, but ever since that day you knew there was something both the brothers were keeping from you.
Right after dinner Dean had asked you to come with him for a ride in his Impala. Him asking you such thing was nothing special. The two of you often went for a ride together when you had a day off, just pointlessly driving around, singing along to your favourite songs, talking. Most of the times you ended up in your favourite diner, no matter how far away you initially were.
But as you take your usual spot besides Dean in the passenger seat today things feel different. Loaded. After he starts the engine and sets off neither him nor you says anything. The music softly plays but neither one of you sings along.
It’s like the calm before the storm.
This time you don’t end up in your favourite diner. Dean pulls over and stops the car as the sun is beginning to set. Without a word he gets out and runs around the car to open your door for you. You don’t say anything. You don’t get out or even make an attempt to do so. You look at Dean, your brows furrowed and a puzzled look written on your face.
“Would you get out, please?” he asks, begs almost.
“What are we doing here?”
“I thought we could watch the sunset together.”
“Watch the sunset? Dean-“ you exclaim, tilting your head as your eyebrows shoot up. “We never, never, watch the sunset. That’s something they do in chick flick movies, something you claim to strongly dislike,” you proclaim, making sure to emphasise the ‘never’.
“Please?”
For a short moment you scan his face. Noticing the signs of distress, of sadness, of fear, that you know damn well he’s trying to hide. But you know him better than that. You blindly know all his quirks and habits and when and why they surface. So you nod, shortly, taking his hand and allowing him to help you get out of his car. He shuts the door behind you and leads you to the front of the car, leaning against the hood and motioning for you to do the same.
Without another word the two of you view the sunset, watching the yellow ball of fire change to hues of orange, merging with the sky. You watch as the clouds turn to cotton candy, painting the sky a beautiful mix of blue and violet with the occasional pink and still a few specks of orange here and there. After a while the sun disappears behind the horizon, giving way to a thousand of stars. Only to be seen as the clouds slowly drift away.
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened the night you and Sammy killed the yellow-eyed demon?” you silently ask without taking your eyes off of the sky, not yet daring to face Dean. You weren’t sure why you were bringing it up, or why you were bringing it up at this specific moment. All you knew was that the matter, somehow and for some reason, was nagging at you. “I mean we never really talked about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. It happened,” he states blankly.
“Okay.. Then are you going to tell me what’s been bothering you?” you try again, getting more cautious with each word you pronounce. Sometimes, much like you, Dean doesn’t want to help. He doesn’t want to be saved, or more so he’s convinced himself he isn’t worth saving. If you didn’t approach the matter in the right manner or approached it too quickly you knew he would instantly put up his walls and there was no chance they’d be going down again anytime soon.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” is all he lets on.
You glance sideways, noting the way he’d crossed his arms in front of his chest, as a protective barrier to guard himself, his eyebrows knitted together and his shoulder feeling tense against yours. He is lying, if it wasn’t obvious already.
“Dean..”
“I can’t,” he snaps, turning his body to face you. “I can’t,” he then repeats, softer this time.
You fully turn around now as well, facing him. “Don’t shut me out of this,” you whisper, searching his face for more clues to guide you. To tell you what’s going on so you could help him. So you could save him. “I’ve been here for you during everything, don’t you dare shut me out of this,” you were well aware almost everyone else in your position right now would probably be mad. Mad that he didn’t trust you or hurt even. But you knew the way Dean’s mind worked. He was trying to protect you. Knowing him he had probably postponed this conversation for as long as possible so you’d have to worry about it as little as possible. But he was going to tell you, and he was going to tell you tonight. You just had to show him you cared enough so he actually could tell you.
He sighs in defiance, his shoulders lowering before he nervously licks his lips. “The.. The night we killed the yellow-eyed demon.. Sammy died,” your eyes widen in shock but you don’t dare to interfere, biting back your gasp and watching as Dean struggles to find the words. “The demon, he- he set up this game. This competition. Sam and some other kids like him, only one of them was supposed to make it out alive. When I saw Sammy, when we-, some kid stabbed him. He died.. he died in my arms,” he chokes out, now struggling to fight back tears.
