It was supposed to be a quick and easy hunt. Just one simple ghost to send to rest, supposedly a quick job to put that restless spirit to rest. You were supposed to just dig his bones out, salt and burn them. It was supposed to be even easier because the grave was marked, for once, so it was easy to find it. Yet, nothing in the supernatural world ever played out as expected. And that made your lives more difficult.
The ghost was not very fond of you trying to get rid of him and was doing everything in his power to disturb you. You were digging the grave with Sam and Dean stood guard with a shotgun loaded with rock salt. He was supposed to keep the ghost busy enough so that Sam and you could salt and burn the bones. As Sam and I focused on digging the grave, Dean kept watch with his shotgun, eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble. The moon cast an eerie glow, and the wind carried a distant howl that heightened your tension.
Suddenly, a rustling in the nearby bushes grabbed Dean's attention. He turned, shotgun ready, expecting another supernatural threat. Perhaps the ghost had a friend or a ghost dog.. To your surprise, a curious raccoon emerged, its shiny eyes reflecting the moonlight. Dean couldn't help but crack a half-smile at the unexpected interruption.
"Seriously, little guy?" he muttered to the raccoon, momentarily forgetting the ghostly menace we were there to deal with. Mesmerized by the raccoon's antics, Dean's focus wavered just long enough for the ghost to seize the opportunity and launch its vengeful attack.
In a swift, forceful move, he yanked you from the grave, throwing you forcefully to the ground. His pale and bloodied face twisted into an evil grin as he traced a rusty knife across my skin. The pain heightened when he cut a long gash on my chest, and a deadly gleam in his eyes hinted at his readiness to deliver a final, devastating blow. In that terrifying moment you couldn't help but wonder if this was the end. Fear gripped you. The ghost’s harmful intention was easily noticable. Luckily that’s when Dean shot him with salt and Sam lit his bones on fire.
The ghost burst into flames and vanished leaving you breathless on the cold ground. As the shock began to fade, the searing pain in your chest brought you back to the harsh reality of what had happened to you. You realized that you were bleeding. Sam and Dean rushed to you, worry etched on their faces as they saw that you were hurt. Dean kneeled to your side and tried his best at stopping the bleeding. After doing his best in the conditions that you were in he picked you up and carried you to the car.
In the car, the throbbing pain in your chest was a constant reminder of the dangers of the job you had chosen. Dean's gaze, flickering between the road and you, betrayed a silent concern that touched your heart. As you arrived at the familiar cabin Dean carried you from the car to the bed, giving a glimpse to his caring and nurturing self through his rugged and macho exterior. You winced with pain when Dean set you down on the bed. Sam rushed to the medicine cabinet to get disinfectant and bandages. The boys cleaned all your cuts and bandaged them up. You winced as the rubbing alcohol touched your wounds as they cleaned them. Once they had finished cleaning and bandaging you up Sam went to put the stuff away.
“Do you want me to help you clean up?” Dean asked, his voice comforting presence after all that had happened that night.
“I can manage just fine on my own”, you replied, attempting to maintain a facade of self-sufficiency that crumbled the moment you tried to sit up, gasping in pain.
“Yeah, I don’t believe that”, Dean chuckled, a mixture of exasperation and affection in his expression. "I'll go get the washcloth."
A moment later Dean returned with a damp washcloth and a bowl full of water. He helped you sit up and started washing the blood away with the washcloth. The intimate act of cleaning your wounds served as a powerful testament to the bond that you had. Showing that you were more than just co-workers.
“Thank you Dean”, you murmured, your gratitude extending beyond just the physical care to the emotional comfort he provided.
“No problem sweetheart”, he replied, the endearment carrying an unspoken reassurance that resonated with a warmth.
“I just didn’t want to be a nuisance”, you whispered, your insecurity laid bare in front of him.
“Sweetheart, you could never be a nuisance. Not even if you tried”, Dean assured you as he finished cleaning the blood off of you. He gazed into your eyes and tried to get you to understand that he was telling the truth.
A timid smile played on your lips: ”You can’t be certain of that.”
“Yes, I can”, he insisted, as he delicately finished the task of cleaning away the blood. As he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the tenderness in his touch and the sincerity in his eyes bespoke a connection that transcended the immediate danger that loomed over us.
“I’ll be right back. I’ll just put these away”, Dean said to you and kissed the top of your head.
He returned to your side with one of his hoodies and he helped it on you. A simple act that carried a weight of comfort and familiarity. You changed your jeans into shorts and you curled under the blanket. Dean changed into sweatpants and lied down next to you. He pulled you against his chest and you lied face to face under the blanket.
“How are you feeling?” Dean asked.
“It hurts a bit, but I’ll live”, you answered.
“Good, and we cleaned the cuts well so they shouldn’t get infected. Though I do wish I could take your pain away”, Dean whispered to you, pain in his voice.
“You can help me feel better by cuddling me”, you whispered.
“That I can do”, Dean murmured and kissed your forehead.
Cuddled under the blanket, Dean's presence offered comfort, not only physical but also comfort in knowing that someone had your back and would take care of you if you needed help. His humming of an old rock song became a lullaby that, despite the echoes of recent terror, lulled you into a sense of security. As you began to fall asleep, you couldn't help but utter words that held both a confession and a reassurance.
“I love you, Dean”, you mumbled and gave him a kiss.
