safeplace1222

NOW: TOGETHER

“There.”

Andrew lets the words fall out on a breath as he drops the duffel bag. Heavy with cash and whatever else they managed to grab straight onto the ground of the warehouse. Deran, Craig, and J follow in quick succession.

One by one, their bags hit the ground with dull, exhausted thuds.

For a moment, nobody moves. They’re all spent. Rain clings to their clothes, mixing with sweat and the grime of the job. Gashes and bruises mark what the rain can’t wash away. Nothing serious, but enough to sting now that the adrenaline is finally bleeding off.

They stand there, chests rising and falling hard. Near the end, it had gotten close. They almost didn’t make it out, just barely. 

Now it’s over.

Deluca crouches down already opening the bags one after another. Wet zippers strain, fabric darkened by rain as he digs through what they risked everything for.

Stacks. Bundles. Enough to make his shoulders loosen. He lets out a low, satisfied chuckle as he stands again.

“Knew you guys would pull through,” he says.

But Andrew isn’t listening.

“Where’s Angel?” His voice is immediate. Sharp. Like everything else drops away the second your nickname leaves his mouth. That’s all he cares about right now was you.

Deluca pauses. Then, casually, almost too casually

“Not here.”

The words don’t land right. They hang.

The Cody's heads turn at once, exhaustion replaced instantly by something harder. Alert. Tense.

“What?” Andrew steps forward a fraction. “What do you mean she’s not here?”

Deluca exhales, like this is an inconvenience more than anything else. “She could be dead. She could be alive… I don’t know.”

“What the fuck are you saying?!” Deran snaps, already moving in closer. “You said we pulled this off—she’d be safe!”

“Well—” He doesn’t get to finish.

Andrew snaps.

He lunges forward, driving Deluca to the ground hard enough to rattle the air out of him. The impact echoes, chairs scraping as everything explodes into motion.

“Where is she?!” Andrew demands, fist bunching in Deluca’s shirt, dragging him up just to slam him back down.

Guns are drawn in an instant. Craig, Deran, and J move fast, weapons up and steady, matched just as quickly by Deluca’s friends.

The room locks into a standoff.

Andrew keeps Deluca pinned, fist still twisted in his shirt, the other hand braced hard against his chest. His knuckles are white, jaw locked so tight it looks like it might crack.

“Call them off,” Deran says, “Now.”

"Stand down!"

One by one, the barrels dip.

Not lowered completely just enough to show restraint. Enough to keep this from turning into a bloodbath.

The room exhales.

Andrew doesn’t.

“You better fucking start talking,” Andrew growls, voice low and shaking with something barely contained.

“She’s at an abandoned house,” he mutters, the words dragged out through clenched teeth. “218 Carpenter Ave.”

Andrew stills for just a fraction of a second. Everything inside him seems to lock up like his body doesn’t know how to process it.

An abandoned house. His mind moves faster than he can stop it. His grip falters just slightly.

You might be dead.

The thought hits hard. Immediate. Unforgiving. Something shifts in Andrew’s face, something darker. 

The first hit lands hard, snapping Deluca’s head to the side. Then another. And another.

Fist come down again and again with brutal force. There’s no rhythm, just raw, unfiltered rage pouring out of him. Each hit was heavier than the last.

Deluca tries to block, arms coming up weakly, but it barely slows anything down.

Andrew doesn’t stop.

He grabs a fistful of Deluca’s shirt, hauls him up just enough and slams him back down into the ground, fist crashing into his jaw once more. Deluca’s resistance falters, his movements slowing, turning sloppy under the assault.

Andrew leans down, breath ragged, face inches from his.

“If I get there…” he growls, dragging Deluca up just enough to keep him close.

“—if I get there and she’s dead…”

His eyes lock in, the rage in them flattening into something colder, more focused.

“I’m coming back and I’m finishing you the fuck off.”

He shoves him down hard, releasing him like he can’t stand the feel of him anymore.

