#opening line

But I saw the difference. I felt it. His steps were more cautious, his anger quicker to swell. When once he’d go charging into a vamp nest with machete held high and a warrior’s cry on his lips, now it was slower, more planned out. Instead of trusting his instincts, he questioned every movement, every plan. He held back and I couldn’t stand the reason why. 

It used to be fun, running into danger in his shadow. I’d follow him through the dark, happy to let him go first so he could clear the literal cobwebs from the path. He never turned back in those early days to make sure I was close, he knew I was. We could feel each other’s presence like a constant warm breeze. He never worried if I’d trip, break a bone, or turn and get myself lost. And, oh, in those early days, I sure did. 

Texas, three summers ago- I thought I was the shit, I really did. I was cocky, so sure that I knew enough to take on the world by myself. As it turned out, I knew almost nothing. Including how many werewolves were lying in wait for me. Four sets of fangs came at me and ripped more holes than that. I’d almost bled out before the calvary got there. Dean Winchester, the cranky old man of my dreams who’d told me not to be an idiot and run off on my own, wiped a splatter of wolf blood from his cheek with the back of his hand as he sank to his knees by my side. The handkerchief that was forever stuffed in his pocket did little to staunch the blood pouring from my side, but he pressed it in anyway. I screamed and he shook his head. 

“I told you not to come here alone!” He was angry, and I deserved it. And, he was right. Didn’t mean I wasn’t gonna do it again. I smiled pathetically and he laughed softly. “You’re gonna drive me nuts, kid.” 

Kid. He still called me that even though the terms of our relationship had changed. I never mind it. Would it be nicer if he called me baby, or some other sexy pet name? Sure. But that wasn’t his style, and I never wanted to change him. I guess that’s why when I realized he was changing, I couldn’t take it. 

He started looking back for me when the path was rocky. He didn’t trust that I wouldn’t fall. He stepped in front of me when danger approached. He didn’t want me to get hurt. It was protection, pure and simple, but it wasn’t right. It was disrupting everything. He’d hold me back on hunts, insisting my research was more needed than my gun. He kept things from me, afraid that I’d get in too deep over my head and he wouldn’t be there to pull me up. He was distracted, lost in his fear of losing me. It was making him sloppy. 

As I stitched up his cheek for the thousandth time and shoved all my strength into him to reset his shoulder, I knew he couldn’t keep going like that. 

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, Dean.” My hand was still on his shoulder, holding him tight until the sharp pain finished flowing down his arm. 

He turned his head and kissed my fingers. “I’ll be fine,” he lied. “I’ve had worse.” His wink wasn’t sexy, it wasn’t funny. It was tired. 

My heart was breaking as much as his body was. He could only be my human shield for so long. Not only had he taken a 2x4 to the face for me that night, he’d also pushed me out of the way of a magical blast and fallen into a fucking pit. His shoulder had popped out of the socket and it was hell getting him out of the sodden dirt.  

“I’m not kidding, Dean.” I turned away, pretending to busy myself with putting the first aid kit back together. He watched me in the bathroom mirror, eyes locked on the tear that fell down my face. “You can’t protect me forever. You can’t. It’s killing you.” 

He sighed and I looked up, meeting his reflection. He chewed on his bottom lip and shook his head. 

“How can you think that?”

“Because it’s true.” 

He reached for me, grabbing my arm with his good hand to spin me to him. “I’m not gonna die. Not any time soon, you hear me?” 

I did, but he wasn’t getting my point. I closed my eyes, shutting him out for a second. It wasn’t like we hadn’t had the same conversation a dozen times. It wasn’t like he didn’t push it away every time just like he was now. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t stay up all night trying not to wake him with my pathetic tears. 

“Dean…” 

He kissed me gently. Nothing passionate, no tongue. There was no urge to grab each other and tumble into bed. The crushing need inside wasn’t for sex, it was for a bit of peace. 

I sat up all night watching him sleep. Every time he shifted, his face would scrunch up as another pain caught up with him and he’d groan. 

I didn’t kiss him goodbye even though I wanted to. I let that bathroom kiss be our last. I didn’t wake him up to explain myself even though it would break him to find me gone without a trace. I didn’t leave a note, didn’t make a sound. I grabbed my bag, stuck the Do Not Disturb sign on the outer door knob and stuck my thumb out. 

I was gone before the sun appeared, three hours away before he woke. 

I told myself I was leaving him for the right reasons, but maybe I just couldn’t handle the guilt anymore. I couldn’t stand to see him in pain because he loved me. Because I was too weak to keep up with him, too dumb to listen. 

Sure, he called. Of course he tried to find me. Canada is a very big country and it’s easy to hide from just about anyone if you try. I traded the most amazing man I’d ever met for icy roads and maple candy. 

I told myself I was leaving to save him. 

Maybe I just loved him too much to be the reason he fell again.

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