To Be Human – Part 17
Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reporter!Reader
Series Summary: Dean and Y/N have been best friends and inseparable since they were kindergartners, leading somewhat boringly normal lives in Lawrence City, Kansas. Now all grown up, Dean is working as a firefighter and Y/N as a reporter until one fateful night changes not only their lives but also their friendship forever.
Warnings: +18, strong language, John’s making a drunk appearance, mentions of drugs, some hurt, minor injury, major angst, an annoying cliffhanger
Word Count: 3.9k
A/N: I promise this is their last fight. Also, I have no idea what happened at the end there. Don’t ask about it... 🤷♀️ Big thank you to everyone who keeps engaging with this story. Your insights/screams/excitement gives me so much joy. Truly the best pay-off a girl could ask for. Love y’all 🖤 Song in this chapter is Muzzle by Smashing Pumpkins. (Lyrics in italics)
Feedback is highly appreciated! ❤️🔥
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Five weeks later, in the Dean Cave…
I fear that I am ordinary just like everyone To lie here and die among the sorrows Adrift among the days For everything I ever said And everything I’ve ever done is gone and dead As all things must surely have to end And great loves will one day have to part I know that I am meant for this world
Y/N’s sitting by the kitchen island, tongue poking out between her pink lips in concentration. Her laptop is open, stacks of paper surrounding her, and her fingers are furiously typing a paragraph. Smashing Pumpkins booms through the speakers and fills the otherwise quiet loft, her head bobbing to the rhythm and lips softly mouthing the lyrics. She’s in a 90s mood, mostly because the songs don’t remind her as much of her best friend and his love for classic rock.
She’s been busy the last few weeks, to say the least.
Chuck has actually agreed to her story, and she’s been following lead after lead since. Of course, the sleazebag was intrigued – her column’s been a huge success so far. People really love reading about the drama, not that she’s sharing her entire experience with her audience. That would be fucking insane. She’s not willing to lay out the most intimate details of her life for the public’s consumption; the tidbits are enough.
Because, well, the rest of her life is rather complicated these days.
She’s been casually seeing Nate and is taking things slow. Y/N doesn’t want to rush head over heels into a new person when she’s not over the last one yet, you know? She’s even told Nate about her conflicting feelings because she figures he deserves to know at least parts of the truth (not the superpower part, obviously), so he can make his own well-informed decision. So far, he still sticks around, and they’re having fun.
Honestly, though, she quite enjoys the freedom these days and doing things on her own, even without her best friend. It feels good to stand on her own two feet for once. She’s learned that her happiness doesn’t rely on anyone, not even on Dean.
Speaking of the devil, Y/N’s also balancing her tumultuous friendship with the green-eyed firefighter, who has significantly calmed down since their awkward exchange at her door a few weeks ago. She knows she was a little harsh and it hurt him, but she had to stand up to his bullshit at least once. Dean’s her best friend, no matter what, but she refuses to be his goddamn doormat. She figures maybe some independence does them both some good. And although Dean’s more withdrawn than usual, she supposes time heals all wounds, right?
They’re doing movie nights frequently again, which she thinks is a good step forward in the right direction. While he still cuddles with her on the couch, his mind mostly hums Led Zeppelin songs these days, and it almost feels like he’s her best friend again.
Almost.
While Y/N knows about his abilities, she can’t bring herself to raise the subject. Not even Sam seems to be in the know as she’s talked to the younger Winchester several times, trying to dig up more information about Dean’s past year. All she gathers from Sam, though, is that the green-eyed firefighter missed her… a lot. She honestly doesn’t know what to do anymore; her hands are practically tied behind her back by her best friend’s enduring silence. Dean refuses to talk to her and sticks to meaningless small talk, no matter how many times she offers him a chance to spill.
And aside from her turbulent private life and her thrilling work project, Y/N’s also taken on the superhero mantel.
Yes, you heard it here first, folks.
She’s finally joined the dark forces and listened to the sweet and relentless voice of Kevin motherfucking Tran. It’s not an actual cape per se, thank God. She’s happy to report she’s doing it all in jeans, no tights yet. Although she’s sure, she’d look like a fabulous badass in them – and probably like a lunatic.
