Adventures on Skype with occultamonstri Blockquote: occultamonstri ; plain: me - Takes place in season 10, shortly after Dean reverted back from a demon -
Dean is feeling hella guilty from his time as a demon, especially when it comes to Ry. Ry confesses why she left the first time...
Ry sat curled up in a big comfy chair pulled up to the long table in the center of the room. Books were scattered around, within reach, and one rested on her lap as she scanned through it. Sam had already tried and failed to get her to get some rest. Even if he understood, he wasn't prepared to let her push herself this hard to find a cure for Dean. They needed to take turns, he'd said. But Ry was-- determined. Or stubborn. Maybe both. Either way, she'd set it upon herself to focus on this while Sam and Dean worked on getting Dean back to himself. The sound of footsteps caught her attention and, although she didn't both looking up from the book, she spoke to the intruder. "Nothing you say or do is going to get me out of this chair. Go back to bed."
Dean had been in his room, not sleeping--even though it was close to 4 AM--, researching cases. Or at least trying to. He kept getting distracted. Either by something related to a case, possessions found in his room, or vivid memories from when he was a demon. It was a hard habit to break especially at such a late hour when his brain was even more restless. He finally gave up trying to do anything productive and left the small room. As he past Sam's room he stopped to listen, making sure he was at least getting some rest, before wandering down the halls. He wasn't sure where he was headed exactly but he never reached there. A light in the library still shone, catching his attention, and as he went to shut it off he suddenly became aware of another presence in the area. "What're'ya still doing here, Hollen?" Dean asked, ignoring her command, his eyebrows furrowed deep. "I thought you left hours ago."
"Planned on it," she replied, not looking up still. "Sam suggested I stay for a while." Now she lifted her attention from the tome and offered a small shrug. "Hope that's okay." She wasn't even sure how to feel about Dean right now. They hadn't really talked since he'd been cured of being a demon. Despite Sam-- and a short conversation with Cas-- reassuring her that Dean was himself again, and very much regretted the things he had done, she still didn't quite know what to do around him. Nor did she know what they were, at this point. And from their few interactions, it seemed he was in the same boat there.
There was definitely tension surrounding the pair--especially now when it was just the two of them--and unfortunately it wasn't sexual like they had once been accustomed to. Everything was different now. Even with Sam it was different. Maybe not to the extremity like it was with him and Ry but still, different. He was like hyperaware of Dean's every move, which really just annoyed him but he knew he was just worried; worried, like him, that he still had the Mark. Dean just wished they could get back to normal, so he could feel normal and not like a burden. Unfortunately that didn't seem possible until Cain's tattoo was officially removed. Dean's expression softened a little and he nodded. "'Course." Though he isn't sure why she would want to be here. Not only had she left when he first started changing because of the Mark, but he had beat her to hell and back while he was a demon. Guilt then seemed to break from a dam inside him and quickly flooded his chest with its heavy weight, causing him to frown and shift his frame. "You want anything from the kitchen?"
A sigh shifted through her, and she lifted the book from her lap, resting it on the table with all the rest. Hands moved to rub tired and strained eyes as the silence fell between them. She wasn't able to function enough to keep her search up, and there was no more denying that. She needed caffeine and some food to get her energy level back up. Of course, as was usual, Dean seemed to read her mind and asked if she wanted anything from the kitchen.
"Mmm, I was just thinking I needed something to eat." she commented lightly. Keep it simple, Jack. "You cooking, or am I?"
Dean had been thinking more along the lines of coffee or tea--something warm--but making food would definitely occupy more of his time, and keep his mind and hands busy. "I'll do it," he replied, falling back and making his way into the kitchen. Ry looked like she just might end up falling asleep in the middle of cooking and ruin whatever food before she even had a chance to consume it. He went over to the fridge and grabbed a beer for him, not really hungry himself and already wired enough without the added caffeine of coffee. "Eggs sound good?" he asked Ry as she joined him.
Ry went to the kitchen with him, the silence the only thing that she wasn't comfortable with right now. She stopped a few feet from the stove, cocking her hip against the cupboard and folding her arms across her chest. "Eggs sound perfect. Don't forget the cheese." She watched him in silence for a minute, then decided to venture into unchartered territory. "How're doing, Dean? I mean, really. Don't feed me the drivel you do Sam, either."
Dean tried to anticipate what would happen while he cooked the eggs. Would she try to talk to him? Ask him that age-old, dumbass question ‘Are you okay?’? Or would she just stand there in silence? Letting their awkward tension hang there like a giant hot air balloon? Really, he thought, it depended on her mood. She seemed tired enough that maybe it would be the latter, and maybe she’d end up fallen asleep on a chair. Dean pulled out the eggs and cheese—per her request—and got to work. He had gotten the first few steps done, his hands moving at a skillful pace, when Ry asked that dreaded question and caused him to halt for a moment. His stomach twisted uncomfortably but he tried to ignore it and go back to what he was doing. “‘M fine,” he said gruffly; hollow. That was his automated response, despite Ry saying she didn’t want the bullshit version, but he really didn’t want to dwell on how he was. “No more black eyes, which ya know..is good for everyone…”
Ry simply watched him cook, something she was used to doing and (honestly) enjoyed quite a bit. It was nice to see a man that knew his way around the kitchen, and it made her smile just at the thought. But that was short lived as he replied to her. She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, then watching him closely.
"So, for future reference, 'fine' looks a lot like 'complete shit'. Good to know." Her brows lifted. "Wanna give me the truth, or are we pretending like you did and that you haven't been playing it cool for Sam's sake?"
Dean clearly heard her sigh behind him, though he pretended otherwise. Honestly, he hadn’t been looking forward to this conversation—when they were alone and his thoughts inevitably trickled back to that awful day. The idea of facing her, truly facing her, after what he had done seemed impossible. He was convinced that his chest would cave in, crushed by the guilt. And until tonight he thought maybe he was safe, with Ry not wanting to be anywhere near him, but for some reason she remained. Probably for Sam’s sake—the pair of them had seemingly grown closer during his absent—to be there for him if he needed it. That thought hurt a little bit, seeing as it used to be him who had always been there for him, but he couldn’t blame either of them. He had left Sam in the dust, determined to get far away as possible with the King of Hell. Not exactly what you would call dependable. Then there was the whole I’m going to hunt ya down and kill ya with a hammer bit. Which again, not a shoulder you wanna lean on… Ry pulled him from his thoughts as she called him on his obvious bullshit. Dean took a breath and licked his lips, taking his time in answering as he just continued to make the eggs. “I don’t know what you want me t’say, Ry,” he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. “Obviously I’m doin’ better than I have been.”
Ry bit her bottom lip, brows knitting together at his response. "I'd agree, at the very least." She replied quietly. "Doesn't mean you're doing as well as you're pretending." She added, then turned so her back was to the cupboard, her lower back pressed against the edge. "I get it, though."
It’s easier this way, he thought. If they knew he was already feeling that itch… Sam was already looking at him like he was a bomb, ready for the countdown to start. He didn’t need Ry looking at him like that, too. Or he was fairly sure he might just lose it. “Did it occur t’you that maybe I need t’pretend?” he asked quietly, really not sure if she heard him over the eggs sizzling in the frying pan.
