Never before had the Impala been so quiet. Of course, it wasn't unusual for it to be silent during a drive, so Dean could focus on the road, and Sam could work on whatever he was doing. But the quiet had never been quite so... deafening. Sam wanted to say something - anything - to fill the space just like she would have, but he knew his brother wasn't in the mood for talking. And quite honestly? Neither was he. The smell of charred wood and smoke tainted their clothes, and they could both still see the flames in their minds. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't fair. But life wasn't fair. All they could do was keep going forward and move on.
When the eldest Winchester let out a heavy sniff, his brother tossed a glance his way. Dean wasn't crying it, but he was fighting it, that was for damn sure. Apparently, Sam wasn't the only one affected by the silence. It was then that he realized that Dean wasn't on the right road to get back to the bunker, and he looked around with a start.
"Where are we going?" Even though he tried his best not to disturb the silence when he asked, saying anything still felt wrong.
"I'm not ready to go back just yet," Dean answered. Sam nodded. He wasn't either. He didn't want to go back home and find her room empty. Knickknacks on the shelf above her bed would never be appreciated again; clothes neatly folded in the dresser drawers she would never wear. A few minutes later, Dean brought the Impala to a stop on the outskirts of a field in the middle of nowhere. Before Sam could even ask, "where are we?" his brother was out of the car and rummaging around for something in the back.
"You comin'?" A bit confused, the younger Winchester unbuckled his seatbelt and followed suit. He had assumed that they would spend the next hour or two driving around, but it seemed that wasn't the case. Dean was leaning against the trunk of the car, a small cooler perched precariously on top, and in his hand, a bottle of beer. It was only when he held another one out to Sam that he finally understood.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he questioned hesitantly. "We still have to drive back." Dean shook his head lightly.
"I'm only having the one," he reassured. "'Sides, this is for her." The two boys popped the caps off with satisfaction and took a deep swig.
Dean knew it wasn't a good idea to drown his sorrows in booze. He had done it several times before, and it never turned out well. So, this time, he wasn't going to. For Y/N. She deserved that much. Hell, she deserved way more than that. Hunting wasn't an easy job. No matter how simple the case, it was always dangerous, and it always required putting everything on the line. Y/N knew that, but every single time, she was willing to risk her life anyway. When it came to her hunting skills, she could sometimes outrank Sam and Dean, but even she couldn't escape death. Death came for everyone in the bitter end, and Y/N wasn't any different.
"Listen," she had once said. "When I die-" That had been enough to make the brothers practically choke on their dinner. She had always made a point of talking about death like she wasn't afraid of it. She had always been so funny in that way. The conversation had been years ago, and so out of the blue, but neither Sam nor Dean would ever forget her frown when they asked her not to talk about that, or what she said next. "I'm serious! This is important, and I want you to listen to me." The Winchesters had gone silent, shifted uneasily in their chairs before she finally continued. "Don't waste your thoughts, wondering if you could've done something different." Sam's throat grew tight at the memory. "Whatever happens happens. And if you try to bring me back by selling your soul or some stupid shit like that-" The fiercely determined glint in her eyes made Dean laugh. "I will literally kill you way before some fucking hellhound can." Then, her eyes had softened. "You two are my family. And I don't regret a single thing. So, when it happens, do me a favor." That bright smile she gave them was forever seared into their memories, and it made their hearts ache with the bittersweetness of it all. "Have a beer for me."
Wordlessly, Sam retrieved one more beer from the cooler and set it on the trunk, unopened. This was the hardest part. The traditional hunter's funeral had been much easier in comparison. The thing was, Sam and Dean had done that before. They had burned some of the people closest to them and watched them turn to ash. But this was new. Honoring their best friend's wishes by having a drink like she was here. They knew she would never intend for it to be this way, but it was almost like some kind of cruel joke. Still, a promise was a promise. So, they swallowed their pain and heartbreak of losing another friend. Sam released a long, shuddering breath as he looked up at the stars. Crickets chirped softly in the peaceful darkness. The only thing that gave either Winchester peace was knowing that she would've loved this.
The soft clink of glass caught the youngest Winchester's attention. He turned his gaze down to see his older brother holding the neck of his bottle against Y/N's, eyes swimming with tears that he refused to shed.
