𝔗𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔢𝔱
Dean Winchester x fem.reader
MDNI!
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Synopsis: You were there the night only one was meant to survive and you didn’t die while you carry something dangerous—the ability to erase people like they never existed. Months later, Dean still looks at you like you’re a monster to be feared…until the truth comes out that his time is running out.
And when it does, he asks for the one thing only you can give: to make him forget you so it won't hurt as much when he dies.
Part: 4/6
cw: fem!reader, x reader, no use of Y/N, reader has abilities, plays between season 2 and 3, doesn't strictly follow canon, Dean's crossroad deal, Sam's first death, enemies to lovers (one sided and if you squint), slight slow-burn, graphic descriptions of violence and gore, Dean is a ass most of the time towards reader, the Djinn case (mentioned), Dean confessing, Dean asking reader to use her ability
wc: 4,8k
a/n: just a quick warning that the next part will be dirty in more ways than one
ACT IV: The bar.
The case sounded simple, but of course it never was.
"Djinn." Dean said, tossing a file onto the table in the motel room.
"People go missing and show up later, if they show up at all, brain-fried or dead with their bodies drained of blood."
You frowned slightly, flipping through the pages of your notes.
"Poison?" you asked.
"More like venom." Sam corrected from the other side of the table "They put you in a dream state and feed off you while you're under."
"Best case? You wake up before it kills you." Dean nodded.
"And worst?" you asked quietly but neither Sam nor Dean answered—they didn't have to.
"Same rules." Dean added after a few beats, grabbing his jacket as he reached the front door.
You already knew them since they were basically ingrained into your DNA by now—stay, wait and don't get involved.
You nodded anyway.
"Sammy, you stay too." Dean threw into the motel room as he opened the front door, making Sam's face falter in confusion and frustration.
But Dean's face stayed set and determined, clearly showing that he wasn't accepting any argument from his younger brother.
Sam's jaw clenched as he begrudgingly let himself fall back onto his bed, the old springs creaking under his weight.
"Fine. I'll stay." Sam muttered obviously annoyed, reaching for his laptop like he needed the physical anchor.
Dean grinned at Sam's annoyance, then he left.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
Hours passed, too many.
The light outside faded from gray to dark while the motel room settling into that dim, buzzing quiet that made everything feel too still.
You sat on the edge of the bed, your leg bouncing slightly with nervous- and restlessness.
Sam checked his phone again and again...and again—checking the time, for a message from Dean that didn't seem to come.
"He should've called already. He always calls." Sam muttered, more to himself than to you.
Your chest tightened in worry, because that mutter didn't help.
Another hour passed, then another before Sam stood abruptly.
"I'm going." he said, already grabbing his own jacket from next to the hanger Dean's left empty.
Your head snapped towards him from where you had stared mindlessly at a stain on the wallpaper you didn't even want to know where it came from, while running through worst case scenarios in your head—just because Dean's deal was a year didn't mean he couldn't die before that.
"W-what?" you stammered at being ripped out of your thoughts suddenly.
"If it's a Djinn, if it got him–" Sam started already halfway to the door, but he trailed off—not finishing the sentence and not needing to.
"I'll stay here." you said quickly, standing as well and Sam nodded.
"If he comes back, you call me immediately." he said firmly as he put his jacket on, worry and tension making his shoulders tighten.
"I will." you assured and then Sam was gone too.
The silence came back, but even worse this time because now there was no one left.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
You paced, sat and stood again.
You checked the door every couple of minutes like it might open if you checked it and stared at it long enough.
Time stretched thin as every second became louder than the last.
You couldn't focus on anything but the vacancy the Winchester brothers left behind.
Then, finally, the door burst open.
You jumped slightly, nerves fried to non-existence already.
Sam stepped in first with Dean following behind him.
Relief hit you fast, sharp and overwhelming but more than welcome.
"You're okay." you breathed, stepping forward instinctively.
Dean didn't look at you, didn't react.
He walked past you like you weren't there, like you didn't even exist, and the relief shattered.
