#rilezra

“As well as I can, I guess.” You reply, voice muted.

Dean scoops out some ice cream and starts piling on the toppings for himself. He nudges some cherries, sprinkles, and hot fudge your way, and you can’t help but roll your eyes fondly as you start making a sundae for yourself.

You both start eating in silence, leaning against the kitchen island. The only sounds in the room are the clinking of spoons in bowls, until Dean starts talking again, his tone nonchalant. “You know you can talk to me, right? Or Sam, if that’s easier for you.”

You swallow, hard. “I know.”

“I’m not good at this--” he waves his hand around, “this whole feelings thing. But I want you to be okay. And I want to help, if I can.”

Your throat feels tight and you’re afraid you’re going to start crying, or worse. You don’t want to do anything in front of him, so you push your bowl away quickly and straighten up. “I know, Dean. Thanks for the ice cream.”

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Dean watches her go, a bad feeling brewing in his gut. Something is bothering her. Something big. He doesn’t know what to do about it, or how to get her to understand that she doesn’t have to deal with it alone anymore.

She was quiet when she first came to live with them. She saved their lives, his and Sam’s, when they thought for sure they were goners. She saved them, and nearly got herself killed in the process. There was no way they were going to just let her go back to being on her own.

Originally they thought being with Jody and the girls would be good for her, but she kept showing up on their doorstep, a bright smile and donuts in her hand. She’d stay for a few days at a time until eventually she never left.

Dean wanted her the minute he saw her, but he’s never acted on it. He values her too much to let anything happen between them, because he knows she needs someone better than him. Someone who isn’t as burdened and broken as he is.

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When you get to your room, it’s like you’re on autopilot. You feel so overwhelmed with negative feelings. Your insecurities making you feel like you should just pack a bag and get out of here as quick as possible before you ruin someone else’s life.

There’s a quiet voice in the back of your mind telling you you’re overreacting, but it’s easy to not listen to her when all the other thoughts are so much louder.

They don’t really want you here.

You’re a burden.

You don’t know how long you sit there like that, but when you finally come back to yourself, you’re startled to feel tears dripping down your face. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. It’s like you were watching yourself in a movie, or a dream.

You groan, wiping your face clean of tears, and try to get ready for bed with your normal routine. You try so hard to push all the negative feelings away, you try to remind yourself of all the good things you have in your life that make everything better, but that voice just keeps screaming at you - not good enough, not good enough.

You make it as far as getting your pajamas on before you find your thoughts drifting again. You hear a knock on your door, but can’t find the energy to answer it. You can’t even find your voice to call out for Sam or Dean, whichever one of them who was there.

You hear footsteps heading in the opposite direction, and even though you know you shouldn’t be alone right now, that you need someone to help you snap out of this, you don’t say a word. You just curl in on yourself in bed and hope that sleep overtakes you soon, so you don’t have to think about any of this anymore.

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The next morning, Dean is antsy. He hasn’t seen you yet, and it’s unlike you to sleep in this long. He keeps fidgeting, finding an excuse to hover in the hallway outside your room, until he finally gives up and knocks, deciding that he’ll risk you being mad at him for waking you up if it means he knows you’re okay.

He pushes open the door slowly, concerned when he doesn’t see any sign that you’ve been out of bed at all.

You’re curled up on top of the covers, and even from the doorway he can see your shoulders shaking. Eyes widening, immediately he crosses the room and crouches down next to you, prepared to wake you up from a nightmare.

What he’s not prepared for is your eyes, open, already looking back at him. Your eyes are filled with tears, red-rimmed and glazed over. He’s not sure if you’re awake or not, but the look on your face is a like a slam to his gut.

“Sweetheart?”

No answer.

“Hey, can you hear me?” He reaches out, places a tentative hand on your shoulder. “Sam!” He shouts for his brother, cold fear gripping his heart at the way you’re unresponsive. “It’s going to be okay. Come back to me, sweetheart. Come on. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He keeps murmuring to you until Sam half-crashes in to the doorway in his haste to get to your bedroom.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. I found her like this. She can’t hear me.”

Sam comes over to the bed, ever the calm force in pairing with Dean’s act first, think later tendencies. Sam is a good person to have around in an emergency, Dean thinks distantly.

“She’s freezing,” Sam says. “Here, get her under the blankets.” He pulls back the duvet, and Dean helps maneuver you underneath.

“Is she awake?”

“I think so,” Sam says, “She’s not breathing heavy like she would if she’s asleep. I think she’s just-- she’s somewhere else right now.” His brow is creased with worry.

“What do we do?” Dean’s voice cracks.

“Just-- talk to her. Try to get her to focus. I’m going to grab my laptop.”

Dean watches helplessly as Sam leaves the room, a protective feeling surging through him as fresh tears track down your face. Deciding that it would be worth getting punched later, he slides into your bed with you, propping you up against his chest. “If you can hear me, you’re going to be okay. I promise.”

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You can hear them, distantly.

You want to talk to them, tell them not to worry about you, but you’re so stuck in your own head that you can’t even find the strength. Dissociating, someone once told you. It’s like you’re not even really here, watching yourself from overhead like a movie. Your thoughts and feelings are too much, so you’re just-- not here.