Her lips pressed together, and she nodded. She got it, really. She'd been the same way with people when she'd come back from Hell. Just hide it all away and act like things are golden. Just needed to get away from it all. She cursed inwardly, wishing she hadn't let Sam talk her into staying. It was those damn eyes--
"Even with me?" The words came out before she could stop them. Damn. She cast a sideways look at him, then focused on her feet. "I mean--"
Her unexpected question had him tearing his attention away from the food and his gaze focused on her before he knew what he was doing. Thankfully she wasn’t looking at him, and he quickly returned to the eggs. There was silence for a long moment before he said just as quietly, “Especially with you.” He had probably slipped up the most when he was around her, with her just causing to him open up and feel things he had been sure he wasn’t capable of, and if that happened again, now— He wasn’t sure if his mask wouldn’t just shatter into a million pieces. And he just really couldn’t afford to lose it right now. He needed to find strength, not dwell on his weaknesses, if he could ever have a slimmer of a chance at beating this thing. Silently he scraped the now cheese-y eggs onto a plate and grabbed a fork before setting it on the small table. “Besides, you made your position pretty clear durin’ the first round.” He reached for a glass now and went back to the fridge for the milk.
Something within clenched at his words. She wasn't sure if it was pain or relief. Probably a little bit of both, if she were honest. All she knew was that Dean had made it very clear that he wasn't about to open up to her. And that was going to have to be okay. She nodded slowly in understanding, but stopped as he continued speaking. She found herself literally gulping with his word. Her breath caught in her throat and she had to force it-- and a sudden wash of emotions-- far away.
"I was wrong to--" another gulp. "I said some pretty awful things and that wasn't fair. I wasn't-- wasn't you they were meant for." Maybe some of them were. But mostly she was just angry about other things and he'd been a good target for the emotions.
Dean shook his head. “No, I understand,” he assured, sounding emotionless again, continuing to busy himself with the task at hand. At least in his mind he thought he understood. She couldn’t stand around while he slowly turned into something her instincts told her to kill, and of course he, inevitably but not admittedly hurt, had made damn sure that she had followed through… Probably not in the best way, with them leaving things in a fighting match, but it had worked.—At least until she found out he had died. “It doesn’t matter,” he reassured. “There was still some truth behind them.” He didn’t blame her—of course he didn’t—and on some level he was glad she had decided to leave. He still knew he wasn’t right for her. He set down a glass of milk before it occurred that maybe she just wanted water, and went to get a cup of that, too.
"No," she almost snapped. "You really don't." Her teeth grit together and she closed her eyes to calm herself down. "Some had truth. The rest was-- just my own issues coming out." She said slowly. She stared blankly at the glass of milk, memories flooding her with the emotions that came with them hitting her hard in the gut. Her hand instantly covered her stomach, and suddenly the thought of food had her wanting to vomit. Gulping it all back, she forced the feelings aside, shaking her head as he moved to get something else. "Sometimes I think you forget you and Sam aren't the only ones that go through horrible things." she muttered.
Dean had been avoiding looking at her at all costs, which is why he thought another cup was a good idea, so he missed the body language but heard the frustration in her voice clear enough. He simply shrugged, really not wanting to get into it with her—especially with her as tired as she was—and kept quiet. Really, if he didn’t understand, it didn’t matter now. Like he said she had made her position perfectly clear and the damage was done. He knew things between them would never go back to the way they were before everything went to hell, and he knew he had to accept that. And for the most part he did. Another glass filled Dean shut off the sink, just as Ry muttered the last part. “S’cuse me?” he asked—a fire igniting—and he turned to face her finally. “I know you’ve had your baggage, Ry. I’ve seen what that baggage has done t’you. Don’t think for one second I forgot when you barely made it back t’me alive.” His jaw became more pronounced. “Honestly, I don’t care what you said t’me. You left. That was your choice. Whatever drove you there doesn’t matter. It’s done.”
Suddenly him not knowing didn't matter to her. His words, and the way he spoke them, made her want to throw them in his face and see the pain there. So that, for the first time in months, she wasn't alone in it. Suddenly, his issues with the Mark were nothing compared to her pain and, in hindsight, she'd see how selfish she was in this moment and regret it fully. But in this moment? He deserved it.
"I left because I was pregnant, Dean. With your kid." The words weren't said with kindness. They were spat out with every bit of anger she felt. "I left because I didn't want a child around that... around you the way you were. Because it wasn't safe-- you weren't safe. Nothing I said as an excuse for why I was leaving was true. I love you more than you will ever understand. You have no idea how hard it was for me to leave."
Seeing Ry's expression--the anger; the hurt--was enough to cool Dean down, a tired look for his own appearing and he rubbed his forehead as he sighed deeply. "Ry, I--" He was about to voice that he didn't want to fight, especially over something that hardly mattered anymore, but Ry had cut in and began to yell at him. “What?” His eyes bugged out following the first sentence, only for them to grow even wider the more she spoke, as his brain went into overdrive. Pregnant? His? But hadn't they-- They had used protection.--Right? Wait.--He was going to be a dad? Dean suddenly felt the wind get knocked out of him, and he had to grab the counter for support before his knees gave out too. He felt suspended in that moment, unable to process, or even attempt to understand what Ry had been going through. It was at least two whole minutes before he spoke again. "Are you sure?" That question sounded stupid the second it left his tongue. "I mean-- I thought we were careful..."
The anger she had felt was gone before she even finished speaking. By the end, she sounded tired-- and maybe more than a little hurt. She breathed out a heavy breath as the words that had tumbled out fully registered. Oh God. She hadn't meant for him to know; not now, and maybe never. Some things were better left in the dark. She watched his reaction with wide eyes, her heart racing as she tried to decide what his response was going to be. He looked pale, suddenly, more than he had in weeks. She watched the shock flow over him and he finally spoke. "I'm sure," she muttered, not looking him in the eye. "I thought so too, but there was that night--" She bit her bottom lip shaking her head. How did she fill him in on everything when they had barely spoken since he'd come back? Especially something like this.
As if he hadn't fucked up enough lately, now he finds out he knocked up Ry too. Just fucking frosting on the growing pile of mistakes... God. How-- Stupid idiot. A kid was not something either of them needed. Especially now. With everything-- Oh. Dean suddenly, very clearly, understood Ry's reason for leaving. He had understood before, when he thought she was leaving him because she couldn't sit back and watch him turn into a monster, but it was nothing compared to now. He hadn't been--still wasn't in all honesty--safe, and the last thing anyone would want was to have their kid anywhere near him. Dean shook his head, his eyes still glazed over, not really seeing anything in front of him; his mind just reeling, with no end in sight. "Words can’t...begin t'express how sorry I am," he said, his tone genuine of the remorse spoken. "I never--" His face cracked, jaw clenching, and he looked down at the floor.
She was uncomfortable for so many reasons at this point. She wrapped her arms around herself, but it did nothing she needed it to. She wanted his arms around her, and yet the very thought of him touching her made her squirm. His words pulled her gaze from the floor, brow furrowing. "It's a non-issue." She said quietly. "Don't beat yourself up; it wasn't your fault. It was the mark."
