Long Way Home: Chapter Forty (Final)
Neighbour AU/Mechanic AU/Firefighter AU
Pairings: Reader x Dean, Platonic Sam x Reader, Jessica x Sam, Father!Bobby x Daughter!Reader, Crowley x Reader, Jody Mills, Bobby x Ellen, Mary Winchester
Warnings: Fluff.
Word Count: 2,941
Summary: The Reader moves back to Sioux Falls after college to take care of the home front while Bobby travels for the summer. She is hoping for a quiet place to avoid her past and figure out her broken future. Instead, she finds new complications when she falls for her neighbour.
A/N: Welcome to the end. I just want to say thank you to anyone who has read this far. This story means so much to me and I really appreciate you all enduring the highs and many lows with me. xo
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
Four Years Later.
You are in the laundry room early on a Sunday morning. Dean had just come off of a shift, and your little girl is finally starting to understand the value of sleeping in. That means that you are the only one awake. You take this rare moment of quiet to get some things done around the house.
You and Dean never moved out of the house you bought from your father, but it hardly feels like the same place you once knew. The dusty old books and half-empty bottles of whiskey you grew up around are replaced with colourful children’s books and half-empty juice boxes your daughter refuses to finish once they’ve gotten room temperature. She can be quite the picky princess at times, just like her father.
For how long you ached to have a family with Dean, you can honestly say that the real thing is better than any dream you may have envisioned. Raising Karen, the little girl you named after your mother and the one you knew you would have, is the best and most challenging thing you and Dean have ever done or ever will do. After all you two have been through, this will be your defining feat, and you will do it together. Your efforts could all go up in flames, but you’ve walked through fire before, and you’ve come out the other side.
Even on nights when you can’t sleep due to your irrational worrying or on Sunday mornings when you wake up ridiculously early because you know your to-do list is longer than the day or when the stress tempts you to pull your own hair out, you always just look at your little family to ground you. Nothing seems so bad or too overwhelming when you have Dean to lean on and a daughter whose laugh makes all the pressure worthwhile.
Being a wife and mother is not easy. Balancing your family, and your new managing position at the women’s shelter is not easy. However, nothing in your life has ever been easy. It was the toughest and longest road that brought you here, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Those awful memories you still have nightmares about from time to time are a reminder of how lucky you are now. They remind you that if you are willing to work, wait, and fight for the life you want, it will happen.
You hope that your little bug never has to learn that lesson the hard way like you did. You hope that simply passing on what you have learned will be enough. However, even if it isn’t, you intend to be here to help her through it, and you know for a fact Dean will do his damnedest to protect her like he did with you.
Like most mornings when you are left in the quiet, you get lost in your own thoughts. Therefore, you do not notice the crouching tiger behind you.
You are folding Dean’s flannel when you are attacked from behind. Your daughter may be small, but having her spring her dead weight onto you, makes her feel like a sack of bricks. Luckily, over the years, you have grown accustomed to her ‘surprise hugs’ as she calls them. You learned long ago that the only way to prevent her from falling to the ground is to grasp whatever limb is closest and hoist her up into your arms.
“Did I scare you?” The eager child interrogates you. She loves getting a rise out of you, that is something else she gets from her father.
“Who me?” You exaggerate a scoff. “No way, bug!” You scrunch up your face to look extra tough. “I’m not scared of anything!” you lie, because you know it annoys her when she thinks she has failed to scare you. She’s so cute when she puffs annoyance. “You’ll have to try harder next time.”
“You’re a liar! I saw you jump! I scared you!” Your daughter calls you on your bullshit, another trait she inherited from Dean.
“Alright… maybe just a little… but don’t tell your father. Him and I are keeping score on who you can scare more, and I don’t want to lose again. So... why don’t you do your mommy a favour and keep this between us. Deal?” You will resort to bribery if it means you won’t lose yet another bet against Dean.
“Deal!” Your daughter agrees as she puts her pointer finger to her lips. “Now, come on! Breakfast!”
You set your daughter down when she starts squirming with excitement. “What do you want to eat?”
“You’ll see,” the spit fire grins at you before barrelling up the stairs toward the kitchen. You are trailing close behind her when you hear her starting to yell. “Daddy! It worked! I scared her! You win!”
“Traitor!” you bellow from the doorway of the kitchen when you see your own daughter has ratted you out to the enemy.
Dean hands his daughter the cookie he promised her as he turns to smirk at you. “Don’t hate the player, sweetheart. It’s not my fault you insist on making bets you know you cannot win.”
“Had I known you would play dirty, I would have rethought my tactics! I’ll get you next time, Winchester.” You warn him of his impending doom.
