Ellie @elleoel - Tumblr Blog

Poison.

dean winchester x reader

summary♱⋆ You and Dean were in love, so happy in love. But nothing good ever lasts for Dean, he’d hoped that this would be different, but it ended up as the loss of his life.

Pairing ♱⋆ Dean winchester x f reader. Genre ♱⋆ angst, grief, love, established relationship, brief mentions of kissing but nothing further, Dean being in love.

Dean really did think he was cursed. It seemed like everyone that he cared about died, that as soon as someone came into his life they were suddenly fated to a cruel death. His mom, his dad, Sam, Jo, Ellen, Ash. He had a list about a mile long of people who had died because they’d been involved with him.

He was poison.

He’d made peace with it over time, he’d never have anything truly good in his life. Besides, the men in his family didn’t seem to have good luck with love— his father losing his mother, Sam losing Jess, he had no doubt they were all a curse. He’d accepted that he’d never be able to be truly loved or seen, he’d never wake up to someone’s head on his chest with light seeping in from the window of a shared bedroom, he’d never have someone that understands and sees every crevice of him.

He wanted that.

He may not voice it often, and everyone that knew him thought he preferred the one night stands and the flings with no strings attached. Which he did— like them, he did, it was fun, but it wasn’t real. It wasn’t the love that he so desperately craved, but had realised he’d never get.

That was, until he met you. When Dean met you he thought that maybe he could have something good after all.

You had just been normal, you hadn’t had a clue about the monsters that lurked in the dark until you’d been face to face with the vengeful spirit that had been killing people in your town, luckily Dean and Sam had already figured out who it was and who it was going after next— you.

They’d split up, Sam going to find and burn the bones, Dean rushing to your house to try and keep you alive until Sam had finished it.

Dean had gotten there and kicked the front door in just in time to see you— oh. Oh you were… really, really pretty. He’d seen alot of pretty women, but you? You’d made him stop for a split second. Not for very long though, because you had a very murderous spirit moving towards you. He’d shot at it with a rock salt shotgun pellet and temporarily dispelled it, he hadn’t had time to explain to you, who was stood there staring at his unfamiliar face with wide eyes looking a mix of absolutely terrified and convinced you were going crazy, that there was a killer ghost after you and he was there to save you and he wasn’t just some maniac with a shotgun.

Instead he’d rushed over and grabbed you by the hand, his grip as gentle as it could be while also being insistent. You hadn’t said anything as he’d pulled you towards the front door of the house to try and get you away from danger, but that hadn’t worked. The door was locked, so was the back door, so were all of the windows. That spirit didn’t want you to get out of there. Dean had asked you if you had any salt, he remembered you’d opened your mouth to try and speak but nothing but a weak croak had left your lips, so instead you’d just nodded and pointed with a shaky hand to the kitchen.

He drew a salt circle in the living room, ushered you into it and explained to you that as long as you stayed in the salt circle, you couldn’t be hurt.

“Listen t’me,” He’d said while making the circle, “I know you’re probably confused as hell and i’ll explain everything t’you, but for now do not— under any circumstance, step outta this circle, you got that? It can’t get you in here.”

When he’d stood back up and looked at you again, you hadn’t been looking at him like he was just some psycho anymore. He didn’t know how to explain how you were looking at him, just knew he hadn’t been looked at like that before.

The ghost seemed to still be gone, so he took that as his chance to quickly message Sam to tell him to hurry up and then explain to you what was happening. You didn’t react loudly, you didn’t even call him crazy and say that monsters being real was insane and not possible. Which was a nice change for once.

You’d decided to trust him, and that right there had been the start of something Dean would’ve never guessed would happen.

Sam did eventually find the bones and burn them, but not before Dean got an ass kicking from a pissed off dead chick. She’d been mid choking the living crap outta him when Sam finally burnt the bones and she burst into flames, dropping him to the ground coughing as air flooded his lungs. You’d ran over to him then, still scared and confused but you’d still ran over to him and knelt down to his side, fussing over him and insisting to help him.

That was something he found himself really liking, someone who didn’t know that he’d had much worse showing so much concern for him when anyone that did know him better would’ve brushed it off after a simple “are you okay?”

