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“This is perfect,” you grinned down at the Led Zeppelin record box set and handed the sales clerk the money. He smiled politely at you, not really giving a damn about your excitement. You had planned this for days, waiting for the right moment when Dean had left the bunker to run to the nearest record store that had this set available for sale. You thanked the heavens that it was still there from when you had seen it almost three weeks ago, immediately snatching it from where it had sat for months and purchasing it.
The store employee bagged it for you and pretty soon you were making your way back to the car you had temporarily borrowed from the garage’s bunker. You passed by one of your favorite coffee shops, a quaint little space that always felt homely and welcoming to you. You considered going in and grabbing a quick coffee, halting your steps right in front of the shop’s door. You pulled it towards you and began to step inside when your eyes landed on familiar shoulders. Your heart dropped to the floor as Dean’s trademark smirk overtook his lips. He was flirting with someone, you knew it. That look had been directed at you more than a few times. Your eyes darted downwards, where his hand slid down the strange woman’s thigh only to have his long fingers interlace with her. She giggled into his shoulder and he dug his face into her neck.
You swiveled around on your heels, refusing to witness anything else. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but held them back. Swallowing thickly, you stomped over to the vehicle and threw Dean’s gift into the backseat. The cars around you honked as you cut them off, swerving onto the roadway. There were a few colorful words thrown your way, but you were too distracted trying to erase the image of Dean giggling and cuddling up to some other girl to even care about people being mad at you.
Despite wanting to sob out your sadness in the middle of the highway, you held everything back until you pulled up to the bunker. Today was supposed to be a special day. Although a bit cliché, you had decided to finally admit your feelings to Dean. You had trusted Sam in that the older Winchester reciprocated his feelings, even going as far as purchasing something he would really like, disregarding its very high price.
“Hey, Y/N,” Sam stood up from where he had been reading through some lore books. “Were you able to buy the record set?”
“Yeah,” you glared up at him. “And I was also able to see Dean cuddling up to some girl in the coffee shop.”
“What?” he furrowed his brow, eyes immediately taking on a surprised expression.
“Dean had a fucking Valentine’s date!” you screeched.
“Y/N, I swear, I didn’t know anything about that,” Sam held his hands out.
“You said he liked me back,” you wiped at the tears running down your cheeks quite freely now.
“He did, Y/N,” Sam looked stupefied. Maybe he really didn’t know about his brother not liking you back. Maybe Dean Winchester was just playing around and flirting with you to keep himself entertained.
“No, he obviously doesn’t,” you scoffed. “Whatever, I’m going to my room,” you waved him away. Sam took a step towards you but thought better of it and sat back down. He shook his head and thought of calling his brother.
Meanwhile, you slammed the door of your bedroom and threw yourself on the bed, sobs wracking your body. You couldn’t believe that you had spent more than half of your savings on Dean’s gift. You honestly couldn’t wait to see his face light up with that gorgeous smile of his when he opened it, but now that was going back to where you had gotten it from.
The tears wouldn’t cease and pretty soon you were attempting to clean up the snot from your pillow. You stayed curled up on your bed for hours before a sudden knock boomed through the vicinity of your room. You jumped and covered your mouth, stifling a gasp.
“Y/N,” Dean’s deep voice reverberated through the wooden door.
“Go away, Dean,” you screamed out at him.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he questioned. You snorted and held back the expletives threatening to fly out of your lips.
“Nothing, I’m just not feeling well, okay?” you coughed.
“Would you just let me in, I have something that will make you feel better,” he suggested with a softness to his voice.
You really didn’t know what possessed you to climb out of bed and make your way to the bedroom door. But then again, you were never really strong against giving Dean whatever he wanted. You slowly opened the door and looked down at your feet, refusing to look at the smirking man. You knew he was giving you that same flirty expression he had given that girl in the coffee shop.
“I got you something for today,” he held out a gift bag. “Something special. Just for my special sweetheart,” his other hand rose to thumb your cheek.
“Wow, Dean,” you scoffed. “I really didn’t know you could afford to buy so many gifts. I never knew you could be so thoughtful.”
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he inquired, a perplexed look on his face.
“Don’t you have a girl you were spending the day with?” you crossed your arms over your chest. “I mean, you were all over her in the coffee shop.”
“Uh,” Dean opened his mouth before closing it. “That was just—what were you doing in town? Weren’t you here with Sam doing research?”
“I was getting you something, you jerk,” you glared up at him.
“Oh, what did you get me, sweetheart?” his eyes lit up and for a moment you were weak, loving just how adorable he could look when excited.
“A Led Zeppelin record box set,” you mumbled. You bit the inside of your cheek when you realized that you had responded to his question.