“Oh my god, Dean,” you take a step forward with the intention of hugging him, but Dean takes a step back and shakes his head.
“No.”
“Dean..” you slowly say as you suddenly realize what exactly this might possibly mean. “What did you do?” he doesn’t reply, just shakes his head again. The tears coming dangerously close to spilling now.
“Did you sell your soul for him?” your eyes wide as you watch him, you can feel your heart beating in your chest, your breath stuck in your throat as your thoughts run a million miles an hour, quickly putting all the pieces together.
“I had to,” his voice cracks. “I had to look out for him. It’s my job.”
“How long have you got?”
“Tomorrow.”
“What did you just say?” you blurt out, unable to process the fact that this was his last night with you.
Often when you were reading you’d roll your eyes at the parts where the protagonist’s world was falling apart, the writer often describing it as a ‘shattering of their entire world’. You’d always seen that as bullshit, always figured the protagonist should keep their head up and figure out something to fix it. But right now that’s exactly how you felt. Your world shattered into a piercing mess of a million small pieces that you could never glue back together. You couldn’t keep your head up. There was no solution to this problem.
“I’m sorry, I-” he starts, but you’re quick to interrupt.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner. We could’ve still figured this out, find a way out of this,” you bargain, desperately trying to find a way out of the situation.
“Would you’ve understood?” he asks, looking you right in the eye as he does so.
And that comment stings more than you would like to let on. You’re hurt. Hurt he didn’t trust you. That after years of relying on each other he kept something from you. “Don’t talk to me like I don’t know what you’re feeling. I’ve been there with you back in the beginning. I know the way your mind works, I know how you put on that brave face while at the same time your thoughts are destroying you. I’ve been with you through everything so don’t you tell me I wouldn’t understand.” Dean looks away from you as soon as you start to voice your reply, focusing on something behind you, probably not wanting to hear anything you just said. “And quit looking away when I talk, I’m trying to be honest with you.”
A shuddering breath escapes his lungs. “This would’ve been so much easier if you’d just gotten mad. You should’ve yelled at me,” he murmurs with desperation in his voice.
“Dean,” you sigh, suddenly realising what he was trying to do. “What were you going to do? Tell me you’re fine, hadn’t I asked? And had I asked make sure I got mad? Make sure I’d hate you? Do you really think that was going to make any of this any easier?”
“It might’ve been easier if you just believed I was fine. Or in case you didn’t if you’d yelled at me, cursed me, gotten so mad you would hate me and didn’t even want to see me anymore. At least it would’ve been for you. And I still would’ve seen a sunset with you. Having taken in the setting sun with all its colours, but mostly having taken in the way the colours illuminated the features on your face perfectly. Having the look of complete awe on your face engraved in my memory,” he rambles, trying to explain his motives.
For a moment you’re silent, giving yourself a little bit of time to process what he just said. Though right now is not the moment to figure out what exactly he did or didn’t mean with those last two sentences. While normally your heart would’ve skipped a beat had he let on something like that. Right now you couldn’t allow yourself to let it get to your head. There were more important things to focus on right this instant.
The fact you were never going to see him again after tomorrow, for example.
“I’ve known there was something wrong ever since that night,” you slowly begin. “Telling me you’re fine would never have worked because I know you’re not. And just for the record, I am mad. I’m mad you didn’t tell me, that you didn’t think I’d understand. But no matter what, I could never- I could never hate you.”
For a while not another word is exchanged and neither one of you moves. You want to step closer, wrap your arms around him and pull him as close as your body allows you to. Make sure you memorise the feeling of his body in your arms, the sound of his heart beating against his chest echoing in your ear, the subtle smell of his cologne you can so clearly smell as you inhale. Memorise every single small detail there is about him to remember. But you’re too scared to do so. Scared he’ll step away again or even worse, scared he’ll fade right in front of your eyes.
