Got you - D.W
I will never recover from what they did to Bobby. That man is my light, okay? I need a supportive angry uncle that will save my ass whenever I need it like Bobby would for everyone.
Content warning: death of loved one, mention of past abuse and death of a parent, spoilers for season 7 of Supernatural (pls don’t read if you haven’t watched), angst, sadness, crying, deans beautiful eyes filled with tears, love, fluff that makes me sick (it’s so cringe but I couldn’t think of how else to end it and this has been in my drafts since JUNE)
Original story by sarcastically-defensive17. I do not give permission bc or my work to be reposted or translated by anybody. I do not own the characters mentioned in this story; apart from the Y/N character. This individual storyline is canon-divergent, meaning that I only own some of it. The rest is from the mind of the Kripke. Don’t steal my work, my dudes (gender neutral). That’s a douche thing to do.
Of all the people Y/N had met, all of the hunters, the sociopaths, the monsters; Y/N had never met somebody so reluctant to discuss their feelings as Dean was. At present, his reluctance was understandable.
Bobby Singer had passed a few weeks ago.
He had raised Y/N from the age of 15 onwards. Back when she was rampant and would take off for weeks on end to hunt without getting permission from Bobby. As such, she hadn’t met Dean and Sam Winchester until a few months before the younger brother had taken off for college. Her and Dean became fast friends through Sam’s absence, the former not knowing the younger boy enough to miss his presence and the latter going out of his mind in worry and grief for the missing relationship.
Not many could get Dean to open up, including Y/N, but she stuck by him through his fathers disappearance and the fight with Yellow Eyes. She fell out of his life for a while again, but he had Sam, but she reappeared when Dean called her crying because his brother was back from hell sans soul.
She had stuck by through Castiel - Dean’s pet angel - taking the mantel of god and the rise of the Leviathans.
She hadn’t once felt like she wasn’t wanted, not until she held her Father’s hand while he took his final breath and simultaneously watched the elder winchester brother retreat in on himself in favour of an unrelenting vengeance issued towards Dick Roman.
Since Bobby had passed, Dean had become cold. Lifeless. Angry.
Sam had spoken to Y/N, had discussed the passing of their foster-father and the hole it tore from their lives. They had cried together, mourned together and while neither of them were close to dealing with the grief, they managed.
Dean on the other hand, was a nightmare.
Sam had taken off on a hunt of his own, leaving Y/N and Dean in Rufus’ cabin.
Dean was calling Frank for the hundredth time that day and Y/N was searching the papers and online news sites for hunts. Sitting around and waiting for Dick to do something to lead them to killing him wasn’t good enough for her. Her grief was overwhelming and she needed to clear her mind - she needed to put a monster down.
She had lifted her head up from the computer, watching as Dean sat, staring, unmoving at the wall. His forest green eyes were locked onto a picture of Dick Roman, and she could see the hard clench in his jaw.
“Hey, Dean?” She called, voice hopeful. She had stood from her chair and started walking towards him with the computer in hand.
He simply grunted in acknowledgement, not looking away. He just kept drinking from the bottle of beer he had just opened.
She cocked a brow, setting her own jaw. He had hardly spoken to her since Bobby died. She had been wracking her brain to figure out why, especially since he had been speaking to Sam normally but avoiding her.
“Uh, there’s a vamp nest out near Wyoming. Going through people like they’re going out of style. Wanna go check it out?” She held the computer out to him. He gazed at it for barely a second, rolled his eyes and downed more of his beer.
“I don’t know if you can tell but, I’m kinda busy.” He held his arms out and gestured to the detective style wall. The now empty beer bottle was slammed into the coffee table.
“Doing what? Drinking the entire supply of alcohol in America?” She quipped but her face remained deadpan. The look in his eyes was often enough to make any normal person cower, but not Y/N. Her rebellious streak didn’t end when she hit adulthood.