“Oh, that is just awesome, Y/N,” he grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist. He pulled you into his embrace. “Thank you so much!” he exclaimed. His lips met yours and you could feel yourself melting, body becoming lax in his hold. His mouth was softer than you could ever imagine, and oh, he was such a good kisser.
Your eyes closed slowly as your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers threading through his silky, dirty blond hair. He groaned against your lips and the vibrations sent shivers through your spine. Dean Winchester was more than you could ever handle, always had been, always will. He was truly what any girl—that girl in the coffee shop wanted.
It took all of your self-control to push yourself away from him, but you peeled your body away from Dean’s and shook your head.
“What happened, baby?” he tilted his head.
“No, no,” you shook yours, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. “You were at that coffee shop with that girl, you were all over her. And now you’re coming in here and kissing me like that? No, Dean Winchester, you got me all wrong.”
“The coffee shop?” Dean made a surprised face. “You saw that?”
“Yes, Dean, I saw it,” you avoided his puppy eyes and looked at the ground. You couldn’t cave in now.
“Look, Y/N,” he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“No, you don’t get to say anything when you were just on a date with another girl,” you dug your index finger into his chest.
“Excuse me?” he took a step towards you, glaring down at you. “You and I are nothing, nothing, Y/N. You don’t have any sort of claim on me.”
“Well, don’t you think I know that?” you yelled back at him. “I’m not the one barging into your room and kissing you.”
“I thought we could do something today for Valentine’s Day,” he snapped.
“Well, please, continue your fucking date with her, don’t let me interrupt,” you began to push him out of the room. “Go ahead, Dean. I mean, you obviously had to leave early to drop God knows fucking what in my room.”
“Y/N, please,” he took a step towards you.
“No, get out, Dean, get out,” your voice trembled. Dean exhaled deeply before sagging his shoulders and making his way out of your bedroom. You slammed the door behind him and threw the gift bag he had brought with him against the wall.
The gift tumbled to the floor and out of the corner of your eye, you could see the edge of a red box. Your curiosity won this round and you picked up Dean’s gift. Tossing the gift bag aside, you focused your attention on the yellow bow tied around a rectangle box. With fumbling fingers, you untied the ribbon and let it fall next to your sock-clad feet. A sharp inhale was all you could muster as you opened your gift.
Inside was a silver necklace and a locket. With a small click, you had it opened, only to be presented with a picture of your youngest brother. Tears threatened to brim over, yet you held them back. You collapsed on your knees, box and locket hitting the floor and the clattering sound being overlapped by your own limbs falling next to them.
You had lost your entire family in a fire. Pictures, along with every single memorabilia of them, had been burned to ashes. All for one picture of your youngest brother when he was but an infant. You kept it in the deepest part of your drawer, a place you had once shown Dean after having opened up to him about grieving over your family. He had held you as you cried out your sorrow, pressing kisses to your temple.
Only Dean knew you this intimately. You hadn’t even let Sam in as much as the older Winchester. Your heart wrenched in your rib cage and you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your cheeks. The pain was unbearable as you clutched the necklace to your chest and got on your feet. Taking a few steps forward, you buried yourself in your bed sheets and attempted to forget about the rest of the world.
Your tries were futile as Dean’s eye-wrinkling smile permeated your thoughts. His voice seemed to ring in your ears, specifically with the words, “You and I are nothing,” sounding like a broken record. Drifting between being awake and asleep, you heard frantic knocking on your door, choosing to ignore it and cover your head with a pillow.
The next morning, you brought yourself to the decision of ignoring everything that had occurred the day before. You would go back to treating Dean as if nothing and pretended that it was all back to normal. The locket Dean had given you took its place where the picture of your brother once sat, deep inside one of your drawers. You emerged from your room showered and changed, ready for a day of research with the younger Winchester. Maybe a new case would lighten your mood up.
There was girlish giggling in the kitchen and with inquisitiveness, you poked your head into the room. Sam was smiling softly as he ate from his plate. Meanwhile, Dean has his head thrown back in mirth. Your lips were halfway through forming a smile when your eyes landed on her. The coffee shop girl was sitting on Dean’s lap, arms snaked around his shoulders as she pouted and urged Dean to eat the piece of toast she was offering him.
“Alright, sweetheart, let me have this delicious breakfast you made,” he chuckled and took the offered food, seductively licking her fingers in the process. The girl’s cheeks burned bright pink and she looked away shyly, her eyes landing on you.
“Oh, hi!” she grinned at you. “You must be Y/N, Dean and Sam’s surrogate little sister.”
“Pardon?” you cleared your throat. There was no way you would show your hurt now.
“Oh, yes,” Dean smiled nervously at you. “Kimberly, this is Y/N, the little sister I was telling you about last night. Y/N, this is Kimberly. You saw us in the coffee shop together, remember?”
“Oh, yeah,” you nodded after noticing Dean’s edgy form and the girl’s genuinely curious smile. “Hi, Kimberly, nice to meet you.”
