“I’m home,” you said, kicking off your shoes by the front door. You set your bag down on the table along with the mail, wandering through the house and out to the backyard. Dean was knelt down next to a potted plant, packing some dirt inside. “How’s the landscaping going, honey?”
“Good,” he said, wiping the sweat off his face. “How was the DMV?”
“Hell. Actually strike that. Hell’s nicer,” you said. “Baby and my car are officially registered at this address.”
“It’s rough going on the grid again,” said Dean. “Ever miss the bunker and hunting?”
“Sometimes the rush of it but I like not worrying everyday if it’s the last one I’ll see you,” you said. Dean cocked his head at, giving you a smile as you walked over and started to help. “You’re really good at this yard stuff. This place was a wreck when we moved in. It’s all green now.”
“I still have to put in the pavers for the deck, figure out the covered area to put up, then the balcony off the bedroom and the doors and-“
“Sounds like you got quite a few projects to keep you busy around here,” you said.
“I want you to have your dream house,” said Dean.
“We already do,” you said. “How about you call it quits after this? We got plans for tonight.”
“Y/N,” said Dean, sitting down hesitantly at the kitchen table that evening. “I’m not really a fan of surprises.”
“Close your eyes,” you said, Dean sighing. You saw when he twitched his nose up, smiling.
“Did you make me pie?” he grinned.
“Yes, but that’s not the surprise,” you said, setting the object from your bag by the door down in front of him. “You can open now.”
Dean stared in front of him and then down, holding up the onesie that said “I have the world’s best daddy!” across the front.
“Surprise,” you said with a smile, Dean staring blankly at it. “I went to a doctor after the DMV since I’m late and...surprise?”
A slow smile spread across his face as he ran his hands over the onesie.
“We’re gonna have a baby,” he said, looking up at you, his cheeks smiling so hard you thought he’d burst. “I better add nursery to my list huh?”
“We got plenty of time for that.”
Three Years Later
“Lila, where are you…” teased Dean, pretending to walk past where Lila was hiding under the kitchen table. “Oh, she’s too good at hide and seek. It’s not fair!”
“Daddy!” she said as she jumped out and wrapped her arms around his legs, Dean gasping and looking down. “I win again!”
“I guess you do,” said Dean, picking up Lila and setting her on his hip. “Time for bed now.”
Dean carried her upstairs and gave her a quick bedtime story before tucking her in, heading across the hall.
“Hi Mommy,” said Dean, walking over to the cushioned chair you were rocking back in.
“Hi Daddy,” you said, Dean reaching out his arms and taking the bundle of blankets from your arms. “He finally out?”
“A few minutes ago. I thought newborns slept great. Lila did,” you said, sitting up and Dean walking around the room with Liam.
“You’ve been home three days, dude. Mom had like a two day labor. Cut her some slack,” said Dean, Liam cooing in his sleep. “Oh he is too precious.”
“Said the big bad hunter,” you teased, closing your eyes. You heard Dean shuffle around, large arms walking to you and picking you up. You peeled open an eye to see Liam gone, Dean carrying you down the hall to your room where the baby was passed out in his temporary crib. “Nobody ever carries you to bed, do they?”
“You can carry me when you’re up to it. I also didn’t give birth so…” he teased, setting you down in bed. “Maybe tomorrow we try having him sleep in his room.”
“Sounds good,” you mumbled, laying back, letting out a large sigh. “Dean?”
“Already did my check while Lila and me were playing,” said Dean. “We’re good.”
“What’d you read tonight?” you asked.
“Goldilocks. Again,” he sighed. “I can’t wait for her to be able to read.”
“I’d settle for potty trained,” you said, Dean holding up a hand.
“I second that,” he said, dropping his arm over your waist. “Mmm, maybe we try that again soon.”
“Remember when we used to go to bed talking about hunts?” you asked.
“I’ll take conversations on baby pee and poop over that any day,” he said.
Summary: Dean looks for comfort after a nightmare. He enjoys being the little spoon.
Requested by anonymous: “could you write a fic where dean just needs some comfort from the reader? it could be platonic and dean just had a bad day or a nightmare and doesn't want to be alone and wants to be held without asking"
Pairing: Dean x reader
Word Count: 902
Warnings: language, nightmares, implied violence (hunting a vamp nest), brief mention of a gun reader keeps under the pillow, a little angst, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling, fluff
A/N: Found this in my wips, it's a little short but sweet. Enjoy.
_____
“I said, I'm fucking fine, okay?!”
Dean's words echoed in your ears. You'd only asked him the once and he just snapped at you, so when you got back to the bunker you beelined for your room and slammed the door.
You didn't get food, you didn't shower off the motel shower from a few hours earlier like you usually would, and you didn't get any sleep either. ‘Monopoly’ speaking, you did not pass 'GO'. You just pouted in your bed.
The hunt could've gone better; it also could've gone worse.
You stared at the ceiling, still awake and wondering how to reproach Dean. He was clearly not fine but until he was able to admit that, there was no getting through to him. Dean was just too stubborn when he was in these moods and honestly you were a little, too. You wanted to help, but you didn't want to swallow your pride and walk down that hall just to have him yell at you again.
You weren't a masochist. But you still laid there, in bed, overthinking everything that went wrong with the hunt.
First of all, you should've brought Sam with you, or Cas. Dean said it would be simple enough though with the two of you. It wasn't and you almost got killed. Dean, of course, wasn't letting himself forget it. You could see that written all over his face on the ride home.
Stopping your mind from racing wasn't easy. You counted the dots on the ceiling tiles as you listened to the ticking of Dean's wristwatch on your arm. He'd synchronized it to the time on his cell and given it to you before the hunt so you could stay structured in your plan against the vamp nest.
It was smart, until it wasn't. There were more than you expected and you always jumped the gun and went in first. Standing still wasn't the easiest thing for you to do with all that adrenaline pumping in your veins. And you were used to hunting alone. Before the Winchesters came into the picture.
Needless to say, everything that went wrong after that was about ninety-percent your fault. The other ten was simply a miscalculation.
You'd known the Winchesters for quite some time but moving into the bunker with them was fairly new. In the back of your mind, you hoped Dean wouldn't ask you to move out. You kinda liked not being completely alone anymore. The world was tough and they felt like family already. It would break your heart for sure; shatter any trust you had left.
Your bedroom door creaked open slowly on its old hinges and a shadowed figure peaked its head inside your room. You held your breath for a moment and gripped the cool handle of your gun underneath your pillow.
Always on guard. Even if the bunker was the safest place you'd ever been.
"Easy, Y/N, it's just me." Dean said, pushing the door open the rest of the way so the light of the hall revealed his features.
His expression was soft, too soft -broken like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the nightmares to prove it. His hair was disheveled and he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.
"Just wanted to check on you, I'll let you get back to sleep. Sorry I woke you, sweetheart." Dean breathed deep and slowly started to shut your door. "And sorry I yelled."
"Wait," you sat up and placed the gun on the night table next to you before switching the light on low. "Come here. Close the door."
You flipped back the covers, shuffled over to make room and patted the mattress beside you. Dean wiped the frown from his face with his hand and did as you said. He shut the door and settled into bed next to you. Tense and unmoving once he rolled onto his side facing away from you.
He couldn't ask, but he didn't need to.
You clicked off the light and tugged up the covers to his chin. Your palm rubbed over his shoulders and half-way down his back, then circled up again until you felt his muscles begin to relax.
"That feels nice," he breathed and sniffled a little.
You continued your motions for a while longer until his breathing evened out, you could tell he was still awake but knew he didn't intend on talking things out. That wasn't Dean. So instead, you rubbed up and down his arm and molded your chest into his back, settling into your position as big spoon. You squeezed him and held his hand against his chest.
"Thank you," he sighed and weaved his fingers through yours.
Dean didn't talk about feelings if he didn't have to. And for someone so 'tough', more often than not, he liked to be the little spoon. Especially to your big spoon.
There was an unspoken understanding that neither of you were ever to bring it up in the light of day. But things were just different at night and being vulnerable and open didn't feel as achy and oozy.
Feelings were allowed to be felt in the dark.
He'd be gone before you woke, starting breakfast and roasting coffee in the kitchen, but for now your pieces could hold his pieces together.
Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!reader x Dean Winchester
Category: Hurt/Comfort
Summary: After your boyfriend breaks up with you, your friends Sam and Dean help to put the pieces back together in a very unexpected way.
Warnings: Reference to break up, collapse, mild language
Note: I started this a couple years ago shortly after a break up and finally decided to finish it. It’s not my usual quality of work some of the lines feel out of character and it’s super angsty and cheesy idk but I really wanted to get it finished and out of my drafts, so enjoy?
Sam and Dean looked up from their vampire research when you entered the bunker, their brows furrowing with concern as they took in your glassy eyes and messed up hair.
“Hey,” Dean called.
“Hey.” You gave a nod, dropping the heavy backpack you had been carrying with a thud.
“You okay?” Sam was already pushing back his chair.
“I...” You shrugged off your jacket, gaze averting to the floor. “He...He broke up with me.”
“What?” The chairs squeaked as the brothers stood.
“He thought, with us bein’ hunters and all...Didn’t want to be each other’s weakness,” you took a step forward only to have your legs give out, causing you to sink down to the floor. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Honey, woah,” Dean came around the table to kneel beside you, Sam close behind. “Easy, it’s okay.”
“I can never get them to stay.” You whispered, your head in your hands as Dean sat behind you and pulled you into a hug. “What's wrong with me?”
“It’s not you, he’s just an ass.” Sam knelt in front of you, hand resting on your leg. “Hunters suck at commitment.”
