A/N: It’s finally here! The second part to I Need More that everyone wanted! It got pretty long without smut, so no smut. Hope it lives up to the hype! Special thanks to @manawhaat and @littlegreenplasticsoldier for their always fabulous beta services. I wish I had time to let them look over this one more time.
Summary: Reader runs away for a while, then has to face her fears.
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warning: ANGST.
Word count: 4652 (Over twice as long as the first part, which just goes to prove that fixing shit is harder than screwing it up in the first place!)
For the fourth night in a row, you sat on the beach with a bottle in your hand and watched the sun set. It had taken you a couple of days to get here, but you were about as far away from Lebanon, Kansas as you could get and still be in the continental US. Maybe Maine would be further than Washington, but you’d turned left out of the motel parking lot, not right, so Washington is where you ended up. The weather had turned the day before, and it was chillier tonight, with a light misty rain making you feel even colder. The storm front was almost past, though, which was how you got to see the sun fall from behind the clouds before it sank into the ocean.
Six days. Six days since you’d given in to Dean Winchester’s charms and then woken up alone. Six days since you’d turned off the GPS and sound on your phone so no one could track you and you wouldn’t have to listen to the beeps and trills when they called or messaged. Five days since you’d considered turning it off completely, but knew that would send a message all its own and just prompt whoever was calling to really look for you. Four days since you’d found the rundown motel a block from the beach and plunked down enough cash to quiet the manager about the credit card that didn’t match the name you gave him. Three days since you’d slept for twelve hours, only to wake up from a dream that Dean was knocking on your door. Three days since you told housekeeping to fuck off and not knock on your door again. The days since then had settled into a nice routine: Wake up, shower, get dressed, try to eat, buy a newspaper you wouldn’t really read (unless you counted Marmaduke and Garfield), buy booze, try to eat some more, then settle on the beach to watch the sun go down and drink the bottle dry.
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