He snarled, green eyes scrunched, “Funny. It may be news to you but I’m trying to find a way to put down the guy who killed Bobby.” He stomped over to the fridge in search of another beverage. Y/N withheld the toll of her eyes but did little to contain her heavy sigh. He snatched his phone from the small table in the dining area, punching in a number in the same aggressive manner he had done at least 10 times a day for the past few weeks. “Frank, it’s Dean Winchester. Give me a call if you’ve found anything.”
“You know, he might have a better chance of finding something if you stop hounding him every few seconds!” She smiled, a sickly sweet gesture that they both knew was laced with malice. “I’m going on this hunt. Are you going to keep living in stick around here like you’re Paul Sheldon, or are you going to come with me?” She growled through the smile. “Sitting here, staring at a wall isn’t going to help you figure out how to kill that bastard any faster.”
He mumbled expletives under his breath, twisting the top off of another beer and left the room. He returned moments later with a new flannel, his bag and the flask she had given Bobby for the first Father’s Day she spent with him. The mere sight of the object brought tears to her eyes but luckily Dean spared little attention to her shift in demeanor. He refused to give the flask to her, shutting her down every time she tried to explain the significance.
She was left to instead bury her pain while Dean reminded her that she wouldn’t feel as much as he did. In reality, he knew very little of her relationship with Bobby.
“You getting your ass in the car or what?” He called, already outside. She had barely noticed his movements but trailed after him quickly. A hunt was what she needed. She needed to get her mind off of her deceased father and cutting the heads off of vampires is the best distraction she could find at the present time.
~~~~~
Her hand stilled above his wound just before she left the liquor flow onto the gash. “You want something for the pain before I get started?”
The hunt had started well. Dean had instructed her to stay behind him, allowing him to take the lead with his beat up machete and prepubescent-esque mood swings.
She thought differently, having specialized in vamp slayings for the better part of her hunter career; after all, her real father was murdered by one of the blood suckers, so her vendetta was rarely satiated.
She took the lead, heading in a different direction to what Dean instructed, knowing it was a more sure route to take out the leader of the nest. There were always hidden pathways in the nests; and those pathways lead straight to where the baddest vamp of the squad was generally sucking down a double serving of human.
Somewhere along the lines, Dean had his own machete turned on him and took a deep gash to his right shoulder. Y/N made quick work of the vamps she encountered, using her specified skills to kill them as she had been taught. It was generally easy for her, but Dean had taken a few blows and required rescuing.
She had to leave a few vamps to wallow in their own injuries while she dragged Dean out of the nest and to the nearest hotel, leading to the situation they found themself in now - Y/N patching Dean up and Dean acting like the entitled prat he had been for a while.
Her previous question was answered with a grunt, dean turning his head away from her. Her patience had worn thin.
Placing a hand on his bare chest, she lifted herself up slightly and poured the contents of the bottle onto the top of Dean’s head. It trickled down his face and chest, leaving a sticky feeling in its wake and bringing a hissed curse from his lips when it flooded the wound on his right shoulder.
“What the hell, Y/N?” He grunted. He was on his feet, using his shirt to wipe away the alcohol from the deep wound to quell the burning.
She threw the bottle onto the couch beside him, raising to her feet and grabbing a cloth to wipe at her hands. “If you want to act like a tough guy then you can drive your ass back to the cabin and get Sam to patch you up.” Her voice was horribly calm, her eyes falling anywhere but on him. “I’ve had about enough of you, Dean.”
“What are you talking about?” He growled. His temper was explosive from the get-go, but hers would build. When she snapped, she snapped good and proper. “I don’t need something for the damn pain! I’ve been doing this my whole life. What is your problem lately?”
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know damn well,” she growled back at him, turning away from him with a shake of the head. “You have been an absolute dick since Bobby passed. I get it - we are all hurting, but the way you are acting? I’m sick of-“
He was on his feet, amber liquid still trailing down his face and chest. “You have no damn idea how I feel Y/N!” His voice was louder than she expected but she wouldn’t let it force her down. “Bobby was like a father to me! He was always there for me when my dad was on a hunt and he treated me like I was his own! You have no right to talk to me like that-“
He was cut off by a sharp jab to the cheek. Y/N had about enough of his bitching. It was damn time that he shut his trap and listened.