“You can try, sweetheart.” Dean walks over to you and wraps his arms around you. “But, you will fail.” Dean kisses your cheek. He avoids your lips because you imagine his daughter pulled him out of bed and into the kitchen before giving him the chance to even brush his teeth.
“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. It’s hard for you to even keep up the charade of annoyance when you are secured in Dean’s arms. “What are you even doing up so early? You must be exhausted after your shift yesterday.”
“I got my four hours. I’m good to go.” Dean shrugs but you can see the sleep he longs for behind his eyes. You recognize it because you see it whenever you look into a mirror as well. “Besides, I’m not going to waste my day off in bed away from my girls… unless you want to ditch the kid and come join me in bed,” Dean whispers to you with a wink.
“As tempting as that is…” you hold Dean a little closer, because that sounds so nice right now. “I have a feeling your daughter won’t like the idea of us locking ourselves away and ignoring her all day. She’s an attention whore… just like her Daddy.” You smile at him. “Besides, someone has to make sure she doesn’t burn the place down,” you inform him.
“Right… because burning the place down is your job,” Dean teases you with a wicked grin.
“You are such an asshole,” you laugh with him as you shake your head. He never lets you forget the irony of a fireman’s wife burning down your first home together. Over time, Dean has learned to see the humour in the situation. You, however, still pretend to be annoyed whenever he brings it up. As usual, however, he sees through you.
“Watch your language,” Dean mocks you. “We are among the impressionable youth,” Dean laughs as he cocks his head in the direction of your daughter who is setting her stuffed ladybug, named Jeremy, at his usually seat at the table.
“She’s heard you say worse,” you defend yourself.
“True,” he concedes. “So, that is a definitive no to spending the day in bed with me?”
“Unless you want to come out tomorrow morning to find your spawn had brought her little collection of bugs in from outside and started an ant farm in the living room… I would advise against leaving her unattended all day,” you inform him.
Dean lowers his forehead to yours and smiles. “Stupid parental responsibilities,” Dean groans, but you can tell he finds his daughter’s propensity for trouble and interest in insects to be amusing.
“I know right… what did we get ourselves into?” You play along.
All of the sudden, you feel your daughter pushing you and Dean apart. She worms her way in between you two and holds up a single pancake on a glass plate.
“Here, mommy.” The little girl hands you the plate with an innocent smile. “I made this for you! Daddy helped a bit…” she concedes, “but it was my idea.” You see a brief flicker of inherited mischief in her eyes, but you brush it off because you are warmed by her sweet gesture.
“Thank you, bug!” You kiss her cheek and take a hesitant bite. Your daughter is not known for her skill in the kitchen. You know that if she was in charge of making breakfast, you should brace yourself for a cold, flat, and runny pancake.
You take your first bite with every intention of gritting your teeth and faking different yummy noises until she turns away and you can spit it out without her knowing.
However, what you weren’t expecting was for the pancake to be spicy of all things. The shock to your senses prevents you from even faking a swallow. Your tongue burns and you instinctively spit the pancake back out onto the plate. Your face scrunches up as you fan your mouth.
You look at daughter and are about to ask her why the usually sweet food tasted like she used hot sauce instead of water in the mix. However, before you can say a word, you hear her and her father, fall into a fit of laughter as they high five each other. You know instantly that they were in on this together.
“You two are evil,” you say as you wipe your mouth.
“You were right, Daddy. She did fall for it!” the little girl squeals with wicked delight.
“Every time, squirt.” Dean matches her self-satisfaction. “Your mommy is an easy target.” Dean then looks up at you with a wink. “After all these years, you’ve still never learned your lesson. You should know by now to be wary of any unexpected gifts.”
“I am usually expecting those pranks from you… but not your conniving mini-me.” You gesture to your spawn. “You are such a bad influence on her, Dean Winchester.” You feign an exaggerated scowl, but you love how he has made it his life’s mission to find a new way to make your daughter smile every day. “You know this means war, right?” You set the plate on the table.
“Bring it on, sweetheart. You’ll be begging for a truce before noon,” Dean says so sure of himself.
“You think so?” You meet his challenge.
“I do,” Dean puffs out his chest before wrapping himself around you.
You start to wiggle out of Dean’s arms when you look over his shoulder. You see your crouching tiger is about to pounce yet again. This time, she sets her sights on Dean. She usually strikes on him after lulling him into a false sense of camaraderie and security. She lands on your husband, and startles his tired and unsuspecting body.
You can’t help but laugh as he scrambles to make sure he doesn’t drop her dead weight. “Not so funny when she does it to you, now is it?”