Meanwhile it has become dark. The sun is now long gone and the few amount of stars you saw before have now been joined by an army of others. The temperature is rapidly decreasing as well, causing you to shiver since you hadn’t bothered to put on a jacket before you left. You wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep yourself warm before you hesitantly speak up. “So what do we do now?”
“I don’t know, “ he shrugs. “This wasn’t exactly how I thought we’d end up so I didn’t really plan this far ahead.”
“Well what’s something you still want to do before.. before- before you know,” you nervously exclaim, unable to say whatever was awaiting him out loud.
“Can we go get a burger?”
You chuckle, unable to suppress your smile at his request. A request that was so incredibly Dean-like. So simple yet so meaningful for both of you. “Of course,” you nod.
With a single look both of you know exactly what your next destination is going to be and as on cue both of you start moving. You towards the passenger’s seat, him towards the driver’s seat. As Dean once again starts the engine, he immediately turns up the heating to warm both of you up, probably mostly you though. The radio softly starts playing one of your favourite songs and your quiet humming soon turns into a full-on sing along for you both. Before you know you’ve reached your destination, the lit neon sign of your favourite diner strongly contrasting against the dark sky.
As soon as the bell above the door marks your entrance you walk over to your favourite spot by the window. You sit down on one of the booths while Dean takes place on the other one in front of you. It doesn’t take long before a servant comes to take your order. She must be new, working one of her first shifts here, since you hadn’t seen her before. Both you and Dean knew everyone who worked there, and they knew you. Everyone always cheerfully chitchatted with you, it was one of the reasons you loved this place so much.
“What can I get you two?” the girl asks, fumbling nervously with her notepad.
“We’ll have two beers and two bacon cheeseburgers, please,” Dean orders for the both of you, smiling sympathetically at the girl.
She quickly writes down the order before returning his smile. “Coming right up.”
Just like the waitress nervously fumbled with her notepad, you fumble nervously with the paper placemat placed in front of you. A bunch of facts explaining why this diner is the best in the area and a few suggested dishes to try printed on there. You don’t even bother to read them anymore, you know them all by heart. The diner was founded in 1955, it almost went bankrupt until they introduced the magic burger that introduced a new public and saved the company. The secret of the burger was garlic, one of the waitresses once told you in passing. You still didn’t know whether she was joking or not. The place is hospitable and clean and child-friendly. A few suggested dishes are the magic burger, of course, the waffles and the grilled cheese sandwich. Dean and you had tried every dish they ever served, but both of you stuck with the bacon cheeseburger.
“What’s going to happen? Do we still have tomorrow or is it over once the clock strikes twelve?” you ask with a small voice, emotion seeping through. It’s not like hiding them will change anything anymore, so why bother?
“I don’t know,” he mumbles, his eyes casting down. “She didn’t say.”
Your head suddenly jerks up as the thought of Sammy enters your mind. Surely he must’ve known, but if these were his last couple of hours here on earth, wouldn’t they want to spend it together? “Why didn’t you stay with Sammy tonight? I can imagine the two of you would want to have a proper goodbye,” you ask him, voicing the concerns running through your head.
“We did, yesterday. He’s known about this for a year and he has done everything to find a way out of this. For his sake I hope now he’s finally accepted there’s no coming back from this.”
“So you’re really just gone after tonight, huh?” you whisper, feeling as if the situation and its consequences are finally catching up with you. As if you’d been numb to it before, but suddenly it found your Achilles heel and took its chances, fully charging at you. Tears are welling up, threatening to spill.