He’d learnt your name after that, and you’d learnt his. He’d also got your number, but he didn’t find himself just wanting to sleep with you and spend one fleeting night sharing a bed like he usually did, sex was something that to Dean was extremely casual. He’d treated it as a pass time, something to do and something just.. ordinary.

He stayed in that town an extra day longer than he usually would of, he’d told Sam that he just wanted to check on you after what’d happened, truth was he just really wanted to be around you for a little longer. He’d gone to your house again and knocked instead of kicking the door open, and you’d opened the door looking happy to see him instead of looking terrified out of your mind. You asked him questions, and he’d answered. Questions about his life at first, mainly his job, which was understandable and he’d explained it. Explained that monsters were real, that he and his brother travelled around putting them down to stop them from killing any more than they already had.

You’d called it brave, but lonely. Not cool, not crazy, lonely, and you were right, it was lonely.

Then you asked questions that he didn’t think he’d ever been asked by a woman, and he’d given honest answers which also wasn’t a common occurrence. You asked about what he’d want to do if he didn’t chase around monsters, he’d said a mechanic or a fire fighter. You asked about what seemed like anything that came to mind, and despite himself he’d answered every single one. Not only did he answer, he asked his own questions. Not out of feeling obligated to, or to keep the conversation flowing, but he’d asked because he genuinely wanted to know more about the woman whose couch he was sat on.

He was there for hours, and before he’d left you’d ran off into your kitchen and came back out with a pie. Homebaked and smelling like heaven and you’d made it to thank him for saving you the day before, and you’d kissed him on the cheek just before he walked out of the door.

That made him realise that he was completely screwed.

He kept finding himself always coming back to you over the next couple of months, whenever him and Sam were near for a hunt he’d disappeared in the time Sam was doing research in the motel room and Dean would end up at your house again. After hunts too, when he was sore and aching, when the guilt of the job and not being able to save everyone weighed down on him, he always found himself drawn straight back to you.

To the way you let him inside like he was meant to be there with you, to the way you’d look at him and listen as he ranted, or he yelled, or he spoke with his voice strained by the effort it was taking him not to break down infront of you. He sought out everything about you. He started doing things differently too, the flirting with random women in bars and diners continued but he never went further than flirting anymore. He didn’t rush into things like his life was only worth what he could save by risking it anymore. He didn’t drink as much. Everything added up and Sam started to get curious, he’d asked, but Dean had brushed it off and made some stupid excuse. Not because he was embarrassed of what he was starting to feel, but because he didn’t want to jinx anything by saying it outloud.

When Dean finally did ask you to be his girlfriend, officially, it was unplanned and it was an in the moment thing. He’d stumbled onto your doorstep, beaten up and dirty after a hunt, you’d taken him inside and you’d sat him down without looking at him like he was a wreck or a mess that needed to be fixed. You wiped the blood off of his face with a kind of care he didn’t think had ever been directed at him and instead of asking questions and demanding answers you’d told him that it was okay, that whatever happened it was over now and he could let it go.

He’d kissed you before saying anything. He’d always been better with actions rather than words, words weren’t his strong suit but after you’d kissed him back and ended up breathless with your forehead rested against his, and your eyes searching his trying to figure out if he’d meant to do that he knew he had to try.

He couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said, but he could remember a rough summary of it.

“I don’t.. i ain’t exactly good at.. this,” he’d muttered, your faces so close together that he could feel your breathing across his skin and vice versa. “but I know that, uh, i care about you. A lot. It scares the crap outta me, and ‘m not used to it, but i like it. Like caring about you, and… having you, i mean. ‘nd i do, want you. Want you so bad it drives me crazy.”

You’d been quiet for a second and his heart had almost dropped out of his ass, but then he saw you smile. He saw you smile and it felt like a physical weight off of his shoulders.

“I know, you don’t hide it very well.” Had been your reply, and then you’d kissed him again before he got the chance to scoff or say something stupid.