"Dean?" you said confused, but still nothing—not even a glance.
He grabbed something out Sam's hands, keys maybe, and then just turned back toward the door.
"Hey–!" Sam called out frowning "Where are you–?"
The door slammed shut before he could finish.
Silence again, but this time it hurt.
"What the hell was that..?" you asked quietly after being able to free yourself from your stupor, your voice tight.
Sam ran a hand over his face.
"I don't know." he murmured frustrated as he ran a hand over his face.
"Djinn venom messes with your head, maybe he's still coming out of it."
"But that...he wasn't disoriented..." you said carefully.
That way Dean moved was deliberate.
Sam didn't argue, he just grabbed his phone and called.
He tried once, waited a minute then called a second and a third time but his calls were left unanswered.
Your heart clenched and your stomach dropped with every ring that went nowhere.
"Dean, pick up." Sam muttered under his breath, pacing now as he continued dialing Dean's number over and over again—still nothing.
Minutes passed, then half an hour that turned into a full one as Sam continued to pace as the worry grew.
"I can't just sit here." you said suddenly as you snapped up from the bed, surprising even yourself.
Sam stopped pacing.
"Neither can I." he agreed and then the both at you just looked at each other—same thoughts, same fear.
"We split up." you said, making Sam hesitate before he finally nodded.
"You stay here in case he comes back. He'd rather return to you than to me." you instructed as you slipped into your shoes.
Sam opened his mouth to argue, but you didn't let him.
"I'll find him."
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
The night air had a deep chill that had nothing to do with the cold, making you shiver even under your jacket—or maybe it was just you.
You moved fast through the streets of the unknown city, peeking in anywhere you could while occasionally calling out for Dean or asking the few passersby's you encountered if they saw him—but no one did.
Where would he go? How far was he even away?
The impala was gone, so maybe he was just driving around alone..?
No.
If Dean was somewhere, then it was somewhere loud enough to drown things out but quiet enough not to be found—a pub, a bar.
And then you finally found him in a run-down hotel bar in the center of town with a crumbling facade and windows too dirty to see through properly, of course.
When you pushed your way inside it smelled like stale beer and something heavier.
The hotel had definitely passed it's glory a long, long time ago and seemed to focus on keeping the bar on the ground level going more than anything.
The music was loud, playing rock from busted speakers while a few patrons were scattered across the seats at the bar counter and booths.
You spotted him immediately, sitting alone in the corner of the bar with a half-empty glass in front of him and another already in his hand.
Relief washed over you, anger and worry coming with it all at once.
You crossed the room quickly.
"Dean." you said as you came to a halt next to him.
He didn't react, didn't look up.
"Dean." you tried again, louder, and this time he reacted.
His jaw tightened slightly for a moment, but his head still didn't lift—his eyes locked on the half-empty glass in his hand.
You sighed in frustration, pushing down the instinct that told you to just turn back around and leave at the lack of acknowledgement.
But you didn't.
"We've been looking for you worried sick, Dean." you started "Sam's been calling you like a mad men, he's–"
"I'm fine." Dean cut in muttering, finally speaking—flat, dismissive.
You shook your head in even more frustration.
"No, you're not." you observed dryly, and that got a reaction—small but there as his grip tightened slightly on the half-empty glass.
"You just walked out." you continued, taking a step closer.
"You didn't say anything, you didn't even–"
"I said I'm fine." Dean repeated, sharper this time but you still didn't back down.
"Sam's worried and so am I." you pressed.
Dean let out a short, humorless laugh at your words before he responded.
"Yeah, well, don't be."
"That's not how that works." you shot back immediately but Dean stayed silent, his shoulders still tense.
You inhaled deeply, momentarily pressing your lips together.
"Come back to the motel, please." you said finally, softer now—pleading, almost begging.
He didn't answer nor move, staying still like a statue that was just waiting to catch dust and vines to merge back into the earth to vanish in it completely.