For now, it’s just plain, old her in casual attire who’s helping people. And she’s perfectly fine with that arrangement.
It all started when a tornado warning haunted the city a month ago, and she accidentally stumbled into the superheroing. She prevented several street lamps and trees from crushing innocent citizens. She wasn’t just going to stand there and fucking watch, you know? Since then, she’s tasted the blood of adrenaline-inducing adventure and can’t get enough of it. Admittedly, helping people feels fucking fantastic.
Jo’s even been taking her on nightly ride-alongs sometimes, and every time her phone chimes with David Bowie’s Heroes, she knows the geek squad has found another job for her.
>>Dr. Badass: 👀 Hostage situation >>Whiz Kid: 📍 Bank at 32nd and 4th street >>Queen of Brains: 💥 3 robbers with guns and 12 hostages >>Mr. Fizzles: Be careful! 🤗 <<Imperia: On it!
This night, though, her human powers of persuasion are needed at the family restaurant instead when her phone buzzes on the countertop and interrupts her research. It’s the same call from her mom she gets every couple of months and it usually only means one thing: John’s drunk at the bar again.
My life has been extraordinary Blessed and cursed and won Time heals, but I'm forever broken
Later at Harvelle’s Bar & Grill…
“Hey, John. How are you?” Y/N smiles softly and rests her palms on the mahogany countertop on the other side of the bar.
The old Winchester gazes up at her, the goofy smile underneath the long, gray beard intensifying when he recognizes her face. “Y/N, so good to see you, sweetheart,” his face lights up like the Eiffel Tower by night. “I’m happy you’re okay. My boys wouldn’t be the same without you, y’know?”
“I know. I’m glad to be back, too.” Her head then jerks up to the door, seeing Dean storm into the restaurant. It’s always the same routine: her mom calls her and she calls Dean, and somehow, they manage to get the old man back home safely. “Ready to go home?”
“Hmm, one more, maybe,” John bargains with a cheeky wink, and she shakes her head at him, laughing. She definitely knows where that infamous Winchester charm comes from. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in this case.
“I think you’ve had enough, old man. Let’s go,” Dean barks sternly and drags his father off the barstool, swinging John’s arm around his shoulders to support him.
“C’mon, son, lighten up a little,” John quips with a grin, patting his chest gently. “I’m just having a little fun with your girlfriend. I haven’t seen her in so long. When are you finally gonna ask her to marry you, huh? Only took me three months to propose to your ma. You still have her ring, don’t you? What are you waiting for?”
“Dad, I’m already engaged, okay?” Dean mumbles quickly and meets her gaze for a brief second. There’s something shimmering in his pupils, something Y/N can’t pinpoint. She’s seen this particular look of his several times over the last few weeks, but his mind just always breaks into song like a damn musical character every time she gets close.
“What?! That’s wonderful, son,” John beams happily. “Congratulations, guys! When’s the wedding? Oh, please let me come! I promise I’ll stay clear of the bar.”
“Dad!”
John somehow manages to free himself from Dean’s grip and marches straight to her, hugging her so tightly she almost loses her balance. The sudden outburst of euphoria takes Y/N by surprise a little, and she can even see tears of joy shimmering in the old man’s eyes. It’s very fucking awkward and yet sweet at the same time. She presses her lips together, shooting Dean a helpless look.
“Dad, c’mon, let her go. It’s not her. It’s someone else, alright? We’ve talked about this.”
John drops her back onto the ground as his face falls, staring at his son with an incredulous look, “What? Why? What the fuck is wrong with you? You know that’s not what your mom would’ve wanted.”
Oh God… Quick, Y/N. Divert!
She knows mentions of Mary are Dean’s Achilles’ heel, especially if it comes out of his father’s mouth. It’s always been the fastest way to get them to fight and has been a point of contention between them for quite some time.
“C’mon, John, let’s get you back into that comfy armchair at home, huh?” Y/N gently nudges and guides him to the door, but the firefighter’s hot on their heels, fuming from every pore.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, huh?” Dean roars as the three step outside into the cool night air, completely ignoring her mediation attempts.
“I’m just sayin’ your mother wouldn’t have wanted this for you. She loved Y/N,” John argues softly. There’s no malice in his words. It’s just drunken honesty that’s pouring from his lips, and maybe that’s why Dean becomes even more furious.