“I don't, you don’t.” You leaned back into Dean’s hug, tucking yourself into him as the tears began to fall. “I’m sorry,”
“It’s not your fault, baby.” Dean ran his hand through your hair and held you close.
“No, I, I shouldn’t have even tried. He said, that ass,” you shoved your sleeve across your eyes, trying desperately to regain composure. “He said that he was tired of sharing me with you and Sam. That I loved you more than him. But, I tried to tell him we were just friends, but he didn’t believe me.” You shook your head against a fresh wave of tears. “I’m such an idiot.”
“Why?” Sam asked, his voice soft.
“Because,” you looked at the floor, hot shame flooding over you. “Because it’s true.” You whispered. “I love you and I love Sam.”
Dean’s hand froze in your hair, his body stiffening. You could feel him looking over your head at Sam, no doubt having a whole conversation in that nonverbal brother code of theirs. You hated yourself for saying anything. Now it was all over. Your friendship would be awkward and stilted now. No stolen hugs and nights of falling asleep on their shoulders during long car rides under the guise of simple friendship. They would know your intentions now. Know that you loved them.
“Sorry,” you whimpered, starting to untangle yourself from the two of them.
The last thing you expected was for Dean’s arms to tighten around you. “Where you going, sweetheart?”
“To bed.” You pushed weakly at his arms, not truly wanting to escape his warmth. “Tomorrow I gotta find a spell that makes you forget what I just said,”
“You hear her, Sammy? Our girl wants to go to bed.”
“Come here,” in one smooth motion Sam pulled you into his arms and picked you up off the floor. “Whose bed do you want to be in?”
“Mine.” Dean grinned. “It’s got memory foam.”
“I don't, wait, but you,” you covered your mouth, hardly daring to breathe. “You...both of you?”
“From the day we met you.” Sam kissed your forehead. “Let’s get you to bed. Coming, Dean?”
“Right behind you.” Dean got to his feet and followed you and Sam with a mischievous grin.
And that was how the three of you started the beginning of forever.
Good evening everyone! here is the second chapter in the Just Breathe Series. This series was inspired/prompted by the ask that was submitted by @deans-spinster-witch to read the first chapter click here for the original post. @deans-spinster-witch was gracious enough to lend her skills in ruffing out a few of the mishaps in chapter one, and I will post that updated version at some point and link it, and did the same for this second chapter.
Here is the original ask for a refresher.
Ask from @deans-spinster-witch:
Tell me about Dean falling in love with a girl who has long covid - maybe they met when he saved her from a monster and they became friends, she occasionally helps him with research or patches him up if he gets hurt. He doesn’t hear from her for a while, and when he goes to check on her, he finds out she’s in the hospital with Covid - a monster he can’t save her from. He realizes he loves her, but may lose her. After she gets out he keeps coming to check on her because he knows she tires easily/has trouble breathing at times.
This second chapter is going to start with a bit of time jump, but don’t worry we got flashback a plenty to fill in the gaps. Multi POV between the main character, Y/N, and Dean Winchester, mentions of Sam Winchester. This is angst, sweet/fluffy, swearing, implied sexy times. Oh and word count is at 7,250-ish, sorry but not sorry.
Sadly the Winchesters are not mine, but the story is so please don’t steal and post as your own. But likes, reblog, and comments are always welcome. As always any mistakes like grammar, spelling, function is also all mine, so be kind when pointing it out, I do my best.
I would like to know if you like this chapter would you want to see a third chapter? or maybe a prequel to answer any questions you might have regarding Y/N and Dean? Let me know.
Thank you again for reading, and you would like to send me a prompted or story idea, send it my way.
Happy Reading
Time Jump to 4 months ahead.
Y/N POV
Shit, Shit, Shit! Where the hell are my keys! You yell out in frustration as you move frantically around your house, looking for the one thing that you need to get to your appointment on time. Tossing the pillows from the couch, goddamn it! You were never like this, ever since COVID, your short term memory has been foggy to put it nicely. Resorting to keeping both a paper list and digital one on your phone, is your new normal. Walking into a room to do something, and instantly forgetting what you came for. Case in point, not remembering where you put your goddamn keys!
You hate running late, you pride yourself on always being early to things, and this appointment was an important one. Walking into the kitchen, you start to look in the not so obvious places. Opening up the fridge, nope not in there. Pull open the freezer next, yep there they are, right next to the pint of mint chip ice cream that you just had to have yesterday at like 11 pm. Only to then be disappointed that you now can’t stand the taste of your once favorite ice cream, fuck you COVID!
Ugh, seriously, you are going to be the death of me, you think. Grabbing your keys, you push the freezer door closed, and head off to the hospital for your fourth month CT scan. Locking the door behind you, the crisp air of fall hits you. God how you don’t want winter to come any sooner then it has too. Winters in Michigan can be brutal, especially on the coast line. Pulling your light jacket close to you, you quicken your pace and get into your jeep to start up the car quickly, and pull out of the driveway. Not noticing the very familiar black impala parked about three houses down.
****
You make it with time to spare, as you wait in the waiting room after checking in, you try your best to calm yourself. Fiddling with your phone, you find that scrolling through Instagram is getting you nowhere and your emails have been radio silent for months now. Exhausted, you put your phone away, you look around the room. For mid morning it's not too busy, the daytime talkshow mixes in with the white noise of the hospital. It's so beige, beige carpet, walls, even the uncomfortable furniture is beige. It makes sense, given it's a hospital; money should be spent on actual patient care, not on the latest interior furnishings., But still, at least get some interesting artwork. Looking to the piece across from you: an abstract painting of paint strokes in grays, blues, and you guessed it, beige.
“Ms. Moore?” The nurse's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look up to see her standing at the entryway in blue scrubs, dark brown hair pulled back, with a kind smile.
“Yep” you reply to her, but you're sure she would have guessed that was you, as your head snapped at attention when your name was called. “Hi”, giving her a smile as you walk towards her.
“Hi,” she replies, “can you tell me your last name and date of birth?” She starts walking down the hallway, looking at your chart, the path was second nature for her. You rattle off your last name and birthday for her, then she stops just off from an open doorway, “right in here.” Letting you walk in first.
She takes a seat at a desk, swiping her badge to start keying in some information. “So, here for your four month CT scan.” she states, but it also feels like a question.
“Umm, yeah, it's my second one.” You reply, still getting used to coming to the doctor more than twice a year. You only ever went if you were feeling really sick.
“Looks like the first one was clean, but we like to do a few in close succession when someone has had a severe case of covid.” she explains, her eyes are kind, and reassuring, “I am sure this one will be just as good, and then hopefully the doctor will schedule them farther apart.”
She must see the worry on your face. Not sure how to respond, you just nod your head. She takes your vitals, asks if anything else has changed since your last visit, and if there were any other concerns you wanted to discuss today. “No, I don’t think so.”
Typing a few more things in the computer, and then swapping her badge again to lock the computer. “I am surprised your brother is not here with you today.”
“What?” You're taken aback by this, brother, does she mean Dean? How would she know about him? Was it in your chart? You don’t remember adding him as your emergency contact.
She can tell you are put off by this. “Sorry, I should have re-introduced myself. I was your nurse when you were in here with covid.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry, I should have…”
“No, it's fine. Honestly, I wouldn’t expect you to remember me.”
Thinking back to that time, she does seem familiar now, “well it's nice to see you again…” struggling to remember her name quickly, but not inconspicuously looking at her badge, “Bridget.” This gets a laugh out of her, and you do the same. “I was happy to see your name on the schedule today, and I thought you were the one with the very cute, and very attentive brother. That's why I am surprised he is not here.”
Ah yes, Dean, not being here. That is a long, long story that you're sure she does not want, nor has the time to hear right now. You give her a forceful smile, “Yeah, Dean, he has something today, so just me.”
Her smart watch goes off, and she looks at the time, “well we should get you down to CT. After your scan, we will come back here and the doctor will be with you to go over the results.” She gets up, and you follow.
****
The wait feels like forever, and in the small exam room with nothing to look at but an exam table -and beige walls - you were lost in your head. Worrying about what if they found something, what if you developed lesions, or anything that could compromise your health. God, how you wish Dean was here, or even Sam. Someone to hold your hand and distract you from the impending doom and dark thoughts that were creeping in. Dean would distract you with lame jokes, or stories about how Sammy was terrified of doctors. He would get you to smile anyway he could, probably go so far and raid the supplies of tongue depressors and cotton balls, saying something like “they don’t need all of them, do they?”
“Ms. Moore, how are we today?” The doctor's voice breaks up your fleeting thoughts of Dean, as if he was right there, but as soon as the man in the white coat opens the door and steps through, Dean disappears.
“Umm, good, at least I hope so.” You reply, wanting to keep the pleasantries short, let get to the point so you can get out of here.
He takes a look over the file, and then pulls up the scans on the computer. He seems to be taking forever, did he not look at them beforehand! Come on man just tell me already! “Everything looks good, I am not seeing any growth of lesions or scar tissue from the tube.”
Relife floods your body, letting out a sight, “oh that great news, so I am done with coming in?” you hope so, wanting to never see this place again, at least for a while.
He turns to face you, his dark brown eyes are kind, but you can tell right away he is not going to give you the answer you want. “Not yet, but we can push them to every six months.”
Okay, twice a year, I guess that is a compromise you can take, “okay, so I will see you in the spring.” Starting to get up to leave, but he stops you.
“In two months, we can start doing six month visits. I want to see you again one more time in two months. If that scan is clean then we push them to six month visits.” He explains.