“What the-“
“For the past few weeks I have been listening to you go on and on, constantly telling me that I meant nothing to Bobby and I wouldn’t have the damn connection you had with him.” She spoke through gritted teeth, her knuckles beginning to throb as Dean held his jaw. “You’re a selfish dick. You don’t care about anybody but your damn self and that’s plain and simple.” She began to pace. Her anger had hit its boiling point, red no longer lining her vision but the grief fueling her anger and disgust in Dean. “I had lived with Bobby since I was a kid - 15. He took me in because I had nobody, Dean. My father died when I was young; throat ripped out by a vamp. My mother wasn’t a mother. She used me as bait every chance she got to get revenge on every and all vampires on this god forsaken planet. Bobby was all I fricking had!”
Dean watched as Y/N stopped pacing. She had turned to him now, her voice loud as she screamed the words at him.
She released a humorless laugh, “I get that Bobby was a big part of your life, but for god sakes, he didn’t belong to just you and Sam!”
Her hands had tangled in her hair as she spoke, the remnants of alcohol and blood making the strands stick together. She was fighting back tears. For the first time since it happened, reality set in.
Bobby was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. Once again, she had nobody.
Dean was at a loss for words. He didn’t remember seeing Y/N around Bobby’s house when they were younger, but Y/N was closer to Sam’s age than she is to his. It was as if a wave of guilt crashed down upon him. He had no idea that she had been so close to Bobby.
“He meant so much to everybody - to me,” she sniffed, hard. “He’s all I have.”
Dean felt his digits twitch with a need to hold her. He had always felt an invisible pull towards the woman, their personalities fitting together like jagged jigsaw pieces, but he had never allowed her the deepest thought to consider her life and her history - her connection to his father figure. Unlike Y/N, his father had been in his life, despite his faults. Y/N had nobody until she had Bobby.
Her heart was heavy, and she could feel the metaphorical weight pushing her chest cavity in. For the first time since he passed, the dam broke. Tears began to fall one at a time, but the rapids took over, forcing the salty liquid to flood her cheeks and stutter her breathing. She had never experienced such intense grief.
The sensations overwhelmed her. But Dean felt his self-control leave his body. His arms moved on their own accord, making the decision to forgo permission to hug the woman and instead he connected his body with hers. He held her as she fell to her knees, cradling her body in his and tucking her head underneath his chin.
“He’s gone… he’s gone,” her voice was thick with grief, her muttering striking his heart once again.
“It’s okay, princess.” He felt the tears prick back at his own eyes, pulling her back slightly so he could look at her face. She cradled her face in her hands, putting up little resistance when he took her hands in his own and pulled them away. “It’s okay, you’re not alone.”
Her brows furrowed, the typical fire hidden behind her stare, just lacking the normal intensity. “Who else do I have, Dean? Bobby was my only family, everybody else was just a an extension of their love for him. He was all I had.”
His fingers dropped her own, green eyes staring into her own with such an intense emotion that she seemed to recoil under his gaze, but the fire still burned in her own eyes. His hands rested on the sides of her face, thumbs rubbing the tears from her skin.
“Don’t, for one second, think that you are alone. You- you’ve got me, okay?” More tears fell from her eyes, and his own followed suit. “I am never leaving you, princess.”
“You have no reason to stick around with me, dean.”
“Why wouldn’t-“
“You have your own life!” She asserted, nose crinkled in his grip. “You have Sam and leviathans to kill, and things that are more important-“
“I’m not leaving you, because I love you, Y/N!” His voice was powerful, his brows pinched and his eyes heavy. A normal person would experience some level of fear in this situation, but Y/N wasn’t normal people. Dean had never felt more at home than when he was staring into her eyes, and he took a moment to register his confession and the way her features seemed to melt at his words.