“You stay the fuck away from me and my family,” Andrew says, voice low and shaking at the edges, every word controlled through clenched teeth. "Especially Angel"

He leans in slightly, just enough for Deluca to hear it clearly.

“You hear me? We're done”

Andrew straightens, eyes cutting away from Deluca like he’s already erased him, then looks to his brothers and J.

“Let’s go.”

—

Andrew and Deran went to find you. Craig and J headed to Baz’s place to wait.

Andrew didn’t hesitate. He rushed in first, every step fast and hard, scanning the space as he moved. Deran followed close behind, alert, eyes sharp, covering him as they cleared the room.

soaked through, rain clinging to them, running off their hair and dripping steadily onto the floor. A bat hung in Andrew's grip. Heavy at his side, like he’d forgotten he was even holding it.

His chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. 

Once his eyes adjusted to the dark room, he saw it…blood. It was everywhere. The scene is a brutal bloodbath. 

His stomach twists. He doesn’t want it to be yours but every step forward whispers that it could be. He swallows hard, forcing himself to follow the trail, each squelching step echoing in the tense silence.

At the start of the hall, he freezes. A pool of blood spreads across the floor, thick and dark against the surface. Smears of handprints streak the walls. Chaotic and desperate, like someone had tried to hold themselves up… or tried to get away.

And there, half-hidden in the doorway on the left, a woman’s body lies sprawled across the floor. The lower half is still completely unmoving. Andrew’s breath catches hard in his throat.

Violence isn’t new to him. Blood, pain, death…it’s all been part of his life for as long as he can remember. He’s learned how to stay steady through it, how to shut something off when he needs to.

But this hits differently. Something in his stomach turns violently, bile rising fast. His grip tightens without thinking, knuckles going white around the bat as his knees threaten to give out.

Andrew just stares. Behind him, Deran approaches.

He sees it. The body.

“Oh my god,” Deran chokes out.

His voice cracks immediately. Tears fill his eyes as his hand flies to his mouth, like he’s trying to physically hold himself together. He turns away, unable to look any longer like he’s going to be sick if he does.

“P-Pope,” Deran chokes out, his voice breaking as he calls to his older brother.

Hearing his younger brother cry forces himself back into focus. The bat shifts in his grip as he turns slightly toward him.

“Hey,” he says, quieter now. Steadier. “Hey—look at me.”

Deran doesn’t fully turn back, but he listens.

Andrew steps closer. 

“We don’t know that,” he says firmly, even if he doesn’t fully believe it himself. “We don’t know anything yet.”

Deran swallows hard, shaking his head like he’s trying to erase the image burned into it. “Pope, I—”

“Stay here,” Andrew says. 

Andrew moves slowly down the hall, each step heavier than the last. The bat hangs loosely in his grip now, forgotten more than held.

“A-Angel?” he calls out. Silence answers him. Nothing moves. Nothing changes. He keeps going anyway.

His heart hammers harder with every step, every second stretching too long. Every instinct he has is screaming the same thing…he’s already too late.

Still, he pushes forward.

When he reaches the body that lays in the doorway. He soon realizes it’s not you because you’re sitting against the bathtub, hands trembling, eyes wide. Blood streaks your body and clothes, but you’re upright, breathing. 

Relief crashes over him like a wave. His knees stop threatening to give out, his breath steadies, and for a moment he just stares.

“Whoa,” he breathes, lifting his hands slightly as he fully reveals himself. “It’s me.” He sets his bat down.

You still hold the pocket knife Deran gave you, hands trembling. He can see you don’t mean anything by it. You’re scared, still in shock from everything that just happened…what you had done.  

“It’s okay,” he says softly, stepping over the body he had mistaken for yours, careful not to startle you further. He sets the bat down. 

Once he reaches you, he couches down to your level. His hands on yours, lowering the knife, taking it from you, closing it up and putting it in his pocket. 