Dean suddenly lifted and slammed a fist down on the counter he was gripping. "Don't," he snapped slightly, warning her not to make excuses for him. "Mark or no Mark-- It doesn't matter." It was his fault; he did this to her, impregnated her with a child that should never exist. Something she said, before, resounded in his mind, making him conscious of it, and he broke free from his head to look up at Ry with a question clear on his face. "What'd'you mean, 'it's a non-issue'?" His face softened a little, coming to a conclusion. "Did you...?" Though, really, if he thought about it, it wouldn't make sense for her to get an abortion if she had been trying to protect it in the first place.
She jumped as his fist made contact with the countertop, a gasp escaping as he did so. She didn't realize until she'd already moved that she backed a step away from him. She gulped, lifting her chin defiantly as he spoke, ready to argue, but his next words hit her in the chest and knocked the wind from her sails. She stared blankly at him, the words there but not coming out. She couldn't say it. Not all of it. Not now. He was already in bad enough shape. She gulped again and shook her head. "I-- I miscarried." Saying the words out loud left her feeling cold. She'd been far enough that she knew the sex. She had a birthday-- tentatively. She'd picked a name. And now-- "I'm sorry."
Dean’s expression softened even more, looking more like his gentler past self than he had in a long time, as Ry explained. Oh… Another surge of emotions hit him at this news. He was sure relief was one of them—though, feeling it made him also feel wrong. He shouldn’t be relieved that a life had been extinguished, especially one that hadn’t even breathed its first breath. But that wasn’t the reason why he felt it. Another feeling was— Loss? Maybe on some level, he supposed. But what he mostly felt was sympathy for Ry. Despite the fact that the kid had been his, it had been hers too. And the way she had said it; informed him that her choice had been made for her, instead of by her… It was obvious she wasn’t taking it lightly. He wanted to hold her then, seeing the clear heartbreak on her face, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Not anymore. Not after…everything. “You’re sorry?” He scoffed lightly. “Ry… You have nothing t’apologize for.” Again, he wanted to hold her—the urge strong. “I’m so sorry… For..everything.”
Her lips pressed together as he responded to her. She didn't want his sympathy or apology. She wanted him . To hold her, to show her he felt more than pity for her over this. And still, she wanted at the same time to punch him square in the junk. He deserved it more than he even knew, or would ever know. And while it wasn't his fault, not really, she hated him in some way for being the cause of her joy and then her unimaginable pain. She shook her head, releasing a sigh.
"No--" her voice cracked with emotion. "Please don't apologize. None of-- s'not your fault, Dean."
Dean furrowed his brow, frowning deeply, hating that she was still trying to defend him, but he forced himself to keep quiet so he wouldn’t snap again. He hadn’t wanted to lose his temper with her in the first place, and he certainly didn’t want to now. Not with that look on her face that caused Dean’s chest to burn. He had to cross his arms together so he wouldn’t reach for her as he spoke quietly but there was still anger, “It should never have happened…” A lot of things shouldn’t have happened… He glanced down at his rolled up cuff, right where he knew the Mark to be. The tension it gave him was beginning to make his muscles tauten tighter, and Dean knew he’d have to do something soon to take the edge off. “Listen—you should go t’bed,” he said, a lot more gently now, glancing up. “Get some sleep.”
Her brows lifted at his response, but she had focused on his body language while he watched her and spoke. She huffed out a sigh and shook her head again. "No, you're right. But it did, and it's over with." She said flatly, adding a shrug in. But his suggestion had a chuckle slipping out. "At this point I couldn't sleep if I tried." She admitted, grabbing the eggs he'd made for her and the glass of milk. "Besides, I've gotta figure out how to get rid of that mark of yours." She added as she headed back to the library.
Ry got frustrated with him, he could hear and see it clearly, but he couldn’t accept her words--that it wasn’t his fault—so far from the truth in his opinion. It honestly angered him more that she thought otherwise, but she was not easily swayed once her mind was made up. The emotion in her voice had changed so drastically in just a few seconds, turning cold and flat as if to slap him in the face with its vibrations, before she laughed mockingly at his nudge. Grabbing the plate of the now cold eggs and the glass of milk she turned tail and left him alone, a statement trailing behind her. Before Dean even knew he moved he suddenly had his hand gripped on Ry’s arm, staring intensely down at her.
She felt her heart leap into her throat as his hand wrapped around her arm. It took every ounce of self restraint that she had not to drop the food and milk in order to fight back. She took a calming breath and slowly lifted her gaze to meet his, the question clear enough on her face before it escaped her lips. "What are you doing?"
Dean blinked, his expression soften slightly, as he made a deliberate decision to unwrap his hand from her flesh and take a step back. He hadn’t meant to do that—just wanting her to stop. He looked back at her, a grimace on his lips as he voiced his own question, “Why are you still here, Ry?” It was clear that he didn’t mean this night specially, but he didn’t understand, after all he put her through…
She watched the emotion on his face, then looked down as his hand dropped from her arm. She looked back to his face as the question filled the space between them and she suddenly didn't have an answer. Not one that made sense. But since when had anything about this made sense?
"Sam asked for my help." She replied. "I'd do anything for you two. You know that."
Dean shook his head, “You don’t owe us anything.” Him especially. “Sam had no right t’ask that.” Even if Ry had by some chance offered he should’ve let her go, and cut her off from this mess before it caused her even more damage. Though, really, how much more was there to be damaged? She had practically been handed an exploding bomb. “This is my problem. I’ll deal with it.” Somehow—maybe. “You’ve done more than enough."
"This isn't just about you. Or Sam. If you go-- back to that ? There's a whole mess of people it impacts." She had her orders, anyway. He didn't need to know that. "And I'm not watching the-- not watching you go through that again." She added with a little less bite. "I don't think my-- I could."
There was the slightest of winces at Ry's mention of his previous self and all danger that came with him, and he had to tear his gaze away for a moment. The memories he had while he was that thing she spoke of haunted him deeply, and he truly scared himself to know of the things he was capable of. And how easy it would be for him to slip up and become that again. His gut twisted as that fear washed over him, all but drowning him. "'M not asking you to," he said suddenly, after silence had followed for a quick second when Ry finished. His green eyes caught hers. "An' I promise you--I won't let myself become that again," he said firmly, shaking his head. No. Not again.
"No, you're not. You don't have to ask me to be around." She shrugged. "I just-- am." She gulped as his eyes met hers, and she licked her lips as the emotions hit her from that one look. "I believe you," she said softly. "But if there is anything I can do to help ensure that, I'm going to do it."
Dean continued to frown as he listened to her replies, not liking that she continuing to remain because of a problem he created. Hadn't he caused her enough suffering? "An' what if there isn't anything?" he asked, his glare turning more intense. "What if the answer isn't in some book? What if-- What if there isn't an answer?" A wave of fresh fear crept over him then, that question having made rounds in his head before but never had he voiced it. He tried swallowing and taking a breath. "All I'm sayin' is... Haven't you lost enough?"
A sigh escaped as he finished his reply, her eyes closing against the frustration that rose through her. Once she'd opened them again, she focused her gaze back on Dean and offered a sad smile. "I've lost a lot, yeah." she started. "Probably more than I should have. But-- you're still here. Sam is still here." She shrugged. "S'enough for me." Because, despite what Crowley said, she loved them. They were her family. And she wasn't going to lose them if she could help it.