“You can call me Kim,” she stood up from Dean’s lap and embraced you. You were initially surprised, but let her hug you without protesting. “It is so nice to meet a Winchester girl. I was thinking it was only guys here.”
“Oh, no, Y/N keeps us grounded,” Dean smiled at you, mouthing a ‘thank you.’ You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes and walk towards the stove. Meanwhile, Sam surveyed the scene playing out before him warily.
“I made breakfast for all of you,” Kim clapped her hands as she walked over to you, hand waving towards the scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice splayed out on the table. “Please, eat all you want. It was so much fun cooking with Dean. We made it with love.”
“Oh, that sounds scrumptious,” you wrinkled your nose sarcastically. “But I’m okay. I think I’ll eat cereal,” you thanked Kim before grabbing a bowl, the carton of milk, the box of cereal, and a spoon. Excusing yourself out of the room, you ran towards the library.
Sam found you huddled over a book about djinns half an hour later. He sighed deeply as he sat in front of you and you smiled at him.
“What’s up?” you raised a brow.
“Kim is, Kim is bubbly,” he laughed softly.
“Maybe that’s what Dean needs,” you shrugged. “He was having fun with her.”
“Y/N,” Sam sighed, shooting you a pitying look.
“Sam, don’t,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Please, don’t. It’s okay. I’ll be okay. Let’s just research and try to find us a case.”
“Are you sure, Y/N?” Sam leaned over the table.
“Yes, Sam, I’m sure,” you rolled your eyes. “Now, have you seen anything interesting in the obit section of the newspaper?”
“Actually, there is this case,” Dean’s voice answered and you almost jumped out of your chair. “Whoa, it’s just me, Y/N,” he grinned at you as he walked over to you. Your eyes met his and you could see anxiousness there, before it fleeted and was replaced by a playful twinkle.
“What did you read that was interesting?” you glared up at him, snatching the newspaper from his hands. You heard the telltale, quick steps of Kimberly walking into the library. She must have been following Dean.
“What are you guys up to?” she stood next to Dean, interlacing her arm with his and leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Oh, nothing, just doing some research for our thesis paper,” Sam quickly responded. You turned your head to him and gave him a questioning look. “Y/N, I was just telling Kim about the thesis you and I are working on about mythology and so on,” he cleared his throat.
“Oh, oh!” you nodded your head quickly. Kim knew nothing about your hunter lifestyle. “Yeah, um, it is quite secret, shhh,” you held a finger up to your lips before chuckling.
“That sounds pretty cool,” she giggled before turning to face Dean. “Now, what do you say we leave these two to study, baby? You and I could go out and walk through town,” she suggested with a flirty batting of her eyelashes.
“Sounds like a plan,” Dean clapped his hands and rubbed them together. He said bye to Sam, avoiding to look at you, and escaped the room, dragging Kim by her hand. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and Sam shook his head. Sometimes, he didn’t understand his brother.
The weeks passed as you tried to get over Dean, with him bringing Kim over so often that you became accustomed to having her cook almost all of the meals eaten at the bunker. You really wanted to resent her for dating Dean, and actually having him declare that they were in an exclusive relationship, but there was nothing to dislike about the girl. She was gorgeous and quite charming. She could carry intelligent conversations and knew how to cook deliciously from basically anything in the pantry.
Although you begin to notice Dean’s eyes moving away from her and meeting yours, looking almost pained, before they flew back to gaze at her almost lovingly. You wanted the ground to swallow you, yet you bore through it all knowing that you had avoided yourself a big mistake by having Kim date the disaster that was Dean Winchester.
Your focus turned towards researching and spending your days in the library. Sam occasionally invited you to accompany him to have some drinks and you’d agree. After all, it wasn’t the most comfortable of situations to be around when Dean and Kim decided to be frisky with one another in the kitchen or living room. You’d refrain yourself from giving in to the temptation of drinking yourself stupid until all you could think about was how to keep yourself straight while walking. Instead, you’d share a couple of drinks with the tall Winchester, making small talk until he would find a random girl to take back to a motel room.
After a few outings, you decided that letting yourself flirt with a cute guy wouldn’t hurt. So, the next guy that approached you, you flirtatiously returned his grin and pretty soon, he had you pressed against the outside wall of the building, lips marking your neck. You drowned yourself in the physical pleasure and dragged him to the car you had brought from the bunker. You didn’t think twice about bringing him back to your home. Instead of Sam’s choice of rendezvous, you didn’t feel safe with a strange man in a motel room.
You stumbled into the bunker, a giggling mess in the guy’s arms as he made you laugh over a stupid pun he had said in the middle of the car ride. His laugh reverberated through the bunker’s wall and you could see Dean’s shadowed form appear from the hallway.