"To Y/N." Dean's voice came out a bit choked, but still, he fought past it. Sam gave a watery smile as he cleared the emotion from his throat, nodding. The sound of glass clinked again as he tapped his bottle to the other two.
"To Y/N."
Thanks so much for reading!
As always, links to my masterlist, taglist, and inbox (requests are open!) are in my inbox :)
Tags: Season 15 spoilers, witches, cursed!reader, reader!death, protective!Sam, protective!Dean
Word Count: 1,504
A/N: This is the first reader death I’ve done in a while, so strap yourself in!
(Gif not mine)
"I’m fine,” Y/N's words echoed in the back of Sam's mind. "I feel fine.” The younger Winchester shook his head subconsciously. Y/N was one of the most level-headed people he had ever met, and both he and his brother always listened to her. This time, though, they wished they hadn't. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as the words on the page before his eyes began to swim. Nothing from the book of lore he held in his lap was helpful. His gaze landed on Y/N, who was still unconscious. Had it not been for that damn witch, she would be awake. If either Winchester had known the outcome of that particular hunt, they wouldn't have gone. They would have called one of their hunter friends to take care of it. But that hadn't been the case, and Y/N had gotten hurt because of it.
As usual, it didn't take the three hunters long to track down their monster. But before Dean could make use of the witch-killing bullets in his gun, the bastard blasted Y/N with some sort of incantation that sent her sprawling. The thing about Y/N was that she was tough. If something were wrong, she would never admit it. So, as always, she had brushed off the brothers' worries and pretended that nothing was wrong. Neither Winchester was convinced, but Y/N wasn't having it, forcing them to back off.
Several hours passed, and by the time the three hunters got back to the bunker, the incident was forgotten. That is until Sam and Dean heard an alarming crash come from Y/N's room. They sprinted down the tiled hallways and were at her bedroom door in a matter of seconds, guns loaded and ready to eliminate any threat. The guns, however, were quickly put away when they realized the sound had come from Y/N, who was motionless on the floor. As a force of habit, Dean immediately checked her pulse, relieved when he was still able to find a steady beat within her carotid artery. Unfortunately, his relief was short-lived. Although she was alive, she was practically comatose.
Now, she drifted in and out of sleep, but her ratio of consciousness to unconsciousness wasn't promising. She could only keep herself awake for five to ten minutes at a time, if that, and each time she fell back under, it was a little longer before she woke up again. After nearly two days, it had only gotten worse. It was hours at a time before Y/N opened her eyes, and at this rate, the Winchesters were worried that if they didn't find a cure soon, she might never open them again.
Dean handed Sam a water bottle over his shoulder, startling him from his thoughts. These past forty-eight hours, Sam had tried his damndest to maintain his laser focus. He had to. Y/N's life depended on it.
"Anything?" the elder Winchester asked as he sat heavily in his chair.
"No," Sam answered. He was hoping his brother had had more luck down in the archives.
"You?" Dean shook his head.
"Nothing." He pointed with his chin at the book Sam was holding. "That there is the last of all the witch lore in the bunker. And we've searched the whole damn place inside-out." After a few moments of only the sounds of Y/N's breathing and their own thoughts, Dean rested his elbows on his knees as he weaved his fingers through his short hair. They were running out of time, and even worse, they were running out of ideas. Twenty minutes later, Sam finally closed the leather-bound book. Dean looked up at him anxiously, his eyes asking if he found anything that could help Y/N. Continuing their wordless conversation, Sam shook his head, pain evident in his eyes. That was it. That was their last hope. And with Rowena and Cas both gone, there was really nothing else the boys could do. Excruciating silence fell over the room.
"Why does it feel like we lose every damn person that we ever care about?" Dean snapped at no one in particular. "Jack. Rowena." He swallowed past a lump in his throat. "Mom. Well, I ain't doin' it again," he declared. "We just keep getting kicked in the balls, and I am fucking sick of it. We're not losing Y/N too. There has to be something in the books we missed. Maybe, uh, some sort of-" Sam shook his head. As much as he wanted to save Y/N, he knew they hadn't missed anything.
"You know there's not," he said, fighting through a wave of emotion. Dean went rigid as his chest swelled up.
"So what, you're just gonna give up on her?" Sam flinched as though his brother had punched him. In a way, he had. Y/N wasn't blood, but she was family - really, the only family they had left - and she meant just as much to Sam as she did Dean. Give up on Y/N? How could he even ask that?