Dean looked away, his own frustration flaring up. It was like she was continuing to swim in a shark infested ocean after being bit and chewed and spat back out, several times. Did she not see that? Did she not care? Why didn't she care about what was better for her? Or safer? It drove him mad when she continued to tempt fate like this. "It shouldn't be," he muttered quietly, more to himself than her. It was stupid of her to latch her life line to theirs, and there was no way it ended well for her. But no matter what he said or did she remained stuck in her ways.
She watched him, her frustration rising further as he responded. She could tell it wasn't exactly meant for her, but it didn't matter much seeing as she'd heard it. Another sigh escaped and she turned and walked back to the counter to set the eggs and milk down. She moved back to where he stood, closing the distance between them enough to reach up and grab his chin in her hand, forcing him to look at her. "When are you going to get it through you thick fucking skull that people are allowed to love you, just as you love them? That you aren't going to push everyone away no matter how hard you try?" Her brow furrowed as she looked at him. "Stop being an idiot and trying to push us all away."
Ry huffed another sigh, sounding annoyed, as she moved past him, back into the center of the kitchen. Instead of just pissing her off further, which he was sure to do, Dean thought it best if he went back to his room--or maybe to head down to the range for he was even more restless now than he had been before this whole deal unfolded itself. But before he moved even a step Ry was in front of him, blocking his path and actually reaching for his face. Not to hit him, which would have been a safe bet, but to hold his chin and force him to look down at her determined force. At first shock flickered through him but he quickly readjusted himself. Taking her wrist--though he was careful not to be rough--he pushed it back from his face and took a step back, widening the space between them, as he took his turn to say his piece. "If bein' an idiot saves you then I don't care," he shook his head defiantly. "Ry, I won't have you hurt again. But you stayin' here only ensures that. Why can't you see that?"
"Stop." She snarled. "I am far past being saved. Have been since before you met me, so don't even try that heap of bullshit on me." She pursed her lips, arms crossing over her chest as she looked at him. "Getting hurt is part of the job-- part of life. And I can't see it because you're wrong."
Dean didn't believe that. Not for one second. She was still breathing which meant she still had a chance. But staying here--with a ticking time bomb--was going to take that chance and crush it into dust, along with everything else in his path. "God damnit, Ry," he cursed, his voice rising with his growing frustration. "If you think I have a thick skull maybe you should have a CAT scan!" He wasn't giving her bullshit, but she was definitely giving him some and he couldn't understand why. "Then maybe we could see what's got you so messed up in the head that you won't even try to protect yourself!"
She'd had enough. She didn't care anymore about what had happened before, didn't care that he was still so broken and so far from being himself. She reached out and grabbed his shirt, pulling him to her. She stood on her toes and kissed him the way she'd wanted to for weeks, holding back nothing. Only stopping when she needed to catch her breath, she looked up at him and scowled. "I love you, you asshole. And I'm not going anywhere."
Dean had instinctively leaned back, either thinking she was going punch him or not wanting her too close in case he suddenly blew up he wasn't sure, but he couldn't have anticipated what she did next. Grabbing a tight hold of his t-shirt she roughly pulled him to her, catching him off balance, and sealed their lips together. Dean swore his heart stopped as his eyes widened at the shock. He would've questioned it if he wasn't already gathering her in his arms and returning the kiss with so much force that he was sure he would leave bruises. They probably would've remained entangled for much longer had it not been for needy lungs and were forced to come up for air, but even as they gasped for breath Dean made no move to relinquish his hold on her. His eyes bright as he took her in, really took her in, for the first time since--he couldn't even remember when--as if he couldn't believe this was reality and not some dream he was afraid to wake up from. Her words didn't sense. It never made sense for her to love him, but it especially now didn't make sense. "Why?" he asked, unable to stop himself. He shook his head, his face falling back into a frown. "What I did t'you..."
"I don't honestly know why," she admitted. "But I do. And I know you feel the same even if you're too damn stubborn to say it. You've shown me that enough. And all that outweighs anything else." Her lips pressed together as she considered her next words. "Dean, I don't know what's in store for you, Sam or me. I don't know who or what might decide to aim at us next. But I do know I'm stickin' around until there ain't no me left to stick around." Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was beyond stupid. But she knew it was the truth, despite their worst moments-- the best moments were what made her stay. Made her want to be around him even when he didn't seem to want her. And even if he rejected her right then, sent her away because he was too damn insecure to accept her words, she'd keep coming back.
His emotion filled eyes watched her closely as she answered him, her appearing to be just as clueless as he was to the reason why she felt anything besides hatred towards him. He had been so sure he had destroyed every last ounce of affection ever felt between them, but here he was, by some miracle, holding her again. With her saying she loved him. God, he could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve her. But, despite that… “Okay,” he breathed once she was done, letting it settle for a moment as he took a breath. “Feels like ‘M just wastin’ my breath, anyway, tryin’ t’convince you do otherwise…” A corner of his lips twitched just slightly with a smile before it disappeared. “But if things start t’go south again… I don’t want you anywhere near me. Understand? I want your ass on the next plane out of here.” His tone was firm but his eyes pleaded with her, not ever wanting to hurt her again. Just the idea of it causing him to loosen his current grip on her, feeling like he might just do so now accidentally. “You an’ Sam. Oceans away.”
Relief filled her when he didn't fight her. When he didn't argue that she needed to go anyway. She needed to stay, for multiple reasons. The thing that got her most was how in awe he seemed that she was even fighting to stay. Truth be told, she was kind of surprised at herself, but this is the sort of thing that happened when she let her emotions take control rather than thought something through. It was probably going to bite her in the ass later on but-- "All right," she agreed. "I'll haul his lanky ass to Italy if it happens." She reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand, brow furrowing. "But it isn't going to happen."
Dean had a feeling, even as he said it, in the moment neither Ry or Sam would follow through on that. Despite Ry’s verbal acceptance. Because he knew, if positions were reversed, he wouldn’t. Maybe he could get Cas to be his insurance— He had to talk to him about if that were to happen anyway, with him the only one who would actually stand a chance against him… A soft hand gliding against his cheek to cup it pulled him back to Ry, an assurance on her lips that only felt like a hollow promise to him. Of course he hoped, he hoped they would find something, but there was also the possibility that they wouldn’t. And he was almost certain if they didn’t find a cure soon…it’d be too late. He gently laid a hand over hers, grasping it lightly but leaving it there as he closed his eyes and breathed deep. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered quietly, but if listened closely to one could hear a second, hidden meaning in his words.
Ry let every bit of emotion fill her features as his hand covered hers. Her gaze took in every bit of his image before her. The last time she had been this close to him, he had been far from attainable. He hadn't even been himself. But now-- he was back. He was her Dean and she wasn't going to let him leave her. Not again. "Bet I missed you more," she whispered, sighing softly. She'd honestly never thought she'd ever be this close to him again. To feel him hold her.