You sit back down in defeat, you're going to be back here in two months, really! You know you can’t take your frustration out on him, he is just looking out for your health and doesn’t want to miss anything. “Okay.” Slightly defeated, wanting nothing more than to curl up on the couch, and sleep for the next two months away.
Giving your hands a reassuring pat, “two months will fly by I promise. Is there anything else you want to discuss today? Still having some memory issues?”
You know that you should be honest with him, that you think you have gotten worse since Dean left, but honestly are you sure? He did so much for you in that short time, maybe, you were like this before, and he just didn’t point it out. Plus you just wanted to go home, what really could he do anyways? “Nothing new on that. I think I just need to get back to my normal routine and I will be fine.”
Getting up from his chair, “Sounds good. I will send Bridget back in, she will get you set up for your next appointment. We will see you in two months. Have a good day.” shutting the door behind him. You're back alone in that quiet room.
Alone, you're alone, once again. You can feel the panic start to creep in. Alone, and even though the scan was good, he still wants you to come back. Alone, no one to hold your hand, no one to make stupid jokes. You did this to yourself, you know that, he would have stayed, you pushed him…
“Alright, Doctor says two months humm.” Bridget's voice breaks through. It's light and airy. Trying to make the situation as pleasant as possible. As soon as she sits down, she can tell you're not alright, “Hey, what's wrong?” She asks, setting down the chart, and focusing on you.
Feeling a tear run down your cheek, fuck why are you crying. “Umm…it's nothing….yeah two months…” You take a ragged breath, pushing all your emotions down, down, down, to the deepest part of your soul where they should always live. You can cry when you get home. Suck it up for two more minutes!
“Hey, talk to me, what’s going on.” She is not letting you wash this away, she grabs the tissue box, and holds it out for you to pull a couple out of the box. “Your scan was clean, the doctor is just being cautious that's all.”
“I know it's just…I really wish he was here….”
“Dean,” she replies, filling in the blanks. You nod at this, and wipe your eyes and face. “I am sure if you talk to him, he will come to the next appointment.”
Oh if she only knew, but you couldn’t lay this all out on a complete stranger. Again she just wants to do her job, and move on to the next patient, you're taking up too much of her time. “I am sure you're right.” Taking a few ragged breaths.
She gives you a reassuring smile, and turns to the computer to book your appointment, reminding you that you can always change it to accommodate if Dean can’t make it this time. “I could tell he really cares for you. Even in the short time I saw him, he wouldn’t leave your side for anything. Practically had to kick him out every night when visiting hours were over.” Trying to make the situation light, and hopefully get a smile back on your face.
Giving her a short laugh, “yeah that sounds like Dean.” You can see it, him waiting until the last possible second. A security guard to escort him out.
Both of you get up, and she walks you to the door, and down the hall towards the exit. Seeing you coming back around, she decides to let you in on a little secret. Stopping you before opening up the door to the waiting room she leans in slightly. “Just between you and me, I knew he wasn’t your brother.”
“What….I mean…no he is….” You stammer out, hoping that she wasn’t going to bust you for…something, you're not sure? But still not wanting to get into trouble.
“Don’t worry dear, it's fine.” She quickly replies, trying to calm your fears.
You let out a sigh of relief, “How did you know?”
“Two things. One he just pulled on my heartstrings so much that I figured what would be the harm in him sticking around, even if he wasn’t related. Plus, if I was ever lucky enough to have a guy look at me the way he did to you, I would want him to be by my side every second.”
Her smile is contagious, and although you're still doubting that what you feel for Dean would ever be reciprocated, now is not the time to hash it out with her. “What was the second?”
“I may have heard him one night on the phone with someone, saying he couldn’t lose you, that he needed to tell you that he was in love with you.'' She says matter of factly, pushing the door open and waiting for you to walk through.
*******
Dean POV
He watches as she pulls into the driveway and shuts off the car. He had followed her from a safe distance from the hospital to the store, and then back to her house. She didn’t notice once, even though he had taught her in the past how to spot a tail. Did she get bad news? Maybe it's the COVID that is affecting her hunter instincts? Fuck, if thats the case, what else could she be missing? Is it stupid and desperate of him to be following her, and watching from a distance? Maybe, but also not, if she is not noticing simple things like him following her. What if Lucifer, or one of his henchmen, came after her? Anxiety just thinking of irrational attacks on you causes his chest to tighten as he pulls back into the parking spot a few houses down.
He should be a man and go up to you, talk to you, and see you face to face. He missed you, your smile, your laugh - fuck, everything about you. He knows he screwed up. As soon as he did what he did, he wished he could have taken it back, but the damage was done. He kept saying it was for the best, that you would forgive him, and move on. But you can’t forgive him unless he stops being a little stalker and owns up to what he did.
Flashback to the night of the big blowup. Dean POV
Standing there, staring down the closed door, you wish right now you had superpowers to see through the door and see if she’s alright. Hell, you don’t need to be a superhero to know she’s not. You're just wondering what brought this on. “Y/N, come on, talk to me” you plead, softly knocking on the door. “I am sorry…I don’t mean to…” your rambling stops when you hear soft sobs from the otherside of the door.
“Just go away Dean!” She yells between sobs. “I can’t breathe with you here… I can’t…”
You grab the door knob, fear and pressure weighing down on you to get to her, to hold her. Most importantly, to make her understand that your overbearing protectiveness is coming from a place of needing to be in control, that you care for her, and need to protect her “Y/N, please just open the door, let's talk? I promise I will ease up, I can do better.”
You can hear her give a small laugh at that, you're about to question her on this when your phone goes off. Screw it, let it go to voicemail, she is more important than anything else. “I am not giving up on you, on us. You have to come out eventually.”
Your phone stops ringing for a second and then starts back up again. What the Hell? “You should answer that, Dean.” She states without hesitation, but with an undertone of sadness.
Letting out a sigh, you turn around. “Fine if you want to talk via phone, fine.” Walking away from her door into the living room, you pick up your phone from the coffee table. To your surprise it's not her name across the screen, but Sam’s. “What?” you bark out in frustration, not really wanting to talk with him right now.
“Dean, back off.” Sam says matter of factly. No pleasantries, just straight to the point.
“She called you? Why?” Confused as to why she is including Sam on this.
“She just needs some space, Dean, I think it's time you come back. Jody called and…” Sam calmly says, trying his best to diffuse the situation from the other side of the country.
“No, Sam, I am not leaving her! I can’t lose her again, I won’t… I love her, man…”
Your back is to the hallway, so you don’t notice Y/N standing there, listening, hearing what you should be confessing to her and not your brother. You don’t see her wondering why can’t you just say what you feel? Why can’t you just let down your guard with her and tell her?
*****
The slamming of a trunk pulls Dean back to the present, and he looks up to see you carrying an arm load of groceries. Of course you would do it in one trip. He shakes his head, remembering that you never like to take more than one trip from the car to the house. Your logic always being, as you told him, I am a single girl, I can do it in one go. He watched as you held the screen door open with your butt, as you switched all the bags to one arm so you could open the door with the other. Looking away once you're inside, Dean notices it’s about 20 minutes since you pulled in the driveway. Had you been sitting there this whole time? You have only gone to the hospital and store, but still your energy must not be back to what it used to be.
Maybe he should check, make sure you're doing okay. Look in the window really quick. Getting out of the car and walking the short distance, he looks over to your car to see that you still had some toilet paper and paper towels in the back seat. Knowing that you would be back, he decides to help you out. Opening up the door as quietly as possible he grabs the items, and takes them up to the door. Putting them in between the screen door and main door, he turns around to leave.
His eyes look in the kitchen window, to see you putting away your items. Your back is to him, so you don’t notice. You seem lost in your own world, on auto pilot putting things away. Dean takes a moment to appreciate that he can see you up close. His eyes scan the room, noticing the post-it notes all over. He never remembers you having so many of them before. He can’t read what they say, but they are everywhere; on the cabinets, counter tops, table, Was your memory getting worse?
Panic, and anger - at himself more than anything - sets in.
*******
Y/N POV
“I love her Sam, I am in love with her…I can’t…no I won’t lose her, I need to tell her how I feel…”
“You don’t love me, Winchester” your voice stops Dean from rambling on the lies that you know, in the end, he doesn’t mean.
Dean turns to see you standing there, your eyes red from crying. But you're not crying now; no, now you look pissed, like you want to kick some ass - and Dean’s is the closest one. “Got to go Sam.” Dean quickly says, ending the call. “What do you mean I don’t love you. Of course I do, I….”
You hold up a hand, and stop Dean from saying anything more. “No, you don’t. People like me, we don’t have sexy knights to save us. To fall in love with us, to whisk us away, and want to play house with.” Determine to get this all out, to get your point across and make him accept reality.
“We are your best friend, the girl you call on Friday nights when your date falls through, or you strike out with the bartender. We are your ‘wing woman’, we pick you up, dust you off, and send you back out into the world. We build your confidence up, while we sit on the sidelines alone.”
“Y/N that's not true…” Dean starts to protest.
“Let me finish, I have to get this out.” taking a breath, you can see he’s hurt, that he wants to argue, to explain his side. “Yes, you care for me, but you don’t love me, and you're not In love with me. You're in love with this idea of a life outside of hunting, you love the idea of playing house.” Closing the gap between you, even though you know better than to get this close to him. You're playing with fire, but you're desperate to feel him.
“You're right, I am in love with the idea of an apple pie life. But I want that life with you, no one else.” Dean interjects before you can shut him down, shut down what is going on between you two before it can even start.
Taking a chance, he grabs your hand and brings it up to his chest and places it over his heart. “Can’t you feel my heart? It’s racing for you. It always has, it always will.”