“Don’t you dare talk about her! You ruined her memory! You blamed Sam for her death just because you couldn’t get her outta the house in time!”
“And where were you that night, huh?”
Dean’s quick like a tiger when he grabs his father’s jacket and shoves him harshly into the next wall. “I was in college, you son of a bitch! I had a future and you ruined it!”
“Oh, c’mon, now. You made a choice,” John slurs drunkenly and rolls his eyes. “You left LCU of your own free will. No one’s forced you. I certainly didn’t.”
“Oh yeah? Is that what you think? That I had a fucking choice?” Dean’s grip on the jacket lapels only tightens as his anger rises. “There was no choice, alright? What was I supposed to do? Leave Sam alone with your drunk ass?!”
“I would’ve taken care of Sammy just fine,” John mutters, but Y/N remembers exactly how it went down back then. John didn’t do shit and blamed Sam all the time for Mary’s death until Dean took over and got him out of their childhood home, where John still resides to this day, all by his lonesome.
“Oh, I’m sure you would have, wouldn’t you?” Dean mockingly scoffs. “You disappeared into a bottle ten years ago and never gave a fuck about Sam or me. Gimme a break. Don’t talk to me about fucking choices.”
“What are you talking about? I love you and Sammy. You’re my boys,” the old man smiles and it’s goddamn painful to watch.
“Yeah, you have a funny way of showing it.”
“You’re always so angry these days. No wonder Y/N doesn’t wanna marry you,” John huffs and then turns swiftly to her as her eyes widen, “You should find someone better, sweetheart. ‘M sorry my son is such a moron.”
Oh boy…
It’s the last straw for Dean and she’s not even a little stumped when her best friend delivers his first punch to John’s face. She’s quick enough to catch his wrist, though, and stops him before he can start a second round.
“Dean, just let it go. He’s just had too much to drink, okay?” She carefully slides between the pair, placing a hand on Dean’s chest until he lets go of the older man and takes a reluctant step back, his jaw still clenched tightly as the fury simmers within him.
“Is that all you got, son?” John challenges him further. She can see Dean’s anger is already back at full throttle as he stares daggers at his father.
“John, go home.” It’s not a plea that escapes her lips – it’s a command. An order the old man has no choice but to follow.
With confusion etched into his brow, John’s feet involuntarily march away. She watches as he disappears down the busy street, glancing back over his shoulder several times. Y/N doesn’t like using her abilities to manipulate minds, but sometimes it’s a necessary evil.
“Shit.”
She hears Dean cursing behind her and spins around, worriedly tilting her head at him. His back is turned to her as he braces himself on the brick wall, every muscle strained and shoulders tense as they heave with labored breaths, his head hanging low like a wounded animal.
“Dean?” She approaches him carefully, concern flooding her mind as she reaches her hand out to touch him.
“Y/N, don’t!” He slaps her hand away and accidentally brushes her skin.
There’s a distinct sting she feels. It doesn’t hurt too much, not more than coming into accidental contact with a frying pan for a second. Her skin is burning on her forearm, a small, scarlet mark visible, left behind by the firefighter’s touch. Her wide eyes dart up at him, and then she finally sees it.
His hand is a glowing orange, ablaze like the flames he fights daily and brighter than the sun itself. She’s almost mesmerized by the sight before noticing the sheer shock and panic spreading across her best friend’s freckled face like a wildfire.
“Oh my God… I’m-, I-, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to-… I-,” he stammers, mossy green eyes trembling and zoning in on the wound on her arm. I’m a monster.
“Dean, no,” Y/N shakes her head and forces a warm smile onto her face, “It’s okay. It doesn’t even hurt. It’s just a scratch. It’s alright.”
“Just… stay away.” His usually strong and deep voice is quivering. He backs away from her as she tries to come closer, tears of horror brimming in his juniper orbs. “Don’t come near me. Just stay back, okay?”
“Dean, stop. It’s okay,” she assures him gently like she’s approaching a scared deer in the woods. He’s definitely her Bambi. “It doesn’t even hurt. See? It’s not a big deal. It’s alright.”
Honestly, it hurt a lot more when she fell off her bike at eight.