Dean has some choice words for you, but such colourful trash talk is not appropriate for a child’s ears. So, he merely sticks his tongue out at you. However, his daughter mimics his actions, which Dean thinks it is hilarious.
“Don’t teach her things like that! She gets enough sass lessons from her Uncle Sammy. I don’t need you piling on. We’re going to raise a little monster at this rate.” You stick your tongue out at Dean in return, thus undermining your every word.
“Daddy started it!” She blurts out. You can’t help but laugh as your little demon reverts back into her angelic persona.
“Hey! Your mom was right, you are a traitor.” Dean maneuvers his daughter, so she is slung over his shoulder. He decides to tickle her feet as punishment.
The problem is, in her fit of giggles, she loses control. Her flailing legs knock over the cup of coffee Dean had put on the table for you.
The hot liquid splashes onto your t-shirt, and you hiss in restrained pain, so you don’t freak your daughter out. Dean inspects his daughter’s feet to make sure she wasn’t burned herself before putting her down. Dean then tends to you to make sure the coffee didn’t burn you too bad.
“I’m so sorry, mommy!” Your daughter cries out when she realizes what she’s done. She is a sassy little trouble maker that loves pushing people’s buttons, but she is too kind to ever want to cause any real trouble, let alone inflict any pain. She doesn’t have it in her to even hurt a fly, so you know she would feel terrible if she were to accidentally hurt you. She just keeps repeating her apologies over and over again.
“It’s okay, bug.” You assure her. Even though the burn hurts, hearing the panic in her little voice hurts more. “Everyone is fine. It’s just a spill.”
Dean helps you lift your loose t-shirt off your body, so the hot coffee doesn’t linger on you. You now end up standing there in your sports bra and leggings.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dean whispers. He knows you will answer honestly if you know Karen won’t hear.
“I’m fine,” you assure them both. “At least now we know that next time… maybe the kitchen isn’t the best place for an impromptu tickle fight.” You brush off the incident as something you can move past. You are about to leave to go find another shirt, but are interrupted by a name you thought you would never hear your daughter say.
“J…Jake.” Your little girl says the name slowly, as if she is sounding it out.
You look at Dean with wide eyes as your heart stops. You never wanted that name in your daughter’s innocent mouth. Dean narrows his eyes with confusion. You both turn to where your daughter is staring at the faded scar on your ribs.
Over the years you have tried different creams or oils to minimize the scar. However, the name Jake carved into your skin has always persisted. At Dean’s insistence, you stopped trying to remove it. He said that you shouldn’t be ashamed of your past. Dean urged you to wear your battle scars with victory. He says that when he looks at you, he doesn’t see a branded victim of her past. When Dean looks at you, he sees his wife, the mother of his child. He sees the entire picture that is made of many beautifully messy parts.
You and Dean have moved so far past that chapter of your life, you often forget the scar is there. The woman who gained that mark will always be a part of you. However, she is a faded, but never forgotten, memory, much like the scar itself. She is someone you carry, but do not dwell on. So, hearing your daughter speak the name you haven’t spoken in years, was an off-putting jolt of reality you weren’t expecting.
“Mommy, why does your skin say that name?” The curious little girl scrunches her face as she walks up to you. She reaches up and traces her tiny fingers over the scarred name.
You look to Dean for guidance, as you always do with this sort of thing. And as always, Dean’s reassuring nod and soft smile instills you with enough strength to say what you need to say.
“That’s a long story, bug.” You crouch down to her level. “I’ll tell you about it one day when you’re older.” You look up at Dean and smile.
You both know you probably will never tell her the entire story. There are some parts of your history she doesn’t need to know. You won’t burden her with the entire truth. She doesn’t need to know the specifics on how Jake died. She doesn’t need to know any of the gory details that still keep you and Dean wake some nights.
However, your daughter deserves to know that not all men are like her father. She needs to be prepared. She cannot expect every man to be good and deserving. You don’t want to scare her or dim her light, but you need her to be safe. Your history will be her cautionary tale. At the same time, your present, will be her source of courage and hope.
You will pair your past with the message that it is okay to trust people, but it is also important to trust yourself. She may not know right off the bat whether she is letting the right one in, but you want to instil her with enough confidence and enough esteem to make that decision for herself and in the name of her own happiness.
The life you built for yourself after the worst of it, is what matters most. The hero at your side, the man who built you up from nothing, not as his ideal, but as the person you have always wanted to be, he is what matters. He is the type of man you wish to see in your daughter’s future. Most of all, you wish that your daughter’s journey to find her one true home in this world is not as long as yours was, but you do hope it is every bit as fulfilling.
Long Way Home:
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