could u do a drabble where dean and reader have an est relationship and reader is like jacks #1 defender since cas so maybe like a little angst or reconciliation or both idk!! just like reader kinda stepping in to take care of jack and everyones obv still grieving but dean is trying to understand IDK
ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `still here, still trying, dean winchester ༘♡
summary: after cas' death, jack has become your responsibility. grief has made dean sharp—cruel. you try your best to help dean understand how jack needs someone there for him, too.
word count: 728
pairing: dean winchester x reader ft. jack kline
i hope this is okay!! if you want me to redo it pls send another ask 💕
The bunker is too quiet without him.
It's not silent, but it's wrong in the way a song sounds when a note is missing. You feel it every time you pass the war room, every time you glance toward the library stairs, every time Jack hesitates before speaking like he’s waiting for permission that will never come.
Castiel used to fill the space between moments.
Not because you’re trying to replace him. God, you couldn’t, but because someone has to stand between Jack and the weight of the world. Someone has to remind him he’s still allowed to exist.
Dean isn’t great at that yet.
You watch him from the kitchen as Jack sits at the table, carefully turning a mug in his hands like it might break if he grips it too tightly. Dean leans against the counter, arms crossed, jaw locked, eyes flicking anywhere but Jack’s face.
Grief has made him sharp. Defensive. Confused.
You step in without thinking. You always do.
“Jack,” you say softly, setting a plate in front of him. “You should eat something.”
Jack looks up, startled, then nods. “Thank you.”
Dean exhales through his nose. “He doesn’t need—”
You turn to him, calm but unyielding. “Dean.”
Jack lowers his gaze again, shoulders curling inward. Guilt hangs off him like a second coat, heavy and soaked through.
“I’ll be in my room,” Jack murmurs, standing quickly. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” you ask immediately.
He pauses. Swallows. “For… everything.”
Your chest tightens. “You don’t need to apologize for existing.”
He gives you a small, sad smile and disappears down the hall.
The silence that follows is brittle.
Dean finally looks at you, eyes dark. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes,” you say, quietly. “I did.”
He scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re coddling him.”
You step closer. “I’m protecting him.”
“From what?” he snaps. “Reality?”
“From thinking the world would be better off without him,” you fire back. “From thinking Cas died because of him.”
Dean’s shoulders sag like something inside him finally gives. “I don’t know how to look at him,” he admits. “Every time I do, I hear Cas. I see—” He stops, jaw tightening. “I don’t want to screw this up.”
You soften instantly. This—this is the truth beneath the anger.
“He loved Jack,” you say. “Fiercely. Unconditionally. You know that.”
Dean nods, eyes glassy. “Yeah. And I don’t know how to be that without screwing it up.”
You reach for him, hands settling on his arms, grounding. “You don’t have to be Cas. You just have to be Dean.”
He lets out a humorless laugh. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
You tilt your forehead against his. “Dean. Jack is grieving too. He lost his father. The only person who ever believed he could be good without conditions.”
“And right now,” you continue, gentler, “he thinks he lost you too.”
Dean pulls away abruptly, pacing once, then twice, like a caged animal. “I don’t hate the kid,” he says. “I just... every time I try to talk to him, I get angry. And I don’t want him thinking that’s about him.”
“So show him,” you say simply. “Let me help.”
He looks at you then. Really looks. Like he’s seeing how tired you are, how much you’ve been carrying without complaint.
“You’ve been taking care of him,” he says.
“And you,” you reply. “And me. And the empty space Cas left.”
His voice drops. “I didn’t ask you to.”
You shrug. “Family doesn’t ask.”
For a long moment, neither of you speaks.
Then Dean nods. Once. Resolute.
“I’ll try,” he says. “I don’t promise I’ll get it right.”
You smile sadly. “None of us are.”
That night, you sit with Jack in the library, helping him sort books he doesn’t really need sorted. Dean hovers at first, unsure, then finally sits across from him.
“You hungry?” Dean asks gruffly.
Jack looks up, surprised. “I—yes.”
Dean pushes a candy bar across the table. “Eat. Cas would yell at me if I let you skip dinner.”
Jack’s eyes shine, but he smiles.
You watch them, heart aching and hopeful all at once.
Grief hasn’t made you weaker.
It’s just teaching you new ways to love.
And this time, Dean is learning too.
✧ 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.ᐟ // ✧𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 // ✧𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.ᐟ