“No, it’s not alright! Stop saying that!” He steps back even further until his back hits the wall. He has nowhere left to go, cornered by her body and a row of dumpsters. “I-, I-, I gotta go. Don’t follow me.”
“Dean, stop… please,” she begs, but he tries to wriggle himself out and looks for the next opportunity to flee. “I said, stop!”
At that, all his movements cease until he’s not even able to wiggle his little pinky if he wants to. In her defense – he’s left her no choice, okay?
“Why can’t I move?” Confused, he stares at her, his eyes not grasping what’s happening to him as he loses control over his own body. Luckily, his hand cools off too. She was slightly worried his little beacon might attract unwanted spectators.
“Because I’m not letting you,” Y/N states dryly. She then sucks in a deep fucking breath before exhaling ever so slowly. It’s time. God, she hasn’t felt like this since telling him she’s not a virgin anymore. While he didn’t take that one very well either, she hopes this truth will go over a lot smoother.
“I have powers, too.”
His broad shoulders slump and his face drops when her words reach his eardrums, shock and confusion taking over as reality seems to settle in. “What? What do you mean? What kinda powers?”
“Slap yourself.”
“Ow! What the-, how-…” Perplexed, he blinks at his hand, not fathoming how that same palm could’ve struck his own goddamn cheek. Admittedly, it was satisfying to watch, though. She’s wanted to slap him for a long time now. “How did you do that?”
“So, uhm, I’m not exactly sure what label applies here, but I can hear voices and control minds,” she shares bravely.
His eyebrow arches, nose scrunching a bit, “Voices? Like what?”
“I don’t know… I mean, mostly they keep repeating the word ‘redrum,’ but I have no idea what that means.”
Maybe she shouldn’t joke right at this second, but she can’t help herself, okay? She’s a nervous wreck. She’s wanted to have this exact conversation with him for so long, has gone over the precise steps a million times, has selected each word carefully, but now it’s all vanished from her brain. Quite ironic, actually.
“Hilarious,” Dean scoffs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I’ve known about you for a while now, too.” She finds his gaze and bites down on her lip before her next confession rushes out of her mouth, “I talked to Helena Watson a couple of weeks ago.”
His pupils are wider than an ocean parting continents as he stares at her, and she’s sure she can hear his heart hammering against his chest, feels his anxiety cut off his air supply.
“Then you know I’m a monster. I shouldn’t even be allowed near people anymore. You should call your boyfriend and have me locked up,” he chokes out, his green eyes watery and distraught as he looks anywhere but her.
“De, you’re not a monster. You’re always gonna be my best friend, no matter what. It’s always you and me against the world,” she smiles softly. It’s tearing her apart to see him so broken, so hopeless, and scared.
“I just… I know you’re back, but it just doesn’t feel the same anymore.”
Her heart stings at his words, but she has to admit he’s right. Everything is different now, including them. “No, it doesn’t.”
“I-I want it back. I want you and me back. I want our old life back, Y/N. I didn’t ask for any of this. I want it all to come back.” She sees the desperation consuming him as he runs a hand through his dirty blond locks. He’s at the end of his rope, his ship’s run aground, his lifeline ripping.
“I don’t think it can anymore,” she tells him honestly because she’s fucking done with the lies. “Just talk to me, De. I can help you,” she reassures him and tries to reach for his hand. She wants to hold him, hug him, comfort him, but he brushes her off.
“I don’t want your help, okay? This is all your fault, to begin with!” His chest is heaving in harsh breaths, and her brow furrows, not understanding where all this anger towards her suddenly comes from.
“You’re blaming me?!” She knows he’s only lashing out at her because he’s hurt. Bambi’s gone feral. But still, his jarring words cut through her arteries like the sharpest razor.
“Yah, kinda,” he scoffs sarcastically, rolling his eyes in annoyance. Apparently, the asshole side of him has decided to make a comeback.
“How is it my fault?!”
“Are you kidding?! If you hadn’t fucking strolled into those labs, I wouldn’t have had to rescue your stupid, reckless ass and none of this would’ve happened! Now, look what happened! We’re both fucked beyond repair. And for what?! All for a fucking story?!”