Feeling the softness of the white t-shirt between your fingers, you take a breath and inhale the smell of him. “Sooner or later we both know this won’t be enough, that I won’t be enough.” You talk to his chest, not wanting or able to look him in the eye, your voice low and shaky. “You're going to leave me, sideline me, and only blow through town when you need something.”
“That's not true! You have always wanted your own life. I always wanted to protect you as much as I could. The things that Sam and I deal with, the people and monsters we hunt, if anything ever happens…you are a vulnerability that they will exploit. I know it.”
“Maybe. Even more reason why you have to go…and never come back…” Glancing up to see the gut punch you just delivered written on his face. You try to take a step back.
Dean won’t let you go, bringing a hand around your waist, holding you. “What?! No! I won’t cut you out of my life. I now know I was stupid for ever doing that. For letting you live alone, or at the very least, not in the same state as the bunker.” He practically commands, with no hesitation. How could you think he would ever agree to this?
“Y/N, I need you in my life. You can’t deny that there is something between us.” His words are sweet, his voice is low as he leans into you. His breath fans over your face, as his hands caress your cheek. “Please, I need you.”
His lips are so close to yours, that if you lean ever so slightly, you would finally know how soft his lips are. Would they fulfill your fantasies? God, maybe you should live in this fantasy for as long as you can, screw being logical. Let it be a future Y/N problem, present Y/N wants to know what it's like to be wanted by Dean Winchester. “I…Dean…”
*******
Y/N and Dean POV
“Dean, what are you doing here?” Your voice pulls him from the memory of that night, and he looks to see you standing at the door, one hand holding open the screen door.
Oh fuck, well, this wasn’t the plan at all. Giving her a smile, “Hey Y/N, I was in the neighborhood…thought I would…”
“So you're stalking me now?”
“Hehe, no, I said I was in the neighborhood, wanted to see how you are…you look good.” He says, letting his eyes look at you. You did look good, but tired, your eyes didn’t shine like they normally did before; the spark, the hint of twinkle is gone.
“Liar, I look like shit, but thanks.” You quip, knowing that you don’t look good at all. Wearing a ratty hoodie and jeans, you opted for comfort over trying to impress anyone. “Well, thanks for stopping by.” You say, giving him a fake smile and turning to walk back in the house.
“Umm…Y/N, I could, I mean Sam could use your help with something, he knew I was going to be passing through and wanted me to stop by and ask for some help.” Quickly thinking on his feet, he creates an excuse. He didn’t want to leave yet, this is the most he has talked to you since that night. He would be damned if he was going to let you leave so soon.
You turn back to look at Dean, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth or not. Sam had your number, and you were still speaking to the younger Winchester - he didn’t break your heart and live up to everything you knew would happen. “Why didn’t he call me?” You question, wanting to make Dean work for it. He wasn’t getting in that easy!
He takes a few steps towards you, “well, like I said, he knew I was in the area.” One step lower from you, his green eyes lock with yours, silently pleading with you to let him in. “He wanted me to pick up a lore book on Pixies, and said you had a copy that we don't have in the library.”
“Fine, come in. I will go grab it.” You reply, turning away from him, letting him catch the door before it slams in his face.
Dean shucks off his jacket and boots, and looks around while you go back to find the book. He can now see the post-its in detail, reminding you where your keys, jacket, bag should be put. Making his way to the kitchen, cabinets are labeled with what should be in them: dry food, dishes, silverware. Daily schedule on the fridge. “Having fun snooping?” Your sarcastic tone has him turning on his heels to see you standing in the doorway with a book in hand.
“Umm…sorry…” he says sheepishly, hating that he got caught. He can see you're not amused, and he is really going to have to lay on the charm to win you back.
“Yeah, well at least I am keeping the post-it company in business. Here is the book.” You say handing it to him.
Dean takes it, and looks at it, giving it a nod, “Thanks, yep this is it.”
“Okay, well, you better get going, since Sam is in ‘desperate’ need of it and all.” Your voice is flat, not in the mood to deal with him. “You know where the door is.” You add, just turning that knife even deeper.
“Look, Y/N can we talk?” Dean can tell you're not your usual self, and he really wants to get you back.
“Oh now you want to talk? You sure as hell didn’t want to talk for four months. Didn’t want to talk when you woke up the next morning regretting that kiss, regretting what we said to each other, the promises you made.” You snap at him, the frustration building in you. Why does it always have to be on his time? God you were just getting over him, right?
“I know. I was a jerk, it was a dick move, and I am sorry.”
“You're sorry, really?That's all you have to say?” Turning away from him, just looking at him and his sad puppy dog face, you want to smack him. Fuck, you want to hit yourself for being an idiot that night.
******
“Dean…please…I…” You have to keep strong, tell him to go, you know this won’t end well.
“Please Y/N, You're the only good thing I have in this world, I can’t lose you.” Not waiting for a reply, his lips find yours.
They're soft, perfect, molded to fit yours, and gentle, Dean doesn’t force his way. Pulling away, when your lungs start to burn,you lock eyes with him. Lust blown, his lips slightly pink. No words are exchanged, you silently say everything you need to him at that moment, and he seems to understand. Bringing his hands to cup your face, he goes back in to kiss you more, letting his tongue swipe across your lips. You allow his tongue to dance with yours.
Fumbling your way to the couch, Dean falls back first, and you do your best not to land on top of him completely, giggling at the state you're both in. Dean looks up at you, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, and looking up at you lovingly, “God, I love that laugh of yours.” He says, pulling you down on him. Letting you feel what you're doing to him.
“Dean, I have to be crushing you.” You protest, trying your best but failing at getting out of the vice grip Dean has on your hips.
“Nope, You're staying right here.” He says, as he starts to pepper kisses down your neck.
******
“Dean, I begged you to leave! I knew you never wanted me! And yet like an idiot, I fell for your charm and under your spell.” You grit out, turning on your heels and walking away from him. Fuck, you can’t keep doing this!
“I did ... .I do ...Y/N look at me” Dean pleads, setting the book down he follows you to the living room, grabbing your hand. “Please, let me explain.”
Turning around, you pull your hand back. His touch, like fire, like touching a hot pan. “You know, I thought for a split second you were telling me the truth. That you wanted me like I have always wanted you.” Pain radiates through you, your voice seems to be stuck behind a lump forming in your throat. God, you want to smack him, but at the same time, kiss him.
Dean’s speechless, trying to work out how best to tell you what he was thinking in that split second when he woke up in your arms that day. For one second he felt total bliss, that everything was falling into place; then reality of his life came back into focus.
“I know, it wasn’t my finest hour.”
You laugh at this, you think!? “What is there to explain? We kissed, had a pretty good makeout, groped each other over and under our clothes, but then we both agreed to take it slow. Right?” You ask for confirmation, even though you remember it all too well.
“Yes, but, Y/N, if you just let me…” Dean stumbles to explain.
“But then, I wake up the next morning alone on the couch with a note that says, ‘Hey, Y/N, Sorry, Sammy needs me, will check in soon.’”
The space between you two is nonexistent. You're trying to find anything in those green eyes of his that will refute anything you just said. Anything to explain that you're overreacting, but there is nothing. He has no rebuttal, because it's all true. He walked out on you, like his father did to him and Sam all the time. The worst part was, Dean had Sam to lean on; you were left with no one.
“Like I said, not my finest hour…” he mumbles out.
“Not your goddamn finest hour?ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!” you yell, slamming your fists into his chest and pushing him away. It does nothing to move him, and takes all your energy out of you. You stumble a bit, then lean back and sit on the arm of the couch.
“Hey, Y/N, please, calm down.'' His voice is heavy with concern, and he tries to help you up so you can sit on the couch.
“Don’t…touch…me…” You cough out. Needing water, you look to find your water bottle is nowhere. “Fuck….I…” You keep coughing, and try to get up.
“Water?” Dean questions. You nod, and try to get back up. “No, sit, I will go get it.” He tells you and quickly goes to the kitchen, and is back with a glass of water in seconds.
You down about half, the cool water helps calm you and your coughing fits. “Thanks” you mumble, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he ‘saved you again.’ You don’t look at him as you sit down the glass and avoid him at all costs.
Dean takes this as his opportunity to tell you his side. Sitting on the coffee table so he has direct eye contact with you, he reaches for your hand. “Please, Y/N, I am truly sorry. I know I was a jerk for leaving you like that, and for never calling or coming back.”
You stare him down, not giving him an out on this one. “Go on. You will hear no objection from me on this one.” You reply.
Dean lets out a small sigh that clearly said fuck, alright here we go. “I was fucking scared, okay? I woke up, saw you in my arms, and for a split second I felt like I was home. My first thought was, this is perfection. No monster, no running the roads, crappy dinner food, and sketchy motels.”
He leans towards you, putting a hand on your knee, and lightly runs his hands up and gives you a knowing smile. “The perfect, sexy, beautiful, girl in my arms, that I can’t wait to wake up and…”
You stop his hand from getting too close to what both you and him want to touch. “Not so fast Winchester.” Knowing if he keeps going, you are definitely going to end up in a very compromising position. “No, I bet your first thought was, oh fuck what the hell did I do, and how the hell do I get out of it.”
“No, will you let me talk?. God, I see COVID can take your memory, but not your self-hatred or inability to butt in.”
You hold your hands up in a fake defense, “Please go on.” You quip back, leaning back into the couch.