Despite his malice in recent days, Dean had never raised his voice at her in such a way. His eyes had never glazed over with sheer defiance, halting the protests on her tongue instantly. Nevertheless, in any other circumstance, she would have raised her voice louder. She was not one to be meek: Bobby raised her better than that. But the hurt that saturated his tone seemed to settle on her heart a little heavier than before.
This was different to the argument that they had moments before. This was assertive. The anger seemed to dissipate with his words. The chill running down her spine one of satisfaction, fear, and something else.
She didn’t trust her voice to respond, her face still clasped in his larger palms. When she tried to speak, a noise of confusion tumbled from her lips, and Dean’s seemed to shy away from her gaze. His hands slowly slipped away and he sat back on his haunches.
“I don’t think you know just how much you mean to us, Y/N - to me.” He cleared his throat, eyes focused anywhere but on her. She caught sight of his teeth nibbling on his lower lip, something she rarely saw from him. He was always able to maintain a calm demeanor. “There’s always been this… this feeling. For a long time, I thought I just admired you - you were the annoying sister that I never had. But over time… I’ve never properly been in love before. Lisa, Cassie, they were never like this.”
“Dean-“ she tried, the words on the tip of her tongue, but he continued.
“When Sam went to college, Dad’s disappearance, Sam without a soul, hell, even when I had that douchebag angel fighting me for my meatsuit, you were always there for me. With your beautiful smile, and the crap you gave me… you became more than that friend that I could lean on.” Her hand reached across the gap between them, resting on his clammy palm. He took the gesture as a sign to look up at her, dragging his heavy eyes from the stained floor to meet her own. There was no anger, or rejection hidden there. “You became the one that I wanted to see every night. The one that I could see standing behind the white picket fence.”
He watched as another tear fell from her glassy eyes, and his heart wrenched at the sight. He feared that his words had brought more pain to her, but then she moved towards him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, careful to avoid the gash on his shoulder. Her forehead buried itself in the crook of his neck, and her legs moved to rest on either side of his own.
The sudden touch caused a little shock, but he quickly recovered and secured his arms around her body. He let his fingers grasp on to her shirt, almost as if he were afraid that she would pull away from him and leave his life.
“I can’t lose you, Y/N,” he whispered, tightening his hold slightly, only to emphasize his words.
Her head lifted from his shoulder, and she allowed her hands to dance along his arms, up until they held his face in the same way he held her before.
Before he could raise an eyebrow, her lips were pressed against his. Their tears seemed to meet together at the union of their flesh as their eyes fluttered shut.
When they parted his forehead fell forward to rest against her own. His eyes remained closed, his eyelashes sticking together from his tears.
“You’re my best friend,” she whispered to him. Her voice wet with emotion. “I love you so much, Dean, and I’ve loved you for years.”
A soft chuckle left him, shaking his shoulder slightly and bounding Y/N. It was one of disbelief, but a sense of relief was hidden beneath the thick sound.
She smacked at his uninjured shoulder softly, tutting at him. “Don’t laugh! It’s true! Bobby was pushing me to make a move from the minute you walked through the door with a blueberry pie on my birthday.” The incident was a fond memory. Dean had rushed to get back from a hunt so he could see her on her birthday. He walked in the door with mere minutes to spare before midnight and forced her to blow out a candle before her birthday officially ended.
She decided that day, that if she was going down, she wanted to do it by Dean’s side.
He pressed a soft peck to her lips once again, almost afraid that if he pressed too hard then the image of her would fade from his sight. But she wouldn’t.
“I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’ve got you.” He opened his eyes once again, pulling back to get a look at her whole face. He decided then that the image would be burned into his brain for the rest of his days. “I love you, Y/N.”
Her smile sent a shudder to his heart, the organ pounding faster than he thought possible.
“Ive got you too, Dean. Always.” The chill returned to her back, almost as if someone were watching them, but she paid it no mind. She had something more important in front of her than a nosy ghost, but somehow, she knew that it was more than a simple ghost. “I love you, Winchester.”
Her suspicions were confirmed when they found words scrawled into the morning dew that found a home on the windscreen of Baby.
‘Take care of each other, B.’