#deanangst

I had the same pattern ever since I was in high school. When something goes wrong, go and take it out on someone else. Contemplate, yell, scream, be an ass. But I don’t know what to do now. Now it’s different.  

Now I have the light in my life, and she’s starting to dim. I’m doing that to her, she used to be so bright, so happy. And that is why I fell for her; all I do now is push her away. I’m too harsh, too cruel. And at the moment I don’t know what I’m doing until I have to beg my way back into Y/n’s heart.  

Arguments, that turned into silence. I would look at her when she wasn’t paying attention. I’d try to start a conversation, but I could never get the words out. Something about telling her that I was wrong and she was right., I couldn’t shake it.  

It was hard enough for me to talk to someone, but to be truthful and let them know that I wasn’t right was even worse. I had been harsh with Y/n after a particular hunt. She had been hurt trying to save Sam's and I ass.  

The entire car ride was silent, and not to mention that there was time before this. Where I’d be quiet thinking about what had gone on many times before. She was hurt, it wasn’t bad or anything but I had told her to be my back-up not go in guns blazing and end up getting hurt. Sam sat quiet in the passenger seat, looking through his phone for yet another case.  

Y/n lay in a tight ball, holding herself together. I could barely see her in the rear view mirror, but the slightest of movement and sounds that came from the back seat had my attention. Y/n and I had been dating, but it wasn’t something that had been going on for a while.  

Now when I say this, I mean it, I fell for her the first day I saw her. Love at first sight like Sam likes to say. Sam teases me about how l fell for a girl, and everything seems to be going my way. The whole apple pie life I thought I wasn’t ever going to get.  

It always taken me time to realize things, now if that’s good or bad. I don’t have those answers. I’m not blaming the way that I act on my shitty childhood, or horrible upbringing, but I’m saying that those probably had an effect on me and still have an effect on me now.  

I’m forty-two years old and I still have no clue what I’m doing in life. What I should be doing is riding in my car, with my girl, and be happy. But instead, I'm upset with who I don’t know, I'm barely getting away from yet another hunt.  

You'd think a 6’1-foot-tall man, wouldn’t fall short on talking with his family, and his partner. Being overall open with people. But again, I think it’s something I learned as a child. Stay mute even when you’re asked a question.  

When we finally made it to the bunker it was still very quiet. Y/n had ended up falling asleep. Sam and I looked at her and then back at each other. “Dean, she’s your girlfriend. Get over yourself would you and help her.” He said getting out of the passenger side. I didn’t have any time to respond before he went into bunker, leaving me with Y/n.  

So, I bucked up, leaving the driver seat, and climbing into the back seat to get Y/n. Her hand still tightly wrapped around her waist. “Y/n, honey I’m going to pick you up and take you to your room okay?” I spoke  

So, that’s what I did I grabbed her gently, and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I shut the doors to the car, and I walked into the bunker. Again, it was silent as I walked around the halls of the bunker.  

Y/n’s door was slightly ajar, meaning that I could push my booted foot between the open space. I walked around her room, and found her bed. Placing her down gently, I pulled her boots off, and her heavy jacket that was hardly blood stained from the hunt.  

Because she was asleep, I had no energy to want to even start a fight. I left Y/n’s room quietly closing her bedroom door. And made my own way to my own room, when I finally sat down on my bed I started to think.  

Thinking about how if Y/n was awake when we had arrived home it would have been a different story. How I would have yelled, screamed, have a fuss, and then drank the rest of the night away. I thought how Sam would look at me and instead see our father. I thought how Y/n would be quiet and walk away.  

I’d decide now to rethink my relationship not saying that I’d ever break up with my sweet Y/n, but I needed to get better. I needed to be better for her, be better for Sam, and be better for myself. So, I made the choice as I walked to my bedroom. Tonight, I would first off get a good night's rest, wake up and start the day off good.  

So that’s what I did, I fell asleep knowing that tomorrow morning would be a better day. When I woke up the next morning everything was okay. Walking around the bunker to find Sam in the library, and Y/n in the kitchen. So, I started with Sam he was an easier target.  

“Sam, do you mind if we have a quick chat?” I asked. Sam titled his head, rising his eyebrows in a confusion, and then huffed a little before answering with a hesitation in his voice. “Sure, what do you want to chat about?” “I’d like to start off by saying I’m sorry for the way it was when we were kids. I’d also like to apologize for all the shit I put you through after we found dad. I’m sorry that I act like a douche bag, I’m sorry that I yell at you like dad used too. I’m sorry for actions and I know I don't say this enough but I love you.” I said before sitting down across from Sam.  