The two of you had ended up in a bed for the first time together that night, and for once it felt special. It didn’t feel like a way to pass the time, or a way to make himself feel good just for a little while. It was good— hell it was amazing, but in a completely different way. When he woke up that next morning, he woke up to what he’d only ever let himself daydream about having. A bed that was warm in a home that he was fully welcomed in, the orange hue of the sun leaking in through the windows splaying over the woman that was lay on his chest. For once there was no expectation for him to quietly get up, dressed, and leave. There was no waking up to someone saying that last night was fun, and then giving a goodbye.

He woke up somewhere that he knew he was allowed to stay, with someone that wanted him to do exactly that.

Obviously, a relationship with Dean was different to the typical relationships of people that were normal. He had to leave all the time to go and kill things, he was hurt a lot, he was bad with feelings and he clammed up, but it was good. It was so, so good. Dean did his best to make it feel as close to normal as they’d get, he introduced you properly to Sam, as his girlfriend. You met bobby, he let you in to his life fully and completely.

He’d never had the kind of happiness that he’d had when he’d had you.

But good things never seemed to last for people in that family.

Following Dean coming back from hell before meeting you, being yanked out by an angel, Sam and Dean were being hunted down by demons, and Lillith. They wanted them dead, Lillith wanted to raise lucifer. Demons were nasty sonsofbitches, they hurt just to hurt, it didn’t matter if the person they hurt had nothing to do with any of it. It was just what they did.

Dean had been away from you for a couple of days spending time at Bobbys place as him, Sam, and Bobby— Castiel too, all searched for ways to try and stop the mess that was happening, when he got a call from your phone. It didn’t alarm him, you called often and he liked it when you called to check on him— but this wasn’t that. It wasn’t your voice that he heard when he accepted the phone call, it was a voice that was cruel and full of malice. It made his heart drop, Dean thought he knew fear better than anyone but he’d never felt fear like that.

“Pretty girlfriend you have Dean, such a shame you dragged her into your mess of a life.”

He was a fast driver normally, but that drive to your house after that call was a kind of speed that only came from sheer terror. Sam was sat in the car flinching at every sharp turn Dean made.

It took him 40 minutes to get there, he’d thought that was quick, he’d thought he’d been fast enough. He kicked the door down again, just like he had the first time he met you, but this time was so much different.

He hadn’t gotten there in time and what he saw through that door was something that haunted him everytime he closed his eyes.

He’d kicked the door down just in time to watch as you had a knife plunged into your stomach, just in time to see all of the colour drain from your face as the pain exploded making your knees buckle and you drop to the ground. The demon hadn’t stuck around, it’d expelled itself as soon as the job was done in a haze of black smoke flowing out of the window but Dean didn’t care about that. His gun dropped from his hands but he hardly heard the loud clatter it made because all of his attention was on you.

You, on the ground, your face pale and tear stained, your hands pressing over the growing red patch on your shirt.

“No!—“ He’d yelled your name, his eyes widening and he didn’t bother to try and hide the devastation written all across his face.

He’d been by your side in an instant, dropping down to his knees next to you and pulling your head onto his lap, his own larger hands pressing down onto the wound but despite how hard he held down it wouldn’t stop bleeding.

“Dean..” You’d said quietly, your voice weaker than he’d ever heard it, and it was like you knew that you weren’t getting out of there.

He’d shook his head, his expression tight as he blinked back the tears stinging his eyes and blurring his vision.

“No— no, damnit don’t- don’t you dare. Don’t you dare do that. You’re not dyin’, you’re not.” His voice had cracked more times than he’d like to admit, and his voice was thick with a kind of agony he didn’t think he’d ever felt. He didn’t know what Sam was doing, right then he didn’t even remember that Sam was there, all he could see was you, bleeding out in his arms.

“It’s okay.. It- it doesn’t hurt.” You’d said to him, trying to console him even while dying, even as blood stained the inside of your mouth leaving a coppery taste. You hadn’t been scared to die, you’d been scared of what it was going to do to him.

He held you until your eyes closed from something they’d never open from and your chest stopped the rise and fall of breathing, but he didn’t let go. He’d held you, he’d held you and he cried in a way Dean never let himself cry.

You may have been the one to die that day, but a part of Dean died with you too. A part of himself he’d never get back. So two things had died that day, you, and the chance of Dean ever feeling whole again because with you went so much of him.