You start to feel warm, and you can hear Dean’s voice, even though it sounds like it’s coming from miles away.

“If you can hear me, you’re going to be okay. I promise.” He says, his voice so fierce that you almost start to believe him.

“You remember when you saved our asses?” He asks, his voice sounding muffled. “You came out of nowhere with those fucking karate moves. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He chuckles, his voice sounding a little stronger now. “I think I knew right then that I wanted you to stick around.”

I wanted you to stick around.

His voice echoes around in your mind, and you struggle to comprehend what he’s saying. The thoughts in your head tell you that he’s lying, that he doesn’t mean it, but you feel like you’re starting to come back to yourself the longer he talks to you.

“So you’ve gotta come back to me, okay? You gotta let me help you, because I promised I would, and Sam’s going to kick my ass if you don’t--”

Something in his voice finally breaks through to you, and you feel yourself start to come back to normal, the embarrassment of the situation almost too much for you. “Dean--” you say, struggling to get out of his arms.

He lets you go as soon as you start moving, his hands hovering in midair like he’s ready to catch you if you pass out or something. His eyes are wide with fear, but he catches himself, swallowing hard and schooling his face into calm. “You-- are you okay? Can you hear me?”

“I’m-- I can hear you.” You don’t say you’re fine, because you’re so far from fine. A blush heats your cheeks again. They’ve never seen you like this. How are they supposed to trust you in the field if you could freak out at any moment?

“You’re cold.” Is all he says, and you just blink. You don’t know how to respond. “You should get back under the covers--”

“Aren’t you going to ask?” You snap at him. “Aren’t you going to ask what the hell is wrong with me?”

His jaw clenches. “You’re upset,” his voice is still infuriatingly gentle, “I’m not-- I’m not going to let you pick a fight with me right now.”

“Let me?”

“I get it,” Dean says, voice firm, “I get that you want to fight right now so you can feel in control. I get it and I know how terrified you must be when you feel like you can’t help yourself. So for once in your life, let me help you.”

Something in his features breaks you. You slump forward, tears streaming down your face again, and this time Dean is prepared. He pulls you against his chest, murmuring words of comfort.

“I don’t know why this happens to me. I get anxious and stressed and overwhelmed, and it’s like I just… check out.” You tell him through your tears.

“You’re going to be okay.” He disentangles himself from you, “I need to go let Sam you’re okay. I’ll be right back.” He hesitates before pulling you close again, pressing a swift kiss to your forehead.

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The next few days are better. Dean doesn’t feel like he’s stepping on eggshells anymore, and the relief he feels when you crack a smile at him over breakfast sticks with him all day.

You talk to him a little bit more, and tell him why you think you get lost in your own head sometimes. It breaks his heart, because even though he can tell that you don’t blame him or Sam for any of it, he still thinks they could have helped sooner. Could have figured it out sooner.

Later that night, you knock on his door, and Dean looks up, surprised. “Hey, kid. Thought you were asleep.”

You scrunch up your nose at the nickname, but don’t say anything about it. You’re dressed for bed, and keep looking away from him like you’re nervous. It makes Dean nervous too.

“I-- I just wanted to say thanks. For… well, for everything, the last few days. I should have talked to you guys sooner, but I didn’t know how. I was scared, I guess.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself--”

“I do, though.” You tell him, and your eyes are wide and pleading, so he lets you go on, even though every urge in his body is telling him to just go over there and take you in his arms so you never feel alone and afraid again. “For a long time, I’ve been alone. I just figured after a while that there was a reason people kept leaving me.” You shake your head like you’re trying to clear those thoughts out. “You probably didn’t realize, but a few weeks ago it was a year since you guys asked me to come stay here with you.”

Dean’s heart thuds. A whole year. He feels like it’s been longer. He almost can’t imagine the bunker without you in it, anymore.

“I guess I just felt like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. That you’d wake up one day and say, what is she still doing here?”

Dean stands up, taking a few steps towards you, the urge to comfort you in this moment too strong for him to ignore. “Kid, no. I-- we want you here.”

You smile softly, the sight of it sending a zing right to Dean’s heart. “I know that. I just have to remind myself, sometimes.”

He reaches for your hand, slowly, giving you time to pull away. “I could do a better job reminding you, too.”

A pretty blush settles across your cheeks and on the tips of your ears, and suddenly it’s like the world comes into focus for Dean Winchester. What the fuck has he been doing this entire time he’s known you? How could you have felt like he didn’t want you here when he probably wants you more than anything else in the world?

“I’m--” Dean starts, laughing bitterly at himself, “shit, I’m bad at this. I like you, okay? And I don’t want to freak you out, but you should know that. That I want you here, and I need you here.”

Your smile stops his fucking heart.

“I like you too, Dean.” You tell him, and god dammit if he doesn’t feel more like a teenager right now than a man almost forty years old.

He scratches the back of his neck, wanting to kiss you so badly it aches, but not wanting to scare you, or push too fast. “So… next time you start feeling like that, you come find me, okay?”

You squeeze his hand. “Okay.”

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Standing there in Dean’s bedroom, holding his hand and watching him look at you with more affection than you could have ever dreamed up… it’s almost too much. You believe him though, this time.