"I'm calling Sam," you said as you inevitably gave up of getting through to Dean, pulling your phone out "He needs to know you're-"
Dean's hand shot out fast, grabbing your wrist before you could dial.
"Don't." he said low and sharp
His grip wasn't rough, but it was firm—desperate in a way that made the frustration and anger crumble.
Your eyes swayed back to him and for the first time since he returned from hunting that Djinn, he met your gaze—something in his eyes was breaking.
"Dean..." you said quietly and his grip loosened slightly but he didn't let go fully.
"Just...don't." he repeated, his own voice softer now—not commanding anymore, almost a plea.
Something was wrong, more than before and more than usual.
You could feel it right at the edge of everything he wasn't saying.
Dean didn't let go of your wrist right away, but he didn't send you away either, so you slowly lowered your phone and slipping it back into your pocket while your gaze didn't leave his.
"Okay." you finally agreed quietly and Dean's hand dropped carefully from your wrist after a second like he wasn't sure what to do with his hand now that it wasn't around your wrist anymore.
You glanced at the empty stool beside him, then at him.
He didn't stop you, so you sat—close enough that your shoulders almost touched, but not quite.
The music filled the space where words didn't come immediately.
Dean stared at his drink and you watched him as you did what you could do best—wait.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
"It got me." Dean spoke low, quiet and rough after ten whole minutes like the words had been sitting in his throat for a while.
You didn't interrupt, didn't move.
"The Djinn." he added as he continued as if you might not understand what he was talking about otherwise.
"I didn't even see it coming." he huffed humorlessly "Guess I'm slipping."
"No you're not." you said instinctively, not even thinking about your words but knowing they were true.
Dean shook his head slightly.
"That thing, it doesn't just knock you out. It brings you...somewhere else." he continued.
Your chest tightened as your mind spun back to earlier, before Dean left and Sam corrected you on the venom.
"Like a dream..?" you asked, glancing at him without turning your head.
"Yeah, but not like a normal one." Dean nodded faintly in response as his fingers tightened around the glass before he continued.
"It builds something, something you want like a...like a dream. It gives you something you don't question because you want it so much." he said.
You stayed still, staying seated next to him and listening for whatever was coming next.
"I didn't know I was under or felt it, I didn't feel anything except..." Dean trailed off, jaw clenching briefly before he continued "...everything being right."
For a few moments, you didn't know how to respond or if you even should at all.
How does one respond to that?
"What was it?" you asked softly, settling for a question rather than for words that might not mean anything.
Dean didn't answer right away, like saying it out loud made that dream a true fantasy in a way he didn't want.
Then he lifted the half-empty glass, chugging the amber liquid in one go before slamming the glass down on the bar-counter as if the echo could keep him in this exact moment.
"Mom was alive." he bit out, inhaling through his teeth at the burn of the liquor in his throat.
You overheard Sam and Dean mention her once or twice, the latter never wanting to talk about her so it came as a surprise that he mentioned her now—to you, of all people.
It were Sam and Bobby who told you about Mary and her untimely death, stuck on the ceiling and bursting into flames in Sam's nursery when he was only six months old.
"Dad too." Dean added as he watched the condensation on the glass like it held answers to questions no one but him knew.
"No hunting, no–" he paused as he gestured vaguely at himself and the door leading out of the hotel bar where the impala stood outside on the street "None of it."
"Sam was in law school, Jessica by his side at Stanford." Dean continued, his voice softening without meaning to before a faint and distant smile flickered across his face.
"He proposed" he went on "She said yes."
You felt something twist in your chest.
Sam didn't talk much about Jessica, and when he did it was drunk after a hunt with more casualties than he could bear—it's only because of that that you know about her too.
"And you?" you asked, almost whispering now like you were walking on eggshells and trying not to wake the sleeping beast.
For a second it looked like Dean wasn't going to answer, but then he let out a long breath.
"I had someone."
Your heart skipped but you didn't move, didn't speak and didn't even breathe properly.
Dean's gaze drifted behind the bar where a bartender was drying glasses with a rag too old and hands too dirty.
