Dream and drabble

Imagine breaking the windows in the Impala when you find out Dean cheated on you, only for him to come home and catch you in the process.

Author’s Note: Reader requested a Dean x reader based on Bust Your Windows by Jazmine Sullivan. Go listen to it to fully understand the story. Reader is angry because she thinks Dean cheated on her. (no spoilers but I am saying thinks specifically for those who don’t like the idea of Dean cheating. hint-hint.) So she plans to get revenge. It’s some badassery, anger, angst, and ultimate fluff. It’s SO long. Guys its almost 4k words! Longest in a while. Hope you enjoy! Let me know!

Two things: A Chevy Bel Air is actually one of the vehicles in the Bunker’s garage. I had my best friend (he’s a mechanic) help me figure that out from a screencap. And Solomon’s Seal is a real mythical artifact which I totally think should be in the show. Love a little accuracy! (;

Warnings: Impala abuse, language, cheating, anger, angst

I was startled by Dean’s hands gripping my shoulders suddenly. “Good morning baby.” He leaned in to plant a kiss on my cheek, the stubble of his jaw scratching at me as he did. I could hear the guttural grogginess in his voice and knew he had just woken up. His lips stayed near my skin a moment as he sleepily breathed in my smell. I did my best to keep my spine from stiffening. He didn’t need to know how I felt, not yet anyway. “I wasn’t expecting to wake up alone.” In my head I scoffed at his choice of words. Strong fingers squeezed at the tense muscles of my back while he purred flattery against my neck. Normally I would have loved a mid-morning massage, but today was different. I had bigger plans. 

“Sorry babe, couldn’t sleep.” At least that wasn’t a lie. I reached backwards to guide his rough jaw to my lips in a slow kiss. The gesture was so flawlessly passionate, maybe I could have been an actor in another life. He gladly reciprocated the action and I could feel my heart beating faster as he burried needy fingers in my hair. As sure as I was of myself and what I planned, I would miss that sensation. I wondered how long it would take to get his wayward whiskey taste off my tongue. A little sigh escaped his open mouth as I broke away abruptly. 

“Can I keep the Impala today? When you go out with Sam?” I was careful that my tone was sweet as could be. I wasn’t asking a small favor, and the entire course of events hinged on his answer. One of Dean’s eyebrows rose slightly at the request. He was still reeling from my kiss as I continued explaining. 

“…I need to go visit a girlfriend in Floydada, and I hate driving the standards that distance.” I was referring to the other, older vehicles sitting dormant in the bunker’s garage. To be honest I could handle a standard better than most, but for the sake of my act I fidgeted in my chair like a whiny child. 

“Sam’s been talking about taking the Bel Air out for a spin… You wouldn’t mind would you?” I ran my hand down the front of his grey T-shirt lovingly. I wanted to sink my nails into his chest but kept my touch intoxicatingly gentle. Dean watched me blink with wide, innocent eyes. He sighed and looked me up and down, bottom lip still hanging openly slightly until he pushed it into a contemplative line. 

“I don’t know…” If he wasn’t obliviously suppressing a grin I would have been anxious. He was a notorious pushover when it came to the people he loved. I could tell he had already made his decision, but I crooned for extra measure. 

“Pleaseee?” I tilted my head in a pouting-mouth plea that only Sam could wear better. Dean smiled wide and rolled his eyes before pulling me in close. His lips nipped at mine one, two, three times before he whispered his answer. 

“Anything for you baby.” I couldn’t hold back the prideful smirk that pressed against his. He probably thought I was just pleased with getting my way, but little did he know, my intentions were just as dark as the 1967 classic parked outside. 

*

I felt a small pang of guilt at the lack of hesitation Dean showed when he dropped the keys into my hand. “We’ll be back later. I’ll see you then?” I nodded and hugged him tightly, well aware that he wouldn’t be seeing me again. Not that he’d want to by the end of the day. An impatient huff from near the door reminded us that we weren’t alone in the room. 

“Come on you two, you act like you’re saying goodbye for good. Get it over with.” Sam ran a hand through his shaggy hair with a snicker. His patronizing would be missed, especially since he did nothing to earn this. Dean finally released me from his embrace and followed his brother towards the garage. I was glad he didn’t look back on the way out, it was just one less smile for me to fake. 