“Oh, hey, Dean,” you grinned as you walked down the stairs, your fingers interlaced with the guy’s. “It’s just me and Vince,” you raised both your hands.
“Hey, man,” Vince raised his chin at Dean in greeting as the older Winchester crossed his arms over his chest in disapproval.
“Where’s Sam, Y/N?” Dean ignored your date and turned to glare at you.
“He’s at the motel with a girl,” you scoffed. “Where’s Kim?” you looked behind him.
“Hey, Y/N,” Kim walked into the room. Your breath caught in your throat. She was clad in nothing but Dean’s flannel shirt, the one you had given him for his birthday two years ago. You quickly concealed your hurt expression when the room got too quiet for comfort.
“Hey, Kim, this is Vince,” you cleared your throat.
“Oh, Y/N, he’s a cutie,” Kim winked at Vince, who laughed softly.
“Well, I should be the one being complimented for having Y/N notice me,” Vince winked flirtatiously at you and you playfully slapped his shoulder before digging your face into his chest. He laughed softly and kissed your temple, succeeding in irritating Dean.
“Well, I’m sorry to announce, but Vince, you can’t stay here,” he announced.
“Why not? Kim stayed here right after your first date,” you defended yourself. Hell, no, Dean had no say in who you spent the night with.
“She’s right, sweetheart,” Kim’s hand rested on Dean’s shoulder and you noticed how he became even stiffer at her touch.
“He is not staying over,” Dean enunciated each word, his voice dripping with threat.
“Hey, if it’s too much of a bother, I can leave,” Vince looked at Dean nervously before smiling softly at you. “We can see each other tomorrow. How about lunch together?”
“That sounds great, but you can really stay,” you pouted up at him. “Dean is just being stupid.”
“Nah, that’s okay,” Vince leaned down to peck your cheek softly. “I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow, alright?”
“Okay, goodnight,” you smiled and pecked his lips softly. Vince exited the bunker with a wave and a flirty wink sent your way.
“Congratulations, he is quite a handsome catch,” Kim hugged you and you laughed softly.
“Thanks, Kim,” you grinned. “He is quite cute, isn’t he?”
“He’s a babe, dear,” she nodded.
“Time for bed,” Dean grabbed Kimberly’s hand and begin to drag her away.
“You tell me all about it tomorrow!” Kim screamed as she was pulled away from you.
“Will do,” you promised. You heard the door of Dean’s room slam and rolled your eyes. What the hell had gotten into him?
The next day, Vince kept his word and by noon, you were being handed a bouquet of flowers while Vince held out his arm for you. You pecked his cheek and followed his lead to his convertible. The day went by quite splendidly as Vince managed to keep your mind off of Dean. You laughed until your sides hurt and he had you intrigued at just how much he knew of a variety of subjects.
By the end of your date with him, Vince had you pinned down on the passenger seat of his car, lips marking a hot trail of kisses across your collarbone as you pulled on his light brown hair. Things were getting heated when a banging against the window knocked you both out of your heated make-out session. Dean stood just outside the window, harsh expression showcasing his disapproval in having you getting frisky with Vince in the bunker’s garage.
“What’s with him?” Vince muttered under his breath before pulling away from you and straightening himself up in his own seat.
“I’m going to kill him,” you gritted your teeth and opened the door, sending Dean reeling back in avoidance to getting himself hit. “What is your problem, Dean?” you glared up at him, voice rising in volume.
“Kim made dinner, thought you would like to join us,” he smiled down at you.
“No, thank you,” you huffed, wiping some hair stuck to your face off. “Now go back inside.”
“Nah, let’s just all eat dinner,” Dean crossed his arms and planted his feet on the ground. You rolled your eyes, knowing just how stubborn the man could be. If he said he wasn’t going to move, he truly wasn’t. So in order to avoid an argument, you grabbed Vince’s hand and dragged him with you to the bunker’s dining room. The dinner was the most awkward you had ever experienced.
You began to date Vince, yet no matter how interesting he was the more you got to know him, Dean’s face always popped up whenever it had the chance. Whenever neither Kim nor Vince were around, Dean and you laughed together. He would sometimes graze the skin of your forearm with his fingertips, letting them linger a second more than what was comfortable, and yet you let him, looking away to hide the furious blush painting itself on your cheeks.
Sam began to notice the difference in the atmosphere. It was tense whenever Kim and Vince stayed over. Awkward silence reigned when everyone gathered around the dining room table to eat. Yet when there was only the Winchesters and you, it was peaceful and a relaxing aura made even breathing easier. After a few weeks of this, Sam had had enough.
“Break up with her, Dean,” he pulled his older brother away from Kim, letting her know he needed him for private matters. She had grinned and continued on watching her favorite show.
“Uh, what?” Dean responded intelligently.