After you had fallen asleep Dean stopped humming, his gaze lingering on your slumbering form. In the quiet of the room, he whispered words of vulnerability that echoed the unspoken fears of a hunter whose heart was set to insure the well-being of another.
“You know I couldn’t live if something happened to you, right. I could never forgive myself if I let you get hurt”, he confided, his words a whispered promise that hung in the air, transcending the perils of our shared existence.
—----------------------------
You awoke abruptly, gasping for breath, as if the air itself had turned to a suffocating weight. The remnants of a nightmare clung to you like a vice, and your chest tightened in a grip of irrational fear. The room felt like it was closing in, and the moonlight casting eerie shadows only added to the overwhelming sense of dread.
Dean stirred beside you, sensing the distress before you even had a chance to put it into words. "Hey, hey, what happened?" he asked, concern etched across his face as he reached out to touch my trembling shoulder.
In the nightmare, the ghost's malevolence had escalated beyond anything you'd ever encountered. It wasn't just a fleeting encounter: it was an unrelenting onslaught of terror. The ghost's chilling touch seemed to sear into your very soul, and the whispers of despair echoed in your ears, threatening to drown you in an abyss of hopelessness.
But now, in the waking world, the nightmare's grip refused to loosen. Panic surged through you, an irrational fear that clung relentlessly. Your breaths came in short, erratic bursts, and your hands trembled uncontrollably.
Dean's voice, steady and grounding, cut through the chaos. "Look at me," he urged gently, guiding you to meet his concerned gaze. "You're safe. It was just a dream. You're here with me."
His words, a lifeline in the sea of panic, slowly anchored you to reality. Dean's strong, reassuring presence became your focal point as he guided you through the breathing excercises you had so often used, using his own inhales and exhales as an example. The rhythm began to steady, the tightness in your chest gradually releasing its grip.
Dean continued to speak in a low, soothing manner, creating a bridge between the nightmare and the safety of the present. His touch, firm yet gentle, grounded you in the reality of the shared space you occupied. Slowly, the panic subsided, replaced by a profound gratitude for the steadfast presence of the man who stood by you through the good and easy times but also through the more difficult times.
As the remnants of the nightmare faded, Dean's comforting embrace remained, a testament to the unwavering support that transcended the boundary between dreams and reality. His presence, solid and comforting, helped dispel the residual fear. As I nestled into the warmth of Dean's embrace, the echoes of the nightmare began to fade. In the quiet of the night, his whispered reassurances became a lullaby, gently guiding me back into the realm of peaceful slumber.
—----------------------------
The next morning, soft rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room. You stirred from your sleep, the memory of the previous night's encounter with the vengeful ghost still lingering in your mind. Glancing to your side, you found Dean already awake, watching over you with a quiet concern that spoke volumes.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice a gentle murmur.
The pain lingered, a persistent reminder of the ghost's malevolence, but the warmth of Dean's presence offered comfort.
"Better, thanks to you," you replied, a genuine smile on your lips.
Dean leaned in, planting a tender kiss on my forehead: "Glad to hear that. You scared the hell out of Sam and I last night."
"I scared myself too," you admitted, the gravity of the danger sinking in.
As you attempted to sit up, Dean offered a supportive hand. The pain was a dull ache now, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. You exchanged a silent understanding, the unspoken acknowledgment of the risks inherent in your chosen path.
Sam knocked your door and peeked his head through: "Thought you might be hungry," he said with a warm smile, “ There is food ready in the kitchen.”
"Thanks, Sam," you said, realizing that these men really cared for you.
As you shared a quiet breakfast, the camaraderie that bound you felt more strongly than ever. The events of the night before had heightened our awareness of the fragility of life, emphasizing the need to cherish even the small moments in life.
Dean's gaze never wavered from you, a protective instinct evident in his eyes.
"We should take it easy today", he suggested, his concern extending beyond the immediate aftermath of the hunt.
Sam nodded in agreement: "Yeah, a day of rest won't hurt. We've earned it. How about a movie night today?"
“Yeah, that sounds good”, Dean and I agreed.
The notion of a day free from the supernatural chaos that defined our lives sounded lovely. You spent the morning in shared silence, each lost in your own thoughts. Everyone figuring out what to do better next time so no-one would get hurt. The cabin became a safe heaven for a while, away from all evil in the world. You in it, with two of your favorite humans.
Later, as the day went on, you found yourselves gathered outside the cabin. The air was crisp, the echoes of the previous night's terror replaced by the serene sounds of nature. Dean's arm found its way around your shoulders, a silent reassurance that you’ve faced the uncertainties of the future together.
"We've been through worse," Dean remarked, his tone a mix of reassurance and determination.
"And we'll get through whatever comes next," Sam added, a conviction in his voice that mirrored the resilience ingrained in all of you.
As the day unfolded, the cabin became a refuge—a place to heal, reflect, and fortify ourselves for the challenges that lay ahead. The bond you shared, forged because of all the supernatural battles, emerged stronger, a testament to the enduring strength of those who faced the darkness head-on.
And so, in the quietude of the morning and the serenity of the day, you found solace. In each other's company, you felt safe. Watching old comedies next to two of your favorite people, laughing until your stomachs hurt. You had decided to order pizza for dinner so there were pizza boxes thrown on the table in front of you. Sam’s head started to nod and he fell asleep. This was your safe haven, your way of recharging after a hunt.
You could get through anything that came across your path if you went through it together.