“Hush, baby, my dolly, I pray you don’t cry,
And I’ll give you some bread, and some milk by-and-by;
Or perhaps you like custard, or, maybe, a tart,
Then to either you’re welcome, with all my heart,” Dean sings quietly, making sure you’re the only one who can hear him. And despite the events that are eagerly waiting to go down you smile at the recognition of the nursery song Dean always sang for you when going to bed or after you had a nightmare. He’d always quietly mumble it for you, calming you down and allowing you to fall into a peaceful slumber. Sometimes, much like right now, he’d sing it when you were sad. All those years ago your problems were so much smaller. You didn’t have to worry about hell or demon deals. People often told you to enjoy the simplicity you lived in, or at least the simplicity children your age were supposed to live in. They told you that time flies. At the time you didn’t know what it meant, now you had to admit they’d been right.
“I can’t believe you still remember that,” you bring out, still smiling.
“Of course,” he smiles back. “I could never forget it, I sang it for you the first time you had a nightmare and it stuck with me ever since. I also remember how you tried wearing lipstick when you were only ten because you wanted people to think you were just as old as me,” he grins, the memory still seared into his brain.
Your embarrassment paints your neck and cheeks a dark shade of red and you hide your head in your hands, as if trying to hide yourself from the memory. “Stop it!” you bring out while trying to supress the chuckle in your voice.
“Or,” he continues. “how you refused to wear anything that was coloured red, just because..”
“Alright I’ve got two beers and two bacon cheeseburgers for you guys,” the waitress announces, interrupting Dean’s little trip down memory lane. She places the two beer bottles and the plates she’d skilfully carried on the table. “Enjoy your meal,” she smiles before turning around and returning to her place behind the bar. You smile at her before she leaves, your face still showing some degree of redness.
Both you and Dean immediately dive into your food, devouring the burger and the fries that came along with it, washing it down with swigs of beer.
“That was good,” you exhale afterwards, Dean nodding in agreement.
“I’m gonna go pay,” he tells you as he slides out of the booth. As you take a look at the clock you realise why; it’s coming dangerously close to midnight., and neither one of you knows what that’s going to bring. A sudden fear evolves itself deep inside of you. You’d known Dean for almost as long as you remember. You barely had any memories he wasn’t in. And after tomorrow he wasn’t going to be there anymore. The memory of him would slowly fade until you couldn’t even remember the sound of his voice anymore.
As Dean returns you quickly push it down though, not wanting to ruin his possible last moments. He deserves better than that. “Let’s go,” he smiles, holding his hand out for you. But you can’t help but notice the fear that’s reflecting in his eyes.
“Yup,” you simply reply, taking his hand and leaving the diner together. One last time.
A cold breeze hits you in the face the moment you step outside, but you ignore it. Together you walk towards Dean’s car and for the second time tonight the both of you lean down against the hood. This time facing each other right away.
“Look,” he starts. “I don’t know how much time we have left, but I want to tell you the same thing I told Sammy; “stop looking for a way to get me out of this. There isn’t. I made my decision and I don’t want Sammy nor you spending the rest of your lives trying to get me out of it. Let me go.”
You smile, sadly. “That might’ve worked for Sammy, but I think we both know I’m never really going to give up on you,” you whisper, fighting to hold back the tears.
“I know, it was worth a try though,” he nods, a chuckle escaping from between his lips. But it sounds strangled, broken. “There’s just one more thing I’d like to do.”
“Name it,” you answer.
Before you know what is happening he grabs your face and his lips crash against yours. The warmth of his lips seem to warm you to the bone and the world falls away as you completely lose yourself in the moment. He kisses you slow and soft, comforting you in ways that words never could, while caressing your cheek with his thumbs your breaths mingle. You run your fingers through his hair and down his spine, pulling him closer, wanting to remove all space there’s left between the two of you.
And just as sudden as he pressed his lips against yours, he pulls away again. “Do you hear that?” he asks, still holding your face in his hands.
You shake your head. “No, Dean, hear what?” But he doesn’t reply. “Dean?”
His breath hitches in his throat. As he looks at you there’s nothing but pure terror written all over his face. “Close your eyes,” is all he says.