"What?" The younger Winchester was unable to hide the hurt in his voice when he said it. "Dean, of course not. I'm just saying we don't know how much time we have left, and I don't think reading all the lore again will help. Maybe there's something else we can try." Sam's attempt at placating words only heightened his brother's anger.
"Like what, Sam?" he thundered, rounding on him. "Call Rowena? She's dead. So, if you have some bright idea, I'm all ears, because if we don't figure something out quick, we're screwed, okay? Big time! And I am not losing anyone else!"
"Dean?" Y/N's soft voice instantly diffused the tension in the room, and the boys' argument was forgotten. Dean reached for her hand hastily as they both scooted closer to the bed. The timer had just started, and neither of them had a clue how much longer they had left.
"Sweetheart?" Y/N swallowed thickly and squeezed her eyes shut with a slight shake of her head.
"Don't fight," she pleaded quietly. Noticing her brow was covered by a sheen of sweat, Sam frowned and reached for the rag sitting on her bedside table, dabbing at the droplets forming above her eyebrows. She was starting to burn up again, which wasn't a good sign. "How long has it been since I last..?"
"About five hours," Sam answered before she could finish the rest of her question. Y/N gave a small grunt of acknowledgment.
"That's bad, isn't it?" When the Winchesters merely shared a worried look in response, she sighed. "If I'm gonna die, I'd rather you just give it to me straight." By how she said it, Sam and Dean could tell that she was trying to be brave, but the slight quaver in her voice gave her away.
"Don't... don't say that," Dean implored. As he squeezed her clammy hand in his two warm ones, he was suddenly stricken by how frail she seemed. In all the years that the boys had known her, Y/N had never come across as weak or small, but this time was the one exception. Sam leaned forward to push sweaty strands of hair from the young woman's face as she gave the two a sad smile.
"It's been one hell of a ride, boys," she chuckled, her voice raspy. "I know you've done everything you can, but I feel death knocking at my door. And I don't think it’s a housecall I can just ignore this time." Dean grasped onto Y/N's hand like it was a lifeline, and he suddenly realized how pale she was and how shallow her breathing had become.
"Y/N, come on," Sam protested. "You're gonna be all right. Dean and I are-" Y/N shook her head, effectively cutting Sam off.
"Just... let me say this," she said. It wasn't a request. "I am so grateful for you two. I'm grateful that we met, and I can't thank either of you enough for being my family." Y/N took a great shuddering breath in. "And I want you both to know... everything we did... made all the difference... in the world." The last of her air came out in a small whoosh from parted lips, and her expression went blank as the light rapidly faded from her eyes. For a second, the room was filled with stunned silence, and Sam felt grief rise up in his chest.
"...Y/N?" He shook his friend, who was now unresponsive against her pillows. "Y/N! Y/N!" Dean shook his head. She was gone. Without the sound of Y/N's breathing filling the small space, the quiet was deafening. Sam wanted to cry, but he was still working to recover from the shock. Y/N, the incredibly intelligent young woman he and his brother had known for nearly a decade, was just... gone. Dean shoved his chair backward and stood angrily, headed for the door. Startled, Sam looked up.
"Where are you going?"
"...to kill every fucking witch I can get my hands on."
Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!
Tags: reader!death, mentions of death, angst, sad, bittersweet ending
Word Count: 2,146
(Gif not mine)
The boys watched Rowena tensely as she mixed the ingredients together in the bowl they had placed on the table. With one precise movement, she poured in a small amount of some sort of ground bone. Finally, she looked up, her expression unreadable.
"It's ready," she announced softly. "We just need one last thing." Dean rolled up one of his sleeves as he stepped forward.
"I know the drill." He held his hand out to Rowena, who kept it steady over the bowl. When she looked at him in question, Dean gave a firm nod. "Do it." At his words, she dragged a silver blade across his palm in one smooth motion, allowing the small rivulets of his blood to drip into the odd mixture. When it was done, he wrapped his hand with a piece of gauze.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Sam asked, keeping his gaze level.
"No," Dean replied honestly. He could tell Sam understood by the pained look in his eyes.
"Now, you have to remember," Rowena began, "you can't talk to her. And don't let her see you either. She'll think she's gone mad."