His eyes sweep over you, quick but careful, his hands following gently, as if he’s afraid pressing too hard might make you disappear. He takes in every injury: the gashes along your legs, blood smeared in uneven streaks, the cuts scattered across your arms and face.

“Andrew…I-I didn’t mean to… I didn’t—” your eyes stay fixed on the woman’s body, every heartbeat pounding in your chest. He sees the stab wounds scattered across the woman's body. 

“I know,” he interrupts gently. His hand lifts, brushing a strand of hair from your bloodied face. The touch is careful. 

Then his other hand cups your jaw lightly, tilting your head so your eyes meet his. “Look at me” he says firmly, voice low but steady. “You did what you had to. Do you hear me?”

Your lips tremble, tears streaming . He notices every flicker of fear, every ounce of guilt. Without hesitation, he pulls you into him. 

His hands come to you firm but careful, guiding you up so you’re both standing.

You let out a sob, gasping for breaths. Your body shakes as the adrenaline finally crashes down. Andrew holds you tighter, his arms firm but gentle, anchoring you to him as if he could shield you from everything.

Carefully he turns you, guiding you so your back faces the woman on the ground. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, pressing you gently into his chest.

“Shhh… hey, hey… you’re okay,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, even if there’s an edge of urgency beneath it.

His eyes lift and that’s when he sees Deran standing in the doorway.

Relief flickers across his face, quick but real.

Andrew pulls away from you slightly, just enough to look at you properly.

“Deran’s gonna take you to Baz’s, okay?” he says, gentler now. His thumb catches some of your tears as he wipes them away.

You cling to him tighter, shaking your head. 

“Don’t leave me—please,” you beg, your voice breaking against him.

“Hey, hey…” he murmurs, grounding, trying to keep you with him. “I’ll be back. I just— I gotta take care of some things first, alright? I promise I’ll be there as soon as I finish”

He leans kissing you on the forehead. 

Before you can reach for Andrew again, Deran steps in.

“Angel” Deran hugs you tightly. You both cling to each other. 

After a second, he exhales, glancing toward Andrew. 

“You're gonna need help here?” He asks, still holding you against his face buried in his chest. 

“No, I got it, just get her to Baz’s…”

Deran nods “C’mon,” he says, softer now, not unkindly. “Let’s get you outta here.”

Once you and Deran leave, Andrew is already moving quickly. Whatever softness he had with you is gone, replaced with something more efficient. He surveys the room once, taking it all in the blood, the broken pieces, the body and then gets to work.

—-

Everyone gathered in the living room of Baz’s house.

Lena wasn’t there. Andrew had taken care of that the night before. Dropped her off with a babysitter the second he found out you’d been stopped. 

Outside, the storm hadn’t let up. Rain battered against the windows in relentless sheets, wind rattling the glass hard enough to make it shudder in its frame. Every so often, thunder rolled low and heavy, settling deep in your chest.

You were curled into the corner of the sofa beside Deran, tucked against his side. His arm rested along the back of the couch behind you.

The room was too quiet. The boys' voices came and went around you low, muffled, like you were hearing them from underwater. 

Your eyes stayed locked on the sliding glass door. 

Waiting.

You see him through the glass. You sit up.

The sliding door shuts behind him with a soft clack. Andrew stands there for a second, water still dripping from him. 

His eyes find you immediately.

You’re already moving toward him, relief crashing through you at the sight of him.

“Andrew…” you say, holding him tight.

“I’m fine…” he says, a little rough, searching your face. “You alright?”

You nod “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“You guys alright?” Andrew asks his brother and nephew 

Deran gives a short nod, “Yeah,” he says, voice steady. “We’re good.”

From the other side of the space, Craig’s answer comes in “good” 

“Thank you,” you say to all of them.

“Why are you thanking us?” J asks, like he doesn’t understand. 

“You risked your lives for me.”

“You’re family, Angel,” Craig says simply. “Any one of us would go to bat for you.”

