Without You
Author: Bayli
Word Count: 1235
Character(s): Sam, Dean (implied)
Warnings: none
Part One | Part Two
"Hey, Y/N. It’s Sam Winchester. It’s been a while. Look, I hate to bother you, but I’m on this case a couple hours outside your city, and I was hoping I could have some of your expertise on this hunt. If you’re in: great—meet me at the Lunar Motel on the outskirts of the town. If not, fine. Just…call me back, okay? I’m a little worried about you, Y/N. Please."
You sighed as the voicemail ended. It had been almost year and a half since Dean sold his soul for your life. A month after Dean went to Hell, you made do with your family’s old safe house, locked away all the weaponry in a closet, repressed the memories of death and dying, and washed the blood off your hands. You were tired—tired of the burden, tired of the job, tired of everything—so you left.
Now, you were holding up fine (excluding the guilt shadowing your presence). You missed being with the boys every once in a while, which makes you feel even more guilty for leaving Sam alone to grieve his brother’s death. But that’s his life. Friends die, people cry—there’s nothing left for anyone to do. Sometimes, the going got rough (having your life on the line constantly while saving the world can be very overwhelming), and it got too rough for you.
You couldn’t just not go, you realized. Your conscience couldn’t handle any more guilt. You packed up a couple pantsuits, your boots, and some old flannel button-downs of Dean’s that you had kept.
You inhaled sharply as you pulled the beige tarp off of your biggest- and most favorite -piece of Dean left behind. You were almost positive Dean would kill you if he knew that you’ve kept his baby put up for so long.
“You obviously love your baby more than me,” you used to comment jokingly after he spent an entire day working on his Chevy.
Dean would look at you with his eyebrows furrowed, and reply, “There is no way possible that I could love anything more than I love you.” Then, he would lay a dirty, oily hand on your cheek and kiss you lovingly.
You searched the unkept garage for the box that you kept the keys and anything of Dean’s that you kept.
It wasn’t until his passing that you returned to the bunker. When you did, you were rewarded with a plain box full of his trinkets. You found a piece of paper taped to the side.
Y/N, I’m sure he wanted you to have these things. He really loved you, you know. - SW
Inside the box, there laid some of your favorite flannels of his, Dean’s prized Colt .45 with the ivory grips, the Impala’s keys. Inside one of the shirts, you found a silver band.
You grew confused as you observed the ring. MCW was engraved into the inside. You released a shaky sigh. Dean had left you his mother’s wedding band. You left a soft kiss on the memento before sliding it onto your right hand’s ring finger. That was the last time you visited the bunker.
After finding the keys and climbing behind the wheel, you sighed reluctantly. You remembered the first time you ever drove Dean’s car. His abdomen had been slashed repeatedly whilst hunting a werewolf.
“Push down on your cuts with slight pressure. I’ll get you to the hospital as quick as possible,” you reassured him as you sat him down in the passenger seat.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” His words transitioned into one pain-filled hiss. Dean tried to sit up in vain. “I can drive.”
“There’s no chance that I’m gonna let you drive, Dean Winchester. I’m gonna get behind that wheel, and I’m gonna get you to a hospital, alright?” Your voice– much like your expression –was not only forceful but also very caring.
Dean only sighed, and you smiled in victory. The drive consisted of Dean’s groans in pain and criticizing your driving.
“Dean, if you don’t shut the hell up, I will leave you for dead on the side if the next exit,” you had warned him. He only groaned from the agonizing pain.
You shook your head to end the reminiscence of your memories with Dean. Not a day went by that you didn’t miss him.
Once you made it to the motel, you sat in the car and dialed Sam’s number.
“Yeah?” Sam said on the other line.
“Sam, it’s Y/N.” Your voice came out small, but you remained calm. Before hanging up, you added, “Meet me outside of the motel.”
After he walked out of his room, you opened the squeaky car door to greet him with a tight hug.
“I’m glad you made it,” he whispered, engulfing you to the point where you were taking faint breaths.
“A little too tight, Sam,” you gasped. He then apologized as he released his grip on you.
Once you settled in double bed adjacent to Sam’s, you began to read the lore books he had given you to research. Subconsciously, you fiddled and twisted the silver band on your ring finger.
Sam came in with a drive-thru bag, a plastic container, and a couple of drinks. He sat the bag and one of the cups on the nightstand, then took his food to the table on the other side of the room. You muttered a thank you as you pulled a sandwich out of the bag.
You read between bites, and every so often, you would play with your ring. Looking up, you noticed Sam staring at your actions.
“What?” You questioned whilst chewing up a bite.
Sam shook his head. “Nothing, it’s just…” He licked his lips before continuing. “Your ring—I’ve never seen you wear it before.”
You looked at the ring intently before sliding it off your finger. “I found it in one of Dean’s shirts. I believe it was your mother’s wedding band.” You tossed the ring towards him, and he caught it, then examined it. “It seemed like it was very special to Dean, so I kept it. But, you know, if you want it, take it. I mean, she was your mom.”
Sam remained silent for a moment before answering, “No, no. I’m sure Dean would have given it to you anyways.” He stood up and handed you back your memento.
“God, I miss him,” you muttered under your breath.
Sam sighed as he threw his trash away. “Yeah I know. I do too.”
Before you were able to speak once more, your phone buzzed. You checked the message.
“What is it?” Sam wondered.
You handed the phone to Sam. “Coordinates, maybe?”
Sam searched the numbers on his laptop. “Yeah, it’s just outside Junction City, Kansas,” he replied. “God, why does that sound so familiar?”
You shut all of the books, and began to pack. “I don’t know, but I’m going.”
“What? You’re just gonna leave?” He looked at you with a confused expression. “What about the case?”
“Tell Garth to get some other hunter to look in on it,” you answered simply. “C’mon, I’ll drive.”
Sam, surprisingly, followed you to the impala. He observed the dust gathering on the dash. “How long has it been since you’ve driven it?”
“Umm…” you trailed off guiltily. “I didn’t.”
With that, you tore out of the parking lot and sped off.