Dean shook his head a little. “Not possible,” he breathed, again smiling ever so slightly before it vanished without a trace. Slowly his eyes pried open, blinking as he saw that Ry’s walls had come down and allowed the chance to read. It was hard, however, to sort through them all, with her apparently feeling just as mixed up as he was. The dominant seemed to be an overall sadness, for both of them, just maybe for entirely the same reasons. It would probably take some effort for them to get past it, but as of yesterday Dean would have never thought there would be a ‘them’ again. He wanted to kiss her again; to make things better, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good idea or not…
She smirked slightly at the response he gave, knowing that it was definitely possible, but she decided not to argue. As she took in his features-- a precaution she found herself doing in case she lost him again to the mark-- he opened his eyes and looked at her. From his expression, she knew he'd seen more in her features than she had ever meant him to and quickly slid those emotions back inside where they belonged. A small smile formed and she brushed her thumb lightly along his cheek before sliding her hand free and dropping it down to his chest. There, she focused on his heartbeat. Knowing it was there was more comforting to her than she thought she had words for. "What now?" she wondered, looking back up and meeting his gaze.
Dean watched her reconstruct the wall that kept back her emotions—an action he was fairly familiar with—and smile lightly. It was nice to her smile, even if it was small it was definitely better than the heartbreak he had seen earlier… His grip tightened, more firmly than it had, around the hand on his face. He hated seeing her like that; hated even more knowing he caused it. He never wanted to cause her pain—yet it seemed like that’s all he did lately. To her and Sam. He was frowning when Ry finally broke the silent session of them just soaking each other in after so long apart. “Did you mean in general, or right now?” In general he wasn’t at all sure, but for right now he wanted her to get some rest.
Ry twitched her nose in thought as he tossed the question at her. She kind of meant both, if she were honest. She had no idea what to do. She'd reacted with emotions and now that they had dulled down a little she was starting to panic. How would they ever truly get past this and get to where they were fully comfortable with each other again. But instead of voicing this, she pursed her lips and shrugged. "Both?" Her eyebrows lifted and she gave a cheesy smile.
“Well, that’s helpful,” Dean muttered in a teasing way before he took a deep breath. “Did you still want your food, or do you think you can sleep?” He avoided answering the other question, because again he wasn’t sure himself, so he made quick to handle the present. “I can make up your bed if you want.”
She let out a sigh, knowing she needed both food and sleep. "Food first, then sleep?" She suggested. She wasn't sure she wanted him to stop holding her, just in case (for some reason) it was the last time. But she knew that was foolish.
Dean nodded, finally letting go of her completely now, instead of somewhere in-between like he had, torn between wanting her close and wanting her safe from him. If things between them were to somehow mend, it was going to be difficult to find some sort of balance. For now though Dean would follow her cues, knowing she still remembered that day as well as he did, and the last thing he wanted was to push anything. Lastly, he withdrew her hand from his face, holding it for a moment longer, before letting go of that, too, and walking back down into the kitchen. He took the plate and scraped the eggs back into the frying pan to reheat them.
She remained there, taking deep calming breaths as he walked away from her. She was torn between wanting him to hold her again and being relieved he wasn't close enough to feel her shaking. She couldn't let emotions take control again. Not now. She calmed herself, tucking away everything she didn't need back where it belonged and only forced herself to move again when she heard the scrape of the spatula on the frying pan again. Stopping back where she'd watched him making eggs the first time around, Ry glanced around the kitchen a moment before looking back at him. "You always look like you belong in the kitchen," she noted as she watched him. "You ever consider doing more of it? Like-- to make some extra money?"
While Dean adjusted the burner to a lower setting, not wanting the eggs to burn, he was thinking about how things had just changed so drastically in such a short time, from when he was first making these eggs. He had been so sure Ry hated him,--because why wouldn't she? The fact that she didn't, that she claimed to love him instead, was enough to make his head spin. Did she mean it? Or was she expressing old feelings that had stirred up due to being around him again? She was such an enigma to him, despite having spent quite a bit of time with her, and sometimes he wished he knew what she was thinking, if just to have a better understanding. Maybe he'd ask Sam. He had always been better at all the feelings and empathy stuff. Plus he had been closer to her lately than he had... Ry gave a comment, pulling him out of his head, and Dean furrowed his brows, not sure what to make of it. Was that a compliment or an insult? Again, it was hard to tell anything with her. But her tone made him think the former, with her just making casual talk. "Uh.--Truthfully, I've never thought about it." Like, ever. It had always been just a necessary skill for him to have, what with his dad leaving for long periods at a time, leaving him to fend for not just himself but for Sammy as well. It had only developed with him, learning new stuff as he got older and what taste good and what didn't. It helped to have a willing participant to critique, too. "But, I dunno... I don't think I'm that good." Not to make money off it. He was more confident in entering fighting matches to make some extra cash if he needed it.
"Have ever tried one of your burgers?" Ry wondered when he finished. "They're better than any I've ever had, and I'm not just saying that." Honestly, she thought Dean was an amazing cook. Put a little more practice into him and she was sure he could make a nice bit of money from it. "It was just a thought, anyway." she added with a shrug and picked up the (now warm) glass of milk, taking a few drinks of it before she set it back down and moved to the freezer where she'd stashed a bottle of Irish Crème. Adding it to her milk and stirring it in, she tried to decide what to say next. This whole-- not ignoring him thing was harder than she thought. It wasn't as easy talking to someone you weren't sure you ever wanted to be around again a few weeks before. "I guess I just thought a change would be good for you." She added as she put the bottle of liquor away.
“Well, yeah. Obviously, but—“ But he still stood by his statement. Though it was apparent Ry didn’t, with her cutting him off and claiming that she wasn’t being nice when saying that they were the best she’s ever had. Dean was still doubtful. Not that he thought she’d lie to him; more…due to the circumstances, a Hunter’s palate wasn’t as refined as the average folk. At least, that’s the logical theory he was sticking with, and the reason he thought the way he did. Only adequate to a small group. But he knew better than to voice any of it to Ry, knowing that she wouldn’t understand and maybe accuse him of being modest. Which is something he rarely was, if ever. Dean returned to the eggs, and in the next moment turned off the burner, deciding they were once again warm enough for consumption. Silence had once again fallen between the pair, and yes, while not as awkward as before, it was still obvious they had a long way to go before things could ever go back— Or at least for them to be comfortable around each other. A grimace fell onto his lips at Ry’s added, after-thought comment, thinking another change was the last thing he needed right now. He was having enough trouble keeping up as it was. Just a couple of months ago he had died and come back a demon. And now he was trying to readjust to being human again, and all the emotions that followed. Including dealing with how he felt about Ry, and what she felt for him, and whether or not it was safe for her to even be here at all, but also not wanting to push her away anymore ‘cause he hated fighting with her and just wanted to hold her… God. And the fact that he impregnated her. That was a whole entire thing by itself, and he didn’t even know how to begin to deal with that… His actions had ceased, with him just staring blankly at nothing, as his muscles once again had started to tauten.
She watched him silently, realizing that what she said must not have gone over well internally for him. She watched him tense, seeming to completely forget where he was or what he was doing. Biting her bottom lip a moment, she contemplated whether to pull him out of it or not. Of course, standing there awkwardly was definitely not on her list of things to do that night, so she took a slow, deep breath, then reached out and splayed her hand lightly over his bicep. "Dean?" She kept her voice calm and gentle, in case she startled him. "Hey, you okay?"
Dean jumped, despite the calmness Ry spoke with, and instantly recoiled away from her touch, taking a few steps back. “Don’t,” he warned, a slight tremor in his voice. “S-stay back.” He wasn’t at the point of explosive yet, but even so he could feel the rise, steadily growing with each consuming thought. It struck fear in him, especially with Ry near by, which really only made things worse.