Being alone in the bunker allowed me to truly come to grips with what I was about to do. I took my time pacing up and down the empty halls, occasionally pausing to indulge in a nostalgia here and there. When my feet stopped in front of Dean’s bedroom I could hear my pulse in my ears. I had called this room my own for months now. My clothing was folded in his drawers. My scent lingered on his sheets. I closed wandering eyes and steadied myself with a hand on the door frame. Why did it have to come to this? Why did he have to- 

I swallowed down my emotion and pulled together what resolve I had left. My things weren’t coming out of that room. I didn’t need them, and I was afraid that passing through that threshold would keep me from leaving. My mind was alive with the image of him ripping dresses and high heels out of his closet. It brought me a bit if twisted enjoyment, the thought of him feeling the same hurt I had been hiding for days. Revenge really would be served best cold. I said goodbye to the rest of the bunker, my fingers running lovingly along the dusty spines of every book in the library. Room after room was laid open to my touch. A thousand good memories were blotted out by his one thoughtless action, and he would pay for that. A short visit to Dean’s toolbox was the last stop I made inside. 

The Impala glimmered in the high noon sun, a slow wave of heat reflecting off her black paint job. It wasn’t often that she was left empty, especially not when Dean was on a case. I approached the vehicle with slow respect. The hot metal singed my fingertips as I traced circles on the hood. Some of my best memories were made in the backseat of this beautiful classic. She almost felt as real as both of the boys did. This would hurt me almost as much as it would her, but not nearly as much as it would him. I could already see his face when he would arrive home that evening. A menacing smile bent my lips as I passed the weighty object between my sweaty palms. He loved and cherished that vehicle like he did his own body. In a way, she was his other lover. I had gladly shared Dean once, but now with two others? Someone had to go. For legal and moral reasons I couldn’t confront who I really wanted to get out of the picture… so the Impala would have to suffice. Besides, there was no better way bring Dean to his knees. Maybe next time he would think twice before spreading his love around. 

“I’m sorry baby.” I wasn’t sure who I was whispering to, the four tires in front of me or the man who broke my heart, but it didn’t make a difference. The sentence barely filled the air before I had raised the crowbar in my hands and brought it sailing into the drivers side window. Splinters of glass glistened as they flew in all directions, like sparks from a fire of crystal. Time passed in slow motion as I watched transparent slivers catch the light and bounce off the steering wheel. Something inside me exploded with that window. I exhaled a sharp cry of long-internalized pain. I was blinded by rage and the tears that spilled out on my burning cheeks. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Nothing even existed outside of the thought of him with another woman. If I didn’t see it myself I wouldn’t have believed he had it in him. My legs shook and my head pounded as I raised my weapon again. “Why? Why did you do it?” There was no answer, save another crashing noise that echoed in the otherwise silent driveway. 

“Was I not good enough for you?” The adrenaline pumping through my veins kept me from noticing the redness that seeped over my hand where I had steadied myself on the glass covered, metal door. 

“Why didn’t you just talk to me?” I couldn’t hear the distant yelling or the fast crunching of gravel over the sound of my labored gasps. 

“I would have done anything, anything for you!” I wound up to swing again but this time something stopped me mid air. Vice-like fingers were wrapped around my wrist and I could feel the crowbar being yanked out of my grasp. 

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” A thundering voice screamed behind me and made the color leave my face. I knew exactly who was squeezing my arm over my head, which was made far more terrifying by the shock of being spun around. Infuriated green eyes met mine, although they were well shadowed by a brow pulled tightly together and lowered in anger. 

“WHAT ARE- OH MY GOD.” He looked past me long enough to see the driver’s side windows were gaping open and jagged like two morbid mouths. By now I shaking with guilt and fear, my arm still extended in his grasp. His other hand was holding the object in question. His knuckles where white around the metal bar, which suddenly looked much smaller in his hand. 

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” Dean bellowed as he took in the damage set before him. His face was crimson as the blood trickling down my forearm, and the muscles in his neck and jaw quivered. I have never seen a man more possessed in my life, not even when he was literally possessed. This sort of fury was much worse; It was undeniably, wholly, Dean. His head flicked back to me with inhuman sharpness. His eyes were searching me frantically and I could feel the tremors shaking his body through his painfully tight hold. In my heightened state I could see every little scar on his skin and hear every threat he had ever yelled. His sheer size was enough to make me shrink away as much as my arm allowed, till a metal frame met my spine. 

I should have been begging for mercy, collapsing at his feet, but instead I stood firm. My nostrils struggled to forced out the heaving breaths that powered my overworked heart. I glared back at him with equal rage. Another man might have raised a hand to strike me, but Dean could never do that. He closed his eyes tight and coached his breathing till he was able to drop the crowbar to the ground. It clinked against the stones loudly and I sighed in what I now understand was relief. The passive aggressive calm in his voice when he finally opened his mouth was terrifying. 

“You have a very small amount of time to explain this to me, before I tell Sam to drive you somewhere and leave you there… because I’m not sure I can be held accountable for the things I’m feeling right now…” I could feel his breath on my face as he struggle to maintain composure, eyes still closed to the battered vehicle behind me. I considered using my unoccupied hand to shove his chest but decided that might be the last thing I ever did. 

