summary: you, dean and sam go to fight vampires and it doesn’t end how everyone wanted it to ☹️☹️
cw: angst, violence violence violence, reader dies, kinda sucks but whatever who gaf #fuckitweball
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Dean Winchester was whipped. He couldn’t help but feel his ears heat up at the sight of you smiling. He was truly, madly and deeply in love with you, nothing much more to say about it. You were his everything, and he would never let anything hurt you for as long as he could live. August 23rd was the first time you said you loved him. And of course he would remember that, who wouldn’t remember the date the prettiest girl on earth said she loved him?
“Dean, why can’t I go?” you whined, "I've faced much worse than some vampires with you. This won’t be any different, I promise.”
Who could’ve disagreed with you? Your eyes, man. Your eyes could stop a war. “You don’t understand, t’s dangerous. A lot could go wrong and I don’t need you in the middle of it.” He argued.
You snapped back quickly, “I’m not a child, Dean.”
“I know you aren’t, baby, but I—“
He looked at you, murmuring a string of curses under his breath before speaking up real words. “Fine. Just— come on.”
You grinned, quickly getting in the backseat of his beloved Impala. Sam sat in the front seat, quiet. Dean sat down in the seat, grunting as he corrected himself in the car. And you were off— headed to that little structure in the middle of fucking nowhere (Ohio). After a good amount of time in that uncomfortable seat in the Impala, it came to a smooth stop. You got out, stretching your arms and popping your knees with a slight bend. Dean and Sam grab various things, Sam heading towards the building more quickly than Dean. Because, Dean was focused on you. Headed to you.
“You should just sit in the car and let us handle this, sweetheart—“ He attempted.
“Dude. Fuck off, I can handle myself. I’ll be fine. I promised you already.”
He sighed, accepting defeat. “Okay. I know. I know.”
You nodded, speaking with a confirming tone and getting the last word. “Okay.”
You two were now walking, his hand on the small of your back— keeping not only you grounded, but himself. He just felt off.
“Are we good?” Sam confirmed— getting two nods back.
He opened the door, pointing his pistol’s nose around.
(I DONT WANNA WRITE THE FULL FUCKING SCENE SO JUST TIMESKIP PLZ 🙁)
You pant, your face bloodied, surrounded by a lot of dead vampires. You stood, coming face first with Jenny, someone you had met a while back.
“I know you, you little bitch!” You laugh, out of breath.
She grinned, cocking her head. “Hey, you.”
You glanced down, seeing a shaky hand reach for a bloody knife behind Jenny. “You look, uh.. you’re definitely alive!”
“Thanks.” She smiled, starting to hiss but being quickly silenced by her head being fucking sliced off.
“Gah—“ you attempt, but before you can react 2 masked people (maybe? you weren’t really sure, you were just sure you had to fight) attacked you. You slam your first into one of their masks, Sam getting his first punch redirected, but quickly moving it back to the goal, a face. He shoved the dazed body into a wall. Dean had now turned to the man you’d been working on— attempting to rock the shit out of him. You took a step back, leaning against a post with a fallen metal spike in the middle of it. Yikes. Don’t get near that. You thought. You looked over at Sam who had now sliced another head off. God, he’s fucking WORKING! Dean had got knocked down, wiping blood from his nose— pained curses leaving his mouth. You grunted, shoving yourself off of the pillar and charging the man that had taken Dean down. You tried to react, but he reacted quicker— running and slamming you against the post. You yelped, feeling a sharp and warm pain in your spine. You wheezed out, “Fuhhckk—“
Sam comes back, slicing off once again, another head. God, why was he talented at this?
You looked down, realizing that spike you warned yourself about was impaling you. Dean shook off real quick, running to you, snapping back. “Baby.” He spoke, his voice firm.
“Hhh—nghh.” You gasp, attempting to speak, the only word audible was his name. “Dean.”
“You’re okay,” he assured. “You're perfectly fine.”
You reply weakly, “I don’t know, man.”
“No, no. Don’t say that. You definitely know.” He laughed, tears welling in his eyes as he tried really hard not to let them fall.
Tears fall from your eyes, from the pain and the knowledge that you weren’t making this one. “It’s okay.”
“What? What do you mean, baby?” He asked, his smile dropping slightly into a confused one.
“What? No, you— I'm not letting you—“
“Please.” He sobbed, his voice cracking as his head fell into your chest for a bit, lifting his head to look at you as your breath began to slow from its ragged movement.
“It’s okay,” you said, “it’s so, perfectly okay.”
“I can’t do this without you, I need you— I love you.” He gasped, choking on his sobs. He’d never cried this hard. Sam watched, his eyes watery as he looked down.
“I’m so proud of you.” You spoke, your voice wavering as you attempted to make it firm. Your hand fell to his. “So, so proud of you.”
And there your hand went, falling limp— your head following next against his chest. You died on August 23rd. The first August 23rd you didn’t get to say you loved Dean Winchester.
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