He was a wreck after your death, he drank like he had a few livers to spare, he was reckless on hunts in a way that he’d never been, he hardly ate, he didn’t make stupid goofy jokes anymore, he refused to go anywhere near your town, and he made it his mission to find the demon that’d done it. To find the thing that’d taken away from him what he had always wanted and finally had the chance to have, Lillith and the seals being broken didn’t come before you, nothing did. Sam was worried about him, and so was Bobby— even Castiel had noticed something was wrong with Dean, but bringing it up only pissed Dean off. He’d gotten angrier after her death, worse at keeping it in. He lashed out more, said things he didn’t mean but would never apologise for. He was a shell of himself, full of anger and loss.

Then he found it, he found the demon that’d killed the love of his life, and he’d given it right back. It’d taunted him, said things to him about you that he’d never forget. There was no hesitation when it came to it, he didn’t even spare a thought for the vessel the thing was occupying, he just killed it. Just like that, watched as it fizzled and died.

After that, the anger fizzled out too and just left a deep ache. Revenge never really fixed anything after all, it just gave a temporary motivation.

Then it’d happened, Dean had died- again. That might’ve sounded crazy to other people, dying more than once, but it seemed like dying was something that never stuck for him and Sam. So he didn’t expect it to this time.

He didn’t know where he was when he woke up, he just knew he was dead or at least on the brink of it, now he was just waiting to inevitably be brought back by Castiel, or maybe this time he really was dead. He didn’t know, he couldn’t find it in him to care either.

“Hey stranger.”

Dean froze, he fully froze. He knew that voice, he’d never forget that voice, he mourned that voice. He couldn’t believe it- no, he could, but he didn’t want to because he didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he slowly turned his head to the voice and there you were.

You. Stood there with a little smile on your face, pale and.. dead, but you. You weren’t crying, you weren’t bloody, and you weren’t in pain like you had been the last time Dean had seen you.

“..You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

If he had a beating heart in him as a spirit, it would’ve flipped in his chest. He just stared at you for a second, wide eyes blinking like he was expecting you to disappear everytime they reopened, but you didn’t. You were there. Dead, and a ghost, but you were there.

His legs moved before his mind even had a chance to catch up with them, once second he was standing looking around the space he was in, the next he was stood right infront of you, looking down at you and his hand hovering near your cheek— too scared to actually reach out to your face incase his hand went right through and you disappeared.

You’d smiled, a smile that was a mix of happy to see him again and sad that they were meeting like this. You placed your hand over his and he felt it, he felt it and it didn’t phase through, and you’d brought his own hand to your cheek where he’d been too afraid to actually touch. His hand didn’t phase through, and you didn’t disappear.

That did it for him, something snapped like a taught string being snipped. His hand that was on your cheek slid into the hair at the back of your head and he pulled you into him, his other arm wrapping around your shoulders to keep you as close as you could possibly be. He’d never thought he’d get that again, and he’d never thought he’d feel your hands on his back hugging him again, or your chin on his shoulder, but here he was— feeling exactly that.

“I missed you— god i missed you so much.” He’d choked out, feeling that stinging in his eyes that had become really familiar to him in the last few months.

“I got it,” He told you, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of everything, “I got— i got the bastard that killed you, sent it straight back down to hell.”

He didn’t even really realise what was coming out of his mouth, he just couldn’t stop the words from coming because it’d been so long since he’d gotten to talk to you. He’d missed you, he’d missed you more than he thought it was possible to miss someone.

“I’m- shit, i’m so fucking sorry. God, baby i’m so sorry i wasn’t- i wasn’t fast enough I couldn’t- i couldn’t save you.” His voice was a rough whisper, thick with the guilt and the grief he’d been carrying like rocks on his back since your death. Dean blamed himself for what had happened, he may not have been the one to hold the knife but he hadn’t been there quick enough. He hadn’t been able to get there and stop it from happening to you, and that was something that he’d carry with him forever.

“Dean..” You murmured quietly, pulling away just enough to look at his face, pressing one hand to his freckled cheek. “It’s not your fault, none of it is your fault. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

He had a habit of taking on the guilt for everything that happened around him, you wished he wouldn’t, but that was just how he is.