Desperately you try to understand, try to figure out what he is trying to say, but you have no idea what is going on. “What, why?”
“Just close your eyes,” he begs. Whispering one last word as you refuse to listen. “Hellhounds,” he brings out right before he’s ripped away from you.
As you squeeze your eyes shut, feel his hands being ripped away from your body, you hear his body being dragged away. You hear his painful screams piercing through the air right before it goes dead silent.
Hesitantly you open your eyes, being met with nothing but the darkness of the night, and you can feel the warmth leave your body. There’s nothing but the tingling in your lips and the searing pain in your soul that reminds you of the man that had stood in front of you just a second ago. And you don’t dare moving. Terrified it’ll erase the last traces he left on your body, terrified it’ll leave you with an even bigger hole than when you lost your parents.
After a while, whether it be ten minutes or an hour, you gather enough strength to move without crashing down on the pavement right away. That’s also when you notice the Impala still standing there, the lacquered black car looks duller than before, as if it knows it has just lost its beloved owner and wants to show its grief. As if on autopilot you walk towards the passenger seat, only realising that’s not your place anymore when you find yourself tugging at the door handle. The keys Dean gave you somewhere during your meal at the diner suddenly burn in your back pocket and hesitantly you walk towards the driver’s seat, unlocking the car.
Dean had only allowed you to take place on the driver’s seat one time before. You must’ve been seventeen and he was supposed to teach you how to drive. You almost crashed against a bunch of garbage cans and Dean never allowed you up there anymore. Too scared you’d wreck his beautiful car. Even after Bobby taught you how to drive a few years later, you had forever lost your right. Tonight that had changed though.
You weren’t sure you were going to find Sammy if you went back to the motel. Maybe he’d left. Unable to stand Dean’s unmade bed, his empty beer bottles or his half-packed bag any longer, or maybe just honouring his last wish and moving on with his life.
As you slide down on the driver’s seat, as the coldness of the leather seeps through the material of your pants and as you place your hands on the cold steering wheel, on the place his hands used to lie, you finally allow your first tears to fall.
Warnings:Angst.. little bit of language but like you’ll miss it if you blink
Word count:2.1k
A/N:It’s been a hot minute since I posted a oneshot on here.. It’s not like I stopped writing, it’s just that the stuff I wrote about was really personal and I didn’t really feel like sharing all that on social media. But I’m trying to get into writing ‘normal’ oneshots again. So here we go :)
Also, while writing this I listened to the song ‘Hands’ by ORKID (hence the title) so to really get into the feels you might want to listen to that while reading this.
*I do not own any Supernatural characters and/or gifs I may use*
“I don’t love you. I never have,” Dean flatly states. Neither his voice nor his face showing any sign of emotion as he spits those words out. As if they wouldn’t turn your entire world upside down. As if they meant nothing, as if you meant nothing.
He had to be lying. Either that, or he had been lying for the past six months straight. He had to have been lying the day you met him at the café you work at, when he ordered two coffees and a slice of cherry pie and flirtatiously told you you looked beautiful as a smirk graced his perfectly chiselled face. Right before he took his coffee and pie he slid his napkin towards you with a wink. Looking down you noticed the sloppy numbers that were hastily written down on it. The black contrasting against the off-white napkin.
He had to have been lying when he took you on your first date, just one day after you decided to take the risk and call the number he gave you. Taking you to a fancy restaurant for a candlelit dinner whilst telling you how you made him feel like no one else ever had, a blush creeping up his neck as he admitted those words out loud. You spent the night getting to know each other, cracking jokes and holding hands and even sharing dessert afterwards. He leaned in as he whispered he never shared his pie with anyone, but for you he’d make an exception.
And he had to have been lying on all the dates that followed. The time he asked you to be his, the first time he told you he loved you, the time he promised you it was the two of you against the world.