“I swear, you and Y/N are going to drive me fucking nuts,” Sam pulled at his hair. “Break up with Kim. We both know you don’t love her. You’re in love with Y/N.”
“I am not,” Dean scoffed and crossed his arms nervously over his chest. “Now, let me ignore what you just stupidly said and go back to—”
“No, you listen to me, idiot,” Sam pulled his brother back aggressively. “It’s obvious you don’t like Kim and it’s quite clear that Y/N is just keeping Vince around as a distraction. Now, I’m imploring you, face your feelings for her. I can’t deal with this any longer.”
“What do you mean you can’t do this anymore?” Vince’s voice interrupted the Winchester’s argument.
“I need some time alone, a break from all of this relationship stuff,” you cringed at your words. The last thing that you wanted to do was to hurt Vince, but it was not fair to him when all you thought about was Dean whenever you were with him.
“Y/N,” Vince reached out to you.
“No, just, please understand,” you pleaded. “I’ll call you, okay?” you smiled up at him. Your words were final and Vince knew you enough to understand that you wouldn’t be deterred from your decision. He hung his head and shrugged his shoulders, walking away from you and towards the exit of the bunker. You didn’t move from your spot as you heard the door slam behind him. Sighing softly, you put your hands into the front pockets of your jeans before turning on your heels and being met with the two Winchesters.
“So you and Vince no more, huh?” Dean grinned.
“Nope,” you smiled briefly before sliding past them, not noticing the disapproving glare Sam was giving Dean as the older man shrugged nonchalantly.
“You see?” Sam whispered as he heard you walk further away from them. “She didn’t even like him. Just fess up to your fucking feelings, man.”
“Sam, just leave,” Dean groaned and threw his head back in frustration. You breaking up with Vince just made it all that much harder for him. He was literally on the verge of dropping all pretense and letting you know how he felt, yet something inside him didn’t let him. Sam shook his head and walked away from a deep exhale, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts.
Dean knew he had loved you for years. He knew the exact moment as well. It had been around a year after having met you. You had gotten hurt during a hunt and after bandaging you up, you had undressed in front of him, only to realize you had forgotten to bring pajamas with you. Dean had offered you one of his t-shirts and it had been a downhill battle from there.
He began to notice all the little quirks that made you unique to him. The way you would wrinkle your nose whenever you were being sarcastic, or the way that you hid your feelings behind smartass responses. Whenever you went on a hunt, you’d kiss the photograph of your little brother and Dean hoped you hadn’t thrown away that locket he had custom made for you. Dean had fallen in love with you and did not want to admit it to himself. If he did, if he even told you and decided to pursue you, it’d destroy the delicate balance that kept his entire life together. He wouldn’t risk that for anything, not even to have you in his arms.
Yet, no matter how much he forced himself to think of Kim whenever he saw something exciting, he would realize that he was typing your number to text you and tell you all about it. Thankfully, he’d come to his senses before pressing ‘send’ and text Kim instead. But her reactions, although sweet in their intentions, were never your excited, over-the-top ones. Kim was a wonderful, intelligent woman, but she wasn’t you.
For the next few days, Dean mulled over his feelings, becoming suddenly quiet and confusing Kim as she tried to knock him out of his reveries. Her heart broke whenever she saw his eyes flicker over to you and stare at you longingly. She knew you weren’t really their sister; that you were more of Dean’s lover than either of you two could ever admit. Yet she knew that there was more there than he cared to tell her.
You, on the other hand, vainly tried to get over Dean. You’d feel his eyes on you, but whenever yours met them, frustration and anger would be present in them. It became so burdening to you that you began to avoid being in the same room as him. You’d quickly greet him and Kim before scurrying away and hiding yourself in your room. The anger that Dean revealed in his eyes wasn’t something you wanted to be on the receiving end of.
Two weeks later had you hearing the lock of the bunker’s door click and Dean entering with Kim right behind him. You were not in the mood to deal with his glares and her tension-filled smiles, so after grabbing your jacket, you fleetingly grinned at them before walking out of the bunker. You took a deep breath, reveling in the outside air and decided to go for a walk. Avoiding them was the best you could now at the moment.
Meanwhile, Dean took Kim’s hand in his one last time. Kim could sense something was wrong and swallowed thickly as her boyfriend sat her down on a dining room chair. The blond man didn’t even bother to sit down. Instead he kneeled in front of her and with a thick, remorseful voice, Dean Winchester told Kim he couldn’t see her anymore.
Kim’s hand flew to cover her mouth, muffling the sobs escaping from her throat. Her eyes overflowed with tears and she shook her head, pushing Dean away as he tried to embrace her in comfort. She grabbed her purse, slinging it over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs to exit the place she had come to consider her home in such a short time. Dean covered his face with is hands in frustration, disappointed in himself in hurting such a wonderful woman. But he knew that he couldn’t keep lying to himself. Dean Winchester loved you, and no one else.