He pauses for a moment, catches his breath after his lungs are burning from all the screaming. And then, he just stares at her, his demeanor changing to despair, and she can feel his sadness wrap around her, holding her head under water and flooding her lungs.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen. The night of Sam’s birthday last year… it was all supposed to change,” he mumbles under his breath, shaking his head as he becomes more and more enmeshed in a spiderweb of regrets. “’Twas supposed to me…”
“De, wha-… what are you talking about?” Her brows quirk together questioningly, trying to make sense of his racing mind as she combs through endless strings of incomprehensible snippets.
The look of heartbreak on his face is unmistakable, though. “Can’t you see? We could’ve had it all, Y/N… We were so close. So close…” The last few words are only a whisper of anguish.
“I-, I’m sorry.” That’s all she can really say as a tear rolls down her cheek. She truly is fucking sorry. She knows she’s the reason he’s in this mess in the first place. She’s fucked it all up.
“Yeah, that’s not good enough anymore… You’ve ruined my life. You’ve ruined it all. I wish I’d never met you. Just stay the fuck away from me,” he spits, bitterness lacing his voice like venom. And then he shoulders past her without another glance.
“Dean!”
When he storms away this time, she lets him go, knowing he needs his space – even if it destroys her own heart in the process.
One stormy evening later at Devil’s Bridge…
Y/N’s out scouting again on the bad side of town, searching for her mysterious electric girl. A woman at the local homeless shelter finally trusted her enough and sent her here, informing her that Claire – that’s the girl’s name – is usually roaming around near Devil’s Bridge. It’s her fifth day out here, but there’s still no sign of the rebellious blonde. It almost feels like the earth swallowed that girl whole.
Y/N tries to concentrate on her work, but Dean’s been constantly on the forefront of her mind since last night.
She’s fucking hurt, but she knows he doesn’t actually hate her. The saddest part about this whole dilemma is that he was saying all those awful things to himself. She could see it, and not just in his mind. Honestly, that’s what she gets for befriending a Grizzly – sometimes they bite your fucking arm off when you try to cuddle them like a Teddy.
Bambi needs a muzzle.
Ironically, it’s raining for once, too. Bad weather is a rarity in Lawrence City, but in recent weeks, that somehow has changed as well. There’s been a spike in tornado warnings and storms and Ash has even theorized someone with abilities might be causing the strange weather lately.
The rain has already soaked through her clothes and she’s shivering profusely, ready to return home, when she hears the familiar rumbling of a car in the distance. Her eyes narrow when she spies the Impala pull into the junkyard’s parking lot, perfectly illuminated by a lightning bolt in the distance, making it impossible for her to even convince herself she’s hallucinating.
She then witnesses none other than her best friend exiting the car; she’d recognize those goddamn bowlegs anywhere. Oh, she’s sure it’s him. Obviously, she’s surprised to find him here and even more baffled when he determinedly strides to a fucking dealer looming under the bridge.
As a reporter and just generally a nosy person, she can’t help but sneak closer to the pair, trying to eavesdrop as she hides behind a row of old cars by the junkyard.
“Are you Dean Winchester?” the shady guy asks her childhood bestie. But who the fuck knows anymore? This Dean might be a goddamn clone. Her life seems to be drawn to crazy shit these days.
“Yeah, where’s Gadreel?”
“Boss wanted him on another gig today. Same as always, I assume?”
“Just hand it over,” Dean huffs rather impatiently. Her jaw then goes slack, hits the goddamn dirty ground underneath her soles when she sees the exchange of drugs between them and blinks several times as her best friend fucking pops a pill.
What the actual fucking fuck…
Shocked to her core and mind-blown beyond belief, Y/N takes a step backward. She can’t trust her goddamn eyes. This can’t be Dean Winchester, firefighter extraordinaire. This can’t be the same best friend she’s known since her childhood. He’s a good man. A dumbass, sure, but good nonetheless. Admittedly, he has changed, but not this much, right? He’s a hero – he’s her hero, goddammit. Her best friend is not a junkie. He would never–
Part 18
WEIRD! Honestly, no idea what happened there *scratches head*... Anyways, I’m sure you have lots of thoughts to get rid of after this. You can find your venting platform HERE! Feedback is highly appreciated! ❤️🔥
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