"Just do it." Rowena exchanged an uneasy look with Sam before giving a small sigh of defeat. It didn't take a mind-reader to know that she wasn't on-board with this plan.
"You have one hour before I bring you back. Not a second more." Dean readjusted his stance as if bracing for some sort of impact. "Custodes tempore hoc restitues perdiderunt invocaverimus.” Almost instantaneously, an unseen wind swept through the library. “Nunc denuo nos priores facere!”
"Have a good one." The cashier handed you your change, and you smiled warmly at her.
"You too." Grocery bag in hand, you headed back to the Impala. As usual, you were the one that had gone out for supplies. Beer, pie, green vegetables, the basics. As you stuck the keys into the lock of the driver's side door, the hair suddenly stood up on the back of your neck. Someone was watching you. You always knew what to do in situations like these. The protocol was to keep calm and not let your pursuer see that you were aware of their gaze. When you opened the car door, though, you caught a familiar reflection in the glass of the window. Putting the bag on the seat, you closed the door again and turned back around.
"Dean?" He didn't say anything. He only stood motionlessly, staring at you. You gave him a wry smile. "What, you couldn't wait for me to get back to the bunker or something?" Finally, he took a few steps toward you. His warm, calloused hand reached out to brush your cheek.
"You..." Tears welled up in his green eyes, and the smile melted off of your face. You gripped his biceps tightly as you searched his eyes; as if that would somehow give you more insight as to what was wrong. You were used to intense looks from him. But now, the way he watched you move... it was like he was trying to convince himself you were real.
"Hey." Your gaze flitted back and forth over his expression. "Baby, what is it?" Dean's hand reached up to smooth back your hair, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, staying there.
"You're here," he murmured into your skin. You pulled away slightly, looking up at him with worried eyes.
"Of course, I'm here," you replied. "You and Sam sent me to get stuff for dinner tonight." You honestly had no idea what was going on, or how Dean had even gotten here without the car, but that was the last thing on your mind. "What are you not telling me?" Dean glanced around nervously, deepening your confusion.
"We should go somewhere we can talk." You cocked your head to the side slightly.
"What, like the bunker?" Dean gave a shake of his head.
"No," he answered quickly, causing you to frown. "We can't go back to the bunker." To say you were worried would be putting it lightly, but still, you trusted Dean had a good reason for all this.
"Okay," you agreed slowly, readjusting the keys in your hand. "Let's just go for a drive or something, then." Looking relieved, Dean nodded. "Here." You held out the keys to him, but he shook his head.
"How 'bout you do the drivin'?" he asked. "I like watching my baby drive my baby." The way he was acting gave you pause. He hadn't been this way when you had left the bunker an hour earlier.
"Okay," you said again.
Once the two of you were out on the open road, you didn't miss how Dean sat a little closer to you than he usually did. Or the way he reached out to touch your shoulder every so often. After about ten minutes later, per Dean's request, you pulled over on one of the many back roads that led to the bunker, where you wouldn't be disturbed. When the car was in park, you gave your full, undivided attention to Dean.
"Now can you please tell me what's going on?"
"I will," Dean promised. "But first can I..." Wordlessly, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close to him as he leaned down to press his lips against yours. A hand came up to cup your face, and the calloused pad of his thumb traced over the apple of your cheek. His touch left you breathless, although kissing Dean always felt like this. But something was different this time. The nature of his kiss had an almost desperate feel to it, and you didn't understand why. When he finally broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath fanning over your lips.
"This is gonna sound crazy," he whispered to you. You chuckled softly, reaching up to place your hand over his.
"Crazy is kind of our thing." Dean absent-mindedly ran his fingers through your hair, earning a soft hum from you. He knew you always loved when he did that.
"What's happening right now," Dean began cautiously, "for me, this is all in the past." You felt your eyebrows knit together as you looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"All of this?" He waved his hand vaguely through the air, like that would somehow help you to understand. "This day happened for me almost a year ago." You stared at him for a moment before it finally clicked.
"So, what, you're telling me you're a modern-day Marty McFly or something?" His lips quirked upwards in a small smile.
"Something like that." The familiarity of the leather seat against your back gave you some comfort as you let the new information wash over you.
"How is this even possible?
"Rowena," Dean answered. "She found a spell to put me back in time." Suddenly, a thought occurred to you. You reached over to take his hand.