Deran shifts, his expression tightening slightly. “Yeah… but it’s also because of us that this happened to you.” He exhales, gaze dropping for a beat before meeting yours again. “I’m sorry. We’re sorry.”

“Do you guys want to crash here?” Andrew asks the boys. 

Craig shook his head first. “Nah.”

J follows with a quiet, “I’m good.”

Deran nods once in agreement, already shifting back into that detached focus of his. “We’ll come by in the morning.”

Craig is first, pushing off the couch with a tired breath. He pulls you into a quick, firm hug. Then he claps Andrew on the shoulder again before stepping out. 

J follows next. He doesn’t say much, just gives you a brief hug. He nods once at Andrew, a quiet acknowledgment between them, then heads for the door.

Deran lingers the longest. He looks at you for a second, expression soft.

Then he pulls you into a hug too, and kisses your forehead. “We’ll see you tomorrow,” he says quietly.

He lets go, then gives Andrew a brief, solid hug as well. 

When everyone finally leaves, the house goes quiet. Andrew doesn’t say anything at first. He just stands there for a second, like he’s listening to the silence settle.

Then he turns back to you.

All the fear, frustration, and relief hits at once, and before you can think, you move.

You grab Andrew and pull him into a kiss.

He freezes for a heartbeat, stumbling slightly, breath catching as he realizes what you’ve done. His expression stunned as he pulled back just enough to look at you.

He steps in again, closing the distance, one hand finding your jaw as he pulls you back into him this time. 

The kiss turns deeper. 

The storm outside seemed to mirror the storm between you, fierce and relentless, echoing the need that neither could deny.

Your foreheads collided as you both gasped, and his hands slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him. There was a frantic edge to the way you clung to each other, a tension that made your chest ache. Every kiss felt urgent. Every touch insistent as though neither of you could get close enough. Like being apart, even for a second was unbearable.

As you kiss, the two of you fumbled through the house. You tugged at his soaked jacket, pulling it off his shoulders until it hit the floor with a heavy thud. His shirt came next, wet fabric clinging stubbornly before you finally managed to lift it over his head, breaking the kiss only for a heartbeat.

Piece by piece, clothes were discarded and scattered along the way to the bedroom. By the time you reached the door, you were stripped down to your bra and underwear, and he stood before you in nothing but his boxers, breathless and wanting.

He walks you back toward the bed. At the last second, you twist the momentum, turning him with you. You push him down onto the mattress instead.

He landed with a soft bounce, surprise flickering in his eyes as you climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Heat rushed through your body at the boldness of it. 

His eyes move over you like he’s seeing everything at once: the exhaustion clinging to you, the adrenaline you haven’t come down from, the injuries you’re barely aware of anymore. Clarity cuts through him all at once. Thinking about what you’ve just been through.

This isn’t just heat. It’s everything you’ve just survived.

You go back to kissing him. He breaks the kiss just enough to breathe, his forehead still close to yours, voice rough and uneven.

“W-wait…” he exhales. 

You don’t really stop. You press closer instead. You trail desperate kisses along his jaw and neck more instinct than thought. 

His breath catches. For a second, he’s right there with you almost gone to it.

Then his voice cuts through, low and strained.

“Angel—” he says, and it comes out like it hurts. “We need to stop.”

You stiffen in his lap, pulling back just enough to see his face clearly. The moment caves in on itself, heat draining out too fast replaced by a tight, rising panic in your chest.

Your stomach drops, thoughts scrambling. You are trying to piece together what just happened and where you messed up.

You sit up straighter, hands suddenly unsure of where to go.

“I—I’m sorry…” you stammer, voice small now, shaky. “Did I… am I doing something wrong?”

Your fingers fidget in your lap, twisting together, like you’re trying to hold yourself together with them.

Andrew’s expression changes immediately. He sits up. 