“Then go get Sam, you cheating, lying, son of a bitch!” I spat my words at him with every ounce of venom I could produce. I could taste the bitterness in my mouth as I pounced each syllable. Suddenly Dean’s grip on my wrist faltered. He stopped breathing and stood perfectly still, his unspoken thoughts twisting his expression. 

“What?” Eyes opened to examine mine, their depth of rage replaced with a sort of stone cold, analytic stare. For the first time I didn’t know how to react, so I repeated my previous statement. It was much slower and less forceful than I hoped. Once sure that he had heard what I said correctly, Dean released my arm and bent to pick up the crowbar. Instinct told me to run but I was paralyzed as he turned it over in his hands. 

“Go inside.” His voice was still steady and low. When I didn’t respond right away he yelled for Sam, who emerged from behind the adjacent side of the bunker. I was glad to know that the younger Winchester was witnessing the event. He would have intervened if Dean’s anger had gotten out of hand. Sam walked up to us hesitantly, eyes darting between his brother and I. When he reached me he wrapped a long arm around my shoulders and began to herd me towards the bunker without a word. I followed him, dumbfounded and dazed. I could hear Dean hurling the metal rod into the distance like it was just a baseball. It bounced end-over-end on the gravel several times before settling into its place yards away. The disappointment in Sam’s whispered words made my heart sink. 

“You really screwed up, Y/N." 

*

 I sat by myself in the library, confused and still bleeding from a wound on my hand. Sam had retreated to the bathroom to get some supplies, but that felt like hours ago. I replayed the events over and over in my head, still unsure of what had happened exactly. I knew what I did was wrong, but he deserved it. Even he had to admit that he deserved it. I never planned on being around when he saw though. It didn’t make sense why he had returned with Sam so soon. 

The muffled sound of two people talking a few rooms away broke my train of thought. I strained to make out what was being said between them. The exchange was finished as quickly as it began and loud footsteps thudded towards where I sat. I swallowed down my anxiety and searched for the right questions to ask Sam, but when I turned in my chair my fingers went numb and gripped the armrests for support. Sam wasn’t the person I would be talking to.

 Dean was looked just as pissed as before, only he was functioning quite well. His rigid shoulders bent over the table as he dug through a duffel bag and retrieved some bottles and a roll of bandage. I took one look down at the cut hand in my lap and immediately rose from my seat. 

"Sit down.” Dean’s voice was evenly coated with authority and dead monotone. My knees gave out under his command and I ended back where I began. That old anger inside me wasn’t enough to keep me calm anymore. My boyfriend, or whatever he was now, crossed the space between us without looking up. The supplies he carried were emptied onto the table at my side and to my surprise, he lowered himself to his knees. I wasn’t sure what to expect anymore as he silently reached for my hand. With all of the efficiency of a surgeon and stoic of a priest, he examined the cuts. When he produced a pocket knife from belt I gulped loudly. 

“Will you stop shaking? I can’t get the glass out of you keep moving. I don’t want to-” he stopped himself and poured some alcohol over the small scissors that unfolded from the knife’s tools. I stayed unmoving as he used them to pull sliver by sliver out of my wound. At this point I was hopelessly confused and conflicted. His touch on my arm wasn’t full of malice, but not of love either. He just seemed emotionally indifferent. When he was done tending to the mark he cleaned it and wrapped it with white cotton. I watched blankly as he spun the bandage over my arm repeatedly. 

“You called me a cheater earlier. A lying cheating son of a bitch to be exact.” For the first time looked up at me, his face no longer empty. Now it was tinged with sadness, edged with hurt. “Do you really think I would ever do that to you?” He tied off the wrapping with care that accented his statement. I stuttered and tried to hold back perplexed tears. 

"I… I saw you with her, Dean. With that woman at the hotel.” I could tell he already knew who I was talking about. A loud sigh made his chest expand and deflate before he shook his head. 

“Last week? After the hunt in Cedar Valley?” He sounded exhausted. I nodded slowly, surprised at how passive he seemed. He obviously knew something I didn’t. A hand glided through his hair as he spoke. 

“Y/N, you could have just asked me about that. The woman you saw, that was Bella.” My lips instinctively grimaced at her name. It was beautiful, just like she was. How long had I lied awake at night and steamed over what her name might be, over who she was? Now that I knew it didn’t seem to make a difference. 

“She’s an old, acquaintance, of Sam and I.” Dean’s jaw flexed and he stared down at his hands in thought. He curled his fingers and scratched at the blood that had been imparted on his skin. “Not someone I’m very proud to be associated with, but not for the reasons you assumed.” Suddenly Sam entered the room from where he had been listening outside. He certainly had a pension for lurking in the shadows lately. 