"Dean," you began quietly, "why are you here?"
"I-" You watched carefully as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. Whatever he was trying to get out was getting stuck on his lips. You were going to have to fill the blanks. And you were pretty sure you already knew the answer to your own question.
"Something happens, doesn't it? To me." Dean's eyes grew wet again, and he nodded.
"I just..." He swallowed hard as his voice broke. "I just wanted to see you one last time." You pulled him into a tight embrace, blinking away tears of your own. Out of all the things that could have happened to you today, this was the one scenario you wouldn't ever have expected. "Sam and I tried to get to you in time," Dean explained. "It was a damn ghoul in Nevada, and-" You held up a hand urgently to cut him off.
"Don't tell me," you said firmly. "You'll mess up the future if I know too much." You let out a dry chuckle. "Hell, I probably know too much already."
"Y/N," Dean whispered, a tear tracing down his cheek. "I miss you so damn much. Every day."
"I know," you comforted, even though you really didn't. Imagining yourself dead a year from now wasn't exactly a cake-walk. You had always known that this life would be the end of your story. You just hadn't expected it to be so soon. But at least you got to spend the rest of your life with the Winchesters, Cas, and Jack. Dean's watch beeped, and a pained expression came onto his face. "It's time. For Rowena to pull me back." He brushed his thumb across your knuckles as he took your hand, clasping it in a manner that you could only describe as despaired. "I don't want to leave you." You looked down at your hand in his, where your mother's old wedding ring gleamed on your ring finger.
"Then take part of me with you." Sliding the ring from your finger, you opened Dean's hand, placing the band in his palm. "I want you to have this. So every time you look at it, you'll know how appreciative I am that you came to see me today. And so you never forget how much I love you." Dean's hand closed around the ring.
"She's bringing me back," he informed you. "I can feel it." You tried to give him your most convincing smile.
"Then you'd better take one more kiss for the road, handsome." In reply to your words, Dean leaned in and kissed you for what you knew would be his last time. Tears began to spill from your eyes, mixing with his as your heart tightened with both grief and love. And when the kiss was over, he gave you his signature half-smile and wink as he wiped the wetness from your cheeks. "Be strong, Dean," you told him. "Keep fighting. And don't ever forget how much I love you." He grasped your hand with his free one.
"I love you too, Y/N. With everything I've got." You closed your eyes as he planted a final kiss on your forehead. And as the sensation faded away, you opened your eyes, and so had he.
It took a moment for Dean's surroundings to come into focus again. The white light that had flooded his vision finally cleared, leaving him blinking. Then Sam was there, clasping his shoulder.
"Did you get to see her?" he asked. Dean nodded, unable to speak. "How did it go?" When his brother asked the question, he was miles away as several different realizations hit him. Months ago, he had noticed one day that you hadn't been wearing your mother's wedding ring, something you always did. When he asked about it, you had merely told him that you must have lost it. Dean remembered being a little surprised that the ring being gone didn't seem to upset you much. Now he finally understood why. And then, what you said to him the last time he saw you before you died. The memory of your words knocked the wind out of him as they echoed in his mind. He still heard them clear as day. You had hugged him much tighter and a little longer than usual, gotten up on your tiptoes, and kissed him. Remember what I told you, Dean. Stay strong. Keep fighting. And don’t ever forget how much I love you.Of course, he had been confused at the time. As far as he could remember, you had never said that to him before. But now it all made sense. Because of him, you had known that those would be your final words to him. Dean felt his eyes grow hot, and he blinked away the tears vigorously.
"Dean?" Sam asked, concerned. Rowena eyed him suspiciously.
"You didn't talk to her, did you?" Dean shook his head.
"No," he finally responded, working past the lump in his throat. "No, I didn't."
Dean wasn't sure if telling you about your own death was the smartest move. But the fact that everything was normal in his present-time meant that you had come to terms with it, and accepted your end in true hunter fashion. He clutched the ring tightly in his hand as emotions rose in his throat. As the years passed, he always kept his little piece of you with him, hanging from a chain near his heart. He kept it tucked beneath his shirt, hidden from the rest of the world. As for Sam and Rowena, Dean never told him of the events that took place that day - how he was able to get a bit of closure. No, that one last blissful moment he got to spend with you was between the timelines now. Written into fate. And it was just for you and him.