“No, no,” he says quickly. “Hey… look at me.” His hand lifts gently, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“No, you’re not doing anything wrong. It’s just… it’s just—” He exhales, choosing his words carefully. “You’re running on everything that just happened… trying to numb it.”

“I know you must be feeling a lot of things right now.” He stops, shakes his head slightly, like he’s setting something aside. “But I can’t let this keep going like this.”

“You’re not thinking clearly right now,” he says softer. “And I don’t want this to be something you regret later,” he adds, quieter still.

“Andrew…” you whisper, your voice trembling as your forehead rests against his. “I know what I want. I want you. Just let us have this… just us. Even if it’s only now—if it never happens again. We can go back to how we were…” Your voice cracks as you look up at him, almost pleading. “I love you.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, his whole body going rigid beneath your hands.

For a second, he looks split in two like instinct is pulling him toward you, but something heavier is forcing him to hold the line.

“You shouldn’t love me,” he says, voice rough, almost breaking. “The things I’ve done… the lines I’ve crossed… I don’t get to have that. Not with you.” His jaw tightens. “You deserve someone without all this… someone who won’t drag you into it. Someone who won’t ruin you.”

“I don’t care what you’ve done, Andrew,” you say, steadier than you feel. “I love you anyway.”

That lands. His eyes close for a brief second, like it hurts to hear it.

“I love you too,” he breathes, the words quiet, heavy, pulled from somewhere deep. “God… I love you more than anything.”

When he looks at you again, it’s softer. His gaze lingers, tracing your face like he’s trying to hold onto it.

“And I’ve never been more scared than I was today,” he admits, voice low, strained. “Thinking I could lose you… because of me. Because of what my family is. What it pulls people into…” He shakes his head, like he can’t quite get the words out cleanly.

“And what happened tonight…” his voice dips, rough with it. “You never should’ve been in that position. You never should’ve had to—”

He cuts himself off.

His eyes flick down for a second, guilt written all over him.

“That’s on me,” he says quietly. 

“And now you’re carrying it,” he adds, quieter. “Something you can’t just forget.”

“I’m not saying I don’t want you,” he continues. “Because I do. But because I love you, I can’t let this happen…” His voice lowers, firm with finality now. “Not like this. Not now. Not after everything you’ve been through.”

“We just need to pause for now… okay?”

You don’t answer in words. Instead, arms wrapping around him tightly.

His arms come around you immediately. 

Your breath catches. Then breaks. And the tears come.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, voice softer now, steadier against your hair. “I got you. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“I love you, Andrew.”

His hold tightens just slightly at that, like the words hit somewhere deep.

“I love you too,” he says quietly, almost against you. “Angel.”

“Come on,” he murmurs after a beat. “Let’s shower… and go to bed.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Andrew guides you to the bathroom. He turns on the water, carefully adjusting the temperature and testing it before stepping back.

You step in first. He pauses only long enough to grab towels and clothes for both of you, then joins you a little while later. Warm water spills over the two of you, easing the chill still clinging to his skin.

Andrew stays close, one hand steadying you while the other reaches for shampoo. He works it gently into your hair like he’s trying to wash away the weight of the day with something simple, something grounding.

You wash each other in a quiet, unspoken rhythm, no rush, no words that need to be said.

Eventually, the water turns off. You step out together, drying off in silence and changing into clean clothes.

Andrew glances at you once, making sure you’re okay without needing to ask.

Then he takes your hand.

And together, you head to bed.

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“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together. 

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like. 

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.” 

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.” 

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets. 

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be. 

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo. 

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun. 

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.” 

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.” 

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building. 

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock. 

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?” 

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.” 

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold. 

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you. 

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?” 

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.” 

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.” 

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance. 

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs. 

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker. 

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed. 

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall. 

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way. 

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles. 

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you. 

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere. 

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun. 

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!” 

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision. 

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you. 

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!” 

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her. 

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.” 

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent. 

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on. 

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.” 