You remembered the last date the two of you went on. Merely two weeks ago he surprised you after you came home from a long day of work, telling you to put on some comfy clothes. You begged him to tell you where the two of you were going but he gave you nothing. He simply laughed as you tried all your persuasion techniques on him, pulling you closer and pressing a feather light kiss against your forehead before whispering “you’ll see,” and as you felt his lips curl up in a smile against your skin you couldn’t help but smile as well, surrendering and deciding to just put on some yoga pants and a flannel you’d stolen from Dean. Again he told you you looked beautiful. Told you that you looked better in that flannel than he ever had, or ever would. He took your hand and led you to his black impala, holding the door to the passengers seat open for you and shutting it after you’d gotten in. The whole ride through he continued to hold your hand, his other hand resting on the steering wheel. By the time he pulled over and cut off the engine it was a little after eleven and the sky had darkened, making way for at least a million of brightly shining stars. Dean pulled a blanket over the hood of his car so the two of you could sit down. He’d pulled your body into his and wrapped his arms tightly around you, providing you with just enough heat to not get cold, and the two of you spent the night stargazing. Every now and then one of you would point up, wanting to point out a star that seemed to shine just a little brighter than the others. Just as you’d started to drift off his lips moved towards your ear. “I’m yours. I’m all yours, sweetheart. Ain’t no one ever going to take you away from me,” he whispered, the feeling of his lips so close to your ear, his breath fanning your skin, making goose bumps spread all over your body. “I’ll stay by your side, always,” a smile spread across your face as you let yourself fall away in a peaceful slumber, his words still dancing in the back of your head. It didn’t take long before your head softly fell against his as you failed to keep it up any longer.
Every word, every touch, every smile. He’d have to been lying through his teeth.
At first you refuse to believe him, desperately scouring his face for a sign that he is indeed lying. You search for the sparkle in his eyes you normally notice when he’s cracking one of his horrible jokes, the fine wrinkles around his eyes that only appear when he genuinely smiles or laughs, or even a smirk, indicating he’s just fooling around. But you find nothing of the sort. It’s like staring at a brick wall, you see the cold, blank exterior but you don’t have a single fucking clue what is going on behind it. Likewise, Dean shows you a blank face, giving you zero indication of what is going on behind those eyes, inside his head.
And slowly the reality of the situation starts to dawn on you. Right then, right there, all you want to do is scream. Make sure everyone, all over town, can hear you. Make sure everyone knows. But you stay still. Your body trembling, but still. You shake your head. “No,” you bring out, hating how broken you sound. You feel tears coming up, but you will them away, refusing to cry, to break down, in front of him like you had many times before. “Everything’s fine. Whatever it is, we can fix this,” you desperately try. But you know damn well you’re lying, both to him and yourself. You reach for his hands, hoping your touch will solve it all. Make him feel anything, make him love you again. Make the truth disappear. But his hands feel unusually cold in yours.
“I was only pretending,” he declares, yet making no effort to pull back his hands. “You can’t really blame me can you? You can only blame yourself,” he goes on, his words growing bolder, harsher. He looks you dead in the eyes as he spits out those words and you feel your heart breaking a little more with every word that leaves his mouth. Making it impossible for you to hold back your tears any longer, feeling them fill up your eyes.
You wished you could hate him right now. Let go of his hands, that seem to be growing colder by the second, and throw him out instead of seeing him leave. But truth is, you don’t. Because while he may have been pretending, you sure as hell didn’t. You loved him. You loved him like you had never loved anyone else before. You’d felt a spark ignite that day he ordered his coffees and pie, fuelled by the fact that he gave you his number. And after that first date you knew you were a goner. You loved him even before he asked you to be his girl, you loved him before the hugs, the flowers, the late night walks or car rides, before you even knew if he loved you back. Every moment made that spark burn brighter, stronger. And right now you couldn’t simply extinguish it, leaving yourself with nothing but ashes and thick, suffocating smoke. You’d figured you shouldn’t have to, fully convinced that he would stay right here by your side like he promised. That the vows he made to you actually meant something.