He looked at me for a couple of seconds before getting up from his seat before and rounding the table. My brother had a growth support and somehow had gotten taller than me, I thought as I looked up at my younger brother, he looked as if he was hesitant, toying with whatever idea that had made him around the table.  

Before Sam could get another word out, I quickly sat up and hugged him. Now this type of embrace was the one like when the world was ending and we were sacrificing ourselves. This type of hug was the type that meant “I love you too”. An action that meant more than the word they backed-up.  

This embrace wasn’t long, it was known between the two of us that we’d hug and then let go of each other. That’s what happened, but knowing that there wasn’t anything after us, or we weren’t dying was a nice thought to hold onto.  

“De, I love you too. Now you should probably go do the same with Y/n.” Sam said before patting my shoulder and rounding the table again to sit in his seat. Like nothing had happened, but then again that’s just how our relationship went, that’s how we grew up. Emotions and then act as if nothing happened, because emotions show weakness.  

As I walked out of the library, I needed a few seconds to think so I took advantage of the two different ways to get to the kitchen, opting for the longer choice. As I walked, I thought how difficult our childhood had been, how now I could finally say that I was dealing with it all. I could smell the coffee, and hear Y/n putting out dishes and looking through cabinets trying to find breakfast for this morning.  

As I walked in, Y/n didn’t even know I was in the room. The split second that she didn’t know was perfect. It was odd all that time I had spent with Lisa I’d never had a moment of clarity like this. In that moment it was like I was weightless. Nothing could hurt her or me, everything seemed normal. “Jesus Dean you can’t just come up behind people and not say anything. I could drop something!” Y/n said as held her hand over her heart.  

I chuckled unfolding my arms and leaning off the side of the doorway. As I walked into the kitchen, she handed me a coffee cup. I hadn’t realized how much Y/n and I’s routine was synced. In the morning she’d be in the kitchen hand me my coffee cup, wait until I had a least a few sips before wanting to have a serious conversation. Then once I sat my cup down on the counter conversation was flowing, I grab plates as she cooked breakfast. My height giving me an advantage to be able to reach over Y/n’s head and grab a few other needed things.

Y/n would than take advantage of the fact that sometimes in the comfort of the bunker I wasn't paying attention. She’d poke my sides with the end of the spatula, Y/n would then look up at me and giggle before going back to cooking.  

This was every morning thing between the two of us. When we did finally sit down, I could tell that Y/n was still upset with me. So, in a moment of rash decision I cleared mt throat catching her attention.  

“I know that I’m an asshole most of the times. I also know that nobody wants to deal with that, so I’m doing this I’ve already thought of a thousand ways of saying this. A thousand ways of how this could play out. Most of them ending with you walking out of the door. I know that I’m not perfect, But I can do better, please known that I’ll be and get better.” I spoke. I was quiet for a moment not wanting to bombarded Y/n was too much at once. She nodded her head and motioned me to continue.  

“I want you to know that I'll do anything... Anything you want me to do. I want you to know that this was hard for me to do, I hate the way I act, I hate not having control, but there’s something that I don’t hate and that’s loving you.” I spoke before looking down at my coffee cup. My knuckles going white from how hard I was trying to control my emotions.  

“I love you too babe.” Y/n finally said before getting up from her seat and sitting next to me. As she sat down, I rested my head on her shoulder and mumbled “Just don’t leave me.” As I spoke, she wisped her hands through my hair. “Just don’t leave me like everyone else has, I love you Y/n.”  

She lifted my head up from her shoulder her hands grasping my cheeks and made me look at her. “I’m not going anywhere. People have fights, they have arguments, but they make-up. They fix the issues. And I like making up with you Dean.” She said a smirk on her face and winked at me.  

At the beginning of 2020, everything seemed great. Everything was great, they had a brand new year ahead of them, they had just celebrated their first anniversary. All was swell until Covid19 hit, sticking them in our home, away from their loved ones, away from the fresh hair of Texas. Now, this didn't mean that they couldn't go out on their porch, but what was the point of doing so, if that meant no contact with any of their friends.

Dean and Sophie had been together for a year now. Everything was great before covid they had gotten the time they always needed when they would go to work. And come home, arguments were almost none existent. Things seemed like they were perfect. Work, home, snuggle, sleep, and repeat all over the next day.