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up. 

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood. 

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him. 

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.” 

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down. 

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand. 

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?” 

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.” 

“What?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?” 

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?” 

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket. 

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress. 

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks. 

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you. 

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat. 

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously. 

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?” 

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.  

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink. 

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker. 

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand. 

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall. 

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say. 

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?” 

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion. 

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.” 

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.” 

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink. 

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam. 

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically. 

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer. 

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean. 

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away. 

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on. 

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table. 

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.” 

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth. 

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you. 

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter. 

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar. 

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away. 

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you. 

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice. 

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded. 

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?” 

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car. 

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you. 

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats. 

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?” 

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?” 

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff. 

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.” 

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!” 

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.” 

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance. 

“What, why?” you asked in confusion. 

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.” 

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off. 

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned. 

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.” 

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy. 

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders. 

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done. 

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom. 

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand. 

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran. 

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you. 

He couldn’t save you. 

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart. 

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him. 

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.  

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind. 

“Dean.” 

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came. 

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above. 

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut. 

“God dammit, Dean!” 

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer. 

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt. 

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.” 

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice. 

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him. 

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out. 

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current. 

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.” 

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order. 

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone. 

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name. 

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere. 

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order. 

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink. 

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him. 

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake. 

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang. 

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.” 

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?” 

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle. 

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?” 

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.” 

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice. 

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not. 

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.   

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself. 

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration. 

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.” 

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation. 

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.” 

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?” 

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!” 

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.” 

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed. 

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief. 

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?” 

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!” 

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.” 

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?” 

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!” 

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?” 

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.” 

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!” 

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?” 

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?” 

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff. 

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-” 

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?” 

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!” 

“Right,” Sam said sceptically.  “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!” 

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared. 

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively. 

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.” 

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.” 

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued. 

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.” 

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on. 

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin. 

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction. 

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen. 

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully. 

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge. 

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen. 

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway. 

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly. 

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child. 

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.  

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do. 

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything. 

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.” 

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!” 

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him. 

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion. 

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife. 

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?” 

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?” 

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes. 

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily. 

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call. 

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more. 

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered.  So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do. 

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.” 

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late. 

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.” 

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?” 

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.” 

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.” 

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation. 

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.” 

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner. 

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water. 

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water. 

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself. 

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding. 

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant. 

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.” 

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him. 

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.” 

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered. 

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.” 

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you. 

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly. 

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.” 

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” 

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again. 

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.” 

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him. 

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.” 

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?” 

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.” 

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.” 

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door. 

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out. 

“It’s not gonna kill me!” 

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?” 

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?” 

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.” 

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign. 

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.” 

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!” 

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.” 

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.” 

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.” 

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“You know what,” you scolded. 

“This is so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly. 

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.” 

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him. 

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.” 

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head. 

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.” 

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed. 

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully. 

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.” 

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.” 

“I do,” you agreed quietly. 

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.” 

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?” 

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.” 

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly. 

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].” 

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle. 

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently. 

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.” 

“Right,” you agreed. 

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly. 

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.” 

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously. 

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.” 

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off. 

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.” 

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say. 

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.” 

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.” 

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while. 

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.” 

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build. 

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.” 

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.” 

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.” 

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question. 

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat. 

“Okay,” he said with a huff. 

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly. 

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you. 

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened. 

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked. 

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.” 

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more. 

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.” 

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly. 

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?” 

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.” 

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?” 

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?” 

“Always,” you said honestly. 

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed. 

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. 

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly. 

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more. 

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things. 

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest. 

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares. 

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest. 