Dean shakes his head, at least you’re sassing back, that is a good sign. “I got up, was going to start coffee for us, and while I was in the kitchen, Sam did call…
*******
“Hey Sammy,”
“How’s everything Dean, you kinda left me hanging? Did you and Y/N talk?” Sam asks, feeling like a schoolgirl catching up on the latest gossip between you too.
Dean takes a quick peek into the living room to make sure you're still asleep. “Yeah, everything is good. We talked and I think we are going to take things slow.” Dean explains, as he starts to make the coffee, he recounts most of the conversation between you two. Not all the details though, he wants to keep the really good stuff just for him.
Sam lets out a sigh, “That's good, I am happy for you both. But now I hate to ask.”
“What is it?”
“Look, I know you still want to take some time, until Y/N is fully healed, but Jody could really use your help. There is something in South Dakota that is running amuck, and she’s worried that Claire is going to try and tackle it herself.”
Oh Claire, how she reminds Dean of himself sometimes, headstrong and just ready to fight anything that wasn’t human. She is a good hunter, but she is young. “Umm…yeah…I am sure I can make something work….”
“Thanks Dean, I am sure it will only be a day or two, and then you can get back to Y/N. I will call Jody and tell her to expect you.” Sam says.
Saying their goodbyes, Dean hangs up the phone, and has to hold back from throwing it across the room in anger. Fuck! Not two seconds, and he’s already been pulled back into the madness. How is he going to explain this to her? She won’t believe him, she will be heartbroken again, think it's her fault, and say that she told him.
Seeing no other solution - or maybe it was that he didn’t want to wake you and see that pain in your eyes - he takes the cowardly way out.
*****
“So you went to help Jody, a friend of mine. And didn’t think I would understand?” You question him, after he explains the conversation between him and Sam.
“Yes…I guess I figure you would just see it as an excuse I came up with to leave you. Which it wasn’t, by the way.”
“But you said you would call, check in. But you didn’t! You couldn’t have been helping Jody this whole time? And even if you were, could you still have called!”
“I wanted to, but as I was driving away, I kept thinking about what you said, that you felt like an afterthought, that I blow through town whenever I need you. Take what I need and leave you with nothing.”
“So you figure, prove me right by ghosting me? Well, thanks Winchester, real fun.” You spit sarcastically, giving his knee a not-so-playful slap and getting up from the couch. “The door is still where you left it, you can see yourself out.” Fucking asshole. I need to get those locks changed tomorrow. You think, making your way to the kitchen to get some more water, to do anything but sit there and keep listening to him.
“Y/N, please. I am sorry, you're not an afterthought. The more that I kept driving, and the longer I pushed off calling you, it made it harder to call you. Because I knew as soon as I did I would lose you.”
“Funny, because the second you left, you lost me Dean. God, I woke up that morning and was devastated. Do you know how much I hate feeling like that?” Not needing him to answer, you lean up against the counter crossing your arms around yourself. Feeling the tears start to fall, you might as well go all the way.
“You know, I never wanted to be that girl, who cried over a guy, who refused to do anything but sleep on that goddamn couch for two months because it was the last place I felt safe, and whole, and seen. I could still smell you on the pillows and blanket.”
Taking a breath, you run your hands over your face. Taking another ragged breath, you work up the courage to tell him what you know he should know, but that you're scared to say out loud. “But the thing I hate the most, the one thing that makes me want to scream…is that I still love you.” You laugh at this. Its fucking absurd. Trying your best to stifle your laughter, but it keeps bubbling out of you in frustration and disbelief
Dean’s not sure how to react. On the one hand, you say that you still love him, but on the other hand your laughing like the fucking Joker. “Being in love with me is…funny?” he tentatively asks. Taking a few steps towards you, but not closing the distance.
Wiping the tears from your face, you admit quietly, “yes, because I know, no matter what, I will always let you back in. I guess I am just a masochist that way. I would rather have you in my life, and be heartbroken, than to not have you and still be heartbroken.”
Shaking your head, in disbelief that you actually said those words out loud, and to Dean no less. You look up to see him watching you, waiting. “God I am pathetic…you really should not have saved me that night…” you mumble the last part to yourself. Pushing yourself off the counter, you turn away from him, to straighten up the non-existent mess on the counter. Shit, should not have said that.
“GOD DAMN IT Y/N!” Dean’s yell booms, causing you to turn around to see Dean seething with rage. Taking the last few steps towards you, he pulls you into a vice grip of a hold. “Don’t you ever say that again, do you hear me? Do you?” He commands, shaking with hurt and pain.
He’s not angry at you, he's angry that you don’t understand how much you mean to him. That you hold your life as something subpar. Pulling away slightly, he lets go so he can hold your face in his hands. “Please don’t ever think or say that I shouldn’t have saved you that night.” His green eyes, glassy with tears about to be shed, bore into yours. “You are the only good thing in my life, and I know I have a lot of work to do to gain your trust back, and that my life is messy and chaotic, but please…please….don’t ever think I would regret saving you that night.”
You nod your head in response. “Okay” you whisper, “I promise.” You were taken aback by his outburst; Dean has never raised his voice to you, or looked this broken. Then again, you’ve never been this broken, or joked about that night before either. It was a topic that neither of you ever really discussed, more of an unspoken bond between you two.
Relief seems to wash over him. His hands fall from your face, his arms wrapping them around your waist, not wanting to leave the closeness of you. “I know I have a lot of work to do, and this may be pushing my luck. But can I kiss you?” Giving you a half smile, hoping that will seal the deal.
“Fuck, there’s that Winchester charm,” you joke, smirking as well. Screw it, it's been four months without those lips. You lean in and kiss him. Letting your lips dance with his for a bit, you pull back, “just as good and I remember.” you say cheekily.
“So, should we go make some new memories on that couch of yours?” Dean gives you a wink, walking backwards towards the living room, his arms still around yours.
You have no choice but to follow him, nodding. You know that you have a lot of work to do getting over your own insecurities and self doubt that Dean will get tired of you, or that he will regret being with you. You need to have faith in him, and in yourself, that you are worthy of a happy life with him; whatever that looks like.
Prompt: While dating Dean, he gets more and more reclusive toward you when he is given the Mark of Cain. Unable to handle the behavior, you leave but some part of him isn’t willing to let you go.
Word Count: 3883 :)
Warnings: Angst, Break-Up, Violence, Demon!Dean, lots of tears.
Author’s Note: I had this saved as a draft from the end of 2016, unfinished so I tried to finish it as well as I could. It just came out like word vomit but I’m not sure how much I like it. I tried my best to make it gender neutral so if there are any mistakes, please let me know!
Part Two
You noticed that when you were lying in bed, he had his back towards you, almost falling off the bed to get away from your presence. Unable to reach out and touch him in fear of rejection, you continued to stare at his Henley-covered back, watching his steady breaths.
"Dean? Is everything okay with us?" The question sounds weird, a lump pushing into your throat, uncomfortably. He answered with a grunt, nothing else, keeping with his recent code of silence toward you. A dejected hum leaves your lips.
Turning on your back, looking around the room at all the items -- with some of you sprinkled in-- that make it your shared room. Wringing your hands together as you think about where you can go, you can’t stay here anymore, not like this. You want to help him but how can you when he doesn’t even want to be near you?
Something had changed in the last few weeks. He wouldn't look at you, let alone talk. He wouldn’t shut up with Sam and Cas, though.
Maybe the hours of silence with me drove him to talk to them.
Dean is only close to you when you are in Baby, driving to a hunt. Not holding your hand anymore but instead gripping the wheel, knuckles turning white, not sparing a glance at you. You’d gone as far as changing the music, to a pop station nonetheless, in the middle of one of his songs, hopeful of a reaction.
Yell! Look at me with disgust! Do something, please!
But par for the course, Dean does nothing. He stares at the road, unmoving and silent while Sam and you stare at him in disbelief. The tears well up as you look at the horizon to your right, trying your best to not break in front of either man. Trying to understand what you could do differently.
You stop sitting up front. You don’t talk to him. You avoid him at the bunker. You respond with little-to-no passive-aggressive comments when Dean talks to you through Sam. You keep your crying to the bathroom and shower, alone.
You knew the Mark would change him but not like this.
He kissed you last week after a rough hunt, a close call with a witch causing a teeny moment of intimacy between you two. Both of you pulled away with wide eyes: yours in shock and his in... disappointment? He walked ran away before a talk could be had, disappearing somewhere in the main area, while you went to take a shower; a habit forming.
No matter what you try he just keeps pulling away.
Do I keep trying?
I can get my things together and leave by the next hunt. Dean won’t stop me if I want to stay home.
Home. The thought made it so much more real. This is your home; Dean is your home. You take a sharp breath through your nose, trying not to make too much noise as you got up, going somewhere the breakdown won’t bother Dean.
When Sam comes up to you in the morning, letting you know that there’s a possible ghost in the next town over, an easy salt and burn. You sniffle for effect as you tell Sam that you’re not feeling the greatest, watching his eyes drop in sympathy.
He throws his arm around your shoulders, leading you back toward your bedroom.
“You shouldn’t be up then, dude. Go lay down, I’ll bring you some medicine before we leave, and I’ll tell Dean you aren’t coming. I’m sure he’ll want to see you.”
You don’t need to look at Sam to know he doesn’t believe what he’s saying but you thank him regardless, feeling guilty about what the future will be. A hug in the doorway, tighter on your end than usual, ends when he pulls away and helps you back into bed.
Sam comes back with some pills and a cup of water, ice clinking against the glass, with each stride. “Do you need anything else?”
With the blanket tucked under your chin, you shake your head. “No, I’m good. I’m just gonna sleep it off and if it gets worse, I’ll text you, okay?”