When the news caught what was going on with the waves of sickness. Schools being shut down, work firing people, stimulus checks sucking ass. Empty apartments, homes being full with the life that they only ever saw on holidays. Dean worked in a local coffee shop, and Sophie worked in the library at the college that they were both attending. A college that was now forced to home thousands of people, and not teach them.

But as much as Dean complained Sophie was happy that they were finally going to be home. For what seemed like the first 2 weeks of covid after the shutting down of outdoor activities, it was great for them. Sophie had dragged Dean to the couch listing off a long list of movies and shows that they should try to start or finish by the end of the 14 days. The first week was all Disney movies that Sophie didn't want to watch by herself fearing that she would cry for eons. They ate junk food and the leftovers of the week pryer.

The second week Dean told Sophie that they needed to finish "The game of thrones", and "The big bang theory" two very different shows, but nonetheless, he grabbed the junk food, and pop in the fridge this time dragging Sophie to the couch. And when they 14 days were up they were both ready to head back to work and only see each other at night. But that was when the world told everyone no, sorry this is more than just a 14 day, a 2-week vacation from everything it's more like 9 more months.

It got a lot rougher for the both of them. That time that was normally spent on getting over their fights was turning into Sophie being locked in their bedroom, and Dean stuck in the living room. She'd only unlock the door at night, letting Dean come back into their shared living space. The air always so thick with tension, Dean would lose his t-shirt crawl into bed, and leave a cold space between both of them.

And every morning Sophie would wake up to a cup of coffee, and a small plate of breakfast. Even with the thick tension between them Dean never had it in his heart to be cold-hearted with her. That's when the fighting started. Being stuck together for too long was getting to both of them.

"Dean, you know you could help with the dishes right?" Sophie had screamed from the kitchen one day. She was tired of doing all of the dishes, tired of being a housewife, before the virus Dean and her would take turns switching who had dishes and other chores around the house.

"Sophie! Did you drink the last of the beer?" Dean yelled from the kitchen while Sophie was upstairs. "No, dickbag I don't drink your fucking beer!" She yelled back her voice not only hoarse, but her nerves becoming crushed with Dean's nasty attitude and his assumptions.

"I just went to the store 2 days ago. You're telling me you drank two 12 packs of this shit" She said as she walked into the kitchen. "You know whatever, Sophie! I'm going to the store I'll be back soon." And with that Dean was gone from the house.

Up until this point, Dean and Sophie's relationship was like a friendship something that she thought couldn't be broken. She loved him, loved his bright green eyes, sharp jawline, funny jokes, amazing sex. But they had never said "I love you" to each other.

Deans life growing up was horrible the term I love you wasn't said very often. His father was abusive and was in and out of the picture. He took care of his brother always, he never had time to be taught what love was. But Dean knows that Sophie was love, Sophie was the only person he would want to be with for the rest of his life. He loved every feature about her, her long blonde hair, green eyes like his, curvy figure, loving personality.

Dean wanted to say I love you to her, but he just couldn't. He was just afraid of the words, he was afraid that it would become real once he said them. Sophie was at home sitting on the couch with a glass of wine, just staring into the blank tv screen. She sat for what seemed like hours to her, she was broken up that Dean was being such a jerk.

Her life was much different loving parents, a safe home to grow up in, being able to grow up and have a great childhood. Something that she sometimes thought Dean was jealous of. Somehow she had ended up Dean someone who cared only about her, wanted nothing but good for her. She knew that this... this being stuck inside the house was getting to Deans head, he had never been nasty with her. At this, she was starting to question what had gotten both of them into such a situation.

When Dean had finally come back from not going to the store just driving around. He saw the girl he had fallen in love with sitting on the couch curled into one end. Before he could say anything Sophie beat him to the punch. "Dean? What happened between the two of us?" Sophie asked her body seeming to become more and more a part of the couch.

Dean just stared at her. Both of them had minds alike, both thinking about their relationship, worried about what would happen next.

"Fifi, I think... I think that I love you." Dean said walking closer to the couch but not wanting to impose on Sophie's space. "Please say something, please say that after a year of being together and being stuck at home with each other hasn't made you not want to be with me anymore?" Dean asked his eyes become watery, the tension leaving his shoulders and his body becoming limp making him slide down to the floor. His head making its way to resting on Sophie's knee.

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It was no mistake when you ran into Dean the third time. You landed yourself tied to a bedpost in a vamps nest and if it wasn’t for voice command still being on on your phone, you would’ve died there. Sam and Dean took out the vampire nest and were quick to rush you to the impala and to the place they called home. 