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

Masterlist | @leqonsluv3r

Til’ Death Do Us Part | @astronautlawliet

A mission meant to be routine becomes a race against the clock when you’re bitten, and the only antivirals are destroyed. With the infection spreading and time running out, Leon Kennedy abandons everything except the one objective that matters: getting you back alive.

hot milf finds her first gray. | @leonarchive

yet another miscommunication arc. | @/leonarchive

bleeding hearts. | @/leonarchive

“if she dies, there’s nothing in the world left for me anymore.” | @vowheavyyz

You return home after a long day at work, expecting a normal night. You were getting ready for bed as you waited for your husband when the electricity went out, startling you. But before you could call your husband, you were kidnapped by a certain doctor. Leon comes home to find you gone, and he isn’t happy at all.

Just A Touch Of Your Love | @midnightsummerrain

Leon is touch-starved. Of course, he would never show this in public, but as soon as the two of you are alone, he can't help but crave your touch.

post re4!bf leon headcanons | @satorucele

Wedding Ring | @topsytervy

your husband can't find his gloves for the latest mission he's been sent on and he refuses to leave without them

Bring Him Back | @/topsytervy

things aren't looking to good for your boyfriend on his mission so he decides to call you.

lovers rock | @h4neypot

4 times the team notices something's up with leon and the 1 time they figure it out

Crawl Home to Her, Part 2 | @laceybubble

Leon has done well separating home from work, that is until the T-Virus rears its head once again. And it's worse than he could imagine...because it's not just him.

School Call | @/laceybubble

Leon leaves work early after hearing his daughter got in a fight at school.

Shower | m6cabre

My wife hates me, I might as well jump off a cliff, Part 2, Part 3 | @leonskluv

An argument erupted between Leon and his wife, and now he's doing anything he can to gain your favor back.

ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ ᴀʀᴇɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜱᴏᴜʀᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | @/leonskluv

Leon and your daughter Isabella had told you both interesting information which led you both to believe a cheating scandal ensued.

you fell first, but he fell harder. | @halbravd

leon kennedy’s heart wasn’t immune to love, after all.

“Slow Drive “ | @littlepumpky

The first thing you do after finally being cured from the virus is fall asleep in the car.

“You Don’t Stand a Chance” | @/littlepumpky

Somehow, you end up back in the RPD. With two Leons. One is your husband: older, tired and way too protective. The other is his rookie self: confused, stubborn and definitely not prepared for you calling him “cute.”

LEON W/ ROOKIE!READER, PT. 2 | @aliidarling

Leon never treated a rookie differently than he would treat an equal. that is.. until you come along.

handyman husband | @clemenchives

preparing for your baby’s arrival, leon has taken it upon himself to start projects that involve babyproofing the house, prepping up the nursery, and supporting you all throughout your pregnancy journey. it’s like having your own personal handyman in the shape of your husband.

finally homebound | @/clemenchives

after returning from raccoon city, you find it imperative to be the one to take care of your husband, leon.

your wittle face | @dollyzdaydreamz

after a traumatic year, you and leon are finally getting the hang of mending your relationship again. when he thinks he’s changed so much he must be unapproachable, you remind him he’s not so far off from that adorable, doughy faced rookie cop you met in 1998.

the work dilf | @/dollyzdaydreamz

after a long day of work at the dso, you were streaming when a subscriber admits they embarrassed themselves in front of a crush. to make them feel better, you tell them about the time you embarrassed yourself in front of an older agent, who you just so happened to have a fat crush on.

Biohazard | @/dollyzdaydreamz

a video game company reaches out to the dso, asking to use agents mr. and mrs. kennedy as face models for their upcoming action horror game called biohazard. while your husband is reluctant, you, being a lover of video games, are more than ecstatic to accept the offer.

Nudelates | @/dollyzdaydreamz

you and your friend are goofing around when you two decide to test out a tik tok trend: call your husband and tell him you accidentally signed up for nude pilates…with a male instructor who won’t give you a refund.