“Okay, I hope you feel better soon, (Y/N/N), and don’t beat yourself up about Dean. He’s not doing well with the Mark; he still loves you.”
You close your eyes and turn your back to him after you nod to his comment, trying to hint that he’s good to leave and that if he stays, you’d rather not talk.
“Thanks, Sammy. I love ya.”
“Love you too, (Y/N).”
The click of the door shutting follows the flick of the light switch. And more tears. Silent and steady as you listen and wait for the departure that begins the end of life as you know it.
Exhausted from the last few days of one-sided fighting, you try to fight off the sleep that takes over, but you slip under just as the hall light spills in when Dean peaks his head past the door frame.
It’s a few hours later when you wake up to a text from Sam, they’ve made it to the cozy town, and he will let you know when it’s done or if they have any problems. You let him know you feel better before wishing them luck on the hunt, getting up, and beginning the process of mission: Disappearing (Y/N).
With a sigh, you start going through the knick-knacks that you’ve collected over the years, sighing again when you realize that all things will just remind you of him. Anger flares within you, the white-hot rage of your hand being forced, the whole situation out of your control.
Leaving the small things and just grabbing your clothes from the closet, looking around the room for anything that could be useful on the trip. No mementos to save. You slam the door on your way out, going to your old room next, going through the same routine as before.
Two filled duffel bags sit in the back seat of your car when you finish, mostly clothes and things you’d brought with you when you moved into the bunker. Not running around anymore, the rush of adrenaline begins to fade turning into more anger.
“Why!? I don’t understand?!” You hit the steering wheel with your palms, letting out a scream that transforms into an ugly wet, wail.
A note laying in the war room, on the map table, explains why you left, addressed to Sam, in a last effort to be heard or at the very least get the last word. Your phone is on top of the note, showing the seriousness of your actions.
Sam,
Maybe we will see each other on the road again but I can’t stay somewhere I’m clearly not wanted. I’m sorry for lying to you and not saying goodbye in person. I don’t think I would’ve gone otherwise. Love ya, dude. Tell jerk face that I’ll always love him even if he has that mark on his arm, if he becomes a demon, or if he hates me. Always.
I hope the best for you in the future.
Goodbye,
(Y/N)
You wipe your nose with your sleeve, lifting your head from the steering wheel to embark on the journey to a new home.
In just a few months, you are settled in your new apartment in Colorado, taking a break from hunting to get familiar with the area. Neither Dean nor Sam gets into contact with you, whether that’s not wanting to or for lack of trying, you don’t know.
With a new job in a library in town, you try to get past the guilt that sweeps over you every now and then, reminding yourself of the way you were treated. Of why you left in the first place.
Unlocking the door after a long Monday of reshelving books, the silence of the apartment is disturbed by your keys going into the bowl next to the coat rack. You slip your shoes off before sliding your jacket off and onto the rack, turning to the living room and shouting in shock at Dean, who is standing, arms crossed, in front of the couch.
“What the hell? Why are you in my house?”
“Why do you have a devil’s trap in your living room?” He smirks, a glint in his eyes that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “Seems like you were expecting someone.”
You put it there when you moved in, taking a page from Bobby’s book by using invisible blacklight paint. Decided that while one is useful in front of the door, the living room was also easy to run through if caught off guard, with no door to slow you down, and no one expects it there.
Looking him over again before answering his question, his face is thinner than when you last saw him, hair gelled in a way that looks unnatural for him. His dark red button-up hangs loosely on his body.
“For this reason. Though I can’t say I expected you to be stuck in it. Who killed you?”
“Metatron. Though to be fair, I did try to kill him first.” You hum as he tries-- and fails-- to sit on the couch. “You couldn’t have made this any smaller, huh?”
The smirk on his face only grows as he feels irritation roll off of you. “What do you want, Dean?”
Now it’s his turn to look you up and down, wetting his lips before speaking. “I can think of a couple things.”
You roll your eyes and make your way to your bedroom.
“Oh, c’mon. I was just joking, sweetheart!”
You ignore his words and change into comfortable clothes before dialing Sam’s number, deciding that letting him know was better than waiting for any more of Dean’s antics.
“Hello?”
“Sam? It’s (Y/N). Dean just showed up at my house and got stuck in a devil’s trap.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead.
Another shout from the living room brings tears to your eyes, the love of your life so close but so far at the same time.
“Just wanted to talk to ya! You gonna leave me out here alone?”
Sam asks for your address, giving you the details of what had conspired in the last couple of weeks: Dean dying and being turned into a demon, then bolting and teaming up with Crowley-- doing only God knows what around the country-- meanwhile Sam is doing everything he can to find and cure his brother.
“I’m not too far from you but I’ll still be awhile. Like...” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “maybe seven hours. I’m sorry I can’t get there sooner.”
“It’s okay, I’ll keep him here. I can’t say he’ll be in a happy mood when you get here.”
“Well, he won’t be happy to see me anyway, so it won’t matter. Thanks for the heads up though. I’ll let you know when I get there.”
“Okay, see you soon, Sam.”
With a deep breath, you slid out into the hallway, building up the confidence to make yourself visible to Dean.
“You can do this. Make your dinner and ignore the living, breathing, talking, statue in the middle of your apartment.” Nodding to yourself, you walk out with your chin up.
“There you are!”
Dean’s eyes follow you past him and the couch as you move to the kitchen. Keeping busy with the leftovers, you avoid making eye contact with Dean, brushing his announcement off with silence. When you put the plate of chicken and rice into the microwave, your focus drifts from the timer counting down to those vibrant pools of green, ominous black hiding behind them.
His eyebrows raise up in amusement, “You lose. Are you going to talk to me now?”
“How ‘bout no.” You cross your arms, scoffing at the question.
“You just did, baby. Now just hear me out, you said you’d still love me as a demon, but this doesn’t feel like love to me.”
He chuckles darkly at the end of his words. His demeanor changes: eyebrows pulling down, eyes darkening, and a sneer coming onto his lips.
The microwave beeps, pulling your attention away, though your words slip out before you can think about it. “I do still love you, jerk face.”
It’s not a secret or a lie, you just didn’t want to say it aloud. It had been peaceful dissociating from all that and using every waking moment to adjust to the new way of living without him, not knowing if he would ever come back.
The plate hits the counter harder than you mean for it to, tears stinging your eyes again. “What do you want from me, Dean? I left so you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about whatever the fuck you felt guilty about. You didn’t want to explain it to me then, what do you possibly have to say now?”
A split second of shock passes Dean’s face before it’s back to anger. He opens his mouth, but you cut him off before he can say anything, pulling the silverware drawer open and grabbing a fork.
“No, seriously. I. Don’t. Care. There really is no fucking excuse for what you put me through. So, unless you want to say sorry-- which I highly doubt, considering the black eyes rolling around back there-- shut up.” You slam the drawer: the loud noise and rattling of metals end your shouting. Taking a deep breath and beginning to eat, your back turned away from him, with a tiny, fragment of hope he actually listens.
He blows a raspberry, “Well, that’s where you are sorely mistaken. I’m sorry for what the numb nuts did to you. To think, I could’ve had you from the beginning if he’d just said a few words to you now and again.”
Your chewing stops as the food becomes a rock in your mouth, no longer able to swallow as you listen to him. Staring ahead at the balcony door as he continues spewing words at you.
“Instead of all the cheap whores in dingy bars, I could’ve had you. Waiting on little ole’ me.” It’s clear from his tone that he is mocking you, taunting your words. Even though the relationship is over, the words make your chest twist uncomfortably, your watery eyes finally spilling over.
“Whatever, have fun out here by yourself.” You leave the half-eaten meal on the counter, not sparing a glance at the man as you pass him to go to your room, keeping your head down to hide the tears that stream down your face.
Slamming the door, shoving your face in a pillow, and screaming to relieve the stress of the situation, only helps bring more cries out of you. You know it’s not the Dean you knew talking to you but the twisted and dark version, wanting what he wants with no care about who it may affect.
The darkness of your eyelids fluttering takes over you as you fall asleep to Dean’s calls to you. A dream of your life from before fills your head, one more moment with Dean that you can hope to forget when you wake.
You jerk awake when your phone buzzes from a text, the vibrations magnified by the wood of the side table. Two texts from Sam illuminate the screen.
From Sam: I just got into town I’ll be there in twenty minutes.
From Sam: Just got to your apartment. You get my first text?
To Sam: Sorry, fell asleep. 2C. Door’s unlocked for you.
From Sam: I’ll be up there soon.
When you take a moment to listen, it’s completely silent. Panicking at the thought that Dean was able to get away before Sam and you could cure him, you rush to the living room. Dean stands still, glaring at you as you appear from the hallway.
His lips are drawn into a sneer as he snarls, “how nice of you to come to see your guest.”
The door opens as he ends, catching his attention, a scoff comes from him when Sam comes around the door.
“I told you to fuck off, Sam. I don’t want you to be cured.”
Sam just shrugs, putting the duffel bag on the couch, and unloading some tools to get Dean back to the bunker with little to no issues.
“Dean, you told me that you’d leave (Y/N) alone. So, what’s that about? Tired of the demon life?”
Sam motions to you, hair crumpled from the impromptu nap, eyes, and nose red from crying. “You’ve been bar hopping for weeks on end, new people in your bed every night. Your freaking wet dream. Why are you here, ripping open an old wound, on someone who clearly doesn’t want shit from you?”
“I saw you. You were at the bar in town, with some others, didn’t even notice me when I sat down at the bar top-- can’t say your observation skills were ever the best anyway.” Dean eyes you as he speaks, watching your jaw clench at the small dig toward you.