Kim opened her car with trembling hands, slumping her body on the driver’s seat and throwing her things in the back. With fumbling fingers, she managed to put the keys in the ignition and turn on the engine, glad when it came roaring to life. The faster she got away from there, the easier she could breathe. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, the skin of her knuckles taut and almost white. She pulled out of the driveway and swerved onto the road that took the cars to the main highway.
Her tears blurred her vision as she tried to keep the car straight, preventing herself from veering off the road. She thought she saw a deer run past, but it was too blurry to see. She swerved to the right, avoiding a tree only to be met by yet another one on her left. With a slight screech, she turned the steering wheel sharply and that’s when time stopped itself.
The scream came before the thump. There was a thud on the windshield and glass flew everywhere. Kim yelled at the top of her lungs. Poor deer, she had hit it quite hard. With tears running down her cheeks, she climbed out of her car, only to be met by a far worse sight. You laid in a pool of your own blood, a mangled mess, struggling to breathe. The blood curdling scream that erupted from Kim’s throat aided you in keeping your consciousness.
You had tried to avoid the car’s incoming hit. But you had been so consumed in the thought of Kim in Dean’s arms instead of you, that your reaction time had not been fast enough. It had all been painful before numbness settled in your bones. Adrenaline at hearing Kim screech and dialing Dean’s number kept you awake. You heard her pleading him to come, to forgive her for having hurt you in such a brutal way.
She knelt beside you, hands cradling your head, urging you to remain awake. Whenever you tried to close your eyes, to give in to the darkness fogging your brain, she’d slap you and force you to open your eyes. You tried to complain to her. How dare she keep you up when you were trying so hard to fall asleep? Yet she persisted and before long, Dean’s blurry frame took her place.
You felt his arms wrap around you. Those strong, warm arms you had longed to be encircled around your body. They finally were, and you smiled, closing your eyes in bliss at finally having him hold you so close. You didn’t hear him screaming your name, you didn’t feel him shaking you viciously. You were in heaven, feeling Dean surround every part of your existence as you gave in to the darkness.
“Dean,” Kim’s trembling hand grazed his shoulder.
“Leave,” Dean avoided her touch as he stood up, your body in his arms as he cradled you. Your neck was lax as your head hung back. He shut his eyes at the sight. The tears threatened to brim over, yet Dean’s ears picked up on Kim’s sniffling noises. “Kimberly,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “Leave, now. I’ll take care of her. Go away,” the dangerous note to his voice prompted Kim to momentarily cease her crying and climb into her car, revving the engine and speeding right out into the highway.
Dean struggled to plant his feet on the ground, not have his knees buckle and just let his sobs out with only the trees to absorb them. He took slow, unsteady steps towards his car, fumbling to open the back door. After a few moments, he was laying you on the back seat of the Impala. His eyes raked down your body, blood splattering your clothes and broken limbs causing a heavy weight to settle on his stomach. Dean Winchester would do whatever he could to bring you back.
The drive back to the bunker seemed perpetual as Dean’s fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly. He had to slow down on various occasions, his eyes playing tricks on him whenever he’d look at you from the rearview mirror. His heart would skip a bit, thinking you had moved, yet every fiber of his being knew that life had long escaped your body.
The front door of the bunker burst open, revealing a panicked Sam. His eyes widened as he laid them on your limp form in Dean’s arms. Sam had been left behind when Dean had picked up the phone to answer Kim’s call. The older Winchester had ignored his little brother and gone straight for the door, leaving him to think the worst. Now, it stood before him in your dead body and his brother, who seemed to have little to no control of his sanity.
“Is she alright?” Sam began to move away, to give space for Dean to bring you inside and to your room. His mind was already flying to the first aid kit, thinking how he could repair the mess that you were in.
“She’s—” Dean’s voice caught in his throat, incapable of continuing the sentence. Yet it was enough for the taller man to comprehend. It took him a few moments to process, yet when he did, his jaw clenched and his eyes became watery.
“Yeah, um,” Sam swallowed his grief. He had to be strong for his brother. “Just take her to her room, we can—yeah, we can see what we’ll do later.”
“Okay,” Dean cleared his throat and began to climb down the stairs. He descended sluggishly, as if being dragged back by putty. His arms had gone numb from holding you, yet the pain he had felt in his limbs was nothing to the ache that made each heartbeat more painful than the previous one. His breaths came with difficulty and he found himself gasping for air as he walked down the hallway to your room.
The bed was undone and Dean realized how unlike you this was. You were usually orderly, to the point of being fastidious, with every one of your belongings. Laying your eyes upon an unkempt bed usually drove you bonkers. Your almost lover gently laid you down, placing your hands on either side of your body. Sam walked into the room right behind him, hands in his front pockets.