God had you been wrong.
“So what happens now?” you ask, trying to keep the pain out of your voice, clenching your jaw as you attempt to keep your lip from trembling also. But Dean stays dead silent.
“Why would you leave me when you said you were mine?” you follow up your previous question as you conclude Dean isn’t going to provide you with any kind of answer.
Again, no answer. “Please just let me go,” is all he says. And with those words he pulls his hands out of yours. His hands even colder now, your hands unable to warm them like you had been before. He takes a few steps back, the sound of his shoes making contact with the wooden floor beneath them sounding hollow in the silence that is shared between the two of you, before turning around and walking out of the door without looking back.
You watch him walk away without saying another word and as you hear the door fall shut behind him you finally allow yourself to let the tears fall freely. Your knees buckle from underneath you and with no one there to catch you you fall to the floor, a raspy sob racking your body as you bury your head in your hands. You feel empty. Your entire body aching. The fire Dean had ignited now feeling like it’s burning right through you. The floor feels hard and cold against your knees but you’re unable to move. Unable to do anything but let the tears cascade down your face.
A few meters away, just from outside the door, Dean hears a soft thud as you fall to the floor. He hears the heart-breaking sob that starts your breakdown and hears the ones that follow. And it breaks his heart, more than it had already been broken. But there was no choice, he had to do this. He has to protect you. And the only way for him to do that is to keep you out of his world, away from the monsters. He’d rather have the both of you hurting, but with you alive, instead of spending the next few months with you but finding you dead one day after coming home. He’d seen too many people around him die; his parents, Charlie, Kevin, hell, even Crowley. He knew death came with the job description. The lifespan of the average hunter wasn’t very long, the better part of them getting killed during a hunt one way or another, sooner or later. He couldn’t get you involved. He couldn’t see you lose your life, too.
After listening to you for a little while longer, whispering useless ‘sorry’s’ and praying to whatever or whoever was listening that you’d be okay, he makes his way down the driveway to the street just around the corner where Sam is waiting for him. As he walks away, looking over his shoulder to the house he shared with the one girl he truly loved more than anything for the last time, a single tear leaves the corner of his eye and makes its way down his face. The heartbreak he feels is making it almost impossible for him to keep walking. But he has to. He knows that if he stops now, turns around one more time, he’s going to make his way right back to you. Tell you he was lying when he told you he didn’t love you. Tell you that he really does love you more than anything.
But if he wants to keep you save that’s not a possibility. So he keeps walking, shoulders drooped, head hanging low. He wipes away his tears before getting into the driver’s seat of Baby. Refusing to make eye contact with Sam.
“Dean..” Sam tries, but Dean immediately cuts him off.
“No,” he says, harshly. “This is the only way. I am not pulling her into this world,” he argues. “I can’t,” Dean mumbles, voice sounding wobbly. He’s practically begging Sam not to go against him on this one. He’s got his mind made up, nothing Sam will say to him is going to change that and he’d rather get out of this town as fast as possible. To leave the memories, the feelings, all of it behind.
To leave you behind.
His hands are freezing now. He genuinely doubts they’ll ever warm up again now you’re not here to warm them anymore. As he puts his key in the ignition memories of the two of you sitting in his car flood his mind. All the times the two of you pointlessly drove around, him driving of course and you occupying the seat Sam was now sitting in. All the times he held your hand while driving, the times the two of you were shamelessly singing along to your favourite songs and the times you talked, whether it was just mindless chatter or deep conversations late at night, they wash over him, suffocating him as he struggles to keep his head up. He takes in a sharp breath, shrugging off the urge to cry as best as he can, before he turns on the car and drives off. Away from the house, the street, the town, he considered home. Away from you.
He sure as hell hopes he did the right thing. Because if he could be sure of anything his head was telling him right now, it’s that there’s no coming back from this.