“And then I get a call from some dude about how he caught Sam and if I wanted him back alive, I’d have to switch places with him, I told him to fuck off and came here instead. Looks like you made it alright, didn’t ya, Sammy?”
“Yup, just like always.” He puts his good hand on your back, steering you towards the kitchen.
“What the hell, seriously, Sam? What happened?”
Sam leans against the countertop, his chin resting on his chest as he takes a deep breath. You reach into the freezer for a bag of peas, wrap it in a towel, and press it to his black eye, letting him hold the makeshift icepack when he winces.
“He pulled up when I was stranded on the side of the road, I thought he was going to help but he knocked me out and brought me to an old barn, maybe?”
His head drops, no longer making eye contact with you.
“He called Dean and then when Dean hung up, he just went off.” Mocking the man who had tortured him only a day before, Sam’s voice lowers comically, “He killed my father in front of me...Two tours in Iraq in Special OPS...blah blah blah. Then he hit me a bunch, trying to get Dean’s location.”
Two tours in Iraq? Special OPS?
His pause allows you to ask your next question of many, “how did you get away?”
“He got a phone call and when he pulled his phone out, his knife fell from his pocket, and I just got out.”
A twinge of doubt and anxiety spread through you, the words “that seems too easy” on your lips after he explains. He finally looks back at you, seeing the questioning expression on your face.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He lowers the frozen peas when you make your way to the living room again.
“You mean to tell me that a solider, not just any ol’ solider at that, special OPS who served two tours in Iraq and he just dropped a knife, that let you get away?”
As if to emphasize your point, the whole house goes dark. You reach the bookshelf behind Dean, both men watching you. The few beats of silence are broken when the front window breaks, a canister rolling onto the floor behind the couch, spraying a thick, white cloud of smoke.
It reaches Sam first, harsh coughs coming from him as he yells for you to get to the backyard. Feeling the wall by the bookcase, you find the string taped to the wall that will break the seal when pulled. Feeling your eyes water, nose and throat burning, you tug the string with you as you move toward the back door, breaking the trap’s seal, and releasing Dean.
The smoke impedes your vision, your hip catches on the corner of the couch making you stumble to the floor, and more coughs force their way up through your lips.
Arms encircle your waist, and harsh whispers come over your shoulder, “Jesus, your life is in danger, and you release the demon, how sickening.” He helps you to the fresh air that burns when you greedily suck it down.
Dean’s support leaves your body, your knees hitting the moist grass that seeps through your sweatpants. When you open your eyes, you have to blink past the tears to see Sam lying next to you and Dean in front of you. An unknown voice speaks to Dean, emotional and hate-filled, “You remember me?”
“Yeah, you’re the guy from that thing.”
“We talked on the phone. This is payback.”
The two men begin to fight, Dean doesn’t even try to pull punches, continuing to belittle him, yelling coming from Cole with every hit that he takes. Sam moves, waking up from a hit to the head, eyes meeting yours before flitting to Dean. Dean taunts and throws the man’s gun to the side, winking at you before he turns back to the fight.
“...spitballing here, but maybe you’re not as good as you think.”
A pause from Dean before he laughs. “Ooh,” Dean’s hands go up in a fake surrender wave, “You know kung-fu?”
“I know everything.”
Dean gets into Cole’s face after quoting The Princess Bride, making his first mistake as Cole slices his face with his knife. Going to stab, only angering Dean more when he grabs Cole’s throat.
“You have no idea what you walked into, do you?”
“What are you?”
Knowing Dean’s eyes are black at the expression on Cole’s face, you close your eyes, hearing the rest of the fight and Cole egging Dean on to kill him.
“I changed my mind, I guess.” Dean chuckles before he breaks out in a hiss.
“It’s over! Stop.”
You open your eyes and see that Sam has managed to get the Devil’s trap handcuffs on Dean. A murderous look on Dean’s face, staring up at Sam from his knees. Sam ignores his brother’s glare, looking at you as you sit back on your heels. “You okay, (Y/N/N)?”
You nod, watching Sam force Dean into the back of Baby, unable to take your eyes off Dean, who continues to kill Sam with his unblinking, scowl.
Sam helps you up, keeping an eye on Dean so he can’t escape. “You can come with us. I’m giving the first blade to Crowley and I’m going to try to cure him. I don’t know if it’ll work but I’m hopeful.”
You look back to your house; in the scuffle to get Dean, neither you nor Sam see where Cole flees to-- the feeling of safety and home lost, now that the invasion is over.
Sighing, you wrap your arms around yourself, nodding and speaking softly, “yeah, let me just grab a couple of things and I’ll be down. You might need some help with him.”
Looking back at Dean, you speak again, unsure how firm the words are. “I’ll stay until he’s cured but after that, I’m gonna go.”
Imagine confessing your feelings for Dean after a case
Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader
Words: 375
Warnings: fluff
A/N: repost of my own / dividers by @firefly-graphics / I hope you like it Xx
Main Masterlist • Supernatural Masterlist
He looks so good in that white shirt and that damned striped-tie.
The thought has been swirling in your mind ever since you saw him this morning.
And now? He's interrogating a dentist about a murder with his sleeves rolled up, an intimidating look on his face visible from where you stand beside him.
The guy finally relents and offers something groundbreaking so Dean finally smiles, and picks up a lollipop from the desk and slips it into his mouth.
You swear that tongue of his is going to kill you one day and you’ll probably say thank you.
Lighting up the remains of the nasty poltergeist pretending to be a tooth fairy after Sam salted it, you glance at the two brothers talking about going to the bar.
And you just know, if you didn’t do something about it today, you’re most likely never going to do it while he’ll go home with a random chick from the bar once again.
Tugging him to a stop, you gave Sam a look to go ahead and the little shit in turn, replies with a smirk and a barely subtle wink.
You glare at him before turning to Dean with a nervous chuckle. “I have something to tell you.”
He folds his arms, making his biceps look bulkier and you are about to lose yourself in your imagination but then he says, “Oh?”
He raises his eyebrow at you, “Are you about to profess your undying love for me?”
You almost stop breathing for a second. But then you remember that you’ve killed things scarier than Dean while he's angry, one of them just minutes ago and it's dumb to lose shit over this.
So you nod, masking your anxiety with a non-chalant shrug, “Yes I am. Wanna go on a date?”
He opens and closes his mouth thrice in surprise, clearly trying to decipher what you’d said, only increasing your anxiety with each passing second.
“What?”
You sigh and shake your head, “i really like you and I want to go on a date with you. But since you’ve said nothing yet, I’ll take your answer as a no.” Even you are surprised by what you say
Before you can turn towards Baby to get out of this embarrassing situation and try to forget this ever happened, you fell his hand on your shoulders, stopping you where you mid-turn.
His tongue slips out to lick his bottom lip before he chuckles, “Let’s try that again.”
You open your mouth to ask what he means when he presses his lips to yours, effectively silencing you before continuing,
“Yes, I’d love to go on a date with you.”
I’d love to hear what you think of it! Please like, reblog and comment to let me know Xx
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A/N: I wanted to post a Supernatural fic I’ve been working on, let me know what you think! More notes at the end.
~Reader is a demon who has been hunting with Team Free Will for almost four years.~
You and Sam Winchester were sitting in a cheap, run-down motel that the boys had rented for a hunt you were on.
You were laying on the bed with a lore book from the Men of Letters while Sam was sitting at the little table by the window on his laptop. You guessed he was looking at news articles.
Four different hunters in the area had been killed, ripped to shreds. The boys suspected it was a black dog, but you knew it was a hell hound. You could see the tracks and markings that the brothers couldn’t, since you were a demon, and the boys didn’t know.
You told the brothers that you thought it was a hound, but they wouldn’t even look into it, claiming they were more experienced than you. You couldn’t give them any solid evidence without making them suspicious, so you chose to go along with their stories and try your best to keep them safe.
You were reading a book on supernatural creatures, but the lore on black dogs is vague at best. You knew what they were, but you couldn’t go spewing out lore that wasn’t in any record. As you finish the meager section in the book on black dogs, the door to the room flung open.
Dean walked in, wearing his FBI suit but you could tell he had ripped the tie off and unbuttoned the top of his shirt as soon as he had gotten into his car.
He walks to the minifridge and grabs a beer before he starts talking, “I went and looked at the body, or what was left of the sorry-ass, it looks like he was mauled by a goddamn bear.”
You rolled your eyes, obviously he was ripped up. A hellhound will do that to you.
Dean continues talking as he falls on the bed beside you, making the cheap mattress sink in and jostling you around. You turned and glared at him. He winks at you before continuing.
“The cops said everyone should be out of there by 8, so I say we go get a look around. Take the EMF meter for good measure.”
Ugh you hated the EMF meter. You had a tendency to set it off but since a lot of things set it off you can usually blame it on something else.
You decided now was the time to talk, “Why are we taking the EMF reader? No where in the lore does it say black dogs will set it off.” You had a suspicion he believed you when you said it was a hellhound but his ego wouldn’t let him admit it.
He doesn’t even look at you when he says, “That’s because there is no lore Y/n, might as well cover our bases.” Yeah, he thinks it’s a hellhound, stupid men.
You smirk before closing your book, “Okay, well I’m gonna take a shower and pack up before we go.” You say as you walk away.
Before you can shut the bathroom door, you hear Dean from behind you, “Ya need any help in there sweetheart?”
You turn and flip him off, before firmly closing the door.
~
In the shower you couldn’t stop thinking. You had met the boys years ago, you had been hunting on your own for ages, hating what you had become and doing your best to make things right. You were working a ruguru case that the boys had also caught wind of. One case was all it took for you to fall head over heels for Dean.