“Um,” he cleared his throat, Dean glanced behind him briefly before sitting down on the bed, hand resting on your own. “May I ask what—?”
“Kimberly happened,” Dean responded, voice dry.
“Kim did this?” Sam gasped in disbelief.
“She didn’t see her walking, she just—” the blond man stopped mid-sentence, unable to continue. “I just told her to leave. The last thing I wanted to hear was her crying.”
“Yeah, I understand,” Sam nodded. “Do you need anything, Dean?”
“Find everything you can about bring someone back,” his brother answered.
“Dean, we can’t—”
“Do it, Sammy,” he growled. “I’m not giving up on her so easily. We are going to find a way to bring her back. We live in the Men of Letters’ bunker, for heaven’s sake, find something!”
“Alright, alright,” Sam saw it futile to argue, his hands rising defensively before he turned away to work on his brother’s request.
Dean heard Sam’s footsteps recede, letting out a deep breath and climbing into the bed next to you. With gentle movements, he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you to lean your head on his chest. He ignored that your chest didn’t rise and fall with each of your breaths, he ignored that you were becoming colder by the minute, he persisted in refusing to notice how you failed to wrap your own arms around him. His lips stroked against your forehead, kissing the clammy skin.
The tears came unbidden, traitors to the storm brewing inside Dean. He laid his cries on your skin, his hands trembling as they held you closer, tried to imprint you on his body forever. For hours, Dean tried to convince himself that Sam would be successful in his hunting down of ways to bring you back. You’d soon be breathing well again, giving him a piece of your mind over how he had chosen Kim over you. Yet, in the back of his mind, with resounding annoyance, stuck the thought of never being able to hold your living body in his arms ever again. Regret settled in Dean’s bones, where they’d remain for years to come.
The next morning, Dean got up from your bed, refusing to acknowledge the stiffness in your cold body. Sam stood up from where he had been sitting down eating breakfast and surveyed a disheveled Dean.
“Hey, man,” he attempted to smile at his older brother.
“Hey, Sammy, you found something?” Dean opened the refrigerator door, quickly grabbing a beer.
“About that,” the younger man rubbed his palms on the jeans nervously. “I think we shouldn’t meddle with that, Dean. I mean, you and I both know, hell, even Y/N knew, what’s dead should stay—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Dean threatened dangerously. Sam stopped and swallowed thickly. He knew that it was going to be a long fight with Dean about this. But bringing you back was out of the question.
“Dean, there is nothing we can do.”
“There is plenty to do,” the green-orbed man pinched the bridge of his nose after downing more than half of the beer. “There’s demon deals, summoning Death, asking Cas to bring her soul back,” he provided examples.
“There is nothing we can do,” Sam enunciated the words once again. “I’m not going to let you sell your soul. Death will probably just ignore us. And you know Cas won’t be able to bring her back. We have to give her a hunter’s funeral.”
“We’re burying her,” Dean declared with finality. “We are not burning her to ashes. She will be buried at a close distance. So when I find some way to bring her back to me, she’ll have a body to go back to.”
“Please don’t do this,” the younger Winchester pleaded. “Please, Dean, please don’t do this.”
“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean threw out the empty beer bottle, grabbing another one from the fridge and walking back to your room. His brother trailed behind him and he silently aided Dean in preparing your body for burial. He knew that arguing about this was futile, yet there was no way the blond man was going to be able to bring you back.
The Winchesters buried you behind the bunker, close enough for Dean to have access to your body when he had succeeded in bringing you back. Sam dejected himself into watching his brother go days without sleeping, finding any possible way to have his nightmare from continuing.
A mere two days after your death, Dean took it to bury a box in the middle of a crossroads, only to be sharply disappointed. The demon took one look at him, having the word spread around about your death, and vehemently refused to make any sort of deal with him. It cost the demon its life, but Crowley had given specific orders to not meddle with the Winchesters when it came to soul deals.
Cas was also a futile attempt. The angel didn’t have enough mojo in him to bring you back, let alone the access to heaven. Dean stopped talking to him for days after Cas had said no. The books in the bunker’s library were thrown across the room, landing on the floor with dull thuds as Dean was unable to find some type of way to have you back alive in his arms once again.
His dejectedness grew in ratio to his drinking, until Dean didn’t recognize reality from his nightmares anymore. The dreams were always the same. He was the one who drove the knife into your chest and watched as your eyes lost the life within them. His hands would vainly try to prevent the bleeding, yet the last words to always leave your lips were: “Why, Dean?” He’d wake up, chest heaving and tears running down his face, only to have to resort to pouring his worries over the closest bottle of liquor.
Sam resorted to stay in the bunker, unable to take a drunk Dean with him to hunt. He’d find himself a case, only to have to dispatch it to another hunter who’d take care of it. The older Winchester refused to leave the vicinity of the closed quarters, throwing himself into drunken stupor.