"She was...good." he continued lower, watching the man go through the motion of drying and putting away something fragile.
"Too good for me."
Your fingers curled against your thigh but you gathered your courage and turned your head to him.
"And?" you asked, even though your voice barely worked.
Dean exhaled slowly before finally his eyes met yours.
"It was you."
Your heart stopped, the world narrowing down to just that—to just him, to just those words while the rushing in your ears drowned out the still playing music and noise around you.
"What?" you whispered, taken aback.
You expected a lot, maybe something sarcastic or a brush off, but not that.
Dean didn't look away this time, didn't take it back.
His eyes were slightly glossed over with the buzz of alcohol, but they were so sincere that the thought he might be messing with you didn't even cross your mind.
"In that dream, it was you by my side." he repeated.
Oh.
Oh.
Your heart was racing now, fast and unsteady as beats stumbled over one another.
"That's not–" you started, shaking your head slightly in an effort to catch up "Dean, you barely–"
"I know." Dean cut in sharp and immediate, hardness set into his eyes before they softened
"I know." he said once more, softer.
Silence stretched between you as you were unsure what to say, but the silence wasn't empty—it was full of everything neither of you had said before.
"I didn't question it. I didn't stop to think 'why', I just...accepted it. Happily. Because it felt right." Dean admitted.
"And I stayed." he added without giving you the chance to process his confession.
"What?" you blinked, focusing on that instead.
"I stayed even when things started to feel off, even when I should've figured it out."
Your chest tightened painfully at his words.
"...why?" you asked even though you already knew, you just needed to hear it.
"Because I was happy." Dean breathed, and the honesty in it hurt.
"I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to wake up and go back to–" he kept going, vaguely gesturing around again "–this."
A bitter edge slipped into his voice.
"I didn't want to go back to knowing how things actually are, back to knowing how they end."
That pulled the ground out from under your feet, hard.
"So you just...let it happen..?" you asked with an unsteady voice, your eyes still locked on his like you were trapped in the green sincerity—waiting for the moment they pulled you in, letting you drown in the color and him.
"Yeah." he confirmed with no hesitate or excuse.
"I let it keep me there, let it feed, let it–" he paused to clench his jaw again and advert his gaze. "...kill me."
Your stomach dropped as alarm bells rang in your head loud, sudden and unforgiving.
"Dean–!" you started sharply.
"I knew." he cut in quietly, finding your eyes again "Not at first, but later."
His gaze didn't leave yours again as he went on.
"I knew something was wrong, that it wasn't real...and I still stayed.
Heavy silence followed that you didn't know how to fill at first, breathing feeling harder now.
"Because of them? Your family...?" you asked, forcing your voice calm and soft like it could somehow keep your worry at his words from spiraling.
"Not just them." Dean replied, shaking his head once.
You already knew where this was going, but it didn't make it easier—it didn't make breathing easier or calmed your still racing heart.
"Because of you."
The words were quieter, but that didn't soften the blow they dealt.
"I liked it." Dean admitted, his voice almost gone and barely a whisper "Too much."
Then he paused again, shaking his head like he was shaking off thoughts or rewinding them.
"I like you. More than I should." he corrected himself—not past tense, present.
There it was, out in the open with no taking it back as it filled the small space between the two of you.
You stared at him trying to reconcile this with...everything—with the distance, the avoidance and the way he looked at you like you were something he had to stay away from.
"You-you've been avoiding me for weeks, months." you stuttered, your voice shaking slightly.
"I know."
"You barely look at me."
"I know."
"Then why–"
"Because I don't get to have that." Dean snapped suddenly with his brows pinched together in anger—not at you, at himself.
You were stunned by the outburst, silence slamming back into place.
Dean ran a hand over his jaw and the beard bristles there, exhaling sharply.
"I don't get to want things like that, not anymore." he said, and the worst of it was that you knew why.
"The crossroad deal..." you mumbled before you could stop yourself, the words just slipping out and making Dean freeze completely in a way you had never seen before.
