Imagine stepping in to help John Winchester with the boys, but knowing that you’re always second best.
You sat at the window, watching the rain fall outside. The boys had gone out for a hunt, leaving just yourself and John. Normally that would make you a very happy hunter, since you and John had a secret relationship going on right under their noses. Dean was so distracted with Sam, and Sam with Dean, that they were utterly clueless to it. But this time was different. You wished you were in a room filled with people rather than alone with John.
“There’s never going to be a time that you’re going to love me as much as her, is there?” You asked, folding your arms around yourself. John said nothing, but continued to sulk on the other end of the room. Talking through an intercom might even be more personal than this.
“She’s the mother of my children, y/n. You can’t understand that-” John said after a heavy five minute pause.
“I can’t understand?” You asked, turning to face him rather than the half-empty parking lot of the motel you pulled into. “I know that she is! But she’s also dead, John. And I might not have known Mary but she wouldn’t want you to mope like this. She would have wanted you to move on!”
“I tried!” He said, angrily, kicking at one of the beds. You were used to these outbursts of violence. I hardly fazed you.
“But I’m second to a ghost.” You said, solemnly. “And I don’t deserve that.”
“No, you really don’t,” John agreed. “Just leave me. Go be with someone better.”
“Fuck that noise, John. I’m not going to give you an excuse to sink deeper into your self-pity pit.” You walked up to the man, and grabbed hold of his broad shoulders so he would have to face you. “You’re going to wake up and treat me better, or I swear to God, I’ll tell the boys everything.”
John sighed, looking into your eyes. He had remnants of tears in his own. “Okay,” He nodded. “Okay.”