“Can’t?” A rough laugh escaped him as he looked you in the eyes, taking in your face while he still could, his hands stayed on your shoulders needing to keep some sort of contact. “Course I can, i should’ve been faster. Shoulda- hell, i shoulda never left you alone when all this started. I should’ve.. i could’ve saved you i..” His voice broke off and he felt like a kid again, crying over stuff he couldn’t fix.

He missed you, he missed you so badly it hurt. You and him should’ve had more time, deserved more time. It wasn’t fair. He should still be waking up with a numb arm from where your head had been, he should still be able to introduce you to people as his girlfriend, he should still be able to talk to you without having to sit near a headstone to do so.

“You’re.. You’re dead, Dean.” You frowned, “Aren’t you scared? Or.. sad? Anything?”

He shouldve been. He knew that, he should be sad, he should be worried that he was dead for good, should be worried about the world ending if he couldn’t stop it. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t scared, and he wasn’t sad, and he wasn’t angry— because if being dead meant he got to see you again, and stay with you, Dean would choose to stay dead. For once he didn’t feel like he had to go back, he didn’t feel like if he chose peace he’d be betraying everyone around him.

“Not scared.”

He told you, one of his hands leaving your shoulder to cup your face.

“I’m with you again baby.. That’s all i want, don’t need a beating heart t’get all fuzzy around you.”

He smiled slightly, partly at his own joke, partly at how it felt to be with you again.

“Dean.. you’re not ready to die, not yet.”

You murmured.

“You’re still young, and way too pretty to be dead. You still have the world to save, people to save.” You told him, taking in his face just the way he was doing to you.

“There’s always gonna be people t’save.. monsters ain’t going away any time soon.”

You frowned at him again, a small chiding little tug of your lips.

“It’s just not your time Dean.”

Not his time.

Not his time to what, to die, or to finally find peace, because right now the two were sounding pretty damn similar.

You didn’t want him dead, fine, he didn’t want you dead either. If he gets to come back, you should get to come back. You were better than he was, he was broken, and damaged, but you? You were the kind of person that made the world good. He didn’t care about what he’d have to do, he’d get you back.

“Then i’m g’nna get you back. I’ll find a way, swear t’god i’m gonna find a way to get you breathing again.” He declared, his throat working and his jaw clenched tight. He hadn’t realised he’d been crying, and you hadn’t pointed it out.

It was a big promise to make, a dangerous thing to set his mind to, but he didn’t care. It’d been 7 months without you, and it hadn’t gotten easier, Dean was losing his mind and he needed you back. Bringing people back from the dead was something only idiots tried, but Dean had never claimed to be smart. There were ways, there was a way for anything if you looked hard enough, and Dean would look.

“Dean…”

You frowned at him a little, he’d always said that the dead should stay dead.

“No, nah, it’s.. it can’t stay like this. Shouldn’t be like this anyway. You shoulda never died.. i’ll fix it.”

You’d wanted to argue, to protest and tell him not to do anything stupid, but you didn’t have the time. Dean started to feel himself being pulled away, their time was up once again, and he was being dragged back to his body and away from you.

He didn’t waste another second, with his hands on her jaw he pulled you closer and pressed his lips to yours. It was rushed, and it was clumsy, and his nose bumped yours but it was genuine and full of so much grief.

“Gonna fix this.” He muttered against your lips, “gonna,” another kiss, “get you back.”

You didn’t reply, or maybe you did, it wouldn’t have mattered. He woke up. He jolted upright, gasping for air and coughing as it rentered his lungs. He was back at a motel, Sam stood at one side of the bed with a tense expression and Castiel at the other side, pulling his hand back from where he’d just placed it over Deans heart to restart it and fix the injuries he’d gotten.

“Jesus!- ..Dean? You- you okay man?..”

Sam had been worried, obviously with an angel around them dying didn’t stick, but that didnt make finding his brother dead any easier.

Dean just grunted with a nod, rubbing a hand over his face.

You were gone again, but he’d fix that.

He was gonna get you back.

AUTHORS NOTE- obviously this is leading to a part two.. so if anyone wants it lmk.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Ellie