The air shifted instantly as his eyes snapped to yours, unreadable but sharp.
"How do you know that?"
Your mouth opened and closed uselessly, searching for a response you didn't have because you promised Sam you wouldn't tell Dean that he told you about it.
"I-I–" you stammered with your mind still scrambling but it was too late, you saw the shift and the realization that came with it.
"Sam." Dean said flatly, not even asking if he was right because he knew he was.
And yet you didn't respond, letting fragile silence hang between you and bracing for an explosion but underneath it was something else—something quieter that hadn't gone away, not even now.
Because even with everything crashing down Dean was still looking at you like that, like he meant what he said and that might've been the most dangerous part of all.
He didn't move at first or look away, didn't get angry the way you expected him to.
He just...stared at you as if something had finally clicked into place.
"Of course he did." Dean muttered under his breath with an eye-roll, more tired than furious.
Your chest tightened with guilt at breaking your promise to Sam without thinking.
"I wasn't going to say anything, he asked me not to." you said quickly.
"Yeah, that sounds like Sam." Dean chuckled, the frustration ebbing away while the anger you braced for never came.
Then he exhaled slowly, leaning forward against the bar like he needed something solid to hold him up.
"Guess that saves me the speech, then." he muttered, toying with the second glass in his hand he hadn't drank from yet.
"It doesn't have to." you offered quietly and his eyes flicked back to you with something softer and more exposed in them now.
"Yeah, no, it kinda does." he deflected in a murmur after a second before lifting the glass to his lips and you watched him chug the whole thing before setting the emptied glass down next to the other one.
You didn't stop him.
"I don't get this." Dean huffed humorlessly after a few moments of silence in which you adverted your gaze again, shaking his head slightly.
You frowned.
"What?"
"This." he repeated, motioning between the two of you with his chin "You. Me. Whatever the hell this is."
His voice wasn't angry, it was frustrated and lost.
"I don't get you." he added, glancing sideways at you without meeting your gaze again.
You blinked at him confused.
"What do you mean–"
"Because it didn't used to be like this." he cut in, then paused.
"I was fine."
The words came quick, as if he needed to say them before he lost the nerve.
"I was good with the deal. One year, Sam lives—that's it. Clean, simple."
Your stomach twisted uncomfortably.
"I knew how it ended, knew what I signed up for." he continued, voice rising slightly at each word as the frustration grew.
His gaze dropped back down onto the bar-counter with a sigh.
"I made peace with it." he added quieter, then his brows furrowed again.
"Then you stayed."
You remained silent, unable to speak like your brain abandoned your vocabulary to make space for Dean's voice and words.
"At first, I was pissed at you." Dean admitted.
"I know." you said immediately.
"No, you don't. Not really." he disagreed, shaking his head before his eyes met yours again.
"You...stood there and offered to erase him like he was something I could just lose twice."
Your throat tightened and you opened your mouth to respond, but Dean didn't let you.
"I wasn't thinking straight, I know that now." he added quickly and paused like he needed a moment to find the courage and the words.
"Back then? I hated you for even suggesting it."
The honesty stung but it wasn't cruel, it was just real and you understood.
"Then things changed." Dean continued quieter, less sharp.
"Somewhere between all those crappy motel rooms and those stupid long drives..." a small and almost reluctant huff of a smile broke through his words "...you didn't feel like a problem anymore."
Your heart skipped.
"You were just...there." he said "Helping...staying...not running like I thought you would."
Dean's gaze softened slightly as he paused before going on.
"And I started noticing it." he admitted quietly with a faint shrug of his broad shoulders.
"Noticing what...?" you asked.
"You."
The word landed the way it was spoken—softly.
"The way you patch us up like it actually matters, like I matter." Dean started to explain quietly
"The way you sit there reading lore like you're trying to earn your place–"
"I am." you interrupted small and quiet.
"I know. That's the problem." he replied immediately with a brief sigh.
You looked at him a little lost and confused, so he went on.