Ry's hand came off his arm as though she'd touched the hot stove. Eyes wide, she stood rooted to the spot, both wanting to run and get Sam and also doing what she could to help. The sound of fear-- mixed with something else-- was what had her on edge. "Is it the Mark?" She wondered, voice barely audible as she watched him closely for any sign he might lash out.
Dean shut his eyes tightly, trying to get his breathing and heart rate to come down before he did actually go off the handles. In the back of his mind he wondered if he was more scared now than before when he didn’t know what to expect. Not knowing was of course maddening but having the knowledge that there was a monster just lying there beneath the surface, ready to re-claw its way back, was something that Dean had been having nightmares about every night since he had been changed back. He was suddenly deeply regretting saying that Ry could stay here, also knowing that this was only to get worse for him if they didn’t find a cure, and soon.
A tiny whisper came from Ry, asking him a question he didn’t want to confirm but it was already obvious. Especially the deep grimace that fell on his lips as he took another step back. “‘M sorry…”
Her lips pursed as he stepped away more, apologizing of all things. She let go of that little bit of fear she felt, wanting nothing more than to calm the rage rising through the man before her. She touched the power she housed with her mind, pulling at it to do for Dean what it did so well for her; calm the fire inside, heal unseen wounds. It wouldn't be enough to calm it for good, but it would last for a little while. Some peace. She knew she couldn't do it all the time for him. But right now? They both needed it.
"Dean," she said softly, stepping close and grabbing his face with her hands. "You look at me. You are a good man, with an amazing heart. This rage, this fire burning in you, It isn't you. You can control this." With the word control, she poured that little flicker of power into him, aiming it for whatever the Mark was doing to him. She didn't know what she'd say if he realized what was happening, but in that moment, she only cared about him.
Dean had been facing the floor, his eyelids closing and opening for small periods at a time as he still struggled with getting his heart rate down, so he hadn’t seen Ry approach before it was too late and she was holding his head between her hands. A flicker of shock, then fear, then determination flipped like pages on his face as he tried pulling away. “Ry, get back—“ Although he still felt somewhat in control he knew better than to risk it, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. Again. He would’ve said as much, too, but Ry was interrupting and he clamped his jaw, keeping back the enraged shout from erupting because he knew it would ramp up what he felt inside. His muscles were taut as he looked down at Ry, forcing himself to remain a cage, and tried to follow her words. Of course, he didn’t believe her, not completely; because while yes, the Mark was ultimately the thing to blame, it was really only bringing out the monster in him. His monster, him. But even though those thoughts were swirling around in his mind he suddenly found like he could breathe more easily. Muscles relaxing as the power from the Mark seemed to diminish into nothing and a calmness washed over him. His expression turned confused, not understanding why it felt like the Mark’s battery had just run out, like it wasn’t even there anymore. Blinking, he looked back to Ry, silently asking the same question he was asking himself, and lifted his hand to see that it was in fact—still. A soft scoff left his lips. “I don’t…” He recaptured Ry’s gaze. “I don’t know what just happened. But I feel— fine, now.”
She waited for him to focus on her fully before she dropped her hands from his face, screwing her expression up into confusion at his words. "What do you mean?" She wondered, her brow furrowing. "Are you-- okay?" She needed to know for multiple reasons, but mainly to be sure that he was truly past the Mark's grip, for now.
“Yeah,” he answered, sounding surprised. Usually he needed to blow off some steam for him to return to a relatively normal state again. How was it he was able to come back so quickly on his own? “I don’t know. It’s like— The battery died on this thing.” He pulled up his sleeve cuff, running his fingers across the distinctive scar, his brows just furrowing more. “That’s never happened before. Least not that quickly…” Dean looked back to Ry, his emerald eyes searching for an answer to a question that popped into his head but couldn’t brave to ask it out loud for how absurd it sounded. Her touch and presence had often calmed him before…but her hold over him, to believe that it was stronger than the Mark’s? Even to consider that possibility for a moment meant that he must really—love her. By now, despite himself, he couldn’t deny anymore that he did. They had gone through so much shit that he knew that’s how he felt about her, but he guessed he didn’t realize just how much until now. Another soft scoff escaped him, his lips upturning slightly as he shook his head.
She blinked up at him as the emotions shifted over his features. She was careful to keep her expression schooled, and slowly allowed relief-- something she didn't have to pretend at-- flood over her completely. His expression changed little by little until he didn't look like a deer caught in headlights any longer. Her hands hesitantly reached out to touch him, one wrapping around his arm while the other slid up his chest.
"You're okay?" she wondered. "It just stopped?" Inwardly, she felt glad to calm the storm, even if for a short period. She needed him to be 100% himself right now, and the Mark didn't allow for that. "Should I get Sam?"
Dean watched her reach out, unsure about the actions; whether that was due to fear or maybe she thought he didn't want her to he wasn't sure, but he remained still, letting her decide. Her touch finally came, both on his arm and chest, and his own twitched to do the same to her but he didn't want to push it. He still didn't know why or how the Mark's power had subsided, but he was sure whatever had happened wouldn't last forever; it anyone's guess when it would wear off. Ry again asked if he was okay, apparently needing the reassurance, but considering Dean was just as perplexed as she was he understood. "Yeah. No." He shook his head against the idea of waking up Sam. "It's okay. Like I said--I don't know what happened. Usually I need t'kill somethin' t'feel like this. To feel...just calm."
Ry watched him carefully, nodding when he answered her questioning. "Good," she said at last. "Try not to worry about it-- I'd just be thankful." She lifted her brows, searching his expression for anything other than the confusion she was finding. "So, you wanna try eating those eggs again? They're gonna get cold-- again." She was relieved to not have to wake Sam. Right now, she needed to focus on Dean. Both because she needed to make sure he stayed calm, but also because she just needed to be near him. To get readjusted to his presence. And to just-- be with him. Despite how much she'd wanted to be away from him before, now she wanted back what they'd had before the Mark-- and Metatron-- took him away from her.
"Yeah. Right," he muttered, sounding a little bit distracted as his brain worked to find an explanation. One that didn't make him sound like a character straight out of The Notepad or some romantic shit like that. But he wasn't given much time to toss around ideas when Ry was asking him if he wanted to try eating again--for the third time--and he left his mind. "Oh. Right." He gently pulled back and went back to the stove, thankful he had shut it off before slipping down the rabbit hole. Grabbing the plate he once again filled it with the eggs and handed it off to Ry to take. "If they're cold again let me know."
"Sure," she replied as he handed her the plate. She didn't plan on it, but she'd make him think she would. She went and found a seat, pouring a little salt on the eggs. Her milk was half gone and, while she knew she'd done it, she barely remembered doing so. "Funny," she said after a few minutes. "This place is starting to feel like-- well, home." Her brows furrowed as she looked around the room. "I missed it when I was on the road again."
Dean had taken to remain standing, because again he didn't want to cross any lines, and let Ry eat in peace. He had also reclaimed his once forgotten beer, gulping it down as he fell back into his thoughts. His gaze would shift between the Mark and Ry and the floor, cycling for a few turns until Ry broke the silence. Her comment brought a minuscule smile to his lips but it didn't last. Both too weak to begin with and her added sentence didn't help either. Was that what she was calling it? "'M surprised you feel that way," he muttered just loud enough, casting a glance at her.