Insomnia | @/dollyzdaydreamz

Relax babe, I got you | @screaming-potato

Tracking your husband down was no simple task but reuniting with him and joining him on his mission made it all the better. They just didn’t expect you to be like him…just with enhanced abilities.

Heart Bound | @/screaming-potato

Going down memory lane, you’ve realized no matter how long you’ve loved Leon you know you can’t compare to her. Leon convinces you otherwise

No one disrespects her | @multi-fandom-imagine

Hold On | @/multi-fandom-imagine

Somethin’ Stupid | @chickensim07

Married life means a couple things, being there for the good, the bad, and especially the seemingly stupid. So when Leon comes back home with an unexpected surprise you can only hope he has a good reason for selling your car.

Runnin’ for The Hills | @/chickensim07

You wake in the middle of the night because of a dream. It’s not the horrifying flashbacks that usually haunt you, it’s the sweetest, most comforting, beautiful dream you’ve ever had. And it left you restless. Why? Because you know it’ll never come true.

Hold you till I can’t | @/chickensim07

You and Leon’s days of fighting bioweapons are over. You’ve built your peace from the ground up in the mountains, your husband and your way of life protected by the hills and valleys of the earth, but all that goes up must come down

THE ‘SHUT UP MOM’ PRANK | @uramakimochi

in which yours and Leon's teenage kids decide to pull a prank from TikTok on him.

Stay | @froggibus

Leon shows you that his commitment issues don’t apply to you

A Moment of Hesitation | @/froggibus

leon has always kept you at arms length in order to protect you, but after leading the two of you into a trap, the cracks start to show and feelings come to light

The Three Times You Share A Bed | @/froggibus

two times you sleep in leon's bed, and the one time he sleeps in yours

The Second Choice | @/froggibus

after losing Ada, Leon can’t get her off of his mind—and can’t stop comparing you to her

When The Dust Settles | @/froggibus

after a gruelling mission, Leon takes care of you

Leon Kennedy One Shot | @mirainwonderland

You get bored and tie a ribbon around his bicep

A QUIET AGENT!PARTNER | @harbours-lighthouse

CATCH SOME SHUT-EYE | @/harbours-lighthouse

Scoot On Over  | @drabblesandimagines

Hitched | @/drabblesandimagines

Swingin' | @/drabblesandimagines

Home | @/drabblesandimagines

Crash | @/drabblesandimagines

Zombieboy, part 2 | @the-archxr

As Leon starts to feel the initial effects of las plagas, Luis fills you in on a little secret about the disease that could potentially help out your partner.

Blue in the Night | @/the-archxr

Leon doesn’t always let himself be vulnerable. But after being granted a second-chance at life, he reasons that it wouldn’t be so bad to try.

Miss– Mrs. Kennedy? Well, your wife… | @escapic-mezzanine

You were pretty sure you preferred being strangled to death on a mission over having a phone call with a stranger… Embarrassing as it felt. Luckily, your closest co-worker is there to save you.

Nothing in the world belongs to me | @/escapic-mezzanine

Affection and attachment. Strange things that Leon saw as great values, yet ones he couldn’t afford because of his job. He didn’t know if it was a sense of responsibility or fear of disappointment that made him so reluctant… Well, good thing that the famous ‘cat distribution system’ doesn’t care. Nor his luck for incredibly charming neighbours.

I still dream of violence, Part 2 | @/escapic-mezzanine

When a young married couple disappears, who could be better at investigating the case than a pair of special agents used to working together and known for their high efficiency? Well, probably nobody, but someone clearly ignored the fact that one of them should retire a long time ago, and they are both too good at their job to rot in rural America. Not to forget the questionable nature of their professional relationship and mutual tension.

guard dog | @secretlyazombi3

Nightmares | @/secretlyazombi3

leon's arms | @/secretlyazombi3

Chained up | @hotdogcatalogue

Rooftop | @/hotdogcatalogue

Drabble | @finalresidentevilfantasy

Re6 Leon Hcs | @/finalresidentevilfantasy