The Bunker was a beautiful place; big, filled with lots of rooms and plenty of reading and research material. They were legacies, their grandfather having been a Man of Letters himself. It was a safe place and you regretted not taking Dean up on his offer to stay there. Once you had your health back, you were gone, assuring the two boys you’d see them around. And see them around, you did.

Sneaking into the bunker in the middle of the night was an all around dumb idea, but after Sam’s frantic call, you knew it was what you had to do. Sam wouldn’t have left the key outside, buried under leaves and rocks if he didn’t want you doing this.

You pushed the big metal door open as quietly as you could, praying both boys were asleep. Unfortunately, it was light inside and that lead you to believe they were not.

You didn’t want to bother with calling out for one or both of them, incase maybe they were asleep and had just neglected to turn the lights off. So instead, you walked as silently as possible down the stairs and into the map room.

“What are you doing here?” a rather harsh voice sounded from behind you. Dean.

“I-I... Sam asked me to come,” you replied as calmly as you could, despite your racing heart in your chest.

Dean narrowed his eyes at you, a glare forming over his features. “Why?”

You gave an innocent shrug, truthfully unsure of why Sam needed you there, “Sam called. Said it was an emergency.”

“Sam’s not even here. How’d you get in?”

You slipped the key from your jacket pocket, tossing to to Dean. “He buried it outside. If he’s not here then why does he need me here?” you questioned, wondering exactly where the youngest Winchester had gone, and why he had left. 

Dean shrugged, his stance hardening, “You tell me... Y/N.”

The way he said your name hurt. Was he really questioning if the you standing in front of him was the real you? How could he? He knew the real you, he should know that it was really you. 

It was then that you noticed Dean had drawn his gun from between his jeans and skin. “Don’t move, or I will shoot.” Without argument, you raised your hands, signaling to him that you understood.

He left then, and you stayed put, too afraid to die. When Dean returned he had a flask, a bottle of water and knife, presumably silver, with him.

Dean first opened the flask, splashing what you could only assume was holy water at you. Next came the water bottle, that turned out to be some funky cleaning product smelling liquid. Finally, he stepped to you for the first time that night, grabbing one of your still raised arms and dragging the blade across your forearm.

“Get out.” Dean spat, making you pause in confusion.

“What? Dean I’m clean! You just watched me pass all three of those tests!” you argued.

“Get. Out,” he repeated, harsher than before.

“What’s wrong with you?” you questioned gently.

“When I say get out, I mean get out. Dammit Y/N, leave!” he all but screamed at you.

You didn’t budge, though you were shaking in your shoes at this point, “No! Not until you tell me what the hell has gotten into you. Maybe you’re the one who needs to be tested, Dean.”

His face changed. It was no longer the Dean you had come to know and love. The Dean you had spent so much time with, in the such little time you were together. There was something dark resonating inside him.

He took the flask first, dumping the remainder onto his face, followed by the cleaning product concoction. He then rolled his sleeve up enough to expose a bit of his arm, dragging the knife over his skin

“Now, I believe I said Get. Out.” Dean threw the knife in your general direction, it landing lodged into the nearby wall.

You had full intentions on leaving, heading out the door and never returning, but instead of running to the door and passing Dean, you ran away from him, headed down the hallway of a million rooms.

You could hear Dean’s heavy footsteps behind you. You made many twists and turns and loops, trying to lose the man. When you could no longer hear footsteps, you picked the first room you saw, barreling into it and locking the door as quickly as possible.

You were lucky enough to have chosen an actual bedroom and you were ready to set up camp in here and wait for Sam to return...or to starve to death, whichever came first.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you had been in there, or when you had started crying, or even when you had managed to fall asleep, but loud banging against the door awoke you. It was followed by a gentle voice, one you recognized easily. Sam.

You certainly had fallen asleep in the worst position possible. When you stood, your back popped in the most random place, causing a sudden pain to shoot from the bottom of your spine to your neck. You tweaked your head left to right, instantly regretting falling asleep where you had. What kind of position were you in that made you feel this miserable?

“Y/N, Open the door! I need to talk to you!” Sam’s voice shook you from your miserable state. “It’s Sam... Dean’s not here, please, just open the door.”

You sighed, undoing the locks on the bedroom door before opening it, seeing a frantic Sam in front. “What do you mean Dean’s not here?”