Sam knew. Of course Sam knew, and no matter how much he told you Dean felt the same, you wouldn’t act on it. You were a demon, it would never work.
You weren’t sure how long you’d been in the shower before Sam knocked and said it was time to go. You quickly dried off and got dressed, putting on the anti-possession necklace that Dean gave you.
The ride there was fast, given you were in such a small town. The house was a three story farmhouse on the edge of town, totally unsuspecting. The only thing strange about it was the caution tape surrounding it.
You and the boys grabbed your stuff. You being sure to put on your leather gloves before touching anything, especially your iron knife.
Dean said for everyone to split up, and you offered to take the top floor, with Sam in the basement and Dean on the ground floor. You could smell sulfur as you walked up the stairs, just barely a hint of it, something that the boys probably couldn’t smell at all.
You were careful of where you walked, knowing this was a hunter’s house there was bound to be devils traps hidden everywhere.
The last room upstairs had a locked door, and you decided to just break the handle instead of picking the lock. You walked into a huge room with giant bookcases on all of the walls, with a large desk below a large window. There was a big, round rug covering most of the floor, and so you grabbed the edge of it and pulled.
Of course, under the rug was a very large devils trap. You carefully walked around the perimeter of it to get to the desk. While you were looking around the random papers and books to see if there was anything of use, you heard a loud crash and a pained yell from what sounded like Sam. You jumped around, almost stepping in the devil's trap before you heard Dean yell.
“Sammy!”
You didn’t even think, you ran down the stairs as fast as you could. When you got to the bottom of the basement stairs you could see Sam trapped under what seemed like a large case of some sorts. Dean is trying to lift the case, but it’s obviously too heavy. You can see Sam turning blue, obviously not able to breath with all the weight on his chest.
Dean turns around and locks eyes with you, you can see his chest heave with a sigh when he realizes it’s just you and not a monster… If only he knew.
“Y/n! I can’t get this off him! He can’t breath!”
You run over and help Dean pull the case off Sam, trying not to make your supernatural strength apparent. Once the case is off of him, Dean helps him walk to the couch nearby. You start to follow when you realize your mistake.
You were stuck. You could almost make it to the couch but not quite. When you looked up, you saw a devil’s trap, painted just a few shades darker than the ceiling color.
Dean looks at you, “Y/n, come help me get him up the stairs. He may have a cracked rib and there's obviously nothing here for us to stay for.”
Fuck.
You felt like puking. What were you going to do? If the boys would leave you could get yourself out. You’d done it before when you were just a little too careless… But the boys would notice if you took out your gun and shot the line keeping you trapped.
You looked from Dean to Sam, knowing Dean couldn’t get his tall brother up the stairs on his own, but saying nonetheless, “You take him to the car, I’ll look around once last time and then come out.”
Dean looks at you confused. “Y/n, I can’t get him out on my own. Come on, let’s go.”
You quickly glance up, trying to think of a way out of this when Sam coughs out.
“Dean… Look up.”
~
~
~
“What the hell?” Dean whispers, probably not even realizing he said it.
Your breathing starts to pick up, “Dean, I can explain.”
He pulls out his gun, aiming it right between the eyes. The act alone feels like he has already shot you.
“Who the hell are you? How the fuck did you get in “Y/n?!”
Shit… He thinks you’re possesed.
You lock eyes with him, with the man you’ve been in love with for almost four years, with the man aiming a gun at you.
“Dean, it’s me. I am Y/n… I’m no-” He cuts you off.
“Bullshit! Get out of her!”
“Dean,” You pull your necklace out of your shirt. “It’s me.”
Dean’s eyes widen, and he falls back a step. Sam stands up behind his brother, wincing in pain.
“How? How long have you been like this?” Dean says.
You give a small, mirthless laugh before looking at your feet, “For as long as I can remember.”
“Show me.”
Your eyes snap up, widening and locking with Dean’s.
“What?”
Dean’s face looks cold, he’s never looked at you like this before. You can find no warmth in his green eyes.
“Your eyes. I need to see.”
Your eyes start to fill with tears, knowing he will hate you even more than he already does when he sees your eyes.
“Dean,” You whimper. “Please don’t make me.”
He looks you dead in the eyes, no emotion on his face and says,
“Christo”
You felt a jolt through your entire body, like electricity starting from your toes to your head. You closed your eyes quickly, clenching them shut from the pain, but also to hide the color change you had no control of.
“Open them Y/n.” Sam says, voice scratchy and rough.
You whimpered, before whispering “Please, no.”
“OPEN THEM!” Dean screams, making you jump and flinch back, hitting the back of the devil’s trap.
You slowly opened your eyes… Your completely white eyes.
Both of the boys stepped back, or fell back, depending on how you look at it.
Sam starts talking, not able to take his eyes off of you, “No no no. That is impossible. There is only two white-eyed demons and they’re both dead!”
You flicked your eyes back you normal, “It’s a really, really long story Sammy.”
Dean finally speaks up, looking pale, “We’ve got all the time in the world.”
As he finishes talking, you hear a sound outside… Something… Something walking on four legs. Your head snaps to the stairs, and then back to the brothers.
“No we don’t, you need to get me out of here. There is a hellhound coming and I doubt it is alone.” You say, wanting to keep them safe.
Dean scoffs, “Seriously, Y/n we can’t hear anything. We aren’t that stupi-”
He’s cut off by the front door splintering apart.
You look at Dean with a smirk, “Wanna try that again?” You say before grabbing your gun and shooting the edge of the devils trap.
Both of the boys have their guns pointed at you now, and it takes everything in you to hide how much that hurts, but you walk around and stand in front of them. You need to protect them, even if they kill you after.
You hear two hounds come down the stairs, and put your hands out to stop them.
“Amicus, Malum? Prohibere! Revertetur in terram suam!”(Amicus, Malum? Stop! Go home!) You yell at the dogs that used to be yours in Latin.
The hounds look at you, seemingly confused as to how you are here, before remembering what they came for. They look behind you and start growling again.
You step closer to the dogs, blocking Sam and Dean from their fangs. “Quod si vos non revertetur in terram suam: opprimere, me tibi. Neque me.” (If you do not return home, I will force you. Do not make me.)
The dogs stop growling at your words, sitting on their haunches, looking much like kicked puppies. You didn’t realize how much you missed them.
You squat down in front of your old companions, “Ego vos desiderabat: et. Ut non cito in domum suam. Vos postulo ut relinquam.” (I missed you both. I may be home soon anyway. You need to leave.)
They walk up and lick your cheeks, before disappearing in a plume of sulfuric smoke that you know Sam and Dean can see.
You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the boys, the hunters that have become your family. You didn’t want to watch as they killed you.
You hear Dean step closer, knowing his footsteps by heart, “You ever kill anyone?”
You shake your head “Not in a really long time, I don’t like who I am. It’s why I hunt.”
“How can we trust you? Everything we know about you is a lie. You’re a freaking white-eyed demon for Christ sakes!” Dean says, still defensive.
You flinch at the name, this time letting out a small whimper of pain. You think you can hear Dean gasp.
“I’ve never lied to you, Only about not being human, you just assumed I was one so I never corrected you.” You said, trying to stay calm as you heard Dean advance.
“We trusted you, Sam and I, we both did.” You can hear a sliver of emotion in his steely voice. “Why are you not looking at us!?”
You flinch at his raised voice, and slowly turn around and stand. Your misty eyes locking with Dean’s piercing green ones.
“Do you know how scary this has been for me?” You look back and forth between the boys, “For months I thought you would come in my room at night and end me. But I stayed. I stayed for almost for years even though I was absolutely terrified.” You heaved a breath, before whispering mostly to yourself. “The whole reason I was caught was trying to save Sam.”
“Why?” Sam says, his anger calming at your last statement. “Why would you stay if you were so scared?” Him and Dean both knew what you were capable of. You were the strongest of all demons, but Sam knew you wouldn’t hurt them, wouldn’t hurt anyone innocent. Dean on the other hand, you were expecting Dean’s cold eyes to be the last thing you ever saw.
“I liked him,” You nod to the angry hunter, keeping your hands at your side. “I fell for him after that first hunt. I liked having a home, a family, someone to trust.”
Dean looks you dead in the eyes, his grip tightening around the angel blade you didn’t notice was in his hand. The motion feeling like he had already stabbed you with it.
“You are a liar and a monster.” He says through gritted teeth.
“I know,” You said, shutting your tear-filled eyes, expecting a knife through your heart at any second. Instead, you felt a calloused thumb under your eye. Your eyelids flew open in confusion as you took in Dean’s face. It was still hard, but you could see hurt there too.
“You thought I would hurt you?” He says, sounding emotional. “Yeah, I’m freaking pissed at you, but I would never hurt you. We are going to have a long talk about this when we get home though.”
You looked to the ground, not comprehending what he had just said, “I- I get to come home?” You said in a small, childlike voice.
“Who knows, maybe having the most powerful demon alive on our side will be helpful.” said Dean.
“It is,” you said, thinking of all the times you’d stopped something bad from happening that they would have never seen.
“Well then, you’ll have to give us a show of what you can do sometime,” said Dean. “If you’re comfortable with that.”
Sam speaks up before you can say anything, “And we need an explanation of how you are what you are.” Giving you a small smile
“For you guys, anything.”
You were going home.
A/N: So I had a whole plan on how Y/n is a white eyed demon, and I had a plan to have Cas show up and a bunch of other cools things that just didn’t make it into this story BUT if you guys are interested maybe I could make a second part. If not I will leave it as a one shot!