Her brows lifted and she focused on him. "Huh?" Confusion filled her features. He seemed fine for a moment and then-- A frown formed and she absently moved the eggs around her plate. "Why wouldn't I feel that way? After all the time I've spent here and come here after cases to recoup, and just spending time relaxing. Not to mention you an' Sam." Technically, she had Glen's place. It was all hers, per his will, including the garage. She wouldn't deny she'd hid there for a while after the miscarriage. But Dean didn't need to know that. It was depressing.
Her points were also his. Memories haunted this place, and lately, it felt like the bad ones had swallowed up any good, darkening the place considerably. The place he too once called his home had become tainted, and he wasn't sure if it could ever be scrubbed clean. Then there was yes, him and Sam. Sam hadn't done anything to her, but him? Oh, he had done a whole number. The list so long now that he had been so sure she wanted nothing more to do with him. In fact he was convinced until not too long ago. Ry, by some fluke, claimed to still love him, just as he did with her. And while he wasn’t entirely sure she meant it, but just felt remnants of their past, his conviction had been splintered. Even so, he had done nothing as of late to provide comfort that would make the place where he resided like a home to her. If anything he too had darkened it. But Dean said none of this to her, choosing to remain silent and let that just be his answer as he returned back to his puzzle.
Ry watched him in silence for several moments before she focused on her food. She finished the eggs a few minutes later, then finished the milk. She was sleepy, but she was almost afraid to go to sleep lest she wake and find she had dreamed this night. That she and Dean were still at odds--
"Can I show you something?" She asked suddenly. "I mean, it's nothing super important. I just-- I've had it for you for a while..." She wasn't sure it was the best time. But things had been said and she really just needed it out of her possession and where she had intended it to go.
Dean had been going through different scenarios, trying to think logically, but he was having difficulties since he had gone through this once before and nothing seemed to add up. He checked his watch, noting that Sam should be up soon. Maybe Boy Wonder would have some theories and be able to shed some light. Until then--he’d focus on Ry and make sure she got some sleep while he still had this moment of clarity. Ry piped up then, asking him a question and drawing his gaze back to her. His brows raised in intrigue, then slowly drew together as the abrupt question somehow developed into a gift for him. He couldn’t begin to imagine what it was, or why she even had something for him, or why she still did after everything. “Uhm..." He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Just, uh.. Just throw it out. It’s fine.”
Ry felt herself getting lightheaded at Dean's words. She didn't know how to convey to him that it wasn't something she could just throw away. Of course, she really didn't need to think much, as her mouth often took care of things for her.
"No, Dean." Her voice was soft, but firm. "I'm not going to throw it away. It's important, and I'd like you to have it. Please." She wasn't sure if it was the exhaustion, or the need for him to stop giving her that damn look, but she knew for sure he wasn't going to get out of this that easily.
More confusion spilled into his expression. She had just told him that it wasn't anything important, and he honestly didn't want to accept any gifts from her when they were in such a weird, unfamiliar state with each other, but there was a good chance that Ry wasn't going to just let it go, especially considering her insistence. He reached up to scratch the back of his neck, letting the movement fill the silence as he debated. "Okay," he breathed finally. "Will you go t'sleep then?"
She hadn't wanted to make a big deal out of it, but when he was so damn stubborn she didn't have much of a choice. Play it off as nothing hadn't worked in her favor, so the truth came out. Now he was (sort of) agreeing. She pressed her lips together, giving a short nod of agreement to his terms. "Yes, fine."
He nodded, licking his lips then proceeded to bite at them, before he moved over to where she sat and lifted both her plate and glass from the table. He put them into the sink but planned to wash them later, after he took care of Ry. Making his way back over to her he gestured for her to lead the way and he'd follow.
Suddenly she was filled with nerves. Watching him walk away with her dishes, she found herself all but shaking at the idea of handing him what she had so lightly referred to as a gift. As he made his way back, she nodded slowly, pushing up out of her chair and leading him to the garage. She passed the cars parked there and made her way to her Firebird-- which she was more than happy to have back on the road, finally. "I wasn't sure if I'd have a chance to give it to you," she said as she opened the passengers door and popped open the glove box, pulling out a yellow envelope and standing up. She stared at his name, scrawled on the front, before she stepped back and closed the car door. "But since I have it now--" She handed the envelope to him, lump forming in her throat as she watched him open it. Inside was the last ultrasound she had before she lost the baby. At the top, the baby's name Baby Winchester was printed. There were other things printed, one of which showing that the baby had been a girl. On the bottom, in Ry's writing was: Caden Mary Winchester.
As he walked behind her Dean could feel the tension rolling off her, and at first he thought it was because of how unclear things still were between them, but upon closer inspection that assumption didn't seem to quite fit. Despite him being just a foot or so away her fidgeting and nervous energy didn't appear to be because of him but rather the object that she was in quest of. Her pace would quicken and then slow without her seeming aware of it, all the way to the garage and to where her car sat parked. By this time Dean was feeling a bit uneasy himself, having contracted her vibe and wondering what it could be. "I wasn't sure if I'd have a chance to give it to you," Ry told him, making Dean frown as his mind provided the appropriate reasons as to why she had felt that way. "Ry... I don't know if... Maybe we should just wait." It didn't feel right, accepting a gift from her, when she should really be damning him to Hell right now. Why was everything so backwards with her? Why did she care for him at all after what he did? Why-- Ry was handing him a medium-sized document envelope; his name printed on the front, and Dean was suddenly unnerved. He wasn't sure why, he didn't even know its contents yet, but again, Ry's anxiety had rubbed off on him. Dean took a deep breath and pushed past his glaring surname, opening the package. A single slip of glossy paper was enclosed and Dean tilted the envelope until it fell out onto his hand. It took him about two seconds to realize what it was, and about another two to feel a deep-rooted pain erupt from his chest. It was intense enough to cause his eyes to water, especially as they ran over the words printed with the photograph, and suddenly Dean could comprehend what Ry had gone through. Seeing it-- Her... It finally hit him. And man, did it. He suddenly couldn't stop the tears that trailed down his face.
She watched and waited in silence, having ignored him when he spoke. This needed to happen, now, in case somewhere along the line the parted ways and this time for good. She needed him to have it, no matter what became of them. That feeling was stronger as he tried in vain to convince her to keep it, not knowing what it was. That alone made her want to give it to him without hesitation.
He opened the envelope, stared at the ultrasound image, and that's when it all began. She saw the realization, the sorrow and the loss. She saw it before the tears, but felt it as she watched him mourn their lost child. Mourn-- probably a lot more than just that, if she thought about it. But she was focused on that moment.
She took the steps needed to close the distance between them, holding her own tears back as she reached for him. She knew his pain, probably better than he did. She wanted nothing more than to fix it for him, the way she'd wished someone had been able to fix her pain. Crowley had-- tried. But it was his lack of action that had caused the most pain for her.
One hand reached and wiped at tears that fell down his face, while the other moved to grasp lightly at his arm, pulling him closer. She needed this, whether for her own selfish reasons or to help bring back the man she loved, she wasn't sure. But she needed it, and that was what mattered to her at that moment.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, gazing up at him, holding on to her own emotions. "I'm so sorry."