“I mean he’s not here with me. He’s still here... I was really hoping you’d shown up later -”

“Why did you call me, Sam? I figured you’d be here when I got here, asleep, but still here,” you spoke, still completely terrified of the Dean you had seen earlier. Just the memory of him made tears well up in your eyes, or maybe the tears were there because of how mad you were at Sam for not having been there sooner.

“That’s why I wanted you to show up later! I planned it perfectly, you must’ve just sped the whole way here,” he accused, a bit teasingly in hopes to lighten the mood. When your face went unchanged, he sighed, “Dean- He’s... He’s not Dean, I mean, not the Dean you know.”

“Yeah, I grasped that.”

“Dean met with Cain, yes the Cain who killed his brother Abel. He wants to kill Abaddon, and in order to do that, he needed the mark of Cain, which Cain had and Cain bestowed upon him. He can’t kill Abaddon with just anything, it has to be the first blade, and we found that through Magnus, an outcast Men of Letters. Long story short, the blade does something to Dean that he can’t control and it’s affecting him very negatively,” Sam drew out, desperately begging for your help with this.

You sighed, dropping your head in defeat. No matter how upset you were, you could not let Sam handle this alone. “Okay.”

A smile eased onto his face, a relieved one at that. “I need you to do two things for me. One, stop crying,” 

You ran your hands over your eyes, collecting most of the fallen tears and preventing some fresh ones from falling too. “And?”

“And two, tie him up.”

Your eyes widened at Sam’s words, “He’s a hunter! He’s going to wake up!”

“He’s passed out, drunk. Do you know how many bottles I found when I came in?”

“Well, why can’t you do it then?”

“Because he’s more likely to punch me than he is you.”

“Sam!-”

“Please Y/N,” he cut you off, pleading, “He’s out of control. I just need to slap some sense into him.”

With an angry sigh, you agreed, following Sam to the map room where Dean was indeed sleeping, slumped down in the chair. Obviously Sam had cleaned up the bottles, as those were no where to be found around him. The knife had also been taken out of the wall, and you hoped Dean had done that, instead of Sam.

Sam handed you some rope and you got to work, starting with his legs as they required no movement. He stirred a bit when you were just about finished with his left leg, but didn’t wake, thankfully.

One arm was hanging over the chair and the other was crossed over his chest, gripping his bicep. You took a gentle hold of his dangling arm, slowly moving it over to the arm of the chair. When you got it there, you began tying. He didn’t budge. 

The second arm was difficult. Dean actually had a surprisingly tight grip on his bicep. You closed your eyes tightly, praying to whomever would listen to ‘please just don’t let him wake up.’ Someone had to have been listening, as you managed to break Dean’s grip and get his arm to the chair, but apparently they stopped listening after that. You began tying, just as he began waking. In a panic, you made a very quick, shitty and way-too-tight knot in the rope, causing him to fully wake.

He was groggy, definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol in his system, but when he tried to move and nothing budged, that’s when he got angry.

His piercing green eyes were on Sam first, teeth baring in anger. They then moved to you, narrowing in disbelief. 

“Untie me,” he demanded.

“Dean, this is for your own good,” Sam spoke, trying to calm him down.

His glare was hard on Sam, the signature Winchester bitch face plastered to his own. “It’d be in your best interest, Sammy, to untie me.”

“No.”

Dean smiled, his lips laced with sarcasm and anger and hurt, a chuckle then escaped his tight smile. His jaw clenched and within seconds he had successfully broken free of one of the ropes.

“You’re out of practice, Y/N. I thought you could do way better than this sorry excuse for a knot.” 

“Dean, I’m sorry, but you need help.” That was when you saw it. You saw the mark just barely poking out from under his sleeve, bright red and swollen, like it had been burned there just hours ago. 

His second arm broke free of the rope and he bent down to untie his feet. All you could do was stand still. Running was pointless and you’d rather fight than run.

When Dean was successfully free from the ropes, he stood, a little unbalanced, surely from how much he had to drink. He recovered quickly and easily. He approached Sam, knocking his brother back onto his ass. “Stay out of this. I don’t need your help. I am handling this, Sam.”

Sam didn’t get a single word in before Dean was moving over to you. You stood, shaking in your boots, but you’d never let Dean nor Sam know that. “And I thought I told you to leave. It’d be better for all of us if you’d just get out, so go.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes again as Dean stepped around you, his shoulder knocking yours and causing you to stumble back. He didn’t say anything else as he headed down the hallway. The only sound was heavy boots clinking across the floor, and then the slam of a door shutting, after that it was completely silent.

Part Two

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