“She’s a thief, Y/N. She’s stolen from us more than once. And when I lost the Seal of Solomon…” My mouth fell open. 

“You what?!” The Seal of Solomon was a priceless artifact we had come across weeks ago. It’s inscription was supposedly the name of God with two side of brass and iron. Each half was able to command good and evil spirits, respectively. I cursed myself for not checking to see if it was missing. Sam crossed his arms and got quiet under Dean’s glare. The elder Winchester finished his story after clearing his throat in irritation. 

“After Sam lost the Seal, we needed to get it back, and what better way than through the best thief we know. Well, only thief we know.” Despite his apparent shame, Sam spoke again. 

"This is all my fault really. I told Dean that we should keep our meeting with Bella a secret. I didn’t want anyone else to know about my mistake. And when I called her up, desperate… Bella insisted that Dean meet her alone, in a motel room. Because she’s manipulative like that.” Sam shifted his weight between his legs shamefully. His next sentence was grumbled, not spoken. 

”And because she said she didn’t want to see the face of someone who could lose something so important.” Sam looked absurdly childish, while Dean just nodded and rolled his eyes. Even if their story was filled with facts that I couldn’t confirm, I knew they were genuine. Only truthfulness could explain the embarrassed expression on Sam’s face and Dean’s scowl… oh God… Dean. 

*

I suddenly realized the gravity of what I had done. I just took a crowbar to his most prized possession, after betraying his trust, and before accusing him of something he would never do to me. I covered my face with my hands and tried to think of what could possibly be said to make up for my actions. There was a shuffling noise as Sam exited the room.. 

“Dean I am so, so sorry. I had no idea… I thought you were-” I stumbled through my thoughts before looked down at the man who still poured over his hands in reflection. He looked absolutely forlorn. 

“Y/N, I’m obviously infuriated by what you did to Baby.” He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth together at the thought of what damage still waited for him outside. He rubbed his stubble before continuing. 

“But I’m even more disturbed by what you thought I did… What you thought I was capable of doing to my Baby.” It took a brief moment to realize it was me he was referring to. I dipped my head down in shame. Dean never deserved this, not ever. Just this morning he was showering me with affection, while I plotted the best way to devastate him. Never have I felt so filthy with guilt. “You really think I could do that?” He took my bandaged hand in his two much larger ones. He cradled it with the gentleness I lacked, and stared up at me with a face that showed more betrayal than I had felt. 

“Y/N…” I didn’t know what to expect from him, but I knew well what I should have received. I awaited the coming verbal punishment with sober acceptance of my fate. 

“I am so sorry for what you must have felt when you thought that." 

My jaw went slack. Dean’s words were muffled by the kiss he was placing on my covered wound. “What did I do wrong, for you to even think that? How have I not loved you enough?” I whimpered at the sadness in his voice. There was no stopping the salty tears that spilled my eyes. 

"What? No!” I lifted a hand to his hair and touched him with cautious concern. “Dean, what are you saying? Be angry with me! What I did was terrible and I would completely understand if you hate me for it…” When he lifted his head my fingers glanced over his jaw. It was so strange to see him like this, kneeling and surrendered. From most men I would have expected at least a verbal beating, if not a physical one. 

“I don’t hate you.” Dean wrinkled his eyebrows at me like I was speaking a language he didn’t understand. His sun kissed lips were down turned in piteous distaste when he spoke, and his voice was louder and more desperate. 

“Have you really not realized it yet? I love you! Why do you think I’m still here? Just look outside at the Impala and tell me I don’t love you.” It was true, anything less than love would have kicked me to the curb by now. I sat shocked and humbled by his confession. Our love for each other had always been inferred, a silent agreement we never mentioned. We both had too much baggage for commitment, and Sam reassured me that Dean didn’t say those three words often. Yet, here he was, using them with haphazard abandon like we had said it a hundred times. I felt the cold metal of keys being pressed into my good palm.

“I can fix those windows, Y/N. But you…” He touched the other, bandaged hand with feather delicacy. He held it with sadness, as if he thought that he  indirectly inflicted the wound. 

“If I ever lose you. If you ever leave, or decide that I don’t really love you…” The shake of his head told me everything he couldn’t find the words to say.

“Shh Y/N, I heard something…”

“Dean that’s just my stomach. I’m starving, and if I have to eat another can of beans I’m going to kill something, or someone.”

“You shouldn’t be complaining. I let you have the sleeping bag, didn’t I? If you keep whining I’m making you share it.”

i swear i have reblogged this today like sooo many times, its so nice 

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

i love this