The days became meshed into a dull rhythm of barely catching any sleep and only waking up to throw the empty spirit bottle to replace it with a new one. Dean found himself leaving the bunker only to replenish the liquor stash he had long emptied. Sam fought him at first, hiding the keys of the Impala. Yet that only served to have Dean’s ire rise with such a revenge that the taller man had to hide in his room as his brother threw chairs and books to try to placate it.
Wherever Dean looked, your presence lingered. You had left your favorite book lying on the kitchen counter. You had been unable to put it back when the sound of Dean entering the place with Kimberly had prompted you to grab your jacket and go for a walk. The man saw you in the shows being recorded when he turned on the TV. There was always a notification, letting him know that whatever episode had premiered had been chronicled successfully and was ready to be watched.
Dean couldn’t let you go. He refused to, even when he had run out of options to bring you back. He’d sleep in your room, inhaling your scent in the bed sheets, moving to grabbing a shirt of yours from the closet when your scent had worn off the blankets.
He began to notice the slight difference in the placement of things a few months after your passing. He’d usually leave a beer bottle lying next to the remote control, only to have it smashed to the ground when he had come back from the bathroom. Sometimes, he’d find your bed made a mess when he clearly remembered having made it right after getting up for the day.
These things began to wear at him until one day, when Sam was out buying groceries, Dean’s voice boomed through the walls. He pleaded you to show yourself, to come back to him. In response, you threw a book to the floor from where it had been peacefully standing on the shelf. His eyes widened, only to tear up at the realization that you had responded.
“Baby,” he whispered shakily.
‘Dean,’ your voice was but a mere whisper, yet it was enough for Dean to hear.
“Please, Y/N, come back,” he buried his face in his hands. “I can’t do this. I can’t live like this. Come back.”
Silence was the only response he got. You weren’t that strong to speak to him yet, to even show yourself to his human eyes. Instead, you had fidget right in front of him, watch as he broke down in a mess of cries and tears.
How you were able to enter Dean’s nightmares, you didn’t fully know. But you found yourself staring down at his dream-self holding you as he had plunged a knife into your chest. Your cry echoed across the eerie setting of the dream and Dean snapped his head to face you. His green eyes panicked momentarily before curiosity overtook them.
“Y/N,” he looked down at the dead body in his arms, confused that there were two of you.
“Hello, Dean,” you smiled fondly at him. “I don’t know how, but I made it into your dreams,” you laughed softly.
“You’re still here?” he stood up, walking over to you and cupping your face in his hands. You closed your eyes in bliss, ecstatic that he was able to touch you, to feel his calloused skin against yours.
“Dean, let me go,” you whispered, a stray tear running down your cheek, grazing Dean’s thumb on its path downwards.
“No, no,” he shook his head fervently, leaning down and pressing his mouth to yours. You let him kiss you for a few moments, relishing the feel, even if it was just a dream. Dean pulled away and smiled at you, sadness lingering in his eyes.
“You have to let me go,” you beseeched. “I can feel myself changing the longer I remain here. Please, Dean, just let me go.”
“I can’t,” he gritted his teeth, pulling you closer to him.
“Let me go, Dean,” you vanished from his arms, emerging from behind him. You flashed momentarily, anger rising. It was in that moment that the older Winchester saw what you meant when you said that you were changing. The fury in your eyes wasn’t human and he took a step back. Your heartbreak caught up with your irritation and you quickly reined it back to your control. “Dean, please, just let me go. I can’t keep wandering around. I don’t belong here. I need you to burn me. Burn my locket as well.”
“Y/N,” his hand reached out for you.
“Please, baby,” your fingers interlaced with his and your lips pecked his cheek. “I love you, always will. I’ll never stop. You’re my heaven, Dean.”
He woke up with tears in his eyes. The sun was rising as he emerged from the bunker, shovel in hand. Sam accompanied him, offering his help in digging your body up from the ground. In Dean’s front pocket was your locket. He had thought twice about keeping it, yet you had specifically asked him to have it burn with your body. The last thing Dean wanted was to have your spirit angry at him.
With deafening silence, the brothers dug your body up, preparing wood to give you a proper hunter’s funeral. Sam’s tears ran freely as he helped his brother douse your remains in gasoline. When he had said his last goodbyes, he patted Dean’s shoulder comfortingly before going back inside.
“I guess this is it, sweetheart,” Dean’s voice shook as he placed the locket he had given you on top of your covered body. His vision blurred as the tears began to form and like removing a band aid, Dean lit a pack of matches and lit your bones on fire.
There was a brief moment were you stood before him, smiling at him thankfully, before dissolving in a bright light. You were really gone this time. Dean’s sobs resounded as the flames rose higher, the smoke rising and curling like fingers reaching out to the sky.