"I started caring...and I wasn't supposed to." Dean said just like that—no deflection or joke, nothing to hide behind.
"So I pulled back." he went on "Kept my distance. Figured if I didn't let it get too far, it wouldn't matter."
A humorless huff left him.
"Didn't work."
Your heart was pounding again now—loud and unsteady.
"It just got worse. Every time you were in the room, every time you looked at me like I wasn't–" Dean admitted, but cut off abruptly like he was about to say something he didn't want—jaw clenching to a point of almost cracking.
"Like I wasn't, what?" you pressed softly but Dean shook his head.
"Doesn't matter."
"It does."
That earned you a moment of silence before he sighed once again.
"Like I wasn't already gone." he said, eyes meeting yours again.
"I'm falling for you." Dean added, the repeated admission quieter but not carrying less weight—perhaps more, even.
"I didn't plan it, I didn't want it but it's happening anyway and it's getting worse with every second you're close and I can't fucking stop it."
Your breath caught in your throat like the air around was too thin and too tight to breathe in as Dean's gaze drifted away from you again.
"And I'm scared." he admitted in a whisper, the words and tone almost not sounding like him.
Dean Winchester is strong, capable, confident—he's not scared, not ever.
"I'm scared of what's coming, of what's waiting for me down there when that year's up." he continued.
Hell.
He didn't say it, but it was there between every word.
"I was okay with it before you." he scoffed, making your heart ache.
"I knew what I was getting, that I could handle it."
He paused again, his mouth opening and closing once then twice with no sound coming out.
"But I can't feel this..." his voice faltered slightly "...and then just go."
Dean looked at you then as his words echoed in your head, bouncing off the walls on the inside of your skull while they repeated like a broken record.
For a moment he just stared at you, his eyes boring into yours like he was trying to memorize something he knew he didn't get to keep.
"So I need you to do something for me."
Your stomach dropped, churned and flipped because you already knew what he was going to ask of you.
"Don't." you warned quietly but firm, shaking your head like you might be able to shake off that suggestion from existence once and for all.
Dean's eyes stayed locked on yours, undeterred by your initial refusal.
"I have to." he pressed lowly, like he felt guilty for asking this of you.
"No, no you don't–!"
"Yes, I do." he cut in, sharper now but the edges still soft "Because I'm not strong enough not to feel this."
"You want me to erase you from Sam's memory?!" you questioned in disbelief, your voice barely holding as anger found its way back to you.
Dean shook his head quickly.
"No, not from Sam. I want you to erase yourself from me, from my memory."
Your breath caught because this, this was even worse—'Erase yourself from my memory.'
"No." you declared immediate and firm, shaking your head again.
Dean didn't flinch fron the rejection.
"Please." he said quietly—raw.
You hesitated, scrambling for words you could hardly find in the mess your head had become since you found him here.
"You told me never to use it, you made it a rule!" you barked in a whisper, your voice shaking now as emotions bubbled over unguarded.
"I know."
"And now you're asking me to–!"
"Because this is different!" Dean snapped, but not in anger—in desperation.
"I can't fucking go down there thinking about you. I can't carry this with me." he said, his voice breaking slightly at the edges.
Your chest felt like it was caving in at the desperation and torment in his eyes and voice.
"I need it to not hurt, or at least hurt...less." he added "Please."
You couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't–
Dean closed the distance before you could say anything else.
His hand came up to your face hesitant as if he wasn't sure he was allowed—the palm of his hand cradling your jaw just below your ear, his fingers gently curling around the back of your neck.
Then he kissed you.
It wasn't careful nor planned, it was everything he hadn't let himself feel all at once.
And you didn't pull away, you couldn't.
Not when your hands found the collar of of his jacket to pull him closer, not when your heart was racing for a completely different reason now and not when his words were still echoing in your head—'Erase yourself.'
The kiss deepened in a desperate mess like time was running out, like the last few minutes were ticking and the last few grains of sand trickled through the hourglass.
For this moment, you let yourself forget everything else as you focused on Dean utterly and fully.
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