Dean had shut his eyes the moment the tears escaped. His face otherwise blank apart from the subtle hints of grief framing his features. He had lost a daughter before—kinda—at least in the biological sense. And then there was of course Ben. Not really his, but, unlike Emma, Ben had felt like his. It had torn him up inside giving up him and his mother, but it had been necessary and he stood by that decision. They were safe, alive, and no longer targets. But this—what he felt now—felt somehow worse. Before it had been just a baby, just a word really, of something that shouldn’t have ever come to be, and quickly turned into nothing when Ry had said she miscarried. His mind hadn’t fully processed the whole development, nor did he feel the need to mourn. At least not until now. The sonogram had made it real, made her real… Caden Mary… His face crumbled slightly as his bowed his head, feeling a loss he couldn’t even begin to describe. His chest felt hollow and heavy at the same time, weighing him down to the point where he just wanted to fall to the floor. He had almost forgotten about Ry’s presence when he heard her footsteps come closer, and then feeling her hand on his face as she removed the wet streaks. His eyelids opened, staring down at her with a sorrow-filled frown, before she once again said what she didn’t ever need to say to him. He shook his head. “Don’t. Please…don’t.” He closed his eyes again and used his free hand to rub away the rest of the wetness, sniffing slightly. “That’s the last thing I want from you right now.”
She swallowed hard, almost wanting to pull away from him but she remained where she was. Her own emotions were shoved aside to make room for making sure Dean was okay. To make sure he was going to be okay. She wasn't even sure what he was feeling, fully. She just knew she wanted to be there.
His words had so many questions rolling through her mind. It took her several tries, but she finally found the right one. "What do you need from me, right now?" She asked, blue eyes focusing on green. Despite everything-- despite the fact that this child they were mourning was gone because a part of him had done it-- she felt she'd give him anything at this moment. Because, despite everything, she loved him, and that didn't seem to want to change.
Dropping his hand he joined with his other, both holding the glossy picture, giving it one last look before he carefully placed it back in its envelope. He hadn’t been sure what he expected to receive but it certainly wasn’t that, and while it caused him pain he was glad Ry insisted. He was even glad he could feel this form of loss, because it meant that the Mark was still powered down and he could feel something other than the urge to kill. Ry asked him then what he needed from her, and Dean almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of her wanting to comfort him right now but instead he answered her truthfully, “Honestly—I don’t know.” His body seemed like it had shut down, suddenly feeling more tired and drained than he’s felt in weeks. The want to hold her also had come back, but he couldn’t ask that from her. He couldn’t ask anything from her because he had taken so much from her already that it almost angered him that she didn’t hate him. He hated him, for what he had done to her, and the question why didn’t she too floated back in his mind. “I’m so sorry, Ry,” he whispered sincerely, sounding both broken and guilt-ridden, but the words only felt like that—words. But he didn’t know how else to convey just how sorry he was.
She watched him silently, not sure what to do as he examined the image again before he put it back in the envelope. His response to her wasn't even remotely helpful to her and she pressed her lips together to keep from saying anything about it. She sighed, dropping her hands from where they rested on him, tucking them into her pockets and feeling more than a little lost. But it was his next words that had her scowling, had her looking back to meet his gaze. Something in the way he said it, the way he looked, felt-- deeper than it was meant to. It touched the part of her she had locked away when she first told him about the child and she choked back a sob as emotions flooded her. No, this wasn't the time. Of all people, he didn't need to see the pain of her loss. Because she hadn't lost a only a child, she'd lost the remainder of when things had been truly good between them. At least, better than this. So much better than this. Because then-- they weren't afraid to touch, to love each other. Then, they weren't strangers.
At Ry's reaction to his words Dean thought she might reprimand him, spewing crap about how it wasn't his fault, but that all changed in a matter of seconds. Raw emotion, like before only now somehow more intense, replaced the anger just as quickly as it came. Dean's heart wrenched even more. Despite the fact that she was trying to mask her pain he could still see it, obvious to him as it virtually matched his. Without thinking, and his body reacting on instinct, he actually started reaching for her, his arm raising slightly in her direction, before he took notice and let it drop back to his side, a fist curling there. His jaw clenched, curses going off in his head as he willed himself to get a grip.
"Don't you do that," she snapped through clenched teeth. "I lost you once, don't you fucking pull away from me now." She leveled her gaze at him as tears fell unbidden down her face and she swiped them away angrily. Words she couldn't say to him built up inside before she shoved them away and squeezed her eyes shut just as tightly as her jaw was clenched.
Dean opened his mouth to say that maybe they should just go to bed,--meaning her, in her room, where he couldn't touch her and cause her discomfort,--when Ry broke through the heavy fog of sorrow first, spitting at him. His brow line furrowed in confusion initially, unsure what she was referring to, but with her following words it dawned. "Ry, I wasn't--" A different, but definitely not new, type of sorrow overtook his expression and the words died on his tongue. He wouldn't call what he had just done 'pulling away', but part of him was questioning why wasn't he. A heavy sigh fell upon him, unsure what was the right thing to do when everything he did just felt wrong. "--Should've just killed me," he muttered under his breath to himself as he shook his head.
She didn't even hesitate; her hands were just there as she let out an inhuman sound, shoving against his chest. He dare he turn this around and make it about that. She had given him something she wasn't even sure she had been ready to. She was unwillingly showing emotion over that thing. And he was standing there saying she should have killed him?
"You asshole!" She yelled, slapping him across the face. "That is what you have to say after--" her expression fell, and she shook her head. "You're just a coward, is all." She said quietly. "You can't face the fact that you did horrible things while you were a horrible creature. Maybe it had parts of you, but demons are innately evil; you of all people know that! What I faced-- that wasn't you, Dean. That wasn't the man I love. I've accepted that, and you need to do the same thing!"
Being caught off guard Dean didn't have time to register what was happening when he was shoved back into Ry's car, alarm overtaking him as he didn't understand what had brought on this sudden act of violence. He knew that he had upset her--something he just kept doing--but he hadn't anticipated the intensity to which she responded with. Next there was a harsh sting across his face as she slapped him, cursing him for saying something that he hadn't really intended for her to hear, and Dean's hand rose instinctively to his reddening cheek but his wide, shocked eyes remained on her. As Ry continued on, though, Dean's expression began to harden, his jaw clenching, and he found himself unable to keep eye contact. That was until she was saying that what had beaten her to near death wasn't him. He had to bite his tongue to keep him from lashing out, and that worked--for a few seconds. "You're wrong, Ry," he said in a loud, gruff voice, straightening himself in an upright manner. "It was me. An' you know how I know? Because I have the fucking memories of beating you until you were barely alive! Hell, if Crowley hadn't stopped me I would've killed you." That thought sent a shiver down his spine but still, his facial exterior remained unchanged. "So yeah, maybe I am a coward. Maybe I can't bear the image of your blood on my hands. Or the knowledge that I was so close to ending your life. Or how the guilt kills me every time you flinch because I got too close." His voice had lowered to the point where it was almost back to normal. "It would've been better for everyone if I had just stayed dead." His gaze shifted down to the floor. "Then I wouldn't keep hurting you."
